Feast of Love

Growing pains.

2009-07-16T10:29:00.003-04:00

I've been working on this long and rambling manifesto about how software and love are similar. It's been a major thorn in my side all week. I take it out every day and work on it, move some paragraphs around, cut some sentences and add some words.

Sometimes you have to recognize when things are not working.

So I'm tabling that for now, which frees me up to write something on here that isn't that post. Amazing how something like that can block me from updating here for a week.

Chris and I talked on the way to the subway this morning about my (lack of) writing lately, how I feel about that and why I feel it's happening. I do feel that the past few months have been an explosion of creativity for me (I attribute 75% of this to the SARK workshop, incidentally), and I'm not sure how things are shaking out in terms of relative priorities to projects. I've been cooking up a storm, making some crazy gifts for people and planning a trip to France with such detail that you'd think I'm my own personal assistant. I feel energized and creative and like I'm getting shit done... only it's in a million directions and not focused on one thing.

I don't know if that's a problem (lack of focus) or a quality (diversity of interests). I do know that my planning for a site re-design will have to take into account all of these passions because part of the reason I feel myself slipping away from writing here is that I'm not sure what content belongs in this space. Or rather, today, it seems that only a specific type of content belongs here. I want to branch out.

So I think the new design will have to allow me to share recipes and photos of something I made, along with some tips I have for what happened when I made it. I think it will have to be flexible enough to let me review a book one day and write a list of places to visit if you're ever in Wisconsin the next. I feel like my creative self is going through a bit of an identity crisis and instead of forcing myself to only acknowledge one aspect of that, the new design needs to celebrate reality, as blurry as it is.

I do have some photos to share, but haven't had two seconds to upload them, so I promise the next post will be just photos of recent good stuff in life.

How are you guys holding up?

Elements to a great evening

2009-07-08T23:15:00.004-04:00

1. Thai take-out
2. Vanilla pudding cups
3. Three episodes of Lost
4. One snuggly cat
5. A very smart and very talented boyfriend whose enthusiasm for Coderific things is infectious

And... cue happiness.

Gravity, you son of a B.

2009-07-07T21:59:00.003-04:00

Alright, this is going to be a doozy.

I had a really shitty day. I had the kind of shitty day that I don't remember how to process anymore; it's rare that I feel something triumph so devastatingly over me. Enthusiasm is my vital warrior, so much so that when it fails to accomplish, I'm left confused and lost.

I finally went to the doctor this morning about something that's been happening in Yoga classes- first last summer, then this winter, then over the past few days. When I'm doing inverted poses (even downdog), fluid collects under my eyes and they swell. It doesn't hurt and it's not gross, but it looks as if I've been sobbing or as if someone recently took out their own shitty day on my face.

After going through a bunch of scenarios (yoga mat allergy? incense allergy?), the doctor agreed with me this morning that my body isn't able to handle being in those positions for more than a few minutes.

I've googled the hell out of this and I literally can't find one other person on the planet who has similar symptoms. The doctor said he was sure a million people have the same problem, but just don't know it because they don't do Yoga.

Sentiment during the 30-minute walk from the doctor's office to work bounced between feeling self-conscious (still a bit swollen this morning) and pissed.

"Don't you think if I do Yoga a lot my body will get used to it?" I'd asked the doctor moments earlier. He shook his head. "There's nothing there that would get stronger or benefit from more use," he said.

Other than looking like a freak, it also slightly stresses me that there isn't a name for this. Anti-inverted-ness? Dis-gravity-io? Come on, modern science. Do me a solid and name this shit so someone can create a wikipage about it and we can figure out a solution. Because for now, the new expensive Yoga mat and 2-week unlimited Yoga pass are going to waste.

This evening in an effort to throw a middle finger at the whole operation, I put in a Yoga DVD I got from the library and did some poses for 40 minutes. The tiny button of light in this whole thing is that it makes me more aware of what's happening to my body as I go through the moves (although I'm pretty sure the Yogis didn't intend internal freak-out monologues as part of the relaxation technique). I just didn't want to mess up my streak of 4 days of daily Yoga. And also because I still sort of refuse to believe that my body wants to screw me on something I like doing so much.

