This band is all I care about right now.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)
I never actually listened to the lyrics before now, but why is this song so amazing? Why is this VIDEO so amazing?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Speechless
Why? 'Cause I loves her. I think she looks beautiful in this video, and sounds even better.
Survivor
Hello (if anyone still reads this)...
Disclaimer: I worried about this sounding too whiny and/or dramatic, but then I remembered that it's my blog and I'll say whatever the fuck I want. (Yes, I just wrote "fuck" and my mom's probably reading this. Hi, Mom.) Why would you be here if you didn't want to read what I want to say? Go watch TV or something. This is how I vent. Besides, do you always mean everything you write down?
So it's been a really long time since I wrote...this is due to a lot of things--I haven't been through such a rough period in my life since I was 15. That was a time when my entire world was completely and totally turned upside down and I wondered how I'd make it out alive. And I did. I can only hope in this situation that things will turn out for the best, but honestly, my faith in anything good is being tested lately and I'm clinging to the very end of my rope.
This all started, as most of you know, with a breakup. There's a teeny, tiny chance of it, but I'm fully aware that the person who dumped me may be reading this (although why he would still be so interested is beyond me). If he is reading it, I invite him to comment and/or debate me on any points I may mention. Especially since he already knows quite well how I feel about the whole thing. I'm not trying to be malicious, I'm just stating the facts. Again, it's my blog, and why are you even here? So, that being said, this breakup just devastated me. More than I ever thought it would, because we only dated for two months. (Two months exactly--I was dumped on the two-month anniversary of the day we met, and four days before my birthday. Lovely and considerate timing, right?) Sure, for most people that barely constitutes a relationship, but I don't date just anyone. This was someone I was on the verge of falling in love with. Some of my girlfriends are of the opinion that just "getting back out there" and dating again is going to make me feel better about the situation, and myself, but that wasn't my habit before and I'm not about to start now. I can't date just for the sake of being around some random man that I don't even like--I find that to be a gigantic waste of my time and the guy's time. I'm just now getting to the point where I'm starting to find other guys attractive. At first, after the breakup, I'd look at other guys and feel absolutely nothing. No attraction; barely even registering their attractiveness on an objective level. But I digress. My point is, I met someone who seemed to really, really like me and want something serious. He was moving the relationship along faster than I was, actually. This person, after our first date, wanted to hang out with me twice a weekend from then on. And our dates would always be hours and hours long--we joked that we always had to "close the place down" because it happened on several occasions. I went completely all out for his birthday, and we went all out for each other on Valentine's Day. He told his family about me, told me I was the only one he was dating, called me "his ______" (insert term of endearment), constantly texted me back right away and called me (complete with kissy goodbye noises over the phone), etc. Things were moving in the right direction, albeit slightly fast. Then all of a sudden, he blew me off on a day we were supposed to hang out, and didn't answer my texts until late afternoon (highly abnormal for someone who had always been so good at those things). That was the day I knew something had changed--even though after I did my own thing that day, he sent me three texts later that night asking me where I was and saying he was sad. But the person I'd met on January 8th would never have done that to me. It was such a weird occurrence that by the time he'd texted me back that day, I was out of my mind with worry, thinking something medically serious had happened to him. Sure, that sounds crazy, but in my experience, you just never know. NEVER. You don't know anything. No one does. Things happen, especially when you live in New York. Not even just that--things happen when you least expect them. And when a woman really cares about someone (boyfriend or otherwise), one of our instincts is to think that something awful has happened to them. Guys don't think like that, I don't believe. If it's been a really long time, maybe. Girls I know who regularly put up with shit from guys may not think to worry, either. But THIS WAS SO OUT OF CHARACTER for this person. So I freaked, but then we moved past it, or so I thought. A couple weeks later, it was over. The reasoning was rather vague (the old "we moved really fast, it's really intense, I can't be responsible in this relationship"--pretty much the "it's not you, it's me" excuse), but I'm pretty sure it just boils down to the fact that he got bored and trapped and tired of making the effort it takes to be in a relationship. Even though I thought I was pretty low-key and never consciously demanded that he do anything to prove himself to me--most of the pressure about keeping me happy was imagined on his part. Surely, he also wanted to see what else was out there--his profile is back up on the dating website where we met. That fact just makes me feel like I wasn't good enough for him, but even if that's not it, he did stop wanting me. That sounds harsh (and it is), but why else do people lose interest? They don't want you. The reason WHY they don't want you may be entirely their problem, but the fact is, they don't want you. And he didn't want me anymore. But if we'd both been taking it slow and we mutually realized it wasn't going to work out, it would have been easier to deal with. Rather than, metaphorically speaking, him taking my hand and sprinting forward with all his energy, taking me along, and then suddenly letting go--skidding to a complete stop and letting me run straight into a brick wall. It's like we both got into a car, he took the wheel and stepped on the gas as hard as he could, and then he slammed on the brakes and jumped out while I flew through the windshield. My friend Chrystal made an interesting point the other day--when you decide you're in a relationship with someone, when you decide to pull someone in like that, it becomes about both of you, not just one of you. You can't ask for that level of devotion and commitment and then decide you don't want it anymore without consulting the other person. We're talking about a guy who, if I didn't answer a text within an hour (tops), he'd text again. Who, one night, affectionately wanted to know how long he'd have to wait until I called him back. Who left me voicemails saying how much he couldn't wait to hear me. And he was the one who left. And you'd think that at age 29, a person would know the difference between being infatuated with someone and falling in love. But my brother told me, not long after this happened, never to take a man's age as any indication of his maturity. And God, do I believe him. I have to believe him, or I'll never survive dating a man of any age again without wanting to punch him in the mouth. There are immature women, of course--but in this situation, the guy really never should have said most of the things he said to me. I hope that this experience has taught him to take things more slowly and only say serious things if he's sure those feelings are going to last. Not just because they sound nice. If I'd known that he was going to lose interest so rapidly, I'd rather have not heard those things at all. Because now they're meaningless. And for a girl who already had trust issues, my lesson was to be wary of someone who gives their heart way too quickly. It's all very sweet and adorable at first, but in the end, it hurts like a bitch--especially when he's the one who gives up on you.
