Today is my last day of work in New York City. I have cleaned my desk, removed the cubicle flair and thrown out mountains of paperwork that I always suspected I wouldn't need and now know that I don't.
On June 14th, I will be leaving my Cave in Inwood and will set forth to the Mountainous Lands of Colorado. Between the hours of packing and cleaning, Kat and I will be rushing about the City doing all those things we thought of doing yet kept putting off. It's interesting how many involve food...
Well, I'd better get down to the conference room and enjoy my Going Away breakfast. I hope there's some O.J..
Friday, June 08, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
5 Things You Don't Know About Me
I have been tagged by both Muse and JeR so I shall arise from the cave for a post:
1) For 3 years, I was a genetic engineering major. I had done well in school, but despised the arrogance and indifference of the science department. During Finals week of my Junior year, I was sitting in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology class wherein I reached an epiphany. As a blanket of Utter calm descended upon me, I knew with utter certainty that I was going to tank every final that week... and I did. After my last final on Thursday afternoon, I called my parents to tell them that I didn't want to be a genetic engineer. There was a long pause on the line then my mother said, "So what do you want to do." I had not put a single thought into that question, but without a moment's hesitation I answered, "I want to be a filmmaker." The rest is history... or something.
2) For 3 years, I lived in Alaska. One of my fondest memories of childhood was ice skating up and down city streets. Rather than plow the mounting feet of snow, the military base would steamroll it flat, then send gravel trucks to throw rocks over it. I would skate on the snow after the steamrollers had made the pass, beneath the orange streetlights and three months of darkness.
3) I went to the State Finals for Pinewood Derby racing. My Cub Scouts troop made all the kids buy this kit that involved a piece of pinewood, 4 wheels and nails for axles. The kids then cut piece of wood to make it aerodynamic, then added some weight (there is a maximum weight the car could be). Then, they raced these cars against one another by rolling them down a big wooden ramp. It was pretty frigging fun, actually, and I won all the way to the state finals where I tied the overall winner twice until he beat me on the tiebreaker.
4) I hit my dog in the face with a baseball bat. I cringe writing those words, even though it's been 20 years since the incident. We had a black lab who was proficient at drooling and fetching tennis balls. After 3 throws, the tennis ball would morph into a heinous ball of drool. Normally, I would wear a gardening glove but one day I got the brilliant idea of hitting them with a baseball bat instead. So, I hit a couple dingers off and we're all having a great time until the last time. As I tossed the ball in the air and unloaded with my little-league baseball bat, my dog decided that he could save a lot of running time by just catching the ball NOW. I clobbered him in the face with such force, I left a tooth indentation on my bat. For 5 minutes, he howled in pain and writhed on the ground.
One of the top-five worst moments of my life.
After a few minutes of utter misery, he got up, slowly lumbered to his water dish, slopped a drink of water then retreated to his doghouse. Despite my child instinct to flee the scene of my crime, I went and told my dad. He came out, examined our dog and miraculously, could find no evidence of the blow. The next day, I was back to throwing the tennis ball with the gardening glove. Damn, dogs are forgiving!
5) I volunteered for Bible Camp. Who knows how it happened. The details are fuzzy although that my be my subconscious protecting me from trauma. One summer, I couldn't find a job the Texas town where my parents lived, so my mom thought it would look good on my resume if I did some volunteer work. Now, I am not religious. I'm not even religious-adjacent. My Bible knowledge is limited to half-waking moments in church pews and coloring books with David slaying the mighty Goliath.
O.K., I might know a little more than that. At some point, I think that I could even recite all the books of the Old and New Testament. Those days, however, are long gone. Even back in college those were receding memories. However, one day I found myself at a Baptist(?) Bible Camp in southeastern Texas, wrangling 12 year old boys. I even had to sleep in a single-room cabin with 10 boys (that sentence is just wrong on so many levels). Looking back on this, I don't know how I did this, particularly with no alcohol. I do remember a lot of evenings of bad pizza and games of Spades with fellow-counselors.