Ok readers, now this is where you come in. So nobody wrote about anti-inverted-ness yet on the Internet. Consider me #1. All I need to feel better about this is a second person, a second case. This post could be found by someone keyword searching or maybe one day you'll be talking with a friend who mentions their increase in puffiness post-headstands. DIRECT THAT PERSON HERE.

We have a Meet-up to organize.

Namaste, I come in peace.

2009-07-06T11:24:00.001-04:00

"Look, here's my new yoga bag."
"The one that cost a million dollars?"
"Well no, the mat cost a million dollars. The bag wasn't that bad."
"It looks like you're carrying a bazooka."
"Yeah, I guess it does."

Check it out: Caillebotte at the Brooklyn Museum

2009-07-03T16:39:00.005-04:00

Caillebotte was one of the artists covered in the Art History course I had to take for my MA in Paris. We all had a soft spot for him (as we did for Courbet, that Johnny Depp look-alike...) and when I saw posters for the Caillebotte exhibit in Brooklyn, I knew I had to make it.

The Brooklyn Museum far surpassed my expectations; there were interactive activities for kids at the museum, iPod listening tours and a phone number you could call to get information about some of the paintings (each painting had a code). SO well done, thoughtfully-organized, and a real treat to see some familiar off-beat perspectives here at home.

If you're in New York this weekend and looking for something to do, the exhibit is open til July 5th. The suggested ticket price is $10 and let me tell ya- it was well worth it.

More photos on Flickr.

Feast of Life!

2009-06-30T00:01:00.003-04:00

So I'm a big fan of Maggie Mason, aka Mighty Girl and I kind of flipped out when I read today's post about how Intel is sponsoring her to do a bunch of things on her Mighty Life list. Maggie started a list of things she'd like to do before she dies and adds to it when she comes across other goals. It is very inspiring to watch.

Well when I read that post today, it made me want to start my own list. It made me want to write it so badly that I avoided doing it all night. Because lists like that are TERRIFYING! What if I put something that never comes true? What a FAILURE I will be!

I got into bed about 20 minutes ago and couldn't fall asleep because I kept thinking about all of the big things I want to do in my life, so I got out my notebook and jotted some ideas down and then I couldn't stop until I had posted them all on this blog. Publicly. To hopefully inspire motivation and non-failure behind some of these goals.

The funny thing about setting these goals is that some of them are so unexpected. Translate a novel? Whoah! And yet, Yeahhhh. A big, giant goal. Mmm, it is so lofty and unattainable and impossible sounding. My favorite kind of goal to kill!

Anyways, the list of goals is over in the right-hand column way down at the very bottom (you might need to scroll) and I'll keep track of progress over there. Also, you may notice that redesigning this site is on there. Hopefully that is a sooner rather than later goal, as it's starting to look irresponsibly cluttered around here.

Feast of Life! Big goals! Midnight on a Tuesday! Ah, the sweet smell of ambition... it gets me every time.

Blink and June is gone.

2009-06-29T14:30:00.007-04:00

I hadn't quite registered how long it's been since I updated the old blog until I got an email this morning from a friend who wrote: "Uh. Are you still in Wisconsin?" Alas! I am back in New York, where the rains continue on a daily basis and the news of celebrity deaths keep rolling in.

We had a great time in WI, where I met Chris' family and friends and drank a beer for $2.25. Seriously! Also I had a vodka-cranberry for $3. Looking for a recession-proof vacation? Try drinking in the Midwest. It is a good time.

Being in the Midwest (and in a smaller city) got me thinking a lot about the kinds of populations that gather in different regions and the way that affects how people interact and relate to each other. I'm not sure I'd find French lit-loving pals in Kenosha. That said, the community spirit that I felt at one of the local Art Galleries doesn't seem possible in a large city like New York. A deluge of options may not always be preferable; with less choice, it seems like community is forced to build around a smaller outlet, which feels more friendly and welcoming than its big city counterparts.

These thoughts, coupled with the fact that New York has been a tough place for me socially lately, inevitably lead me to think about the next place I'll live (still up for grabs- suggestions are welcome!).

This weekend, I managed to meet up with Leigh and Crussell, who was in town visiting from Atlanta. We had exactly the kind of day I've been dying to have with friends in NY... potluck picnic lunch in Central Park with several hours of talking and lounging.

