Beauty School Drop Out

Tomorrow night, a friend from college is having a party. He is wonderful. Part of me would very much like to go. The other part of me would rather die.

Catch-212

I'm thinking very seriously about leaving New York. I'm not one of those people who is in the throes of a passionate love affair with the city: it's cold and status-conscious and mean; the pace condones, if not encourages, jerkiness; groceries and food and rent and movies seem to cost what they're worth, times two. I hate it here. And yet, there is a problem with every other American metropolis: it's not New York.

[the fast and the] FURIOUS

Premise One: I am concerned that my super thinks my lease is up August 1. He has apparently been giving out the key to brokers so they can begin showing the apartment. A month early. With no warning. I am very angry. And very nervous we're going to have to whip out the contract in order to prove we get to stay here (granted the privilege?) of staying here UNTIL THE END OF THE LEASE. Which, with our super, will definitely be a pleasure.

Premise Two: Starting now, I need to keep this place immaculate. For two months. I am...not really...an immaculate person.

Conclusion: I hate Rapid Realty. I hate my super (nothing new here). Increasingly, I hate my apartment, which is over-priced--if only we'd known better--and tiny and poorly designed and at least 30 degrees overheated year-round. I have to keep reminding myself that this does not mean I hate New York.

The Pursuit of Happiness

I am a big fan of secular holidays, but Thanksgiving is stressful and Valentine's Day is fraught. The 4th of July and Groundhog's Day, however, are reasons to celebrate.

Today's events did raise one question: if you know you are plunging into the thick of a huge crowd--say, for example, the masses watching fireworks by the river--why would you bring your GIGANTIC dog?

He Does WHAT and Lives WHERE?

Everyone knows there are two topics of conversation at parties in New York: Where do you live and what do you do? I didn't realize, though, that there are apparently also only two topics of conversation between friends: Where other people live and what other people do.

The Sidewalks of New York

The weather is [mostly] warm; the sky is [often] sunny. This can only mean one thing: the street canvassers have come out of hiding. They are everywhere, and they are coming for you. I will cross the street. I will talk on my phone. Once I was walking through Union Square sobbing. But there is no obstacle too large for the canvasser. They will find you, they will block your path, they will follow you down the street. I have never been physically attacked, though I feel it coming.

And the thing is, I have canvassed. I, of all people, should have sympathy for my fellow soldiers doomed to a life of liberal causes. I should have sympathy, but I don't. My bleeding heart has turned to ice. Common manners no longer apply. It is a matter of survival--one must escape or risk the consequences.

I <3 My Cat

Lesson from house-sitting: if you live in a studio apartment and you have two cats, the cats never. go. away. Ever. You have one room. They have one room. Unfortunately, it is the same room. Goodbye privacy, goodbye productivity, hello Fancy Feast.

Crash

Sometimes when I am walking in midtown, I find myself an obstacle in someone else's trajectory: unless one of us steps aside, we will crash. When I first moved here, I was always the one to move. Then I got angry. Why do I have to be the one to move. I began to mow past people in my path. Sometimes they moved. Mostly, I bumped into them. What, you expect me to move? I always move. You should move!

Then I realized everybody else probably thinks the same thing.

Paper v Plastic

Easy grocery shopping is the best argument for the suburbs yet.

Trade Winds

Upon leaving Trader Joe's by Union Square, you feel as though you've accomplished some great feat. You have fought for your food. You have been yelled at by angry buyers of clementines. You have dodged twenty carts careening toward you with no regard for your safety. You have waited in line for what feels like hours and you have survived. And then, back out on the street, hard-won bags in hand, you realize: all you've done is buy your yuppie groceries.