there ought to be a disclaimer on the human mind: "subject to change without warning."
and as the mind is such a powerful and influential thing (haven't you heard THE SECRET?), when it makes one of those spontaneous 180-degree turnarounds and wanders off in a direction previously unexplored, it tends to drag with it the life of the human attached.
i'm not complaining though.
maybe it's not the mind that goes first. it's a real chicken vs. egg conundrum in which i'm tangling myself here, but bear with me. what's the inciting factor? obviously something has to happen to give the mind new information on which to base opinions and decisions; something outside the control of the individual. the mind receives new information, takes it into account, and makes judgements with consideration (one hopes) of every variable. stagnation occurs when the mind isn't receiving enough new information. then, the individual becomes restless and bored and frustrated and does things like move to new york city and live in basements with crazy women. because the individual is starving for mental stimulation.
so i guess we just go where the mental stimulation is. wherever that may be at any given moment. and i guess i always go back to nyc when things get slow because it's an easy way to make shit, any kinda shit, happen.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
i'm a giant douchebag, or, why i'm blogging in starbucks
yesterday my crazy roommate told me to be out within the month. she was pissed because i let my cousin sleep over rather than spend the night on a bench in tompkins square park. she claims it's an issue of privacy and went on and on about how she doesn't want strangers over because the place is such a mess. god forbid people think she's a slob! of course the real reason is that she's not supposed to be renting out the space, and i'm not sure she's even supposed to be living there herself; might be the super's dirty little secret. but still, is that not ridic? i mean he's not really my cousin and we could have just stayed at phil's, but she has no way of knowing that and still she read me the riot act. bitch. so i guess i'm transitory again. c'est la whatever. seems to be what i'm good at so what the hell.
so this morning i threw gideon in my backpack, dropped off my laundry at the place across the street, and went to whole foods. got some of the usual rabbit food and a snickerdoodle and went up to utilize what i thought was free wifi; turns out it's like 5 bucks an hour so gid went unused. but on the bright side, the snickerdoodle was delicious and this adorable little kid accidentally hit me with an umbrella. i've been all about kids lately and his babysitter/big brother/possible uncle was a cutie so whatevs.
big brother: you don't play with your umbrella in front of other people! you keep your umbrella to yourself!
me: words to live by.
big brother: (gets all shy and nervous) haha you have no idea.
then he made cute little kid apologize to me, which he did ("sowwy") and i was like "that's ok!" and all was happy.
i scooted shortly after they did because the wifi was kind of a big draw and the longer i stayed the more i wanted another cookie. plus this creepy dude was staring at me.
when i got back, crazy roomie was home. i've taken up speaking to her in one- to three-word sentences; not actually nasty but very very curt. i set up gideon and proceeded to try to get internet, always a big maybe in that place.
her: are you getting internet?
me: no.
her: no, huh? if it doesn't work there, you could go to starbucks. it's really close.
me: it's not free.
long silence.
eventually i gave up and packed up gideon again and headed wordlessly for the door.
her: (as i'm leaving) are you working tonight, kate? (she thinks my name is kate.)
me: yup.
her: oh, because i blah blah
(i leave.)
actually that one was a little harsher than i meant it to be, especially as i punctuated it with an unintentional slam of the front door (i was carrying a lot of shit).
i did go to starbucks. it's actually wicked cheap here so whatever. i'm glad i didn't cave at whole foods. crazy roomie keeps texting me. and that's where i'm at.
on the plus side, i slept great last night.
wow this was such a horrible update.
so this morning i threw gideon in my backpack, dropped off my laundry at the place across the street, and went to whole foods. got some of the usual rabbit food and a snickerdoodle and went up to utilize what i thought was free wifi; turns out it's like 5 bucks an hour so gid went unused. but on the bright side, the snickerdoodle was delicious and this adorable little kid accidentally hit me with an umbrella. i've been all about kids lately and his babysitter/big brother/possible uncle was a cutie so whatevs.
big brother: you don't play with your umbrella in front of other people! you keep your umbrella to yourself!
me: words to live by.
big brother: (gets all shy and nervous) haha you have no idea.