I'm slowly, slowly feeling better about this but I still have my moments. It's only natural, considering how nonsensical it all is and how much I really liked this guy. And considering the other bad shit going on in my life right now--it's all collapsed down on me at the same time. Everything happening at once makes me feel complete despair about life in general--about all the issues, not just one at a time. Currently, right this second, I'm worried about not being able to find a roommate and the fact that my landlord called me earlier asking me for $750 more dollars to cover the absent roommate's rent for April. I'm hoping and praying that the great roommate interview I had last night will pan out, or that if it doesn't, a friend and I can find another affordable place. That's kind of an option. But long story short, I have quite possibly the worst roommate luck of all time. I am sick to death of searching for one, and I dread the process every single time. And I've been actively looking since March, but it seems to be the worst time ever to try to find someone. I found someone good relatively quickly last time, but she only stayed for 6 months due to money issues. I was under the impression that she'd be able to stay longer (she told me as much when she moved in, but things happened that were beyond her control), and this search has been probably the hardest yet. First of all, I've been posting like mad on Facebook, Craigslist, Village Voice and Roommates.com. I emailed over fifty people--FIFTY!--on Roommates.com but apparently not many people on there are actually serious about finding a room or writing people back. And it's even a new room, with pics included in the ad...and still, not very many replies. I mentioned in the ad that I'm looking for someone to be here for one year, no exceptions, and maybe that's scared a lot of people off but I REFUSE to go through this again in six months or three months or whatever. I can't. It's practically given me a nervous breakdown this time around.
So this is going on and suddenly, tonight I get a call from my landlord (who, by the way, is a total slacker) saying that I'm responsible for the other half of the rent for April. You know, now that it's the 19th he thought he'd let me know, even though he made no mention of that on the first or any other time. He then claimed to have renovated the room "to help" me find a new roommate (which cost $2,000), even though I never ever asked him to do that. He looked at the room and decided that instead of just repainting and cleaning the floor, he'd totally redo it, giving me a week's worth of irritation that was really only supposed to be a three-day process at most. Random men in my house, leaving the toilet seat up and dust and dirt all over everything and not being gone when I got home from work...pain in my ass. And suddenly, since I'm unable to force anyone into living with me and because I didn't just take the first person to view the room (there have only been three) and because I can't make people keep viewing appointments they claim to want, I'm responsible. Even typing it out seems stupid. It's completely unfair and I have no idea if he's even allowed to do this. Please, please please please please let this new guy say yes--it's not going to solve this whole "you suddenly owe me $750 more" thing, but at least it'd put my mind at ease. New guy and I got along really well, but he had two more places to look at today and said he'd let me know tomorrow. And if he doesn't want to move in, I may just move out. I shouldn't have to take this shit from someone who won't even shampoo the living room carpet from damages sustained from the leaking ceiling, and won't even fix the electricity in my kitchen that has been broken since the last day of room renovations. It's been broken for weeks now. And I'm supposed to pay him money I don't personally owe him? Bitch, please.
So there's that, and then the other thing that happened was that I didn't get roles in either of the shows I thought I'd get into. God, worst birthday month of my life. Hands down. Those auditions both took place within a couple weeks of the breakup, and while I don't expect to get every role I audition for, it was just really shitty timing not to get into EITHER show at a time when I already felt really fragile. It just made me feel completely unwanted, and so has everything else. No boyfriend, no roommate, no show. And shows are such a good distraction--when I'm in a show, it becomes my life. And when I'm not in one, I feel worthless, like even the thing I'm supposed to be good at isn't working out right. This doesn't really bother me as much as the other things, because again--you can't win them all. I'm still a performr and always will be. But still--awful timing. I'll get into another show at some point. But I can't focus properly on anything right now--I keep having feelings that I want to just run away from it all. These days I either don't sleep enough or I sleep way too much. Every time I think, "Well, it could be worse", it gets worse. It's almost comical, how much bad luck I've been running into lately. And my strength, my faith, my survival instincts, my optimism--they're all being tested. Everyone keeps trying to make me feel better but no one really knows what to say because they can't fix the maelstrom that is my life. And by now I would have died without music (like literally, shriveled up and died), but until things improve...I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. All the "God never gives you more than you can handle/it's always darkest before the dawn/everything happens for a reason/I will survive" bullshit only goes so far...and then there you are, still yourself, with no boyfriend, no roommate, and no show. STILL. It's such a feeling of desperation, of panic, of loneliness and hopelessness and fear.
I'm going to get through this, I know. But right now, that feeling is the tiniest part of me. Most of me is just wondering what I could have done to deserve such an amazing amount of misfortune, and wondering why nothing is getting better yet when I'm trying my hardest. Everyone goes through rough times, and it really could get worse (I hesitate to even say that because tomorrow I bet twelve more bad things will happen). It actually helps me to hear that other people have felt the same about breakups, and that this was minor compared to what other people have gone through. And my landlord is just going to have to deal--I don't know what to tell him. And as for shows...it'll happen. I've got talent, I've just got to stay out there.
So I'm done, for now, with the "poor me" rant.
But for God's sake, something has got to give.
Disclaimer: I worried about this sounding too whiny and/or dramatic, but then I remembered that it's my blog and I'll say whatever the fuck I want. (Yes, I just wrote "fuck" and my mom's probably reading this. Hi, Mom.) Why would you be here if you didn't want to read what I want to say? Go watch TV or something. This is how I vent. Besides, do you always mean everything you write down?
So it's been a really long time since I wrote...this is due to a lot of things--I haven't been through such a rough period in my life since I was 15. That was a time when my entire world was completely and totally turned upside down and I wondered how I'd make it out alive. And I did. I can only hope in this situation that things will turn out for the best, but honestly, my faith in anything good is being tested lately and I'm clinging to the very end of my rope.