I've got a bunch of little creative projects wrapping up, one of which is a super-cool gift I made for my brother for his graduation. I have photos to share, but I'd like him to receive it in the mail before I post about it on my blog, so those will have to wait.

On a side note, New York girls have been ROCKING the sundress of late. I seriously passed about 60 dresses I wanted to steal off people's bodies while wandering through the city this weekend. Good job, New Yorkers, for dressing classy and appropriate for hot weather. Looking hot in a cool way.

Planning on ordering a side of cheddar with EVERYTHING.

2009-06-18T11:40:00.004-04:00

I'm going to Wisconsin tomorrow! Was just hit with a wave of excitement at the idea that a long weekend is only 26 hours away. And really, more than that: a vacation. Swoon.

Could probably use some yoga.

2009-06-16T23:16:00.003-04:00

I'm a little bit of a stressball tonight. It was a really long day and felt like it should have been Thursday by about 5pm. Sima recommended deep breathing and imaging letting go of all the frustration and anxiety, which was helpful. I have to work on being less affected by every single hiccup of every single day.

What do you guys do to get rid of a knot in your stomach?

29,000 ways to avoid looking at the camera.

2009-06-12T11:30:00.008-04:00

"Oscar, come on, let's take a picture so I can show Mom and Dad and Steve how you're doing."

"Buddy, look here."

"Hey. Bud." *snaps fingers*

*whistles*

"Oscar!" *finally grabs a piece of string to dangle*

Success.

Just to clarify.

2009-06-11T09:05:00.003-04:00

I reread last night's post while drinking my morning chai against the kitchen cabinet. And it sounds like I am flown around by a flock of angels while sunshine grows directly from my posterior. Like minions bring me juice on trays and like they hold an annual parade in honor of my boyfriend.

Let's just set the record straight here, folks- you might catch me in these goopy fests more often than not (I am more inclined to 'share the love' so to speak when things are going well), but it's not like I got no issues.

This morning? I was supposed to use my newly flowing creativity to wake me gently at 7am and write for a while. I was also supposed to pick out clothes that do not make me look like a hooker (tank top that is... revealing to say the least) and cover it up with a stained sweater. Also there are a pile of about 8 new magazines I haven't yet touched on my kitchen table and the place is so covered in Oscar's damn fur that you might walk in and say "wow, what a lovely plush carpet you have here in this house. I remember it being hard wood floors."

Also, I have run exactly 3 times since November. Unless you count my mind racing, which has a much more active history.

Just calling a spade a spade. :)

Piling on the hobbies.

2009-06-10T19:44:00.007-04:00

Last weekend, a workshop with the effervescent SARK; this week, a high tide of creative moments and projects.

I'm writing a story.

I'm creating a graduation gift for my brother.

I'm thinking about potential art projects for Etsy.

It feels great to think "the dishes can wait a few hours" or "the apartment can be swept later" and instead spent a few daily moments with a sketchbook and some projects. If I learned anything from SARK, it's that finding time to be creative is not impossible in a busy person's life.

Similarly, the recent 5 daily goals that Sima and I continue to keep up with are helping me to focus on feeling productive and spending good time with family and friends.

Lately, a happy humming in the background. It feels good.

Last night:

"Is it annoying when I leave the seat up?"
"I was just thinking about that the other day! I was thinking about how it actually doesn't matter to me in the least, how at first I felt like leaving it up was the 'wrong' way for a toilet to be, but then I realized that I really don't care about those kind of things. I mean, it's basically a question of control, right? Does it bother you when I leave the seat down?"
"Nope, I feel like it's the same thing."

Could I have had this relationship even a year ago? I feel as though I'm un-learning the instinct to have things Just So. Or maybe I'm getting better at letting things Naturally Happen? Either way, it's about freaking time.

The rain has got to stop. Sweaters and jeans and sneakers with socks should be long gone by now. There are reasons I don't live in Seattle.

A few nights ago, we had terrible thunderstorms in New York, loud and violent enough to wake Oscar, who launched himself onto my head. As I lay and counted Mississippis between claps of thunder, I wondered how many other people were doing the same. It's the type of American instinct that I suppose people in other countries don't know about, the kind of cultural knowledge that doesn't come out in textbooks or guidebooks. What a cool secret to know.

