I'm not a plastic blog

I hate parental tech support

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 15:35:00 +0000

I want to shoot myself when my mom calls me up asking for help on her PC. There's nothing worse than her verbally walking through clicking on the toolbar and not finding what I'm asking her to look for.

Last week I'm on a conference call using join.me and I'm sharing my screen so that I can walk through wireframes and designs with my team that are in in DC and Mass. It occurred to me that I could use this to troubleshoot stuff for my mom if she's the one that shares her screen with me.

Haven't tried it yet but I think it's going to make those phone calls less painful. Totally free, too.

https://secure.join.me/

Tuning you out

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 15:27:00 +0000

When I need to focus on a task at work, I like to listen to ambient music. Sometimes I just need some soothing white noise while I go through some metrics.

SimplyNoise is a white noise generator that you can use on the web or on the iPhone.

When I first got on the site, it was set to "white noise" and that just sounded like pure static to me. I currently have it set to "oscillating" (the blue button on the right) and it's producing a pleasant, waves crashing on the beach kind of sound.

http://simplynoise.com/

How many songs do you hear?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 16:59:00 +0000

First time I heard Born This Way, I for sure heard Madonna's Express Yourself. However, GoCheeksGo performs several songs while Lady Gaga plays in the background.

Overblown reactions to dumb shit, part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 04 May 2011 19:45:00 +0000

Is there a right way or a wrong way to stack paper towels such as these?

Take a look at the stack on the left and on the right. Which one do you think is correct? Does it even matter to you?

It matters to me. The stack on the left is upside down. The stack on the right is correct.

When you stack it upside down (L) , you tend to wet the towel below the one you’re grabbing. It also makes it hard to grab just one, making it inefficient and unhygienic as you’re touching the other towel. When you stack it with the fold facing up (R), you’re able to grab the fold and use just that one towel. When you have these types of towels (known as C-folds) in a dispenser, you’ll note that it’s the side with the folds that sticks out, for that very reason.

But here’s the problem.

In our kitchen, we don’t have a dispenser, so the cleaning woman puts out the towels for us to grab. However, she puts them out upside down. Every time I’m in the kitchen, I flip the whole stack over, fold-side up. But, when I go back in there, she has either replaced them facing down or she’s actively flipping them back the other way.

Every morning when I come into the office, I put my stuff down and wash my hands in the kitchen sink. I grab an upside down towel and after drying my hands, I flip the entire stack right-side up.

When I go into the kitchen for lunch, I do the exact same thing.

When I go into the kitchen at 3pm for coffee, guess what I’m doing?

I’ve been consistently doing this for months. Three times a day.

What I don’t understand is why this isn’t taking hold. Am I the only one who sees this is the right way? And why, when she’s in there – and she’s always in the kitchen – does she not look down and see what direction the towels are facing and replace them accordingly? Or, why, when she washes her own hands, does she not say to herself, “oh, I’m totally wetting the bottom towel when they’re facing down.” Or, if she catches them after I’ve corrected them, “oh, look, I’m grabbing the fold and holy cow, what a better experience.”

Really? I just don't get it.

Overblown reactions to dumb shit, part 1.

Lily Loves Roses

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 01:52:00 +0000

The moment I put the flowers I received this weekend down on the coffee table, Sam and Lily swarmed and started chewing on it. So, when I wasn't around, I placed it on top of the fridge.

I thought I was being oh so smart.

I came home today to find Lily had eaten off some of the rose petals.

This is what she did:

At least she didn't knock them to the floor! I have no idea where I'm going to put the flowers now.

Keep Looking Up!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 19:43:00 +0000

My father called this afternoon, to let me know that Jack Horkheimer, who hosted a five-minute astronomy show on PBS called Stargazer (formerly called Starhustler) for 35 years, died on August 20th, 2010.

He just found out. We spent about 30 minutes talking about our memories of Jack the Starhustler, the haunting, melancholy theme music that moved us both in the same way, heard late at night, and the influence the show had in our lives and our love of astronomy.

Growing up, the show aired in Miami on PBS, right before sign off (midnight? 1am?). My mom was/is a night owl, so staying up late at night and catching Starhustler was commonplace and then running outside to look at the stars, sometimes secretly, sometimes the next night with my dad.

I also spent a lot of time at the Miami Museum of Science and the planetarium. My school had field trips and I also used to (successfully) beg my mom to take me there or Crandon Park whenever Jack had set up telescopes. Jack was the director of the planetarium. The person you saw on TV - excited about the stars and mythology and kooky - was the same person in real life: animated and alive.

When I got my first car in 1990, a 1985 Honda Civic hatchback (with no A/C in Miami!), the only bumper sticker I put on the car was the Stargazer's saying: "Keep Looking Up."

Jack's show has been on the air and also been available as a video podcast for a while. It's unknown what will happen with the show now that he's passed, but I really hope they keep it going and inspire others.

