Similarity

The strangest think ever in the whole wide world happened when I was in my first day of training at the bookstore...

An ex-boy of mine, AFK, walked right into the store, looked at me, looked quickly away, and walked to the Tantra section with a skinny and cute girl alongside him.

This guy really had me going. I mean, I sincerely thought it was AFK, but what the hell would he be doing in New York, and who was this girl? I spent the better part of the next hour checking out his specs-- down to the more unusual elements that make up a person's physical recollection. I seriously got down to his feet before I could be assured that this was, in fact, not at all AFK, and that I had wasted my time completely freaking out about seeing him again.

It was the emotions that went along with this faux-encounter that really confused me. I don't even think I can parse through them at all to make a cohesive and understandable paragraph.

In any case, as I was leaving to go home yesterday, I saw this person again. This AFK lookalike. So this time, I put my bag behind the counter and went right up to him and asked if he needed any help, still half way expecting a really negative response. It was completey shcoking to me when he flashed a big smile, and politely told me that he was finding everything just fine, and thanks for asking. I remember how amiable he was when he pruchased his items as well... ironic bizarro world/parallel universe AFK.

It's just so weird to have intense feelings about a complete stranger, to realize that that connection belongs to someone else, how real their absence feels at that moment, even though you thought you'd let that go awhile back. I have thinking to do.

Balance

Positive news for today: I have an internship with one of the more famous orchestras in NYC. I start in two weeks and will spend two days a week learning how orchestras are run.

Negetive news for today: I have committed to working 48 hours a week, or 6 days a week. I worry that my curtailed time off will blow a fuse in my brain.

I worry too much. I know that I'll have less off time, but the fact is that I don't DO anything with the time off that I do have. Might as well work, eh?

Not to mention, I know of people who work everyday. There are tons of people in this city who work multiple jobs to make ends meet, and I should consider myself lucky that I am not one of them.

So that's that. I can't wait until I have a job that I like where I can make a decent living wage.

Goodbye Summer

I'm not looking forward to experiencing Winter here. I have so many questions and concerns. The primary concern I have is, will the 7 train run worse when there's sleet and snow on the tracks?

I'm sure this very fact will compell us to move to Brooklyn, where the subway runs UNDERGROUND like a real subway should. But then again, while we were staying with our friend when we first moved, the 2 and 3 trains were shut down when the tracks flooded due to excess rain, which goes to show that you can't predict ANYTHING here.

I just wonder what happens when your only mode of transportation is shut down. You can't even plan ahead, really, because chances are you won't find out until you're standing on the platform. But how can the vast majortiy of New Yorkers work or get anything substantial accomplished when something so basic as trasnsportation is taken away from them?

With regards to the changing season... summer to fall has become my least favorite. I love the fall, don't get me wrong, with the changing colors and the crisp cool air, and the ability to wear long sleeves without getting too hot. But the immanence of winter makes this a very sad time of year for me.

Interactive Blogging

If you comment on this post...
1. I’ll respond with something random about you.
2. I’ll challenge you to try something.
3. I’ll pick a color that I associate with you.
4. I’ll tell you something I like about you.
5. I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I’ll tell you what animal,vegetable or mineral you remind me of.
7. I’ll ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on yours.

Out of Practice

Confession: I haven't practiced or played at all in any context for a month now.

I guess I've just needed a break from all the pressure that I put upon myself to play really well ALL THE TIME and to have tangible results to show for it (like, say, a job).

That, plus all the change that I'm going through, was simply driving me batty, and I was starting to put lots of tension into everything I did.

Now that I'm feeling a little bit more settled and am ready to play again, I find that I'm not at all in the habit of practicing each day. I come home and realize, hey I could play right now, it might even be sorta fun, but then I just don't do it.

I think it's just that the expectation is gone. J. knows that I'm taking a mental breather right now, so when I come home it's always time to hang out. I guess one day I could just let him know that I need to get back into a routine, and he'd understand, but I never seem to get around to telling him.

Another issue is, how on earth do I get started? I don't even have the muscles in my face anymore to make a decent sound! This hasn't been the case since I started playing when I was 8, so I have no idea how to deal with that.

Any suggestions? Do I go through the 15 mintues a day at first routine, do I buzz alot or what?

Maybe the best way to look at this is as a learning experience. Everyone probably goes through this at one point or another. Best just to stay positive.