1) For 3 years, I was a genetic engineering major. I had done well in school, but despised the arrogance and indifference of the science department. During Finals week of my Junior year, I was sitting in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology class wherein I reached an epiphany. As a blanket of Utter calm descended upon me, I knew with utter certainty that I was going to tank every final that week... and I did. After my last final on Thursday afternoon, I called my parents to tell them that I didn't want to be a genetic engineer. There was a long pause on the line then my mother said, "So what do you want to do." I had not put a single thought into that question, but without a moment's hesitation I answered, "I want to be a filmmaker." The rest is history... or something.
2) For 3 years, I lived in Alaska. One of my fondest memories of childhood was ice skating up and down city streets. Rather than plow the mounting feet of snow, the military base would steamroll it flat, then send gravel trucks to throw rocks over it. I would skate on the snow after the steamrollers had made the pass, beneath the orange streetlights and three months of darkness.
3) I went to the State Finals for Pinewood Derby racing. My Cub Scouts troop made all the kids buy this kit that involved a piece of pinewood, 4 wheels and nails for axles. The kids then cut piece of wood to make it aerodynamic, then added some weight (there is a maximum weight the car could be). Then, they raced these cars against one another by rolling them down a big wooden ramp. It was pretty frigging fun, actually, and I won all the way to the state finals where I tied the overall winner twice until he beat me on the tiebreaker.
4) I hit my dog in the face with a baseball bat. I cringe writing those words, even though it's been 20 years since the incident. We had a black lab who was proficient at drooling and fetching tennis balls. After 3 throws, the tennis ball would morph into a heinous ball of drool. Normally, I would wear a gardening glove but one day I got the brilliant idea of hitting them with a baseball bat instead. So, I hit a couple dingers off and we're all having a great time until the last time. As I tossed the ball in the air and unloaded with my little-league baseball bat, my dog decided that he could save a lot of running time by just catching the ball NOW. I clobbered him in the face with such force, I left a tooth indentation on my bat. For 5 minutes, he howled in pain and writhed on the ground.
One of the top-five worst moments of my life.
After a few minutes of utter misery, he got up, slowly lumbered to his water dish, slopped a drink of water then retreated to his doghouse. Despite my child instinct to flee the scene of my crime, I went and told my dad. He came out, examined our dog and miraculously, could find no evidence of the blow. The next day, I was back to throwing the tennis ball with the gardening glove. Damn, dogs are forgiving!
5) I volunteered for Bible Camp. Who knows how it happened. The details are fuzzy although that my be my subconscious protecting me from trauma. One summer, I couldn't find a job the Texas town where my parents lived, so my mom thought it would look good on my resume if I did some volunteer work. Now, I am not religious. I'm not even religious-adjacent. My Bible knowledge is limited to half-waking moments in church pews and coloring books with David slaying the mighty Goliath.
O.K., I might know a little more than that. At some point, I think that I could even recite all the books of the Old and New Testament. Those days, however, are long gone. Even back in college those were receding memories. However, one day I found myself at a Baptist(?) Bible Camp in southeastern Texas, wrangling 12 year old boys. I even had to sleep in a single-room cabin with 10 boys (that sentence is just wrong on so many levels). Looking back on this, I don't know how I did this, particularly with no alcohol. I do remember a lot of evenings of bad pizza and games of Spades with fellow-counselors.
Monday, March 12, 2007
A Fifth of a Second
As Wren and I enjoyed our lunch at the 56th Street atrium, an old gentleman approached us. He wore an impeccable suit beneath a long, fitted coat and clutched a copy of the New York Times in one arm.
"What is the best city in the world," he asked.
I fumbled to answer his question earnestly, but Wren knew the punchline.
"New York," she answered.
The man pressed himself against the table and leaned towards Wren.
"Do you know the difference between a New Yorker and a Midwesterner," he asked.
Both of us shrugged.
"A fifth of a second!"
The man leaned back, grinned, then strode away.
"What is the best city in the world," he asked.
I fumbled to answer his question earnestly, but Wren knew the punchline.
"New York," she answered.
The man pressed himself against the table and leaned towards Wren.
"Do you know the difference between a New Yorker and a Midwesterner," he asked.
Both of us shrugged.
"A fifth of a second!"