So, my father and I shed a few tears because we really loved this guy and his show. This was his last episode:

Jack, we love you and thank you for being there, for inspiring me and my father's love of astronomy. My father and I have watched the sky all our lives. And, I've watched you for most of my life. Both of us thank you for your enthusiasm and we will miss you. You've touched our lives, and for the rest of our lives we'll remember you and we will keep looking up!

Jack's photo from www.aaymca.com

Roots

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 15:54:00 +0000

Last night, over drinks with a friend, we started talking about Place. My friend C. feels very much at home here in Prospect Heights, and wanted to, in her words, "put down roots."

I thought about that sentiment, searching within myself for anything similar and, found nothing. I don't have roots to a place. My immediate family came to the U.S. from Brazil in 1960, living first in Manhattan, then Queens, then South Florida. The extended family followed the same course but then moved out to Utah, New Mexico, and then returned to the Northern parts of Florida.

My grandparents moved around more times than I can count once they reached Florida. Every time they seemed to be packing up and moving. Back when I was in college, they moved back to Brazil for a few years. Then they returned to Florida.

My mother and her husband moved from Miami to the Dominican Republic for a few years and then moved back.

There is no family home. When I visit my mother in Florida, it's a house she's had for a few years, but it’s not the place I grew up in (and I grew up in a variety of apartment complexes). My grandparents never bought, and now my grandfather, widowed, splits his time traveling between Brazil and Florida. When he's in the states, it's in an apartment complex that has no familial ties.

The other thing our family doesn't have are items passed down through the generations. There’s no quilt from a great-grandmother. No china handed down. No books, writings, dolls, trinkets. Not even jewelry. There are no sentimental items and the ones that could have been sentimental to future generations were sold or given away or left behind through all the moves. On my father's side, my great-aunt has pictures but my mother's past is like a slate wiped clean. There is a spiral notebook of her debutante ball – photos of my mother at sixteen in a gown and white gloves looking all serious - and that's the extent of her past.

It frustrates me a bit when I think about how there's so little that's tangible about our family, but, then I think about what things my family valued throughout the ages. They didn't put value in possessions, but in experiences and in pursuing dreams and being in the present moment, without much regard for the past or the future.

Ours is a transient family. There are no roots. There are no gravestones to visit. There are no inheritances. We might as well go from town to town in a wagon with our stuff tied up in a hobo sack that gets lost along the way.

So if you ever hear that I'm living in an RV (which one of my cousins did recently while traveling across America) or moving to some random town somewhere, then you know where my family legacy lies.

Why I love Twitter (and macaroons)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 23:54:00 +0000

Oh sweet Jesus, these are the best macaroons I've ever had & I've been to France! Thanks to Twitter and @dannymacaroons, I got to enjoy them!

After Amy, a food blogger I follow (@amyblogschow), tweeted about eating "surprisingly moist" salted caramel macaroons, and letting me know that they're from Danny Macaroons and are available locally, I immediately had to go out & get some. I love me some salted chocolate and salted caramel so I had to try them. Dan saw Amy's tweet to me and replied letting me know that he just dropped off fresh batches around the city. After walking 15 minutes to the closest coffeeshop listed as a seller, they tell me they're out and they've suspended their shipment. Well, boo!

I tweeted back to Dan & what ends up happening is a bunch of back-and-forth emails with him and he makes plans with me to hand deliver not only some salted caramel macaroons, but an assortment of plain & chocolate covered ones as well.

This evening, Dan was waiting outside of my office and pulled out a six-piece bag of macaroons from his cooler. While he tells me about himself and his business - Dan's been in business for 4 months and makes the macaroons himself in Spanish Harlem - I bit into the salted caramel macaroon and it was an explosion of flavors: sweet, salty, coconuty, and very, very moist. (I was tempted to take a picture of him, but I was busy eating.)

However, the best was yet to come. On the train ride home, I tried a plain macaroon. Holy cow, I went bananas on the train: this was the best macaroon I've ever eaten! Ever! Again, super moist, sweet but not overpowering, coconut perfectly shredded. I was all moaning and picking off the pieces that fell on my shirt and in the crook of my arm and shoving it into my mouth like some out of control person. It was that good!

So, if you're a fan of macaroons, find a shop that carries them (but call first, just in case).

If it wasn't for Twitter, I wouldn't have had the best damn macaroons I've ever tasted. Now I got to control myself to not eat the four macaroons I have left tonight. I haven't even tried the chocolate one yet!!

The Writer & the Reader

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 21:24:00 +0000

I'm reading a bunch of non-fiction stories a friend of mine gave me to read. I've been sitting on it for months now, much to my embarrassment, and every once in a while, she'd ask me if I've read them yet.