Hungry, yet Hopeful

I made the mistake of skipping lunch today. It's causing quite the issue, as I find it's hard to think while I'm distracted by my grumbly stomach.

I spent the entire day cleaning and organizing office supplies and files for my boss. This begs the question, is that what it means to be an administrative assistant? Doing all the grunt work that people in their right minds would not want to spend their work time doing?

I would very much like to "win" a job that I enjoy. At present, spending 40 hours a week in retail just isn't making me all that happy. I'm on my feet all day if I'm on the floor, and when I'm not, I don't open my mouth to speak at all. There simply isn't anyone around. It's either painful or lonely, I guess.

Fortunately, this is New York City, and possibilities are endless. It's only a matter of keeping my ear to the ground, or my eye to Craig's List. Something is bound to happen to me sooner or later, of that I am certain.

Let's just hope that it does before I go crazy.

Actually, Plan B is to work only 30 hours a week at the store. This possibility would definitely come to pass should the Met Opera decide that I am a worthy usher. Perhaps I shouldn't wish out loud, lest the Gods of All Fortune decide to ignore my plaintive cries for relief from the purgatory of retail.

An Evening Out

Last night I had my first social obligation in what seems like months. In actuality, it's been around 5 weeks since I've made plans with anyone on a social level (besides J. of course). I was quite excited to meet with MP, a fellow musician at WMU back in the day. Oddly enough, I've only spoken to her on one occassion prior to this meeting, but we were so like-minded then that I was very much looking forward to our engagement.

After work, I met J. for dinner, as I had a gap between my work obligations and this meeting for coffe, but not enough time to justify going home. I gave him an assignment to locate a good vegetarian restaurant near the bookstore, and I must say he did a fabulous job. We walked down to NYU (and saw the famous archway that is also seen in "When Harry met Sally"!).

We had dinner at Red Bamboo. The menu was all-vegetarian, of course, but it featured a huge variety of what I like to think of as "fake meat." I'm not usually one to boast the quality of faux-meat, since I'm a vegetarian partially because I don't actually enjoy the taste of animal products. But in keeping with the spirit of the Red Bamboo, I ordered a standard "fake" chicken sandwich, which came topped with lettuce and tomato, and vegan mayo(!).

It was fabulous. It didn't taste too far from how I remember chicken, but it wasn't TOO similar for my taste either. It was simply delicious. For dessert, I ordered a mint chocolate chip vegan milk shake. I was quite impressed by its likeness to an actual shake, which is becoming less and less possible for me to eat. Because I stay away from milk products (beside the occassional slice of pizza and infrequent piece of cheese), I find the real milkshakes are very tasty, but not worth the inevitable pain.

During dinner, I decided that a good way to see New York is by eating at vegetarian restaurants. My mother sees cities by looking for good knitting stores, so this is a similar goal, I suppose. Only I get to eat. Which is always good.

After dinner, we took the L train over to Williamsburg. I had heard that Williamsburg has become sort of a haven for the artists who have been priced out of Manhattan. Despite this description, it certainly reminded me of an extreme version of Madison. There is a very bohemian quality to that area, and there seemed to be a deep appreciation for independant coffee shops and restaraunts. There's enough demand to support a 24 hour organic market. (Woodside, by contrast, barely even HAS an organic market!)

We met for coffee, and then went down to the East River to look at the New York skyline. I said it then (and I mean it so much that I'll repeat it here) that I think the New York skyline PALES in comparison to Chicago's. New York is just a lump of buildings on an island, really. There's no climax to it, as the Sears tower brings to Chicago. And there's a lack of distinctive buildings (aside ONLY from the Chrysler building and the Empire State Building), and no color. All this should change in 2012, supposedly, but the overall shape to the island will still remain erratic and, well, boring.

After a visit to the 24-hour organic market, we headed home for the evening. I was definitely glad to talk to someone on a social basis. Moving to a new city is always lonely, and my current line of thinking is that moving to such a huge and busy place only exacerbates the problem. During my more positive moments, I believe that this is only a temporary problem.

Only a Matter of Time

I've come down with the bug that's been going around. I have the dreaded "itchy throat."

I'm not at all surprised, to be honest. I try to be as healthy as possible, but germs just have to be everywhere. As a matter of fact, the number one source of public germ sharing are the poles on in the subway cars. You just never know how many people have held on to them, and when the last time they've been cleaned.

I do my best to wash my hands whenever I have the chance, and definitely before eating anything. But between touching anything mass-transportation related and handling money, it's only a matter of time before I come down with something.