The man leaned back, grinned, then strode away.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
the Longest month of the year
February is always a terrible month for me. The short days, the cold weather- I don't precisely know why but fortunately, it's the shortest month (calendar-wise) of the year and now it's finally over. Now, I can get back to work with the blogging. I have friends and family visiting over the next months so hopefully I'll have some good New York-themed posts and a few pics.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Feeeeling up the fruit
I stood over a sea of plantains- eight, cardboard boxes of plantains in all stages of ripeness, from the earliest, jungle green through the death throes of yellow and black. I picked over the two boxes of brown-and-yellow ones. I couldn't call myself an expert, but I had cooked my fair share of sweet plantains as an accompaniment to black beans and rice. I had fallen in love with them a dozen years ago at a tiny, Cuban restaurant in Hollywood.
I had been recently burned by some unripened plantains. They left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth that still set my teeth on end whenever I thought of them. This time, I was determined to not make the same mistake twice. As I poked and pinched through the box in front of me, a diminutive, elderly woman stepped up to the second box of ripened fruit.
She looked over the plantains, but I could see that she was checking me out from the corner of her eye. Finally, she dropped the facade. She turned towards me and leaned back to get a good, long look at the towering, indecisive Anglo looming over her. She turned back to her box and picked up a bright-yellow fruit.
"I like to set these out in my home for a few days," she announces in a thick, Dominican accent. I glanced at her with an exaggerated 'Who Me?" look but she is paying no attention to my face. It was my plantains she was scrutinizing and, perhaps, talking to.
"Yeah," I offered in reply and dropped the plantain back into the pile. I picked up another brown fruit.
"That one is no good."
"Well, I was wanting to use them today," I explained, "I don't have time to wait for them to ripen at home."
She reached across and squeezed my plantain.
"Feel that," she ordered. I complied.
"No! Don't peench it," she cried. "You've got to feeeel it! Like this-" The old woman reached into my box, seized a yellow plantain and massaged it with her hand. Had she been 30 years younger, I would have sworn that she was hitting on me.
Kat stood beside the organic produce, laughing as I stuttered to explain myself.
"Well, maybe I have really strong fingers," I suggested.
The little, old woman thrusted her hand into my box, pulled out another plantain and slapped it into my open hand.
"That one is good for eating now," she said.
I opened my mouth to thank her.
"Feel it," she barked. I felt it.
"Oh, yeah," I marvel with a bit too much vigor. They did feel pretty good.
'Is that wrong,' I wondered.
"Those are good ones! Feeel it," she stabbed at the plantains with her finger as I attempted to pleasure her with my plantain-squeezing skills.
"Well... thanks," I said, but she had already turned away to continue her business of plantain shopping. The lesson was over.
I had been recently burned by some unripened plantains. They left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth that still set my teeth on end whenever I thought of them. This time, I was determined to not make the same mistake twice. As I poked and pinched through the box in front of me, a diminutive, elderly woman stepped up to the second box of ripened fruit.
She looked over the plantains, but I could see that she was checking me out from the corner of her eye. Finally, she dropped the facade. She turned towards me and leaned back to get a good, long look at the towering, indecisive Anglo looming over her. She turned back to her box and picked up a bright-yellow fruit.
"I like to set these out in my home for a few days," she announces in a thick, Dominican accent. I glanced at her with an exaggerated 'Who Me?" look but she is paying no attention to my face. It was my plantains she was scrutinizing and, perhaps, talking to.
"Yeah," I offered in reply and dropped the plantain back into the pile. I picked up another brown fruit.
"That one is no good."
"Well, I was wanting to use them today," I explained, "I don't have time to wait for them to ripen at home."
She reached across and squeezed my plantain.
"Feel that," she ordered. I complied.
"No! Don't peench it," she cried. "You've got to feeeel it! Like this-" The old woman reached into my box, seized a yellow plantain and massaged it with her hand. Had she been 30 years younger, I would have sworn that she was hitting on me.
Kat stood beside the organic produce, laughing as I stuttered to explain myself.
"Well, maybe I have really strong fingers," I suggested.
The little, old woman thrusted her hand into my box, pulled out another plantain and slapped it into my open hand.
"That one is good for eating now," she said.
I opened my mouth to thank her.
"Feel it," she barked. I felt it.
"Oh, yeah," I marvel with a bit too much vigor. They did feel pretty good.