Truth be told, it makes me a pretty lousy friend that I've dragged my feet in reading them, and I'm direct enough to admit that to her. She laughs it off, but in her questioning she betrays a bit of hurt over it. I can't blame her. I remember what it's like, cautiously awaiting the moment when I'd hear the opinions of the people I respected who were given a copy of a poem or story I had written.

One reason it took a while for me to get to her stories was a fear they wouldn't be good and having to lie about it. My friend is pretty smart and knows it. This combination can produce self-conscious writing or writing suffering of egoism. If I encountered that kind of writing, the friendship would be in jeopardy and I didn't want to deal with any of that.

When I stopped writing, it was for a combination of many reasons, one of which was the isolation of the activity. I didn't want to continue to engage in activities that necessitated being alone. But, sitting here in the park with her stories spread out around my towel, I remembered: Writing is meant to be shared and enjoyed. It is a piece of you given to others, something internal made external. I've been so concerned in indulging myself further in isolation I've all but abandoned writing, but I've forgotten the vulnerability, beauty and bravery involved when you first share your work and how self-expression by its very nature requires someone to express to.

And, that was the other reason I was taking so long. She wanted me to see her and to know her and, because these stories were non-fiction and about her, what if I didn't like her?

I had nothing to worry about as her stories were well written, smart and enjoyable to read. I loved them and it reminded me of why were friends in the first place (I should have trusted my taste in friends). I cannot wait for her to return home from vacation and give her a hug and tell her how much I love her and her stories.

Something else came out of this experience reading her stories in the park, alone, on the fourth of July surrounded by crowds of people picnicking and enjoying games and food: perhaps I can cut myself some slack about being too isolated, forgive myself for being a bit of a loner, write some more, and remember that the act of sharing my writing is an act of sharing my self.

How I survived 7 months of unemployment without going into debt

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 15 May 2010 21:50:00 +0000

A lot of people, upon hearing that I was unemployed for seven months, are visibly frightened to hear how long I was out of work. They ask how I survived, assuming I lived off credit cards and, when I tell them that I am not in debt because I had an emergency fund, they are surprised.

The reason many of the people who inquired about my situation were frightened and surprised was because they had no savings to speak of. According to a 2009 Met Life survey, about 50% of Americans have less than one month's expenses saved for an emergency.

An emergency fund is about keeping you out of debt when shit hits the fan: You get laid off. You get sick or in an accident and can't work. You get smacked with huge medical bills even though you have insurance. This is what the fund is for. Emergencies. Not a vacation to Fiji.

So, how much should you have? It's a real personal decision, but it's an amount you're comfortable with. For me, that meant having 12 months worth of living expenses set aside (for me that's rent, food, utilities, pet care, medical care, and a small amount of entertainment money). But, Suze Orman says eight months worth of living expenses is a good amount. Like I said, if shit hits the fan, can you pay your rent? Buy food? Take care of any medical bills that come up? Do you have someone to take care of you? Are you going to end up homeless or have to move back in with your parents? All of these things should factor into the amount you set aside for your emergency fund.

How long did it take me to set aside an entire year's worth of living expenses? My initial e-fund back in 2001 was six months worth of living expenses and I've been contributing for years now. As my income and expenses grew, so did the amount that went in there. I'm a big believer in paying yourself first, so I always sent a little bit of money into this account. Also, while this money is liquid, it's an account not easily accessible, so I can't go to the ATM and withdraw money from it and take a vacation to Fiji. (I should, however, consider setting up a vacation fund!)

You don't have to be a financial wizard to accomplish this. I'm not. You don't have to be making a ton of money either. You start setting a bit of money aside. You can even set up a direct deposit from your paycheck right into this e-fund and not even think about it.

So, take what I've said here from the perspective that unexpected things can happen and start your own emergency fund and check out Suze Orman or another favorite of mine, Ramit Sethi of I Will Teach You To Be Rich if you need a little more guidance.

I'm employed again and what's the first thing I'm doing? Building up my emergency fund.

Making Malai Kofta

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 May 2010 03:20:00 +0000

I don't know anyone else who likes malai kofta, the Northern Indian dish of vegetable croquettes in a spicy cream sauce, but it's what I tend to order over and over again and I really like it.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing through one of my vegetarian cookbooks, a British tome of 1000 recipes and I came across a kofta recipe. It wasn't authentic, but I didn't have a kofta recipe so I filed it in the back of my mind to make it on a rainy day.

So today was that rainy day. Except it wasn't rainy. Just cold and windy.

The major ingredient in this recipe's kofta meal was pink lentils. See? Not authentic (it's supposed to be potatoes and cheese).

I rolled the meal into balls and baked them.

I added a few koftas to the curry, a spicy cream sauce whose recipe came from an Indian cookbook.

And here's the finished product, over some basmati brown rice.

The kofta actually tasted pretty good with the rice and curry. So, would I make this again? Not this kofta recipe. While it was lighter and healthier, I'd go and find a more authentic recipe instead. But, I made a bunch of it which I froze. They can also be served as an appetizer with a yogurt sauce so I'll try that too.