So, I think I shall spend my Saturday evening eating soup and watching movies. We've got The Land Before Time right now, so maybe watching that will soothe my inner child (who is whining desperately about this achy feeling in my bronchial tubes) .

The Wonderfulness of Fruit...

delivered right to your door!

It is our third week as members of Urban Organics, the phone-in and internet-based food delivery service. Each week, they fill a box of specified size with in-season fruits and vegetables, and deliver it right to your door!

We weren't sure who would be home during their normal delivery hours here in Queens, but Fridays ended up being one of my days off, so I volunteered to be here at the specified time. Well, I found out today that 5-7 is only the PROJECTED delivery time, which is so far my only contention with this service, so I hurried home and found- ta da!- fruit and other groceries waiting by the door.

I'm glad that it was still there for us. Not that I think that any of my so-far unknown neighbors would actually steal our food, but I was happy to see that it had made it okay.

I love this service. It helps that we don't have to go shopping twice a week somewhere in Manhattan, but I'm hoping that the times are at least relatively close to their projections.

So, while I'm enamoured with the leisurely option of organic food delivery, I'm hoping that the instability of the schedule isn't so, well, unstable as to force me in on Friday afternoons.

A (Very) Random Act of Kindness

J. and I have been discussing our tendency to stay in during the evening hours, instead of going out and partaking in the New York Night life.

I'd have to say that a big motivation, from my perspective, at least, is that we are several subway stops out of Manhattan. Wherever we'd go, it would most likely involve a transfer, which means that we'd be standing around waiting for not one but TWO trains, which don't run often after 8:00 pm. Adding a half hour to our 45-minute commute to Manhattan isn't worth going out with each other and talking to.... each other.

Yesterday evening I was feeling in high spirits, so I suggested that we meet at the nearest bar, which is (as J. put it) within stumbling distance from our apartment.

We met on the corner, went into the bar and had a beer, and talked about our days. We were nearly finished withour drinks when the bartender informed us that we had a round of shots coming from the woman who was sitting next to us. Our neighbor, S., introduced herself to us and we chatted a bit, and then ordered a shot of tequila each. Now, I'm not a drinker (anymore), and the appropriate method of taking a shot of tequila with training wheels is a complete mystery to me. I think that our neighbor, S., found that charming, and added another round of shots to her bill for us.

And then, if that weren't completely generous already, she took her change from the bartender, and set it down in front of me. She told us about her days in college, how she had only one donut to share with her roommate over an entire weekend and rased money for cancer in order to fund her subway ticket.

So she's been in our position, financially, and was so kind to help us out a little bit while we're getting started.

I am very flattered by this-- it is one of the nicest things a stranger has ever done for me, and I intend to pay it forward.

Day Number ??: Been Awhile Since I've Been Online

Well, maybe this daily posting idea isn't meant to work out. I apologize for the hiatus. This is the first day that I've been able to connect to the internet on my own computer. I am rediscovering my favorites menu.

I didn't even have my pc until a week and a half ago, when the majority (but not all!) of my belongings were delivered. Afterward, we were faced with the issue of getting the internet hooked up at our place. We called two days before we moved in on the 15th, and were told that our appointment would be on the 31st. Nevertheless, we were given a horrible modem that wouldn't do anything besides blink benignly. Today J. took a trip to the mall to exchange said p.o.s. modem for a shiny new one that actually works.

So much has happened since my last post! I found a job at an independant bookstore in midtown, but I can't tell you where. I signed a paper saying I wouldn't. Thus far, I have enjoyed working there. I've assigned myself the task of curtailing spending on lunch, as, unless I eat at Subway each day, I am resigned to spending at least $8.00 a day. Over a month's time, I will spend $160.00 or more. This is money that I'd like to spend on horn lessons.

Musically speaking, though, nothing has happened at all, but I imagine that's because I haven't put effort into it. I need to gather some cash (not an easy feat at the moment) to take lessons, call a few community orchestras, and find an application to be an usher at the Met or the Phil.

Nonetheless, life is moving along. I'm learning a few lessons about who and when to trust, and to value my possessions, as I was without them for so long. It's such a simple joy to be able to cook food for oneself. And, always carry an umbrella.

Day Number Four: Mass Transportation Woes

Given the mission at hand (to locate a street map), as well as the need to find a way to get money to our stupid broker, who incidentally keeps calling me over mundane details that we reminded him of several times, J. and I set out on an errand spree.