then he made cute little kid apologize to me, which he did ("sowwy") and i was like "that's ok!" and all was happy.
i scooted shortly after they did because the wifi was kind of a big draw and the longer i stayed the more i wanted another cookie. plus this creepy dude was staring at me.
when i got back, crazy roomie was home. i've taken up speaking to her in one- to three-word sentences; not actually nasty but very very curt. i set up gideon and proceeded to try to get internet, always a big maybe in that place.
her: are you getting internet?
me: no.
her: no, huh? if it doesn't work there, you could go to starbucks. it's really close.
me: it's not free.
long silence.
eventually i gave up and packed up gideon again and headed wordlessly for the door.
her: (as i'm leaving) are you working tonight, kate? (she thinks my name is kate.)
me: yup.
her: oh, because i blah blah
(i leave.)
actually that one was a little harsher than i meant it to be, especially as i punctuated it with an unintentional slam of the front door (i was carrying a lot of shit).
i did go to starbucks. it's actually wicked cheap here so whatever. i'm glad i didn't cave at whole foods. crazy roomie keeps texting me. and that's where i'm at.
on the plus side, i slept great last night.
wow this was such a horrible update.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
beware the end of march, or, how i learned to stop worrying and love the moment
some things you go your whole life hearing about so often that you think you know all about them, but you don't really "know" them until you've experienced them firsthand - you know? like getting your heart broken, or having sex, or getting high, or (i'm assuming) childbirth. like overhearing a dirty joke when you're too young to know it's dirty and you ask your parents what it means and they don't really give you a straight answer and you all but forget about it until one day in middle school when you suddenly remember the joke and go "ohhh, NOW i get it."
saturday last, i packed up my worldy possessions for the umpteenth time and dashed off to new york city. i'm still here, i'm employed, and i'm not homeless, so it's going well. this morning i hopped a bus from phil's place on the ues and rode it downtown to this little cafe i've been in love with since september '07; successfully completed my first ever sudoku puzzle over coffee and a bagel. afterwards i walked up houston in the noontime sunlight and felt generally positive about life. for some reason walking up houston on a nice day always puts me in a good mood. i don't know why, it's not like there's anything that great about houston, but i can't seem to remember any time i've walked along it and not reached my destination all blissed out.
i think each generation ends up being retrospectively defined by its recreational drug use. which is why kids who do drugs always kind of look down on the straight edge kids. it's like, guys, you're missing out. i mean if i had grown up during, say, the whole 1950s reefer madness thing, i would be much happier today knowing that i was one of the kids who experimented despite the propaganda. that's all i'm saying.
did you know there's a whole subculture of new york city youth based on really intense burn rides? god, i need to start documenting my generation.
until next time: tune in fridays at 9 on the travel channel to watch a meathead in a muscle tee hunt for ghosts. it's AWESOME.
saturday last, i packed up my worldy possessions for the umpteenth time and dashed off to new york city. i'm still here, i'm employed, and i'm not homeless, so it's going well. this morning i hopped a bus from phil's place on the ues and rode it downtown to this little cafe i've been in love with since september '07; successfully completed my first ever sudoku puzzle over coffee and a bagel. afterwards i walked up houston in the noontime sunlight and felt generally positive about life. for some reason walking up houston on a nice day always puts me in a good mood. i don't know why, it's not like there's anything that great about houston, but i can't seem to remember any time i've walked along it and not reached my destination all blissed out.
i think each generation ends up being retrospectively defined by its recreational drug use. which is why kids who do drugs always kind of look down on the straight edge kids. it's like, guys, you're missing out. i mean if i had grown up during, say, the whole 1950s reefer madness thing, i would be much happier today knowing that i was one of the kids who experimented despite the propaganda. that's all i'm saying.
did you know there's a whole subculture of new york city youth based on really intense burn rides? god, i need to start documenting my generation.
until next time: tune in fridays at 9 on the travel channel to watch a meathead in a muscle tee hunt for ghosts. it's AWESOME.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
take my voice please do what you want with it
my friend phil calls me early one morning to ask me how you can tell if you've overdosed. he sounds like shit so i tell him that if he has to ask, he should probably go to a hospital.