Dance, sing, floss and travel

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 18:41:00 +0000

You ever read what's written on a Lululemon bag? I used to just roll my eyes at it but then yesterday on a crowded subway, the bag was right in front of my face. So I read it. Here are some sayings I thought were the most interesting and relevant to me:

* Do one thing a day that scares you.

* Life is full of setbacks. Success is determined by how you handle setbacks.

* Your outlook on life is a direct reflection of how much you like yourself.

* That which matters the most should never give way to that which matters the least.

* Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment. Living in the moment could be the meaning of life.

* Creativity is maximized when you’re living in the moment.

And then these just cracked me up:

* Children are the orgasm of life. Just like you did not know what an orgasm was before you had one, nature does not let you know how great children are until you have them.

* Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocre is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.

* Do not use cleaning chemicals on your kitchen counters. Someone will inevitably make a sandwich on your counter.

These aphorisms come from Lululemon's manifesto, which can be read in its entirety here, so you don't have to have a bag in your face.

There goes the puppy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 21:54:00 +0000

Well, Elke's back with the breeder.

I had to be realistic: It's just not the right time in my life for a puppy. Right now, I need to focus on getting a job, I'm stressed out about that and, despite what I thought, I couldn't go through puppyhood alone and I had to be realistic about my not having a support system to help with her (it does take a village, people).

The breeder has a waiting list a mile long, so I made someone on that waiting list very happy. In the meantime, Elke's rolling around with her littermates again and I got to cuddle with a sweet puppy for a few days (and stand in the rain a lot).

When things are more settled, I'll reconsider, but frankly, I'll consider an older dog next time.

Road to Ruin!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 03:13:00 +0000

Well this is it. Tomorrow I pick up my puppy and bring her to her new home.

Back in October, I decided that since I had all this free time and spending so much of it inside my home, perhaps I should revisit the idea of getting a dog.

As a kid, I was really into dogs - there's this story my grandmother used to tell me about me and the dogs when we all lived in Jackson Heights. I was an incredibly friendly child, saying hello to everyone, a huge smile always on my face. (I have bits of memory, holding my grandmother's hand while walking down the sidewalk, tilting my head up, saying hello to strangers. Some of whom would smile and say hello back, some of whom would keep on walking, and I'd puzzle on that, asking my grandmother why they didn't reciprocate.)

The building in which we lived in until I was seven years old was a large seven story apartment building with three "wings." My parents and I lived in the A wing and my grandparents in the B wing (each wing had it's own elevator bank). I was always going in between their apartments, out to the pool area, out to the play area or just out in general. And it was a building filled with dogs. I remember a husky that I loved and a doberman.

So, the story about me and dogs in our building goes something like this, and in this story I'm between the ages 3-7: Just as I would walk down the street and say hello to all the strangers walking by, I did the exact same thing with the dogs and would often go pet them and then put my arms around them. The dogs in my building were, according to my grandma, of the "scary" variety: dobermans, huskies, shepherds and other dogs that were larger than I was and I would go ahead and hug them. Everyone knew me in the building and so did all the dogs.

The one piece of the story that my grandmother left out for years was that when I was two years old and visiting Brazil, a chihuahua bit my mouth after I tried to pet it, resulting in a few stitches on my lips (I still have the scars). I never liked small dogs and wouldn't go near them but had no idea why. Finally one day I asked my grandmother and she casually tells me about it. She said the bite didn't change my exuberance for dogs one bit, just that I stopped wanting to pet and hug small dogs, so she didn't think much of it.

Growing up, I wanted either a husky, a doberman or a german shepherd, the types of dogs that I saw and loved as a kid. My parents were immovable, despite that fact that my mom grew up with a boxer and my dad loved dogs. However, there was a strange incident: When I was sixteen, I opened the front door of my house and there was a cocker spaniel puppy running around. I looked around and saw that my father had his video camera set up on the tripod, trained to the front door and right at me. I was not happy. I did not and do not like cocker spaniels, but there was my father, excited. My mother, who was right behind me, was excited. They looked at me expectantly. And, there was a camera trained at me. I knew what I needed to do. I still cringe when I think of it how much I faked my emotion that day. A few years ago I saw the video and it made me cry.

The puppy didn't last long, about a month. He was very sweet, but I wasn't consulted and he wasn't "my" dog. It all felt weird and unnatural. Then, I came home one day and he was gone which actually made the situation a whole lot worse somehow. A few months later, my mom asked my father for a divorce, just to give this whole thing some context.

Once I graduated high school and entered college, the idea of a dog was pushed to the side. And, once I graduated college, I had already been made to understand that "a dog was not for single people. " I needed to either be in a committed relationship or married in order to have a dog. And, I just accepted that as a fact of life.