This all started, as most of you know, with a breakup. There's a teeny, tiny chance of it, but I'm fully aware that the person who dumped me may be reading this (although why he would still be so interested is beyond me). If he is reading it, I invite him to comment and/or debate me on any points I may mention. Especially since he already knows quite well how I feel about the whole thing. I'm not trying to be malicious, I'm just stating the facts. Again, it's my blog, and why are you even here? So, that being said, this breakup just devastated me. More than I ever thought it would, because we only dated for two months. (Two months exactly--I was dumped on the two-month anniversary of the day we met, and four days before my birthday. Lovely and considerate timing, right?) Sure, for most people that barely constitutes a relationship, but I don't date just anyone. This was someone I was on the verge of falling in love with. Some of my girlfriends are of the opinion that just "getting back out there" and dating again is going to make me feel better about the situation, and myself, but that wasn't my habit before and I'm not about to start now. I can't date just for the sake of being around some random man that I don't even like--I find that to be a gigantic waste of my time and the guy's time. I'm just now getting to the point where I'm starting to find other guys attractive. At first, after the breakup, I'd look at other guys and feel absolutely nothing. No attraction; barely even registering their attractiveness on an objective level. But I digress. My point is, I met someone who seemed to really, really like me and want something serious. He was moving the relationship along faster than I was, actually. This person, after our first date, wanted to hang out with me twice a weekend from then on. And our dates would always be hours and hours long--we joked that we always had to "close the place down" because it happened on several occasions. I went completely all out for his birthday, and we went all out for each other on Valentine's Day. He told his family about me, told me I was the only one he was dating, called me "his ______" (insert term of endearment), constantly texted me back right away and called me (complete with kissy goodbye noises over the phone), etc. Things were moving in the right direction, albeit slightly fast. Then all of a sudden, he blew me off on a day we were supposed to hang out, and didn't answer my texts until late afternoon (highly abnormal for someone who had always been so good at those things). That was the day I knew something had changed--even though after I did my own thing that day, he sent me three texts later that night asking me where I was and saying he was sad. But the person I'd met on January 8th would never have done that to me. It was such a weird occurrence that by the time he'd texted me back that day, I was out of my mind with worry, thinking something medically serious had happened to him. Sure, that sounds crazy, but in my experience, you just never know. NEVER. You don't know anything. No one does. Things happen, especially when you live in New York. Not even just that--things happen when you least expect them. And when a woman really cares about someone (boyfriend or otherwise), one of our instincts is to think that something awful has happened to them. Guys don't think like that, I don't believe. If it's been a really long time, maybe. Girls I know who regularly put up with shit from guys may not think to worry, either. But THIS WAS SO OUT OF CHARACTER for this person. So I freaked, but then we moved past it, or so I thought. A couple weeks later, it was over. The reasoning was rather vague (the old "we moved really fast, it's really intense, I can't be responsible in this relationship"--pretty much the "it's not you, it's me" excuse), but I'm pretty sure it just boils down to the fact that he got bored and trapped and tired of making the effort it takes to be in a relationship. Even though I thought I was pretty low-key and never consciously demanded that he do anything to prove himself to me--most of the pressure about keeping me happy was imagined on his part. Surely, he also wanted to see what else was out there--his profile is back up on the dating website where we met. That fact just makes me feel like I wasn't good enough for him, but even if that's not it, he did stop wanting me. That sounds harsh (and it is), but why else do people lose interest? They don't want you. The reason WHY they don't want you may be entirely their problem, but the fact is, they don't want you. And he didn't want me anymore. But if we'd both been taking it slow and we mutually realized it wasn't going to work out, it would have been easier to deal with. Rather than, metaphorically speaking, him taking my hand and sprinting forward with all his energy, taking me along, and then suddenly letting go--skidding to a complete stop and letting me run straight into a brick wall. It's like we both got into a car, he took the wheel and stepped on the gas as hard as he could, and then he slammed on the brakes and jumped out while I flew through the windshield. My friend Chrystal made an interesting point the other day--when you decide you're in a relationship with someone, when you decide to pull someone in like that, it becomes about both of you, not just one of you. You can't ask for that level of devotion and commitment and then decide you don't want it anymore without consulting the other person. We're talking about a guy who, if I didn't answer a text within an hour (tops), he'd text again. Who, one night, affectionately wanted to know how long he'd have to wait until I called him back. Who left me voicemails saying how much he couldn't wait to hear me. And he was the one who left. And you'd think that at age 29, a person would know the difference between being infatuated with someone and falling in love. But my brother told me, not long after this happened, never to take a man's age as any indication of his maturity. And God, do I believe him. I have to believe him, or I'll never survive dating a man of any age again without wanting to punch him in the mouth. There are immature women, of course--but in this situation, the guy really never should have said most of the things he said to me. I hope that this experience has taught him to take things more slowly and only say serious things if he's sure those feelings are going to last. Not just because they sound nice. If I'd known that he was going to lose interest so rapidly, I'd rather have not heard those things at all. Because now they're meaningless. And for a girl who already had trust issues, my lesson was to be wary of someone who gives their heart way too quickly. It's all very sweet and adorable at first, but in the end, it hurts like a bitch--especially when he's the one who gives up on you.