The itinerary:
Go to Bank
Buy map
Buy gig bag for three trumpets
Go to Library to find pertinent recordings

It was hot outside but not humid, a fact which would play a big role at the end of the day. I wore a skirt.

So around Manhattan we went. The bank was an easy trip. We are now members of the Bank of America, with their cool "Keep the Change" program. We bought a new toothbrush for me at the CVS. Then we got on the wrong train and ended up in Times Square instead of Lincoln Center. This was fine, because there is a whole block full of music stores on 48th, like a small version of Chinatown with musical instruments instead of Chinese people. It was interesting to see what there was to see in all of those stores. No luck with finding a case, but I did pick up one application and was told to bring my resume to another store. Next mission: find a printer and a Kinkos for mass reproduction of said document.

We managed to get ourselves on the correct train to get to Lincoln center, where we purchased two maps, one street map of the Island, and one small pocket map of the bus and subway systems. We reviewed a few books as a break from the walking around, but were not able to make a trip to the library because of practicing obligations.

I took a nap on the couch and missed the engagement we had made to hear a live Brazillian band. When J. returned, we tried again to satisfy our cravings for Mexican food. This time, we were more successful. We received an invitation to hang out with our host-with-the-most and a few of his friends. We were instructed to go to 86th street to catch a crosstown bus. Our recently purchased maps showed that the only was to get to the East side from 86th was to go down broadway to 42nd, so we dutifully complied. When we signalled our arrival with a phone call, we were told that we were meant to get on the M86 which took us across the park, which is a busline our maps completely neglected to mention. Stupid brand-new unhelpful map.

So, we took the 4 uptown to meet our friends. By this time, my thighs were beginning to chafe due to the hot-yet-not-humid weather. We stopped at a pharmacy for some Gold Bond and ducked into a Starbucks bathroom for some quick application. It failed to do the trick, and I was in serious pain for the rest of the evening.

Of course, we WALKED to a bar for blocks and blocks, and afterward we WALKED across the whole damn island to get to the 2 train. All this walking, which seemed interminable, occured AFTER my proclamation that I really did not want to walk around with this issue going on.

To make matters much, much worse, I was so crabby from the pain and also a little tipsy, which has the horrible effect of allowing my bithcy side to appear. Apparently, I am one of those mean drunks. Relations between J, and I were not good as a result. I couldn't deal with life on any level given the sheer pain, and so fighting seemed a worthy distraction.

Worse still, the subway took 30 minutes to get uptown, and before our stop, the train came to a dead stop for 10 minutes. All I wanted at that point was a nice comfy bed.

So, my day was a mixed bag. It was fun early on exploring touristy areas, finding an enclave of music stores, taking a nap, eating well, meeting nice people, and finding a cute bar with cheap drinks. But the chaffing, the pain, the nasty drinky me, plus the difficulty with transportation did put a damper on the all the good stuff.

But we'll figure this out. The incredible amount of walking will make my thighs get skinny eventually, and I will learn the subway and bus lines over time.

Today (day number five) will be low key, as I'm a little hungover and would like to give my body a bit of recovery time.

Day Number Three: Lost in SoHo

With the apartment hunt over and done with, my next mission was to find the perfect bag in which to cart my necessities about. Google told me that the best place to find such a bag would be Manhattan Portage. So, I mapquested it and looked at the subway map and headed out!

I thought it looked easy enough-- take the 2 train, transfer to the 1 train, get off at Canal St. and walk East to the shop. Well, once I emerged from the underground, I walked to a corner and realized that without the numbered Streets in both directions, I am totally lost.

I called my mother. She wasn't near a computer, so she said to ask someone on the street. Not knowing who to ask (there were scary looking executives all around) I headed a block in the eastern direction. I stood near some other pedestrians who were confusedly looking at map, as I hoped to overhear some helpful directions. Meanwhile, a bike messenger rolled up and said, "what are you looking for, lady?" No one's ever called me "lady" before! I must have looked confused AND old!

Anyway, he offered me some directions, which he repeated several times, and I was on my way. It turns out that had I taken the other stairway out of the subway, I would have been just fine. SoHo is confusing,

I bought a messenger bag. It is perwinkle mini-bag. It will fit a small umbrella, a small bottle of water, my notebook and one paperback book. If I wish to carry a hardcover book, I'll have to take everything else out. There is also a zippered front pocket where protectables will go, and a small inside pocket perfect for my cell and my passport. Very nice. It is lovely to have two free hands,

My next mission was clear. Buy a f***ing map already! No more getting lost.