Today at work there were suddenly spots, sections of the screen that I couldn't see. "Nooo," I thought. "Please, not a migraine." But then, within minutes, a dull ache.

I used to have migraines in the 7th grade. Then they stopped until a few months ago, when I had the first one in 15 years. Now, a second one today. I worry less about the actual migraine than why these are coming into my life again. Was it the Mexican food for lunch? The gray light coming through half-closed blinds? What triggers it?

The subway ride home was an adventure of walking into poles and holding my head. You know, a typical New Yorker.

Now post-nap in the dark, spots are gone and I'm watching a crazy dance show in which 'normal people' compete to become some kind of Dance American Idol or something. Thoughts:

* Ohhhh wow, I really want to take a dance lesson sometime.
* CHEERS to the fact that many of the women on this show actually have thighs.
* Secret desire to go to library and get a dance DVD and perform in my living room: ACKNOWLEDGED.

And finally, my first salad from the Fire Escape garden:

The difference of a year.

2009-06-05T01:22:00.001-04:00

"Isn't it amazing how different our lives are a year later?"
"Or a year and a half. I remember you crying at my kitchen table!"
"I know!"
"I knew it would just take you moving into the city."
"I'm so glad that you've figured out where you need to be."

I spent the evening with an old friend, a former boss who has been a mentor to me for so long. She's moving to Luxembourg; her life, though complicated, is going to continue in a new place with new people. It's simultaneously the most difficult option and the most right. It's how I felt about moving home to New York two years ago.

There is some part of me that silently glows when she speaks of the cafes and the bridges and the valleys of the new European city she'll know. Like neurons that light up when they're called for, there are parts of myself that want to have the same. "And us?" they say. "When will we have another new adventure?"

It's not so much silencing them anymore, it's more smiling and nodding my head knowingly. "Yes," I soothe them. "That would be nice. But it's not our project right now."

And now I ride the train back to the city, back from the suburbs, the same train that I used to commute with twice a day. It reminds me of another time, another job, another set of people I used to know on a daily basis. It reminds me how much you can alter your life situation in 14 months.

I have a bagful of French teas and an old sari that she gave me in preparation for India; she is nothing if not generous and always thoughtful. We haven't seen each other in months and yet it's hard to imagine her moving across the ocean.

One more person to add to the list of Friends I Miss in Europe. Actively.

Tuesday, home.

2009-06-02T16:37:00.009-04:00

I just went downstairs to get the laundry I hung up to dry last week. This is a stupid habit of mine, leaving clothes in the basement for days and weeks on end. What must the neighbors think? That I spend weeks without sheets on my bed or that I air dry post-shower instead of using towels?

As I folded the towels a few minutes ago, I recognized the stiff, blotchy patterns that dryers never leave. They reminded me of helping my Nana with the laundry when I was younger, of carrying a thick woven basket of wet clothes outside with a pail of clothespins to boot. I can't even remember if she even had a dryer, now that I think about it.

I'm home sick from work today and spent lots of the afternoon napping with Oscar on the couch. At one point he was sprawled on his back, lying on my chest, two paws in the air. Snoring. Paws twitching. Cat dreaming. Hilarious and adorable and so lovable; he must be thrilled by this change of pace, by this lounging together. Even now as I type in the kitchen, waiting for some banana bread to bake, he's lying near me on the floor.

Here he is a few minutes ago in the bathtub. Sometimes when he gets excited he races into the bathroom and jumps in the tub. It's ridiculous:

Also, I took some shots of my garden last night, which is growing so much! So glad I decided to do this for the summer...

Minor Correction

2009-05-31T10:02:00.003-04:00

"I stopped by that place to get a couple slices of pizza and they had a basketball game on and I was like 'you know, I might just want to eat this here and watch LeBron Jones and his team!"

Chris grins.

"What? ... What?"

HEY. LOOK IN THE ADDRESS BAR. THE URL JUST CHANGED!

2009-05-30T10:50:00.004-04:00

Well guys, it's been 3 years. Three whole years of bloggin'. And, as my friend Obama-meister says, it's time for a change.