"what did you do?" i ask.
"coke."
"how much?"
"an eight ball. by myself."
a pause, then
"yeah, definitely go to the hospital."
another long pause. i know he doesn't want to deal with the hospital; the hospital means medical bills, it means his parents getting involved, and most importantly it means getting up and calling a cab, up for which he is definitely not at this time.
"phil?" just checking to make sure he's still with me.
"ugh, god, i don't know... i feel so shitty. what do you think i should do?"
and that's how i started making phil's decisions for him.
he was, thank goodness, fine. he did indeed go to the hospital, where he spent a day and a night of which he has basically no memory. i saw him a couple days later and we spent a great day wandering new york city trying to get free food. that was the same day we ended up sitting on a bench in a dog park in chelsea, next to idina menzel and taye diggs. but i digress.
phil is an actor and a singer. he's also a student, and a pothead, and not to sound sappy, but one of the kindest souls i've ever met. it's easy to miss, buried as it is under all of his bad habits, but i don't think the guy has a malevolent bone in his body.
i remember one time when we were at the arts academy we both attended throughout high school. class was out, but phil and myself and a handful of other kids were in the academy's yearly opera, and we had gone up the street to grab some food before rehearsal. we were all hanging out outside the theater when this older woman came up to us. the academy is sort of in the inner city and we were used to having an eye out for crazies, and this lady definitely fit the bill; dirty clothes, unstable expression. she asked us, half-pleading, if anyone had a dollar - she said she was lost, didn't have enough for the bus, wasn't sure which bus to take even if she had... she seemed on the edge of a breakdown. ourselves being little sheltered high school kids, we mostly looked away and muttered awkward excuses; except for phil.
"hang on one second," he said to her. "wait right there."
i watched as he went inside and quickly took up a collection. he returned with a few dollars, enough for the bus, and a teacher who was able to give the lady directions. she was so, so grateful and so obviously, incredibly relieved that someone had helped her. phil just told her not to worry about it and made sure she was okay before heading in to rehearsal. i think the rest of us, deservedly, all felt like assholes.
phil and i were friends at the academy, but we didn't really get close until a couple years after graduation. we both moved to new york city right away, but even then we rarely hung out; in fact, we'd seen each other maybe once or twice between high school and the OD incident. after that he kind of fell off the planet for a while and he told me later that he'd dropped everything and gone to florida without notice. and then one night, while i was living upstate, i called him from the bus on the way to the port authority, and he picked up. he was back in new york city and we had a lot of catching up to do.
after that visit, we started calling each other whenever we were bored. i came to hang out with him when i could, but usually he was a voice over the phone, talking about drugs and auditions and his dickish roommate. a lot of the time he was stoned, talking to me as he roamed the upper east side in search of food, and he could never decide what to get. it became a running gag that he always wanted me to decide for him. "ugh, i don't know... what do you think i should do?" and he'd just keep asking until i told him to get chinese, or mcdonalds, or subway. always something fast and cheap.
i don't really know where i'm going with this. i guess it's just a tribute to phil. i haven't even scratched the surface of half of the crazy shit he's been through, of course, but believe me when i say that the dude has lived. he's very talented and someday he'll get the fame and fortune he deserves, but when i think of him my first thought will always be of a groggy voice through a phone - "ugh, i don't know... what do you think i should do?"
"what did you do?" i ask.
"coke."
"how much?"
"an eight ball. by myself."
a pause, then
"yeah, definitely go to the hospital."
another long pause. i know he doesn't want to deal with the hospital; the hospital means medical bills, it means his parents getting involved, and most importantly it means getting up and calling a cab, up for which he is definitely not at this time.
"phil?" just checking to make sure he's still with me.
