Oh, the Holidays. My poor stomach was the collateral damage of the overindulgence of the office Holiday Party last night. Fried rice balls, pizzetta, rack of lamb, chocolate cake, the mysteries of the always full wine glass took their toll on my digestive system. Tis the season, I guess. This was a scaled down version of the GMA Holiday Party; previous years have included smoke machine fueled dance parties and off-kilter Rockband sing-a-longs. Although somewhat quiet for GMA, it was still nice to celebrate the end of the year, although this year has taken a toll on our office. Those of us remaining are still on a 4-day work week, and although there is some hope on the horizon, some projects are finishing up. There were still the moments of hilarity, like when I discovered that my tattoo was visible over the top edge of the back of my dress when one of the partners and one of the associates noticed the ink and had all sorts of questions about it. A bit embarrassing, but funny nonetheless.
As I'm sitting here recovering from the night out, I've been thinking of reasons to be cheerful at the end of this year. Here's a sampling.
1. I still have a job. My office has suffered a lot of cuts this year; we're down to 15 architects, about half of what we were about 18 months ago. It's possible there may be more, but at this point I'm pretty confident that I'll survive.
2. I got a bonus this year. Totally and completely unexpected. It was smaller than previous years, but with the way things have gone this year, I was shocked to see it in my bank account when I checked my direct deposit on Tuesday morning. I found out today from one of the partners that they only gave bonuses to three people this year. This is what made me more confident about item #1.
3. Sailing. Being out in the harbor is one of the greatest places in New York in the summer. This season especially as I worked on my Mate checklist. I felt a lot of support from the Mates and Captains as I worked my way through all the different skills.
4. My friends. I know, that's a cliche, but really, I've got the greatest friends in the world. From accompanying me on my trip to the doctor for my biopsy, to introducing me to the guy I'm currently dating, to comforting me when the previous guy pulled a disappearing act, my friends are awesome in every sense of that word.
5. Skype. It's great to be able to see my sister out in California while talking to her.
Have a great holiday!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
to sleep, perhaps to dream
Unfortunately, that's not happening tonight. It's 1:54AM according to the cable box. I woke up about an hour ago, and cannot get back to sleep. After lying in bed for about 45 minutes, I decided to get up and peruse the internet. If this doesn't work, the tv is going on and I'm going to lay down on the couch. That's a surefire way to fall asleep.
I'm going to get some milk.
As I'm checking out www.gofugyourself.com, I come across this photo:
My first thought is, "Oh, please. What's with the lack of pants wearing today? Lace stockings are not pants." The girl is 16. I tried to get out of the house in some things my mother didn't approve of when I was that age (but that was because they were black or ripped or she didn't like me wearing my dad's old dress Army jacket) but it would have never occurred to me to skip a basic piece of clothing.
Second thought is, "When did little J get so freaking tall?" Maybe it's just the angle, but she looks freakishly tall. This leads to a google search. This is not a help, the internet does not agree with itself - one site says 5'-4 1/2" one site says 5'-10" yet another says 5'-8". There are way too many chat rooms discussing the height of the Gossip Girl stars, and who's taller than who. One even has a comparison photo between Blake Lively and Maria Sharapova, Tennis Star (I guess because Maria's height is a known factor?).
The strangest fact is that the girl above is the same person as the girl in the photo below:
I think I like her hair better as Cindy Lou Who.
Another 30 minutes have gone by. I think it's time to try the somnolent effects of late night tv. I'm just thankful that insomnia is a rare occurence for me.
I'm going to get some milk.
As I'm checking out www.gofugyourself.com, I come across this photo:
My first thought is, "Oh, please. What's with the lack of pants wearing today? Lace stockings are not pants." The girl is 16. I tried to get out of the house in some things my mother didn't approve of when I was that age (but that was because they were black or ripped or she didn't like me wearing my dad's old dress Army jacket) but it would have never occurred to me to skip a basic piece of clothing.
Second thought is, "When did little J get so freaking tall?" Maybe it's just the angle, but she looks freakishly tall. This leads to a google search. This is not a help, the internet does not agree with itself - one site says 5'-4 1/2" one site says 5'-10" yet another says 5'-8". There are way too many chat rooms discussing the height of the Gossip Girl stars, and who's taller than who. One even has a comparison photo between Blake Lively and Maria Sharapova, Tennis Star (I guess because Maria's height is a known factor?).
The strangest fact is that the girl above is the same person as the girl in the photo below:
I think I like her hair better as Cindy Lou Who.