Welcome to www.jenepting.com, because when you turn 3, you should be able to stand on your own.

I realize it's a little anti-climactic because the design is still the same (patience, a little more patience...), so here is a picture of me really excited about jenepting.com:

Yes, that is wet hair and yes, I am running late. But I have a .com!

Friday night adventures in island-land.

2009-05-29T22:20:00.003-04:00

Today, 5pm. Needed to get the brain out of the office. I decided to find something adventurous, something new, so when I found out that there's a tram that goes to an island in the middle of New York City, the answer was: duh.

I took the tram to Roosevelt Island and fell a little bit in love with an island that reminded me of Europe, that kept me thinking about l'Ile St. Louis in Paris with younger architecture. I walked along the promenade and met a Russian woman and spent 20 minutes talking about the island and its inhabitants. Then I wandered some more and wondered how I could move there.

Got home, bubbled over with excitement about knowing a new place and Chris found a listing for a R.I. apartment online; tomorrow he's going to come with me to see it. I can't take it, even if I wanted to; my lease isn't up until the fall. But shit, this is the fun stuff to do with someone. Go see an apartment on a dream island and pretend it's a possibility.

Thanks to the 5-goal-per-day strategy, this week was productive as hell. Each morning I wrote down 5 things I'd love to have done by 7pm or so. Each day I got them done and more. It's almost as if focusing on less rather than more gave me more energy to go beyond the goals... try it sometime. Maybe it'll work for you too.

I think I'll leave this strategy for the weekend, though. I'm really spent from trying so hard all week and looking forward to some sleeping in and dining out.

I had a bunch of bad dreams this week. At one point the other night, I woke up from a nightmare around 3am and was too afraid to run to the bathroom to pee until I remembered that Oscar would come with me. He's such a little guard cat (or perhaps constantly tempted by my proximity to food when I head to the old Water Closet). When I realized that he'd walk along with me, regardless of the depth of his sleep, I felt so comforted. This is why people get pets; because the companionship is unrivaled.

Today we bought our tickets for Wisconsin. Three days of Chris' friends and family and cheddar cheese. I've never met a cheddar I didn't like and I'm hopeful that sentiment will translate over to the new people I meet as well. It's been a while since I took a plane with someone I know and I think it will be strange to even have the option of leaning my head on the person next to me. You know it's good when you and your seatmate have accepted potential drool for the duration of the flight.

I'm a lucky girl these days, I really am.

The reaching.

2009-05-26T21:00:00.003-04:00

I do my best running when I'm focused on something farther down the street. Sometimes I run for 3 blocks focused on the same Duane Reade sign. Head tucked, eyes lifted, I barely notice the people I'm passing; they move out of the way magically, as if my concentration has created a force field that protects me as I drive on.

Today was a focused day, one set up to be that way during my commute, when I identified 5 things that would make me feel good to do before I got home tonight. Like eat a salad. And get quarters for laundry. And a few other work-related ones. Rather than letting the day take my light-hearted mood and twist it as it willed, I decided where I would be at 7pm. And holy crap, did that work wonders.

The end of this week signals the 3-year birthday of this blog and I'll have a little surprise in store for you. Stay tuned, buddies.

Travels, party of 1.

2009-05-24T10:31:00.004-04:00

We were sitting in Union Square park yesterday, the Sarahs and I, and I mentioned that NY has become a city of a million kinds of memories for me. From high school friends at a conference on the west side, to comic book shops with an ex, to several apartments and neighborhoods that I know well now. And the Brooklyn Bridge, which has been the site of a romantic walk, a struggling run and then, this weekend, a slightly coaxing activity with a nervous friend.

Yesterday, sitting in that park, I realized that I'll miss New York when I eventually leave it.

I won't miss it for the things that people typically cite: diverse nightlife, constant activity, innumerable opportunities for meeting people. I'll miss it because, like Paris, it's become a living artifact of someplace I knew people and they knew me.