When I returned to our host's apartment place, I took a long nap, and then J. and I underwent a fruitless search for burritos. We are NY style pizza instead, from La Famiglia. They're all over New York and I'd definitely stop there again. We were up late again, as seems to be the trend here in this dwelling. We watched the last half of the 40-Year-Old Virgin, which was amusing.

All in all, it was (mostly) a peaceful day.

Day Number Two: The Not-so-Great Apartment Search

Well, it certainly is difficult to get some uninterrupted computer time. This is, of course, expected, as I'm typing on someone else's laptop, and it is for public use. Nonetheless, there seems to be a heirarchy, and I'm on the bottom of that list. I cannot wait until Mootz comes over with my computer. I miss it terribly.

So, Day Two. The objective was to get started on a search for an apartment, which I assumed would take at least 2 or 3 weeks. I had recieved much advice and lots of "hang in there, kids" consolation before we even began. Needless to say, I was expecting to spend hours upon hours searching through Criag's List and BEGGING owners and subleasers to let me stay, with my student boyfriend, my pet cat, no job and no real savings to speak of.

Mootz came by to see what I was up to, and suggested a trip to Astoria to see if it looked like a viable neighborhood to settle into. We had one lead on an apartment, and went to see it. We called the broker for whatever reason, and they told us to come by. We did as we were told, and filed initial paperwork for them to recommend a few other places within our budget. Not knowing that any of this was a real possibility, we went for the ride to look at property, but not buy.

Well. They asked if we like any places we saw, to which I replied with a nonchalant "sure, they looked okay to me." Mootz and I were led back to the office, and the man who gave us the tour spoke with his boss right in front of us-- "She's new here," he said, pointing at me, "but THIS one's six figures."

Well, okay. Money talks, I guess.

"Give them the place on Woodside," said the head honcho,

This was rather unexpected, and I knew that the only way we even saw the places was because of my mother. I knew that I didn't want to go through a broker-- it really is similar to throwing money out the window. But it was also apparent by the way they sent away the man looking in the same price range as me with a $40 grand salery a year that brokers really are willing to deal only with those who make more than 80 times the price of rent. No broker would ever deal with J. and I on our own.

And so the paperwork with the costs and fees was drafted. The broker fee was initially way, WAY more than the amount that we would need to pay the landlord. Mootz talked the broker down in price as though we were at a bazaar in India. But still, the price we are paying for the broker hurts the wallet quite a bit.

I'm justifying the exhorbinate price by telling myself that the speed at which we found a place in worth the extra $750 that I didn't expect to spend. With all of the discrimination going on, I knew that Mootz's presence was vital, and that if I didn't go for it, the process of looking elsewhere might drag on for weeks. I'd rather have the peace of mind, even if it is 50% of all the money I have in the world.

Besides, money is a renewable resource. Now I just need to get off my ass and find myself a job.

Day Number One: Introspective

After staying the night at my uncle's house, we rolled in to New York City at about 6:00 on Sunday. As we came closer to the city on I-80 I had what one might call butterflies in my stomach-- I had been imagining this moment for a few months, and it was finally coming to pass. I had all sorts of questions in my mind-- what would it be like to temporarily live in Harlem? How would I negotiate traveling about the island, whose geography is a complete mystery to me? Why had I neglected to pack my map? And how difficult would it be to find a place to live, a job, a whole new life?

My concerns were assuaged by the task of getting to our host's place. As navigator, I was determined to deliver us safely and soundly to the address written in my notebook. There was a slight mix-up regarding parking and cardinal directions, but we managed to get there.

When we were buzzed in to an overwhelming scent of urine. We walked to the elevator, and when the doors opened, yet another horrible smell wafted towards us, this time the lovely perfume of a barnyard.

More confusion ensued over which apartment was actually 5C. We were welcomed in by our lovely host, and proceded to introduce ourselves to another homeless wanna-be New Yorker. We sat around and chilled for awhile, before proceding to a 10:30 showing of Talladega Nights at Times Square. We met a fairly successful trumpeter of Juilliard fame, a horn player and a pianist. All were very nice.

The movie theatre was vertical-- our theatre was 5 escalators up. Times Square was filled with activity even at 12:30 on a Sunday night. The apartment hunt would begin tomorrow.