Another 30 minutes have gone by. I think it's time to try the somnolent effects of late night tv. I'm just thankful that insomnia is a rare occurence for me.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
What a difference a year makes
On the train headed up to the Compound for Thanksgiving, it hit me that it's been a year since I forced the itinerant sailor to break up with me. He was feeding Salem for the weekend while I was away, and we were going to get something to eat before I left for the Holiday. He had been either ignoring me or making excuses not to see me for a couple of weeks, and in general, I was miserable.
That's right, I did say forced. Why didn't I just break up with him if I was so unhappy? I think I just wanted him to stop being such a weasel, man up, and tell me he didn't want to be with me anymore. He couldn't look me in the eye as he was telling me he had a lot of stuff going on in his life, he really needed to be alone, and at the end of his explanations and excuses, it was just a relief to know where I stood.
Silly me thinking it was a simple break up. Over the next couple of weeks, lies were discovered, there were threats (not by me, but by a very protective friend), the vagrant sailor was reprimanded by the Museum Director (although that was ridiculous - why anyone got her involved is still beyond me, but I think someone was trying to cover his ass), and there was a 3AM argument at Fresh Salt right before Christmas where Jesse told us to stop yelling at each other. I had never had such a drama fueled post breakup, and I was still miserable and my self esteem was pretty low.
For it being a short relationship, a number of things were life-changing:
Date number 12 seemed the most promising, but after two rounds of dating him with a five month lag between rounds, I saw him for what he was. I'm still not quite sure what that was, but I know that it wasn't anything that I needed in my life. Too many questions and that all too familiar sinking feeling surrounded the last date and the following week of unclear texts - too tired, too busy, too unable to plan.
He disappeared for a second time, and I won't go looking for him again. It was also a relief that the last evidence of the bet was gone - how to explain to someone why they were referred to as number 12? How would they react to the bet? It would either be "I was one of 15!" or "I was one of 15?"
Around mid-October, between only being contacted by men in their 20's and men in the 50's, I had had it with OK Cupid. I was giving up on dating until at least the new year. This time it wasn't so much why don't they want me, but that I was just so tired of what was available to me in this limited fashion. There had to be something better, but I was ready to just be by myself for a while.
In my new free state, I went to meet Heidi B at the New Museum one evening. Her friend Eric had sent her an invite for a book signing of one of his former professors at SCI-ARC, and I tagged along. He wasn't someone I'd typically be interested in (somewhere along the way I had decided that guys in the profession were off-limits, they were so self-absorbed usually), so we chatted a lot about working in New York, about grad school, the economy, and then the question: So, are you dating anyone? Since I was so adamantly not looking for someone, I immediately took it as he was just being friendly, just making conversation. A couple of us went to dinner, we ended up sitting next to each other, the conversation kept on, and I figured that something was happening that was more organic than catching a glimpse of someone's thumbnail photo on a website.
A couple of days later, he casually emailed asking if I wanted to meet for a drink. Sure, I've been wanting to check out the Standard. We met for drinks and then dinner that night, and then drinks two nights later, and then a movie at his apartment two nights after that. I feel like I've been caught off guard, but in a really good way. Being male, he could always disappear like the rest of them, but we'll see.
That's right, I did say forced. Why didn't I just break up with him if I was so unhappy? I think I just wanted him to stop being such a weasel, man up, and tell me he didn't want to be with me anymore. He couldn't look me in the eye as he was telling me he had a lot of stuff going on in his life, he really needed to be alone, and at the end of his explanations and excuses, it was just a relief to know where I stood.
Silly me thinking it was a simple break up. Over the next couple of weeks, lies were discovered, there were threats (not by me, but by a very protective friend), the vagrant sailor was reprimanded by the Museum Director (although that was ridiculous - why anyone got her involved is still beyond me, but I think someone was trying to cover his ass), and there was a 3AM argument at Fresh Salt right before Christmas where Jesse told us to stop yelling at each other. I had never had such a drama fueled post breakup, and I was still miserable and my self esteem was pretty low.
For it being a short relationship, a number of things were life-changing:
- Hanging out with him was the final straw for a friendship between another volunteer and I that was already very strained.
- The state of my self esteem after the breakup finally made me go to therapy to deal with why I had such issues with relationships. There was a dichotomy between how I felt inside and what I projected to the public. It was a puzzle to me how people had an impression of a really confident self-assured woman when I felt so small and insignificant and invisible.
- A friend challenged me to a bet - 15 dates in 10 weeks. If you're not familiar with that story, you can read it here.