Skersh and I talked the other night about her upcoming trip to London, the first time she'll travel outside the country alone. I was encouraging to her, explaining that she would be completely free to explore a place without a single regard for someone else's touristic desires. Later that afternoon, I re-found something I'd written in the little Moleskin I keep in my bag. I wrote this one afternoon in San Francisco, when I was spending the afternoon in Sausalito:

I have all the bread in the basket to myself and all of the butter too. This is the joy of traveling alone. I've been to so many places alone- or with moments alone. I'm my own best company. "What does this remind me of?" I think and I already know. Ireland. Or Italy. Or London.

... the bench I sat on in the park, the table at this restaurant, they are both part of my memory. But what of myself stays here? How does one find them again, how do you feel as though you are not just a visitor, but a change, a tiny speck of influence, however small?

In this way, traveling alone is the most intimate activity you can do with yourself. I think that's why it's easier for people to "find" themselves when they go spend time alone away from the norm. They have the quiet and space to not need to explain the connection between this place and their grandma's garden, to not search for why the smell reminds them of another memory; in these moments alone, you can sit in it and appreciate it without translating the moment into words for the benefit of conversation with another.

Chris and I are working out summer plans at the moment, trying to figure out how and when to go to France and if I'll be stopping by Wisconsin to visit his family. I've been thinking about how it will be to visit France with someone else; for the first time, I'm looking into hotel prices instead of crashing on someone's couch. It's thrilling to imagine sharing this special place with someone I love; it can be equally anxiety-inducing to balance time together with the necessary time I know I'll need for in a city that holds so many memories for me as well.

On a separate note, I saw one of my old roomies, Tejal, last week in Boston and talked about plans to head to Bombay for her wedding in December. The prospect of traveling so far and attending an Indian wedding, soaking in the culture alone with myself, is too fantastic for words. Plus, Christmas presents for the family from India? No-brainer awesome!

The last of the college tuitions; cue parents' celebration

2009-05-16T09:44:00.004-04:00

We're headed down to Muhlenberg in a few minutes for Steve's college graduation. One day you wake up and your brother's qualified in a scholarly way. Go figure.

Muhlenberg has a tradition that a close member of the family who is also an alumni can go up to the stage when the graduate receives his or her diploma. I joke around a lot about how this is clearly a parental photo-op, but in reality it's such a special thing to me. Tomorrow I'll get to give him a big hug after he gets his official diploma from the college president.

Watching Steve go through his four years at a place that I know so intimately has allowed me to understand his time there in a deeper way. When he called Freshman year and talked about his roommate, I could picture the dorms and remember the anxious, uncomfortable feelings I had myself encountered there. When he speaks about playing in the Red Door or driving to Hawk Mountain or chatting with Dr. Borick, these are all things that I remember vividly about my experience there. In a way, I'm closer with him now than before he went through college - if only because we have different memories that strangely overlap.

My mom and I were talking this morning about how we haven't heard from Steve all week and I pointed out that my memories of senior week are a blur, a mix of tears and hopes and nostalgia and promises. Kind of like the end of summer camp, though I've never been.

The weekend is not about me; it's about a guy who spent four years affecting drastic changes to Muhlenberg's environmental perceptions and policies, who lasted as the only dude in French classes, who spent a semester in Tanzania and who learned about Economics, Religion, Philosophy, Chemistry, and beyond. I'm so proud of who he has become and specifically that he has been able to spend four years discovering more about himself than he originally thought possible. Part of this is because Muhlenberg is the perfect place for that. Part of it is because he's the perfect candidate for this type of transformation.

Happy graduation, Steve-o. We're so excited to share this weekend with you. xo

Itch.

2009-05-12T14:00:00.003-04:00

Last night I washed dishes and freaked out and felt boring and old and took a bath and tried to get myself out of it. This morning I snoozed an extra hour and wore a dress I haven't worn in a while and came to work and felt like I'd be ok. Then today I felt just as fragile, just as out of balance as I did last night. Around 11am, I thought "that's ok, today you don't have to fight the battles or stand your ground or do anything just on principle."

Some days the notion of writing, of being a writer, buzzes just far enough out of reach that I almost imagine it has gone away. Like the mosquitoes that used to fly above my head while I tried to fall asleep, threatening to sting me if I lifted my head outside the sweaty sheets of mid-summer.

But then, just as the buzzing gets far enough away to imagine it's gone, it cycles back and I have an itchy red welt to prove it.