I'm slowly, slowly feeling better about this but I still have my moments. It's only natural, considering how nonsensical it all is and how much I really liked this guy. And considering the other bad shit going on in my life right now--it's all collapsed down on me at the same time. Everything happening at once makes me feel complete despair about life in general--about all the issues, not just one at a time. Currently, right this second, I'm worried about not being able to find a roommate and the fact that my landlord called me earlier asking me for $750 more dollars to cover the absent roommate's rent for April. I'm hoping and praying that the great roommate interview I had last night will pan out, or that if it doesn't, a friend and I can find another affordable place. That's kind of an option. But long story short, I have quite possibly the worst roommate luck of all time. I am sick to death of searching for one, and I dread the process every single time. And I've been actively looking since March, but it seems to be the worst time ever to try to find someone. I found someone good relatively quickly last time, but she only stayed for 6 months due to money issues. I was under the impression that she'd be able to stay longer (she told me as much when she moved in, but things happened that were beyond her control), and this search has been probably the hardest yet. First of all, I've been posting like mad on Facebook, Craigslist, Village Voice and Roommates.com. I emailed over fifty people--FIFTY!--on Roommates.com but apparently not many people on there are actually serious about finding a room or writing people back. And it's even a new room, with pics included in the ad...and still, not very many replies. I mentioned in the ad that I'm looking for someone to be here for one year, no exceptions, and maybe that's scared a lot of people off but I REFUSE to go through this again in six months or three months or whatever. I can't. It's practically given me a nervous breakdown this time around.
So this is going on and suddenly, tonight I get a call from my landlord (who, by the way, is a total slacker) saying that I'm responsible for the other half of the rent for April. You know, now that it's the 19th he thought he'd let me know, even though he made no mention of that on the first or any other time. He then claimed to have renovated the room "to help" me find a new roommate (which cost $2,000), even though I never ever asked him to do that. He looked at the room and decided that instead of just repainting and cleaning the floor, he'd totally redo it, giving me a week's worth of irritation that was really only supposed to be a three-day process at most. Random men in my house, leaving the toilet seat up and dust and dirt all over everything and not being gone when I got home from work...pain in my ass. And suddenly, since I'm unable to force anyone into living with me and because I didn't just take the first person to view the room (there have only been three) and because I can't make people keep viewing appointments they claim to want, I'm responsible. Even typing it out seems stupid. It's completely unfair and I have no idea if he's even allowed to do this. Please, please please please please let this new guy say yes--it's not going to solve this whole "you suddenly owe me $750 more" thing, but at least it'd put my mind at ease. New guy and I got along really well, but he had two more places to look at today and said he'd let me know tomorrow. And if he doesn't want to move in, I may just move out. I shouldn't have to take this shit from someone who won't even shampoo the living room carpet from damages sustained from the leaking ceiling, and won't even fix the electricity in my kitchen that has been broken since the last day of room renovations. It's been broken for weeks now. And I'm supposed to pay him money I don't personally owe him? Bitch, please.
So there's that, and then the other thing that happened was that I didn't get roles in either of the shows I thought I'd get into. God, worst birthday month of my life. Hands down. Those auditions both took place within a couple weeks of the breakup, and while I don't expect to get every role I audition for, it was just really shitty timing not to get into EITHER show at a time when I already felt really fragile. It just made me feel completely unwanted, and so has everything else. No boyfriend, no roommate, no show. And shows are such a good distraction--when I'm in a show, it becomes my life. And when I'm not in one, I feel worthless, like even the thing I'm supposed to be good at isn't working out right. This doesn't really bother me as much as the other things, because again--you can't win them all. I'm still a performr and always will be. But still--awful timing. I'll get into another show at some point. But I can't focus properly on anything right now--I keep having feelings that I want to just run away from it all. These days I either don't sleep enough or I sleep way too much. Every time I think, "Well, it could be worse", it gets worse. It's almost comical, how much bad luck I've been running into lately. And my strength, my faith, my survival instincts, my optimism--they're all being tested. Everyone keeps trying to make me feel better but no one really knows what to say because they can't fix the maelstrom that is my life. And by now I would have died without music (like literally, shriveled up and died), but until things improve...I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. All the "God never gives you more than you can handle/it's always darkest before the dawn/everything happens for a reason/I will survive" bullshit only goes so far...and then there you are, still yourself, with no boyfriend, no roommate, and no show. STILL. It's such a feeling of desperation, of panic, of loneliness and hopelessness and fear.
I'm going to get through this, I know. But right now, that feeling is the tiniest part of me. Most of me is just wondering what I could have done to deserve such an amazing amount of misfortune, and wondering why nothing is getting better yet when I'm trying my hardest. Everyone goes through rough times, and it really could get worse (I hesitate to even say that because tomorrow I bet twelve more bad things will happen). It actually helps me to hear that other people have felt the same about breakups, and that this was minor compared to what other people have gone through. And my landlord is just going to have to deal--I don't know what to tell him. And as for shows...it'll happen. I've got talent, I've just got to stay out there.
So I'm done, for now, with the "poor me" rant.
But for God's sake, something has got to give.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Big Yellow Taxi
Why, hello! It has been frickin' FOREVER since I've written. I kept meaning to, but you know. Life gets in the way. I was finishing "Ragtime" and then suddenly it was the holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's, and my day job was obnoxiously busy. Besides, I'm pretty sure that not many people read this blog anyway, so I'm not worried that anyone was waiting with bated breath for the next one. Blah blah blah. Let's just get to the point of what I wanted to write about.