So, back in October, when I decided that I had all this free time and spending so much of it inside my apartment, I revisited this mindset. And I decided it was a bunch of crap. I most certainly could go ahead and have a dog as a single person, and with my current situation, I could even get a puppy. I could get a dogwalker once I was employed. It most certainly is doable for a single person to have a dog.

Also at this point, while I still loved huskies, dobermans and shepherds, I decided upon a Samoyed, a sweet, fluffy white dog that looks like it's smiling all the time. I began my search, starting at the rescue sites. Samoyeds aren't really common dogs like labs or goldens, but I kept a watch. Both of my cats were rescues, and I very much believe in adopting animals. But, this was the breed of dog I wanted, so I also started researching local breeders. Again, not a common dog, but I found a few breeders, spoke to them and decided to visit a breeder in Connecticut that I ended up choosing and got on a waiting list.

And so the preparation began: I read a bunch of books (about fourteen in all so far), groomed a few Samoyeds, spent as much time as I could with both adult and puppy Samoyeds and now the day has come. The crate is set up, the apartment has been puppy-proofed and my cats definitely have a sense that something's up.

Despite all that I've read, I'm nervous. There's just no amount of preparation that would be enough for me. Look at this from Ian Dunbar's book, "Before & After Getting Your Puppy": "In fact, some puppies are well on the road to ruin by the time they are just eight weeks old." (Emphasis mine.) ROAD TO RUIN!

Look at this face. She's on the ROAD TO RUIN unless I have my shit together!

Tomorrow morning, I'll pick up the zipcar, drive to Connecticut and pick up the pup. What's her name? Well stay tuned: while I have a favorite, I need to try it out on her first and see if it fits. If you're that curious, check my twitter as I'll likely announce it there.

Oh, be prepared for future blog posts and flickr uploads regarding the dog. Rest assured I won't turn into a crazy dog lady; I never did turn into a crazy cat lady, after all. :)

What's Your Hobby?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 17:08:00 +0000

I had a phone interview today for a job that sounds promising and interesting but I was thrown by two questions: 1) how do I deal with difficult people and 2) what are my hobbies.

The "dealing with difficult people" question was tough because I had to be honest - I don't thrive in environments where difficult people are tolerated and I only suffer fools up to a point. I see it as disrespectful and cowardly when a difficult employee or employer is allowed free reign to make the lives of others miserable. I went on some ramble about the television commercials I saw for "Kell on Earth" and how I didn't understand how her employees thought it was a thriving environment... I hope the interviewer appreciated my grasp on popular culture. (Surprisingly, this didn't seem to do me in but who knows.)

I have always grappled with the hobby question, even as a kid. I remember being asked about my hobbies in class, or staring down at some form where I was asked to fill in my hobbies. I was often confused as to what the definition was - is a hobby any activity that you do for fun? Is it something you do in your spare time? Is it just any activity you do? I don't think running or swimming are hobbies. I don't consider cooking a hobby either. Therefore, I was always on the search for an Official Hobby - the one thing I was really passionate about and dedicated to. A hobby to me had to be something like gardening, collecting, crafting, model trains, radio-related, or drawing. As a kid, my only hobbies I felt were legit were drawing, reading and science/astronomy.

However, when the interviewer asked I blurted out, "the internet." I have often said, in a self-deprecating and joking way, that the internet is my hobby but, it actually is. I spend so much time online reading, writing, researching, playing, talking, tooling around, - it's something I enjoy, especially researching. I was an amazing researcher prior to the internet - making great use of my encyclopedia and the library's reference desk. Seemed like no one my age knew that you could utilize the ref desk; Librarians often took me behind their desks to show me which books to pull and how to get the information I was looking for and I would linger for a while watching them (and no one knew you could call up and they would help you over the phone, and walk you through what they were doing). It was a great advantage, but one that I didn't put to great use grade-wise. I just liked knowing random things and looking things up - my parents were forever telling me to "look it up" (and it's why you want me on your trivia team). This little internet hobby of mine has served me well in collecting, with genealogy, with my job, and with satisfying my general thirst to look things up and get caught up in it. (Tangent: As a kid I was obsessed by science and the BBC series "Connections" and "The Day the Universe Changed." If you know these series and know of James Burke, this would explain a lot about where this passion and love for research comes from. James Burke... I still want to be like this guy.)

When the interviewer asked me what other hobbies I had my mind went blank. No, actually it went back to my childhood rigid assumption of what a hobby was and then it went back to a month ago when I was searching Hunch for a hobby and found nothing I liked so then I said "reading," my most consistent hobby. When I got off the phone, I realized I had a bunch of other hobbies like: all the trivia I've been playing on xbox live , collecting Automat memorabilia, exploring the outdoors, the 365 Project could be considered a hobby even.