The satisfying itch to write. Thank the universe for that, my friends; when I don't know how to re-find myself, I discover this itch underneath it all, ever-present, almost irritating, but always silently waiting for me to scratch.

Something soon will change so this can happen. No. I will change something soon so this can happen. I will.

Black and white and gray

2009-05-11T09:57:00.004-04:00

So I planted these seeds last weekend on my fire escape and then it rained. All week. As in, downpour. I noticed on Friday that several of the seeds ended up floating in the muddy flood water in the windowboxes, drudged up from where I'd planted them. You could tell that the seeds had already started growing; each had a tiny green stem poking out towards the top of the box and that growing was now totally jeopardized because of the excess of water.

I've been thinking about that image all weekend, how something that a plant needs (i.e. water) can be dangerous or even harmful if used in excess. I've been thinking about how seeds are a little like bright ideas and how creativity can get flooded by innumerable elements (criticism, responsibility, societal standards, other people's neuroses).

On Sunday morning, I scooped some new dirt into the boxes, hoping to absorb the extra water and let the seeds keep doing their thing. I also moved the boxes to another spot on the fire escape, hoping that they might be more protected in the new position.

There's a myriad of metaphors that come to mind in this one action: protecting younger siblings, working on colleague-relations, setting aside enough time to do one's art. Are you protecting someone's ability to have new ideas or ventures? Do you know someone who dumps buckets of rainwater on someone else's day? How are you fostering your own growing? And how can you foster other people's growth around you?

I think about this a lot. Chris and I talked a little this weekend about what people want out of their jobs and part of my answer had to do with pushing the envelope in meaningful ways, using the tools available to me to make something better when the time is right. I think this applies to relationships, to friendships, to politics, to spending or saving money, to finding a space for yourself on the subway. Or figuring out if you're the planter of seeds or the protector of seeds or the weed-fertilizer.

Katie visited this weekend from Montpelier and (per usual) we talked a lot about different cultures. I find myself calmer than the last time she visited, less apt to jump on the next international flight just to seek adventure. Because, as we discussed, it's very possible to find a different adventure choosing one place and diving deep. I have a rich lifestyle in New York that was never possible for me when I was abroad; likewise, I will never re-find the same spontaneity here that I thrived on in Paris.

I guess the point is that they can both be great. There's no way you'll ever have a choice between the perfect life and the imperfect one; although Republicans would like you to believe that the world is black and white, it really, really isn't. As soon as I realized that tough moments living in New York were going to exist no matter where I lived, my perspective shifted and I was able to make progress within that knowledge. I feel good about that, actually. It makes sense to me.

I got an email from Erica this morning, our little Bostonian who officially became French yesterday. She's spent the past 5 years in Clermont-Ferrand and she's a perfect example of the truth of shades of gray. The way she became French was by giving up life in America, by proving that she wanted to be part of a culture she was not born into by literally paying with time spent living outside her home country.

Happy French-ness, Ms. Erica... I expect you to grow a full-on curly mustache, wear a beret and carry a baguette around on your bicycle. Also, please go on strike immediately while drinking Pastis. And don't forget to relish your 500 vacation days per year... YOU EARNED IT!

One long dump of updates

2009-05-01T20:43:00.004-04:00

Well. Hello there. Holy thank the goodness it is Friday night. Let's be a bit informal tonight, shall we?

Thing #1 to talk about:
Today I got a package in the mail from Dove. Attentive readers (and ex-roommates) know how much I love their stuff. Mostly because their deodorants smell delicious and they give out a free bag every year (Example A and Example B). Well I must have been put on Santa's special list because today I got home to find a FREE REGULAR SIZE deodorant and a bunch of pamphlets about the newest deo waiting for me. "What do they think, I'm a health teacher?" I thought, but then I realized that I now have 25 pamphlets with coupons for deodorant myself and I promptly stopped sarcastically complaining in my head.

Thing #2 to talk about:
Last night we went to see Moon at the Tribeca Film Festival and we saw Sting! He was wearing black and walking quickly, but it was him. The movie was pretty good (if you like Sci-Fi, you'd LOVE this) and although I wished the director and crew were smarter during the Q&A, it was a good time.