My new friend Katy posted this on her Facebook page in October, and I just read it and thought, "I completely agree." It's an article about something I frequently consider: how, in New York City, it's especially hard to keep a relationship alive if you live in separate boroughs. I've casually dated a couple of people from Brooklyn/Manhattan/wherever, and I've got friends all over the place. And I suppose that if the person is worth traveling for, platonically or otherwise, he or she might be worth holding onto. But ONLY if they're also willing to come to Astoria, too. Two-way street, my friends. Anyway, definitely read this article. Hopefully this link works, but if not, just Google the title: "When Love Is a Schlep". (Genius.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/18/realestate/18cov.html
One of the guys in this article likes to joke that he lives in New Hampshire and his girlfriend lives in Delaware--in actuality, it's western Harlem and Sunset Park, Brooklyn, but when you consider how much time and how many trains it takes to get from point A to point B, it may as well be another state. Anyone who is unfamiliar with the city is probably also unfamiliar with interborough traveling, and the reality of living in the "same city" as your significant other and friends and still never seeing each other. New York's New York, right? Yes and no. I always reference the "Sex and The City" episode where Steve wants to move to Brooklyn, and the fuss that it causes within the clique--Miranda says, at one point, "I can't move to Brooklyn! Even cabs won't go there!" I can't even tell you how many times I've heard/said, "Oh, no. I'm not going all the way to Brooklyn that late/I'm not going all the way home in between ______ and _______" etc. etc. It's a blessing that New York is so interesting, because the need for time-killers between important stuff is overwhelming. You can't just pop home for a quick few minutes unless you're in your own neighborhood, thus the need to carry around everything you'll need for that day (and sometimes an overnight bag). I think part of the reason New Yorkers are so amazing is because to live here, it takes an unearthly amount of energy just to plan and execute each day. Just to run your own life. We depend on public transportation to a degree that non-New Yorkers can't even fathom. If you're not "a planner", fine, but I most definitely am, and I've been known to plan my transportation days or weeks in advance, in order to ensure punctuality for important things. The mass transit option on Google Maps has been a complete lifesaver. I've lived here since '04 and on a weekly basis have still had this thought: "How the hell do I get THERE?!" I have panic attacks when I'm late, anywhere, and even the most careful planning can sometimes be derailed (pun intended). I've always enjoyed walking in the city; even though here it's pretty much a necessity doesn't mean you can't look around and take everything in. I know people who have walked from Manhattan to Astoria on a whim, people who regularly jog from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and so on. When I first moved to the city I remember walking from my dorm on 70th Street and Broadway to Times Square (roughly thirty blocks) and being amazed by the fact that it didn't seem that far. Because really, it's not--nor is it a difficult walk if you're accustomed to this lifestyle. One of the coolest things about walking (or biking) aimlessly in the city is that it's the only way to properly see how streets relate to each other, how neighborhoods and sections connect, and how close everything really is. You have lightbulb moments: "Oh, THIS is where that is! I totally know where I am!" or "I never knew _______ was near _______". A distance that would take less than twenty minutes by car can take over an hour via subway, which is not something you realize when you first move here. My first trip from Williamsburg to Astoria by car was a revelation.
I just visited North Carolina for Christmas, and was struck (as I always am) by the total relativity of the concept of convenience. The morning after I arrived, I had to go to the store for something urgent, and I was on something of a time constraint. The only logical choice was to jump in the car and drive there. Walking would have taken me over an hour and a half, as the store in question is five miles away. I just Google Mapped it, from our house in NC to the store, and according to that, the time it would have taken to walk there is within 5 minutes of the amount of time it would take me to walk from my doorstep in Astoria to my job in Manhattan. Now THAT is something to think about, right? But something that seems completely and totally ridiculous in NC (ie, walking anywhere) doesn't seem that farfetched here. I say this constantly: if a friend of mine in NC lived even 45 minutes to an hour away from me, I would see that friend maybe thrice a year, if that--unless they were so incredibly special to me that I was willing to make that drive. I'd be all, "Good luck, see you at Christmas." Why is that? Maybe because here, you personally are not in control of the actual physicality of getting to your destination, besides the walk to the train. Once you get on the train, you can zone out (to an extent) about what's happening, and even squeeze in some reading or work. When you're driving (if you're a good driver), you do need to pay absolute attention, all the way there. Living here, I allow for approximately 50 minutes to get to work on time, five times a week, if not more so. To get to friends in Brooklyn or Manhattan--and child, you would not BELIEVE how huge Queens seems when you're on the train. A close friend told me recently that he might be moving to Queens from Brooklyn, and while that might have inspired rabid excitement from someone who didn't know better, I'm remaining neutral until I know this: where in Queens? For example, said friend commissioned me to sing at a church in Queens right before Christmas, and from Astoria to Flushing (both considered to be within the same borough, mind you), it takes a little over an hour on a good day. On a Sunday? Longer. Via two trains and a bus. So even if he moves to Queens, I may not even see him any more often than I do now, therefore I'm not doing any cartwheels (or making any attempts at doing them) until he says, "Guess what? I just got an apartment in Astoria."
As I mentioned, no one walks anywhere in NC unless it's from the car to the door of their destination. Ever. Why would you? Everything is so spread out there. New York has shitty things about it, but on the whole there are millions of unique, fun things packed into a teeny, tiny area. NC is areas of mediocre-to-awesome things spread out across a whole state. (This is why I live here now.) Many people in North Carolina (and other states), while they are lovely, don't aspire to do much except eat at restaurants, shop, and go to movies. And, you know, go on out-of-town trips, where they will seek out the nearest chain restaurant at which to eat and a larger Gap at which to shop, because that's what's familiar. I'm not saying ALL the people in NC do only these things, I'm saying many of them. I like to visit there to see family and relax, but I tend to get bored and wonder, "Is this it?" whenever I'm home. It's a fine life if that's what you want and that's the only way you know. Knock yourself out being happy with what you've got, because New York is no picnic when it comes to simplicity and relaxation. But when I was in the backseat of the car, feeling carsick while stuck in traffic in the mall parking lot with my mom and stepfather, all I could think was, "THIS IS SO IRRITATING." I should also mention that we were stuck there after having decided that we wouldn't be able to catch the beginning of the movie we were trying to see, due to the unavailability of parking spaces at said mall. When they come to visit me in NYC and we have to walk everwhere, all THEY can think is, "THIS IS SO IRRITATING." Where you live has an effect on your concept of convenience. To me, it means being able to walk outside and find everything I need while on foot, or taking the train or a cab if I want to. To everyone else in my family, convenience means being able to jump in the car and drive wherever they need to go. Having to get in the car, drive, go home, get back in the car, drive again, then drive back home is just as alien to me as walking is to them. I'm thinking, "What about traffic/gas/mechanical problems/accidents/speed limits/parking spaces?" and they're thinking "What about the weather/your shoes/the long walk/the train getting stuck/getting lost/pickpockets (whatever else country folk worry about)?" Convenience is in the eye of the beholder.