'Is that wrong,' I wondered.
"Those are good ones! Feeel it," she stabbed at the plantains with her finger as I attempted to pleasure her with my plantain-squeezing skills.
"Well... thanks," I said, but she had already turned away to continue her business of plantain shopping. The lesson was over.
Friday, January 05, 2007
drums... drums, in the deep
So, I finally got hired full-time at my non-profit job. I had been looking for a job elsewhere for the last 6 months, but it never happened. Finally, one of my co-workers got a new job and I was offered her vacated position. It's more pay and I'll have health benefits for the first time in nearly 2 1/2 years.
I fucking hate getting older. Suddenly things like health insurance have become a big deal as I've become more and more aware of exactly how fucked up the healthcare industry is in this country. Gives me a goddamn headache. So, I'm full-time now and that means that I can finally save a little money for the big move.
That's right. After 5 and a half years of living in NYC, Kat and I are planning to move. Colorado, most-likely. Fort Collins, quite possibly. Both Kat and I were born in Colorado (separated by 8 years). We both left at a young age and our memories are dim, but last summer rekindled things and now we're looking to move there. We have friends there and Nebraska, and it'll be an ideal place to recharge our batteries with some outdoor activities (I am particularly psyched about learning snowboarding).
I have no idea what the fuck we're going to do for a living. I've been looking for teaching work in the hope of gathering a little experience and teaching a community college after we move, but there's a glut of broke artists looking for work in NYC. I so badly want to get back into the arts, but I'm at a loss and have no idea what Colorado has to offer.
The reason we're thinking about Fort Collins is that it's a college town and is gaining a rep as a hip, cheap place. Boulder is too expensive and white for my tastes. People keep telling me I should move to Denver because I live in a city now, but why would I want to live in a smoggy city that isn't as dynamic and interesting as NYC and has no public transportation? If I wanted to live in another NYC, then I'd stay put.
As a result of this big event, Kat and I have posted a list on our refrigerator of all the things we want to do before we leave. Despite the unaffordability, I really LOVE this city and will have a very hard time leaving it.
I'm starting to freak out even as I write this.
It's time for another chapter in this life. It'll be six years this summer and it's time to acknowledge that the Dream just isn't gonna happen in this City. I'm tired of being broke, living hand-to-mouth, and going nowhere with my career. I'm ready to go. Kat is ready to go. We need new possibilities and a little more nature in our lives.
I fucking hate getting older. Suddenly things like health insurance have become a big deal as I've become more and more aware of exactly how fucked up the healthcare industry is in this country. Gives me a goddamn headache. So, I'm full-time now and that means that I can finally save a little money for the big move.
That's right. After 5 and a half years of living in NYC, Kat and I are planning to move. Colorado, most-likely. Fort Collins, quite possibly. Both Kat and I were born in Colorado (separated by 8 years). We both left at a young age and our memories are dim, but last summer rekindled things and now we're looking to move there. We have friends there and Nebraska, and it'll be an ideal place to recharge our batteries with some outdoor activities (I am particularly psyched about learning snowboarding).
I have no idea what the fuck we're going to do for a living. I've been looking for teaching work in the hope of gathering a little experience and teaching a community college after we move, but there's a glut of broke artists looking for work in NYC. I so badly want to get back into the arts, but I'm at a loss and have no idea what Colorado has to offer.
The reason we're thinking about Fort Collins is that it's a college town and is gaining a rep as a hip, cheap place. Boulder is too expensive and white for my tastes. People keep telling me I should move to Denver because I live in a city now, but why would I want to live in a smoggy city that isn't as dynamic and interesting as NYC and has no public transportation? If I wanted to live in another NYC, then I'd stay put.
As a result of this big event, Kat and I have posted a list on our refrigerator of all the things we want to do before we leave. Despite the unaffordability, I really LOVE this city and will have a very hard time leaving it.
I'm starting to freak out even as I write this.
It's time for another chapter in this life. It'll be six years this summer and it's time to acknowledge that the Dream just isn't gonna happen in this City. I'm tired of being broke, living hand-to-mouth, and going nowhere with my career. I'm ready to go. Kat is ready to go. We need new possibilities and a little more nature in our lives.
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