I just researched hobbies and found this quiz. Surprise, my hobby is Technology. If you want to play around with finding a new hobby, I think Hunch is a great resource to get the ideas flowing (and I'm going to play around with it some more when I'm done with this post!).

So, what are your hobbies? Do you have the same ones from when you were a kid? What do you do when you want to discover a new hobby?

365 Project Recap #1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 02:05:00 +0000

Day 25 and I'm still enjoying the 365 Project. Or Project 365 as it's also called. Who's right? Well, it doesn't matter. I'm posting a photo everyday to Flickr and tagging it "365 project" so that's what I'm calling it.

Here are a few photos that I took recently....

Day 22: Lobby.
I arrived about 15 minutes early to an interview at the IAC building in Chelsea. It's not a building that I like from the outside but inside, it's a different experience. The light in the lobby at this hour was peaceful and serene. The design of the benches mimicked the way the light entered. It was all very lovely.

Day 24: Hanover Place.
Sunday night, I headed into the city to meet some friends to play bar trivia. The streets were quiet and I was walking on Pearl street towards Hanover Place when I realized I once had a dream that took place here. Was such an eerie feeling. I wanted to take a photo of the street, but there was a guy walking past me. I decided to take the photo anyway. Glad I did as I really like how it came out. I liked how it came out dark and exaggerated and I made the photo black and white to enhance that.

Day 25: Glass.
My apartment is in the midst of a heating crisis. The living room radiator is insanely hot and I dress like it's mid August inside. I left a dirty glass on my computer stand, which is near the radiator and by this evening, it looked like this. The glass didn't break, but the tiny amount of beer left inside dried.

I don't know if by day 100 I'll be taking photos of my socks, but if you want to follow the daily photos, check out my flickr set.

365 Project: Juggernaut

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 04:38:00 +0000

I decided to jump in and join my friends bearclau and Chelc in the 365 Project. I love the idea of being able to look back and see what my year looks like in photos. I actually did this recently, look back on the year in photos that is, and I was surprised by what I had forgotten about during the year. So, this seems like a project I'd get a lot out of.

I have no idea how this is going to go, but hopefully it will be interesting. Not sure yet if I'll post the photo on the blog daily, but it will be on flickr. Maybe I'll post the more interesting ones here? I sure haven't posted anything here in a while!

All right, today's photo is:

I got an Xbox Christmas weekend along with a free trial of xbox live and my time has been dominated by 1 vs 100, a trivia game that you play against others. This is a pic of my avatar in first place. The purple icon is my 90% accuracy metal and the gold one is because I beat "the one." in the game.

Don't take the chair

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 21:19:00 +0000

I'm sitting at a coffeeshop, alone, at a small table. I'm enjoying a latte, a cupcake that's way too small, and I'm reading my book. I'm comfy and I'm happy.

But then some girl comes up to me and wants to take the empty chair to another table with her friends. And I lie and tell her someone's coming.

I know this sounds kinda selfish but when you take that chair away all of a sudden I become unapproachable. You get to sit with your friends but now no one will have a chance to sit with me. Ever walk into a coffeeshop and spy those people sitting at a table alone with no other chair? It's isolating.

The empty chair is there as an opportunity for someone to join me at this table. Once, in this very coffeeshop, someone sat with me. That happens. Some people will sit with you if they see an empty chair available and talk with you.

So don't take that chair away from that man or woman sitting alone. Wait until something frees up. Because you don't know what you're taking away from them.

Sent from my iPhone

I've felt better, I've felt worse.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 18:07:00 +0000

I was listening to my ipod, shuffling songs, when the song that played in the background 15 years ago while a boyfriend broke up with me came on. I let it play, those feelings are long gone now, but walking down the street with gray skies overhead, I remembered how it went down.

He was sitting on the bed and I was standing. I was asking for the reason why and as he told me, the song seemed to get louder. While he told me I wasn't "the one," I heard these lyrics over his words: "Just love yourself like no one else. Love, it's enough, they can say what they like but they still can't take your love." (Now, normally I could barely understand what Harriet Wheeler said in her songs, but this I heard very clearly.)

I was crying, he was still talking, but I was only hearing the song and dumbly repeating "I'm not the one" while feeling like the most unloved person on the planet who now had to figure out how I going to go about loving myself like no one else.

That moment could have ruined the song for me, but it didn't and for a time, I ended up playing it a lot.

Here's the song.

Overblown reactions to dumb shit part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 18:36:00 +0000

Keffiyehs - Why do these drive me up the wall? Why do I want to strangle people who wear them with them? I think it's how it's worn - folded in half to make a triangle, then gathered around the neck to leave one point facing down in the center of the chest, like a bandanna gone wrong - that's getting on my nerves. Otherwise, I can't explain my passionate and vocal dislike for this style. It's not hipster hate - y'all know I love them hipsters - but can we stop with these scarves now?

Hey, Rachel Ray freaking wears them. Isn't that reason enough to stop?