I'm not going to recount the number of times I've had to direct cabdrivers to my apartment (the ONE job I ask them to do--get me home--is sometimes too much of a challenge, apparently). Even sometimes from LaGuardia Airport, which cannot be more than fifteen minutes away from my door. I've gotten out of cabs before due to my diminishing confidence about the driver's directional prowess. I'm not paying someone to give me an unguided, unwanted tour of the city, I'm paying them to presumably get me somewhere FASTER than I can take myself. I've been taken, mistakenly, to Brooklyn after having told the driver to go to the Wall Street area.
But to end this on a funny (and vaguely creepy) note, I've also been hit on in cabs before. Several times. And the weird part is this: I'm not in the habit of taking cabs unless I REALLY need to, so if I'm in one, I'm probably in some state of desperation/exhaustion/panic/lateness/combination of all four. In what way is that attractive? Your guess is as good as mine; the first time it happened, I was on my way home from an all-nighter in Brooklyn. This was a long time ago, but I distinctly remember that it was early morning and that I looked busted. Smeared makeup, heels--in short, a hot, tranny mess. And the driver, during the ride, asked me if I'd ever dated anyone Indian, wanted me to give him my palm so he could read it, and then gave me his number right before I got out at my apartment (only because I absolutely refused to give him mine). A saner person would have disembarked long before her destination, but he seemed pretty harmless and by that point I just wanted to get home.
More recently (and by that I mean last Tuesday), I jumped into a cab at LaGuardia, on my way to pick up my cat at an unfamiliar Astoria address. I'd been there only once before, so when the cabdriver asked me (twice) where it was, I repeated the info VERY clearly, and we were on our way. I was sans makeup, wearing a hat over my hair and my long winter coat and Converse. Pretty sexy, right? The driver asked me (before we'd left the parking lot) if I was traveling from afar, and I assumed he was just making conversation so I told him I was a local, but that I was coming from NC. About five minutes later, I saw that we were in the "straight only" lane, heading toward the Triboro Bridge when we should have been turning left onto Ditmars. I thought maybe he'd misheard me and said, "We're not going into the city, are we?" He replied, "Of course we're going into the city", to which I responded, "NOOOOOO! NONONONONONO--we need to stay in Astoria--" He said, "I'm just kidding." I let out a sigh and said, "DON'T do that to me, I've had an awful day already." (I had. My flight had been cancelled and I was missing work, which I don't like to do unless I have someone to cover for me.) He apologized and proceeded to turn left, and I curiously asked him why we were in the wrong lane. He mentioned that it was easier to turn from that lane. (?) Here is a general recap of our conversation from there.
Old, friendly Greek cabdriver, re: my bad day: When things happen that are not my control, I just relax. 'Cause it's not your fault, it's nothing you did. If it was my fault, then I'd be upset, but if not, you don't worry about it.
Me: vague "ehhhhhh" noise, thinking: "Yeah, not really asking you for advice, but thanks for the tip."
OFGC: It'll be okay. You go home, call your friends, call your boyfriend, relax.
Me: *rolling eyes in backseat* Well, I was supposed to work today, but it'll be nice to have a day off, I guess.
OFGC: Oh, what do you do? I think that you are a creative person.
Me: You are correct.
OFGC: Ahhhh, see, I knew you were a creative person. I had an idea but I wasn't sure, I think you are a designer?
Me: (wondering how he got that idea from my stellar outfit) No, I'm actually a singer/actress.
OFGC: Oh! Have you been in Broadway shows?
Me: (already exhausted by having to explain how the real showbiz world works) No, um, off-Broadway. (This is always the easiest answer when you're talking to someone who is not in show business, who will in turn act like they know what that means.)
OFGC: Do you wait tables, or are you okay now? (Meaning, "Do you make any money, you starving artist?")
Me: Um, I maitre d' at a restaurant, AND I sing and act.
OFGC: That's a hard life. A person like you, you know, intelligent, attractive, can probably make better money doing something else, but you do what you like.
Me: (Sensing where this is going) Yep.
OFGC: What about your boyfriend, is he an actor?
Me: (Now this is always the point where I have to decide whether or not to lie to a stranger about having a boyfriend. I've lied before and could have easily made something up, but in this situation there wasn't much reason to--it was broad daylight and I was tired from traveling.) Uh, I don't have a boyfriend.
OFGC: Ohhhhhh, great! I'm single too. *laughs*
Me: *confused laughter* Uhhhhh...
OFGC: Well, in the performing world, you must always be around attractive men and women.
Me: (thinking, "Straight men, you mean? No.") Um, yeah, I guess.
OFGC: (conspiratorially--apparently he was more knowledgeable about my world than I would have guessed) Well, some of the men...not all man, you know? Or all man, but they don't act like men.
Me: (mildly offended but mostly amused, and in agreeance) Yeah...(but also thinking, "Even the straight men don't always act like men.")
We arrived at my destination and he offered to wait downstairs to take me home after I collected Elsa, which was an offer I should have taken him up on, considering the hike I had to subsequently take while toting my extremely heavy bag, Elsa's bag, Elsa in her carrier, and my purse. I ended up having to take the bus, because there aren't many yellow cabs in Astoria and a gypsy cab would have been extravagantly expensive.
Anyway, I still tipped OFGC at least 20%. He got me where I needed to go, and again, was harmless. Even though I get frustrated with cabdrivers, we're all in the service industry. I take care of my own.