"ugh, god, i don't know... i feel so shitty. what do you think i should do?"
and that's how i started making phil's decisions for him.
he was, thank goodness, fine. he did indeed go to the hospital, where he spent a day and a night of which he has basically no memory. i saw him a couple days later and we spent a great day wandering new york city trying to get free food. that was the same day we ended up sitting on a bench in a dog park in chelsea, next to idina menzel and taye diggs. but i digress.
phil is an actor and a singer. he's also a student, and a pothead, and not to sound sappy, but one of the kindest souls i've ever met. it's easy to miss, buried as it is under all of his bad habits, but i don't think the guy has a malevolent bone in his body.
i remember one time when we were at the arts academy we both attended throughout high school. class was out, but phil and myself and a handful of other kids were in the academy's yearly opera, and we had gone up the street to grab some food before rehearsal. we were all hanging out outside the theater when this older woman came up to us. the academy is sort of in the inner city and we were used to having an eye out for crazies, and this lady definitely fit the bill; dirty clothes, unstable expression. she asked us, half-pleading, if anyone had a dollar - she said she was lost, didn't have enough for the bus, wasn't sure which bus to take even if she had... she seemed on the edge of a breakdown. ourselves being little sheltered high school kids, we mostly looked away and muttered awkward excuses; except for phil.
"hang on one second," he said to her. "wait right there."
i watched as he went inside and quickly took up a collection. he returned with a few dollars, enough for the bus, and a teacher who was able to give the lady directions. she was so, so grateful and so obviously, incredibly relieved that someone had helped her. phil just told her not to worry about it and made sure she was okay before heading in to rehearsal. i think the rest of us, deservedly, all felt like assholes.
phil and i were friends at the academy, but we didn't really get close until a couple years after graduation. we both moved to new york city right away, but even then we rarely hung out; in fact, we'd seen each other maybe once or twice between high school and the OD incident. after that he kind of fell off the planet for a while and he told me later that he'd dropped everything and gone to florida without notice. and then one night, while i was living upstate, i called him from the bus on the way to the port authority, and he picked up. he was back in new york city and we had a lot of catching up to do.
after that visit, we started calling each other whenever we were bored. i came to hang out with him when i could, but usually he was a voice over the phone, talking about drugs and auditions and his dickish roommate. a lot of the time he was stoned, talking to me as he roamed the upper east side in search of food, and he could never decide what to get. it became a running gag that he always wanted me to decide for him. "ugh, i don't know... what do you think i should do?" and he'd just keep asking until i told him to get chinese, or mcdonalds, or subway. always something fast and cheap.
i don't really know where i'm going with this. i guess it's just a tribute to phil. i haven't even scratched the surface of half of the crazy shit he's been through, of course, but believe me when i say that the dude has lived. he's very talented and someday he'll get the fame and fortune he deserves, but when i think of him my first thought will always be of a groggy voice through a phone - "ugh, i don't know... what do you think i should do?"
Friday, February 13, 2009
it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two
a couple weeks ago i went to visit a very good friend at college. she lives off-campus in a house she rents with four other girls. between them they have two dogs, a kitten and parties every weekend. they're all between the ages of 19 and 24. they all go to college full time. it's a big school. you've heard of it.
my friend gave me a tour of the campus. we hopped in her truck (she drives stick. that always impresses me) and she drove me around and pointed out everything worth seeing, with the kind of commentary you only get from an insider - personal anecdotes, local superstitions and urban legends, which dorms have the best parties, which dorms nobody wants to live in. all the stuff worth knowing. i enjoyed the hell out of the tour and listened with genuine interest as she talked about the place that is, for two and a half more years, her world. and i watched the kids milling around, hanging out, heading to their next classes... and i thought, wow, this actually isn't for me.
i'm the same age as my friend. had i made different choices my senior year of high school, i'd be right where she and most of my other friends are now. and of course i've always wondered if maybe i should have taken that route - it would be easier, for sure, to spend four more years worrying about homework and finals and who's hosting the next kegger. i even dipped my toes in last year. i took classes at a community college while living with a couple of girls who were doing their best to simulate a college environment out of our living room. but it wasn't until this visit that i finally realized that actually, i made the right choice for myself. i may have done it in a sort of clumsy, accidental, half-assed way, but i did the best thing i could do. had i gone to a four-year college, i suspect that i would have left after a semester and been in exactly the same position as i am today, only without the experience i gained from moving to new york city at age 18.