DON'T DO THIS

I retract my previous post

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 17:23:00 +0000

As you likely figured out by now, I'm not moving to San Francisco. I changed my mind. More came out of that decision and undeciding it than I was prepared for or wanted. I don't want to write about it publicly, though (I know, surprising). Nothing's a secret, so ask me if you want to have a conversation, but be prepared to discuss it over drinks and/or dinner.

Dinner... that reminds me: I finally bought a dining table and chairs. One of those folding space saving kind. So people, you're going to start getting dinner invites. And, if you show up wearing a Keffiyeh, I will give you major shit for it.

Moving to San Francisco!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:10:00 +0000

I'm moving to San Francisco in December!

It's not completely out of left field. It's something I've thought about for years and always had one excuse or another as to why I wasn't going to move. I like familiarity and the safety of my life. I'm soooo comfortable here in my cozy apartment. I love Brooklyn and Prospect Park and the Park Slope Food Co-op and I love the people in my life here. But, losing my job changed the routine and allowed me a lot of time to think about what I wanted out of myself and out of this life. It's time for something else. I've lived in this area (NJ/NY/MA) my entire adult life. I want to switch it up, have new experiences. Shake up my life. See what happens.

Even though I'm excited, I'm sad too. I think about all the incredible people I know here and how I'll be lucky if I'll see them once or twice a year now. I will say this to my NY friends (and you'll hear me say it again later): I will make the effort to keep in touch via IM, twitter, FB, email, phone, text and I'll come to visit. I hope you do the same.

So, now for some Q&A:

Q: You got a job over there?
A: Not yet. If you got some connections, please let me know!

Q: You got a place yet?
A: Not yet. I'll be staying briefly with some friends and am trying to get a sublet. I have two kitties that are coming with me, so it makes it a little harder.

Q: Damn, girl. You crazy?
A: Huh? No! You know I got it covered!

Q: Will you come back and visit?
A: Yes. And, I'm already paid up for a conference here in NYC in early 2010. Can I stay at your place? Seriously. Can I?

Q: Can I visit you in SF and stay at your place?
A: You better! If you don't, I will be very, very sad.

Q: Will you ever move back to NY?
A: I don't know. Nothing is ruled out. Besides, I love NY.

Q: Will you miss me?
A: Very much.

My eleven hour bike ride

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 20:14:00 +0000

On Sunday, I rode my bike 86 miles around Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Far Rockaways, Queens and then back into Manhattan. I started at 6:30am and finished at 5:00pm. It was fun and challenging!

One of my friends casually mentioned this bike tour, the NYC Century, and I perked up. Since getting a bike back in June, I've taken to riding it a lot around town and to various places. When I started working at my last job, many of my coworkers commuted to work so my fear of riding in the city started to wear off. The question then turned to what kind of bike I wanted. I just wanted a bike I could cruise around in, all relaxed and stuff. I loved vintage bikes and the whole image of the girl in a skirt riding her bike in the countryside with a baguette in her basket. I wanted to be That Girl.

So, I bought an authentic Dutch bike. My bike is single speed, has coaster breaks, and weighs a ton (about 42lbs). It's super comfortable to sit and ride because instead of leaning forward to hold the handlebars you're upright. I didn't get a basket, but I have a cute bag that I attach to the back rack. Yes, I wear skirts when I ride, and yes, I do look like That Girl!

So, back to this bike tour. When my friend mentioned it, I knew immediately that I wanted to participate. I can easily ride my bike for long distances for hours on end so I was in. There were several options: a 15, 35, 55, 75 or the full 100 mile ride. The only concern going the full 100 miles was the supposed hills in the Bronx that the tour warned about. As the Bronx was the last leg of the tour, I figured I'd do the 75 mile ride instead considering my equipment.

4am I get up and take my bike on the subway to Central Park (no skirt, proper leggings). The train was full of other people participating in the tour and it was fun to talk with people about their experiences. People were asking me how far I intended to go on my bike and were surprised I was doing the 75, which, due to rerouting, became 86 miles.

6:30am I started and made my way from the park down to the Brooklyn Bridge. I gt into a good pace and take in the scenery while I go through parts of Manhattan and over the Brooklyn Bridge towards my neck of the woods, Prospect Park. After that, we head over to the Far Rockaways and then towards Queens.

Now, I've always gotten a lot of comments on my bike, because it's different and incredibly cute, but the amount of comments I've received on this ride was astonishing. People would ride next to me or pass and yell, "Nice bike!" but all were dumbfounded that I was going the distance on a bike like mine, told me I was amazing and cheering me on. People took pictures of me on the bike, and took pictures of the bike itself. I didn't understand at first but comparing my bike to everyone else's, I was taking a harder ride. And, NYC isn't as "relatively flat" as claimed. I worked my ass off climbing hills!