And you? You take care of yourself. Happy New Year.
xoxo
My new friend Katy posted this on her Facebook page in October, and I just read it and thought, "I completely agree." It's an article about something I frequently consider: how, in New York City, it's especially hard to keep a relationship alive if you live in separate boroughs. I've casually dated a couple of people from Brooklyn/Manhattan/wherever, and I've got friends all over the place. And I suppose that if the person is worth traveling for, platonically or otherwise, he or she might be worth holding onto. But ONLY if they're also willing to come to Astoria, too. Two-way street, my friends. Anyway, definitely read this article. Hopefully this link works, but if not, just Google the title: "When Love Is a Schlep". (Genius.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/18/realestate/18cov.html
One of the guys in this article likes to joke that he lives in New Hampshire and his girlfriend lives in Delaware--in actuality, it's western Harlem and Sunset Park, Brooklyn, but when you consider how much time and how many trains it takes to get from point A to point B, it may as well be another state. Anyone who is unfamiliar with the city is probably also unfamiliar with interborough traveling, and the reality of living in the "same city" as your significant other and friends and still never seeing each other. New York's New York, right? Yes and no. I always reference the "Sex and The City" episode where Steve wants to move to Brooklyn, and the fuss that it causes within the clique--Miranda says, at one point, "I can't move to Brooklyn! Even cabs won't go there!" I can't even tell you how many times I've heard/said, "Oh, no. I'm not going all the way to Brooklyn that late/I'm not going all the way home in between ______ and _______" etc. etc. It's a blessing that New York is so interesting, because the need for time-killers between important stuff is overwhelming. You can't just pop home for a quick few minutes unless you're in your own neighborhood, thus the need to carry around everything you'll need for that day (and sometimes an overnight bag). I think part of the reason New Yorkers are so amazing is because to live here, it takes an unearthly amount of energy just to plan and execute each day. Just to run your own life. We depend on public transportation to a degree that non-New Yorkers can't even fathom. If you're not "a planner", fine, but I most definitely am, and I've been known to plan my transportation days or weeks in advance, in order to ensure punctuality for important things. The mass transit option on Google Maps has been a complete lifesaver. I've lived here since '04 and on a weekly basis have still had this thought: "How the hell do I get THERE?!" I have panic attacks when I'm late, anywhere, and even the most careful planning can sometimes be derailed (pun intended). I've always enjoyed walking in the city; even though here it's pretty much a necessity doesn't mean you can't look around and take everything in. I know people who have walked from Manhattan to Astoria on a whim, people who regularly jog from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and so on. When I first moved to the city I remember walking from my dorm on 70th Street and Broadway to Times Square (roughly thirty blocks) and being amazed by the fact that it didn't seem that far. Because really, it's not--nor is it a difficult walk if you're accustomed to this lifestyle. One of the coolest things about walking (or biking) aimlessly in the city is that it's the only way to properly see how streets relate to each other, how neighborhoods and sections connect, and how close everything really is. You have lightbulb moments: "Oh, THIS is where that is! I totally know where I am!" or "I never knew _______ was near _______". A distance that would take less than twenty minutes by car can take over an hour via subway, which is not something you realize when you first move here. My first trip from Williamsburg to Astoria by car was a revelation.
I just visited North Carolina for Christmas, and was struck (as I always am) by the total relativity of the concept of convenience. The morning after I arrived, I had to go to the store for something urgent, and I was on something of a time constraint. The only logical choice was to jump in the car and drive there. Walking would have taken me over an hour and a half, as the store in question is five miles away. I just Google Mapped it, from our house in NC to the store, and according to that, the time it would have taken to walk there is within 5 minutes of the amount of time it would take me to walk from my doorstep in Astoria to my job in Manhattan. Now THAT is something to think about, right? But something that seems completely and totally ridiculous in NC (ie, walking anywhere) doesn't seem that farfetched here. I say this constantly: if a friend of mine in NC lived even 45 minutes to an hour away from me, I would see that friend maybe thrice a year, if that--unless they were so incredibly special to me that I was willing to make that drive. I'd be all, "Good luck, see you at Christmas." Why is that? Maybe because here, you personally are not in control of the actual physicality of getting to your destination, besides the walk to the train. Once you get on the train, you can zone out (to an extent) about what's happening, and even squeeze in some reading or work. When you're driving (if you're a good driver), you do need to pay absolute attention, all the way there. Living here, I allow for approximately 50 minutes to get to work on time, five times a week, if not more so. To get to friends in Brooklyn or Manhattan--and child, you would not BELIEVE how huge Queens seems when you're on the train. A close friend told me recently that he might be moving to Queens from Brooklyn, and while that might have inspired rabid excitement from someone who didn't know better, I'm remaining neutral until I know this: where in Queens? For example, said friend commissioned me to sing at a church in Queens right before Christmas, and from Astoria to Flushing (both considered to be within the same borough, mind you), it takes a little over an hour on a good day. On a Sunday? Longer. Via two trains and a bus. So even if he moves to Queens, I may not even see him any more often than I do now, therefore I'm not doing any cartwheels (or making any attempts at doing them) until he says, "Guess what? I just got an apartment in Astoria."
As I mentioned, no one walks anywhere in NC unless it's from the car to the door of their destination. Ever. Why would you? Everything is so spread out there. New York has shitty things about it, but on the whole there are millions of unique, fun things packed into a teeny, tiny area. NC is areas of mediocre-to-awesome things spread out across a whole state. (This is why I live here now.) Many people in North Carolina (and other states), while they are lovely, don't aspire to do much except eat at restaurants, shop, and go to movies. And, you know, go on out-of-town trips, where they will seek out the nearest chain restaurant at which to eat and a larger Gap at which to shop, because that's what's familiar. I'm not saying ALL the people in NC do only these things, I'm saying many of them. I like to visit there to see family and relax, but I tend to get bored and wonder, "Is this it?" whenever I'm home. It's a fine life if that's what you want and that's the only way you know. Knock yourself out being happy with what you've got, because New York is no picnic when it comes to simplicity and relaxation. But when I was in the backseat of the car, feeling carsick while stuck in traffic in the mall parking lot with my mom and stepfather, all I could think was, "THIS IS SO IRRITATING." I should also mention that we were stuck there after having decided that we wouldn't be able to catch the beginning of the movie we were trying to see, due to the unavailability of parking spaces at said mall. When they come to visit me in NYC and we have to walk everwhere, all THEY can think is, "THIS IS SO IRRITATING." Where you live has an effect on your concept of convenience. To me, it means being able to walk outside and find everything I need while on foot, or taking the train or a cab if I want to. To everyone else in my family, convenience means being able to jump in the car and drive wherever they need to go. Having to get in the car, drive, go home, get back in the car, drive again, then drive back home is just as alien to me as walking is to them. I'm thinking, "What about traffic/gas/mechanical problems/accidents/speed limits/parking spaces?" and they're thinking "What about the weather/your shoes/the long walk/the train getting stuck/getting lost/pickpockets (whatever else country folk worry about)?" Convenience is in the eye of the beholder.