Thing #3 to talk about:
Tonight I had my first of 2 creative writing workshops with Marc Levy (yes, French people- THAT Marc Levy!). He was very engaging and smart, but the rest of the members of the class were a bit... how shall I say... 40 years old and flirty? Never wrote a creative word in their lives? Asked him to sign their books afterwards? Sigh. We are supposed to write something for the next class and I am already a little inappropriately giggly about what some of these dames are going to show up with.

Also: I forgot how catty French women can be. I had a tough day at work and showed up at the FIAF, all ready to smile and be friendly to fellow writers and French-speakers. "This going to be my crowd!" I thought. Except that it really wasn't because I forgot how much women in France don't have the same types of female friendships that other cultures do. And that's all I'll say about that.

Thing #4 to talk about:
Krishna got married last weekend and I put the photos up on Flickr, but for those of you who are not so Flickr inclined, please click these underlined words here and you TOO can see Krishna get hitched. It was lovely; the ceremony was in Sanskrit, Korean and English and the Asian Fusion dinner was delicious.

Alright, enough of this jabbering. I brought home some new Telenovelas for the weekend (it's supposed to rain and rain...) and some Pablo Neruda poetry in Spanish. Maybe I'll try to translate a little for you this weekend.

Miss your guts

2009-04-30T12:41:00.004-04:00

One of the best things about my life has got to be the quality people I've met and befriended. Last night I got a bunch of mail from my old apartment, among which was a letter from Agnes and her family and a little package from one Ms. Jessiqua Farris. The last time I saw Jess was in Ireland exactly 2 years ago; I had just finished my thesis and she was finishing her Master's and we were both destined to come back to the U.S. to live (though we didn't yet know it at the time). She's been in CA since then and though we've attempted to plan mid-continental get-aways (let's just fly to Kansas for a weekend! Portland for a night!), nothing's worked out so far.

Anyway, in this package was a letter telling me that she's now living in Philadelphia (so close!) and a CD whose songs tell the story of her emotions from the past two months. Holy crap, do I LOVE creative people.

She signed her letter "miss your guts, Jess" and I thought it was so perfectly said. Yeah Jess, me too. Miss your guts. And yet I love how the great friendships in my life are able to continue on down their own unique paths, sporadic at times and very regular at others. There's no coincidence to this and I gave up longing for my one core group of friends a long time ago. When you've bounced around a bit, you know that it's simply not possible to sustain the same types of friendships for your whole life. What it IS possible to do is to appreciate the moments you have with the amazing ones you encounter and realize that missing people's guts? It's all part of the game.

P.S. While I was writing this, another creative and lovely friend named Sima sent me this song, which kind of made my afternoon. It's really about having a great day and being yourself. Enjoy!

Beware the L-train swine!

2009-04-29T23:21:00.004-04:00

For whatever reason, the L platform had about 16.8 billion people on it tonight. We waited 11 minutes and then a completely packed train pulled up to Union Square. Approximately 14.5 billion of us squeezed in before the doors closed.

So there I am, literally smelling someone's armpit, bemused by the funny situations you end up in when you live in a crowded city, when I remember. SWINE FLU. PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. OH GOD, GERMS. And that one scene from Outbreak comes back to me, the one with the guy sneezing in the movie theater; I am sufficiently freaked out, attempting to avoid contact with humans (verdict = impossible). Oh Swine Flu, you are so joke-able and yet so scare-able!

So I came home and washed my hands so that Oscar would not develop a cat-bird-swine version of the flu, but he seemed to be washing himself after playing in the litterbox and did not mind my subway-germy hands. I suppose that's how cats are.

To bed now, because tomorrow I'm going to try writing pre-work at the new Grand Central branch of the NYPL. Then we have tickets to the Tribeca Film Festival tomorrow night and then I will finally be mere hours from the weekend. I've spent the past three days thinking it's Thursday. Every morning it's quite a shock! Plus, today when I got in the elevator to leave work around 7:30, I thought to myself, "10 hours today. 1 more than a normal work day." Then I wondered, "how did they come up with 9-hour work days?" and then it took me about 4 blocks to realize that NORMAL WORK DAYS ARE 8 HOURS LONG. Ha!