There were so many interesting parts to this ride like seeing bridges up close and going through neighborhoods I've never been in. I rode through Howard Beach which just from the streets you could see was such an Italian-American nabe. I got a "how you doin'" from a big burly guy in front of a diner. Rode by the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Rescue. Rode through Flushing Meadow Park. I especially loved the trails around Kissena Park, it was like riding in a forest. I passed houses that were built over the water (I should have stopped and taken photographs of that as it was truly unexpected) and just rode through such unique neighborhoods both architecturally and ethnically. Also, it was sweet to have children and old men with their grandchilden wave at me.

The hardest part of my ride was the last six miles of it. The Triboro bridge had a bunch of stairs and that meant carrying my bike. I carried it up and down a few flights until I gave in to repeated offers of help. That's when I realized exactly how tough my ride was and why all who spoke to me were dumbfounded and amazed. When another rider carried my bike, I carried his - and I easily tossed it onto my shoulder! It weighed 19lbs! It almost made me cry! This ride would be nothing to me on a bike like that!

When I got to the finish line I laid on the grass for a very long time. I was sweaty, smelly beyond belief, and achy. But I was really happy. This was soooo much fun and such a unique experience! If you get the chance to do a tour like this, go for it. It's not a race, you go your own pace and get to talk to interesting people, and you come away with a different perspective on where you live and what you're capable of.

I heard that the Bronx was relatively flat and that I could have done it. Next time I will, but on a completely different bike!

A kite lost and found

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:01:00 +0000

Yesterday evening I was reading on the roofdeck and enjoying a glass of wine. In the distance I see what I think is a balloon high in the sky. I watch it turn from a black speck to a kite with alternating colors and a tail of dark ribbons. I watch it dance over the Grand Army Plaza arch, zig-zag over a few short buildings and then head straight towards me. I stand up and move to the railing prepared to jump up and catch it but, as it floats above the neighbor's building, the wind dies and the kite slowly and gracefully bows down onto their deck.

A few minutes prior, I was feeling kind of emotional. The sun had set, there was a cool breeze, the sound of leaves shaking on the trees, clouds turning from white to pink in the sky... it was that time of day when you have just enough light left to know that soon it will be dark and the moment felt both beautiful and sad.

And right into this moment comes a lost kite merrily dancing in the breeze.

I had to go get it. :-)

Things I used to care about but don't anymore

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 02:43:00 +0000

I'm procrastinating so why not put together a list?

Key chains
It started with those gimp key chains that everyone had in the 80s. I had to have a cute key chain! I moved onto Winnie the Pooh, a New York subway token and finally my last key chain was a simple piece of leather from Coach. Now, all I have is a simple key ring.

Watches
I really wanted a Swatch back when it was popular. Know what I got? A Swatch-like watch branded by.... Playboy! This was ok for my uncle to give me as a gift?? I can't believe my parents let me wear it, but I did. And got made fun of. I also had a fake Seiko gold-tone watch that was also pretty popular back in the day. I wore watches on and off, settling on a Guess brand watch for a few years. My cellphone saved me from buying a $$$ Longines watch. But, that watch is super duper classy.

Make-up
Although I was a tomboy growing up, I liked make-up and when I started making enough money to buy department store make-up I had a lot of fun buying stuff. I used to buy lipstick and eyeshadow and experiment all the time! But, after a while I realized that for the most part I wear brown eyeshadow as eyeliner and one shade of lipstick and that this shit lasts forever. I have make-up for when I'm going out but, I'm no longer interested in buying the newest thing.

Stickers
This was such an 80s thing. Of course I grew out of it.

Pens & Markers
This started as an 80s thing when all the girls carried their pens inside little plastic boxes. I was also obsessed with those pens that had metallic ink. I had a major, major marker collection. This really doesn't deserve to be on this list, since I still care a lot about pens - I write everyday in a notebook at work and I journal - but man, did I go through a fountain pen phase. I still kinda want a Namiki fountain pen but it's just not going to happen. Unless someone wants to gift me?

Sun, Moon & Star stuff
For a while, I had a few things with this pattern, blankets, nested boxes, assorted chotkies. But I got over it long before people stopped buying me Christmas gifts with sun, stars and moons on it.

Tori Amos
I still remember when Debbie pulled up in her beater with "Crucify" blasting from her stereo back in college. Hard not to love Tori when she was grinding her piano bench and belting out songs like "Precious Things" or "Cornflake Girl." My collection is complete. I was an active member of the Tori Amos communities on LJ. I witnessed the TBL LJ community self-destruct and was part of the resurrection. The album art from "From the Choirgirl Hotel" was my computer wallpaper for years. But, everybody grows up, moves on, gets married, has kids, finds botox and turns out elevator music like "Ireland." Oh well. Yet, I spent over 20 minutes looking at photos of Tori to find the right one to post.

Ok, time to do some work.