I'm not going to recount the number of times I've had to direct cabdrivers to my apartment (the ONE job I ask them to do--get me home--is sometimes too much of a challenge, apparently). Even sometimes from LaGuardia Airport, which cannot be more than fifteen minutes away from my door. I've gotten out of cabs before due to my diminishing confidence about the driver's directional prowess. I'm not paying someone to give me an unguided, unwanted tour of the city, I'm paying them to presumably get me somewhere FASTER than I can take myself. I've been taken, mistakenly, to Brooklyn after having told the driver to go to the Wall Street area.
But to end this on a funny (and vaguely creepy) note, I've also been hit on in cabs before. Several times. And the weird part is this: I'm not in the habit of taking cabs unless I REALLY need to, so if I'm in one, I'm probably in some state of desperation/exhaustion/panic/lateness/combination of all four. In what way is that attractive? Your guess is as good as mine; the first time it happened, I was on my way home from an all-nighter in Brooklyn. This was a long time ago, but I distinctly remember that it was early morning and that I looked busted. Smeared makeup, heels--in short, a hot, tranny mess. And the driver, during the ride, asked me if I'd ever dated anyone Indian, wanted me to give him my palm so he could read it, and then gave me his number right before I got out at my apartment (only because I absolutely refused to give him mine). A saner person would have disembarked long before her destination, but he seemed pretty harmless and by that point I just wanted to get home.
More recently (and by that I mean last Tuesday), I jumped into a cab at LaGuardia, on my way to pick up my cat at an unfamiliar Astoria address. I'd been there only once before, so when the cabdriver asked me (twice) where it was, I repeated the info VERY clearly, and we were on our way. I was sans makeup, wearing a hat over my hair and my long winter coat and Converse. Pretty sexy, right? The driver asked me (before we'd left the parking lot) if I was traveling from afar, and I assumed he was just making conversation so I told him I was a local, but that I was coming from NC. About five minutes later, I saw that we were in the "straight only" lane, heading toward the Triboro Bridge when we should have been turning left onto Ditmars. I thought maybe he'd misheard me and said, "We're not going into the city, are we?" He replied, "Of course we're going into the city", to which I responded, "NOOOOOO! NONONONONONO--we need to stay in Astoria--" He said, "I'm just kidding." I let out a sigh and said, "DON'T do that to me, I've had an awful day already." (I had. My flight had been cancelled and I was missing work, which I don't like to do unless I have someone to cover for me.) He apologized and proceeded to turn left, and I curiously asked him why we were in the wrong lane. He mentioned that it was easier to turn from that lane. (?) Here is a general recap of our conversation from there.
Old, friendly Greek cabdriver, re: my bad day: When things happen that are not my control, I just relax. 'Cause it's not your fault, it's nothing you did. If it was my fault, then I'd be upset, but if not, you don't worry about it.
Me: vague "ehhhhhh" noise, thinking: "Yeah, not really asking you for advice, but thanks for the tip."
OFGC: It'll be okay. You go home, call your friends, call your boyfriend, relax.
Me: *rolling eyes in backseat* Well, I was supposed to work today, but it'll be nice to have a day off, I guess.
OFGC: Oh, what do you do? I think that you are a creative person.
Me: You are correct.
OFGC: Ahhhh, see, I knew you were a creative person. I had an idea but I wasn't sure, I think you are a designer?
Me: (wondering how he got that idea from my stellar outfit) No, I'm actually a singer/actress.
OFGC: Oh! Have you been in Broadway shows?
Me: (already exhausted by having to explain how the real showbiz world works) No, um, off-Broadway. (This is always the easiest answer when you're talking to someone who is not in show business, who will in turn act like they know what that means.)
OFGC: Do you wait tables, or are you okay now? (Meaning, "Do you make any money, you starving artist?")
Me: Um, I maitre d' at a restaurant, AND I sing and act.
OFGC: That's a hard life. A person like you, you know, intelligent, attractive, can probably make better money doing something else, but you do what you like.
Me: (Sensing where this is going) Yep.
OFGC: What about your boyfriend, is he an actor?
Me: (Now this is always the point where I have to decide whether or not to lie to a stranger about having a boyfriend. I've lied before and could have easily made something up, but in this situation there wasn't much reason to--it was broad daylight and I was tired from traveling.) Uh, I don't have a boyfriend.
OFGC: Ohhhhhh, great! I'm single too. *laughs*
Me: *confused laughter* Uhhhhh...
OFGC: Well, in the performing world, you must always be around attractive men and women.
Me: (thinking, "Straight men, you mean? No.") Um, yeah, I guess.
OFGC: (conspiratorially--apparently he was more knowledgeable about my world than I would have guessed) Well, some of the men...not all man, you know? Or all man, but they don't act like men.
Me: (mildly offended but mostly amused, and in agreeance) Yeah...(but also thinking, "Even the straight men don't always act like men.")
We arrived at my destination and he offered to wait downstairs to take me home after I collected Elsa, which was an offer I should have taken him up on, considering the hike I had to subsequently take while toting my extremely heavy bag, Elsa's bag, Elsa in her carrier, and my purse. I ended up having to take the bus, because there aren't many yellow cabs in Astoria and a gypsy cab would have been extravagantly expensive.
Anyway, I still tipped OFGC at least 20%. He got me where I needed to go, and again, was harmless. Even though I get frustrated with cabdrivers, we're all in the service industry. I take care of my own.
And you? You take care of yourself. Happy New Year.
xoxo
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