which is by no means to say that i know what i'm doing. i don't. i have no idea. especially right now. for the first time, well, ever, i am at a complete and utter loss. i don't have a job, i'm not in school, i'm living at home... i didn't mean to be here and the circumstances that put me here were out of my control, but here i am and i can't seem to figure out how to get started again.
but at least i can rule out one more option.
next time: i cut the self-discovery crap and tell a wacky story about this guy i know.
my friend gave me a tour of the campus. we hopped in her truck (she drives stick. that always impresses me) and she drove me around and pointed out everything worth seeing, with the kind of commentary you only get from an insider - personal anecdotes, local superstitions and urban legends, which dorms have the best parties, which dorms nobody wants to live in. all the stuff worth knowing. i enjoyed the hell out of the tour and listened with genuine interest as she talked about the place that is, for two and a half more years, her world. and i watched the kids milling around, hanging out, heading to their next classes... and i thought, wow, this actually isn't for me.
i'm the same age as my friend. had i made different choices my senior year of high school, i'd be right where she and most of my other friends are now. and of course i've always wondered if maybe i should have taken that route - it would be easier, for sure, to spend four more years worrying about homework and finals and who's hosting the next kegger. i even dipped my toes in last year. i took classes at a community college while living with a couple of girls who were doing their best to simulate a college environment out of our living room. but it wasn't until this visit that i finally realized that actually, i made the right choice for myself. i may have done it in a sort of clumsy, accidental, half-assed way, but i did the best thing i could do. had i gone to a four-year college, i suspect that i would have left after a semester and been in exactly the same position as i am today, only without the experience i gained from moving to new york city at age 18.
which is by no means to say that i know what i'm doing. i don't. i have no idea. especially right now. for the first time, well, ever, i am at a complete and utter loss. i don't have a job, i'm not in school, i'm living at home... i didn't mean to be here and the circumstances that put me here were out of my control, but here i am and i can't seem to figure out how to get started again.
but at least i can rule out one more option.
next time: i cut the self-discovery crap and tell a wacky story about this guy i know.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
you don't have to live like a refugee
transitional periods suck.
of course it also sucks that i'm so averse to transition, as my life since graduating high school has been one long series of transitional periods. mostly it's the moving from place to place that bothers me. especially seeing as i always seem to live up at least two flights of stairs.
i'm on the cusp of yet another move, though, and this time i'm determined to settle down. i tend to live like a refugee even if i've signed a one-year lease. i don't paint, don't put up shelves, don't really do anything that requires actual time and money - i'll slap up some christmas lights and the MTA subway map as decor and call it a day. but this time will be different. it has to be, considering the place is so small that if i leave it looking the way it does, it will be stifling. impeccable color choices are this apartment's only hope. i shall put down roots or go broke trying.
so anyway right now i'm living out a of a suitcase again. most of my stuff is at my dad's house in connecticut. i have two more work days in my current location, then i'm headed off to reunite with my worldly possessions. and then if all goes as planned, back to the city. i'm no closer to finding a job. this blog is the only step i've taken towards starting my career. so far... 2009 is looking delicious.
of course it also sucks that i'm so averse to transition, as my life since graduating high school has been one long series of transitional periods. mostly it's the moving from place to place that bothers me. especially seeing as i always seem to live up at least two flights of stairs.
i'm on the cusp of yet another move, though, and this time i'm determined to settle down. i tend to live like a refugee even if i've signed a one-year lease. i don't paint, don't put up shelves, don't really do anything that requires actual time and money - i'll slap up some christmas lights and the MTA subway map as decor and call it a day. but this time will be different. it has to be, considering the place is so small that if i leave it looking the way it does, it will be stifling. impeccable color choices are this apartment's only hope. i shall put down roots or go broke trying.
so anyway right now i'm living out a of a suitcase again. most of my stuff is at my dad's house in connecticut. i have two more work days in my current location, then i'm headed off to reunite with my worldly possessions. and then if all goes as planned, back to the city. i'm no closer to finding a job. this blog is the only step i've taken towards starting my career. so far... 2009 is looking delicious.
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