Date number 12 seemed the most promising, but after two rounds of dating him with a five month lag between rounds, I saw him for what he was. I'm still not quite sure what that was, but I know that it wasn't anything that I needed in my life. Too many questions and that all too familiar sinking feeling surrounded the last date and the following week of unclear texts - too tired, too busy, too unable to plan.
He disappeared for a second time, and I won't go looking for him again. It was also a relief that the last evidence of the bet was gone - how to explain to someone why they were referred to as number 12? How would they react to the bet? It would either be "I was one of 15!" or "I was one of 15?"
Around mid-October, between only being contacted by men in their 20's and men in the 50's, I had had it with OK Cupid. I was giving up on dating until at least the new year. This time it wasn't so much why don't they want me, but that I was just so tired of what was available to me in this limited fashion. There had to be something better, but I was ready to just be by myself for a while.
In my new free state, I went to meet Heidi B at the New Museum one evening. Her friend Eric had sent her an invite for a book signing of one of his former professors at SCI-ARC, and I tagged along. He wasn't someone I'd typically be interested in (somewhere along the way I had decided that guys in the profession were off-limits, they were so self-absorbed usually), so we chatted a lot about working in New York, about grad school, the economy, and then the question: So, are you dating anyone? Since I was so adamantly not looking for someone, I immediately took it as he was just being friendly, just making conversation. A couple of us went to dinner, we ended up sitting next to each other, the conversation kept on, and I figured that something was happening that was more organic than catching a glimpse of someone's thumbnail photo on a website.
A couple of days later, he casually emailed asking if I wanted to meet for a drink. Sure, I've been wanting to check out the Standard. We met for drinks and then dinner that night, and then drinks two nights later, and then a movie at his apartment two nights after that. I feel like I've been caught off guard, but in a really good way. Being male, he could always disappear like the rest of them, but we'll see.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
On with my life
After waiting a week, I got my test results: Benign (not cancer). It strikes me as funny that they have to include the parenthetical addition, and this is in the written lab results and when the nurse told me the results over the phone. But, I guess its good to be clear. Now, on to worrying about other things, such as paying for the tests...I love that having insurance still means that I have to pay at least $1000. Those are the bills I've gotten so far - according to the email my insurance company sent me, there's another $500 bill coming. We don't need health care reform now, do we?
I just can't believe that I'm paying more out of pocket than my dad did when he had triple bypass surgery with a 7-day hospital stay.
Once I recovered from the procedure, I finished the yoga challenge. Didn't end up practicing yoga everyday, but with everything that was going on in October, I feel I did pretty well. Om Yoga does this challenge twice a year, so there is always March.
After things being relatively stable at work, the situation started to become uneasy again at the beginning of October. Back in July, the partners had called an office meeting to tell us that starting July 15th, we'd all be taking a 20% paycut for three months. The supposed end of this paycut was quickly approaching and we did not have any new projects to allow us all to go back to full time. Would be continue the pay and time cut? Would some people go back to full time and other people recieve their pink slip? No one knew, and no one was talking. Finally on the 13th, one of the partners walked around and told everyone that the paycut would continue. At least people weren't going to be laid off, I thought. Well, that was optimistic.
In the last couple of weeks, the office is feeling like a bad reality TV show. People are being eliminated one at a time, and the layoffs are happening in the middle of the pay period. Out of the four people laid off in the last three weeks, three of them were the newest hires (although one of them had been there two years). There seemed to be a reason to the madness, and then this week someone who didn't seem to be in that line of fire, and who had an active project, was laid off. That was unsettling. At this point, it seems like any of us could be next.
We finally had an office meeting today to discuss the current situation. The partners told us that although we've been able to get a couple of small projects, they're not the size that we need to sustain the office, and there will be more layoffs if something big doesn't come in.
Although I am anxious about the situation, I feel there are people that will go before me, and I'll survive as long as the firm survives. Hopefully, things will turn around before then.
I just can't believe that I'm paying more out of pocket than my dad did when he had triple bypass surgery with a 7-day hospital stay.
Once I recovered from the procedure, I finished the yoga challenge. Didn't end up practicing yoga everyday, but with everything that was going on in October, I feel I did pretty well. Om Yoga does this challenge twice a year, so there is always March.
After things being relatively stable at work, the situation started to become uneasy again at the beginning of October. Back in July, the partners had called an office meeting to tell us that starting July 15th, we'd all be taking a 20% paycut for three months. The supposed end of this paycut was quickly approaching and we did not have any new projects to allow us all to go back to full time. Would be continue the pay and time cut? Would some people go back to full time and other people recieve their pink slip? No one knew, and no one was talking. Finally on the 13th, one of the partners walked around and told everyone that the paycut would continue. At least people weren't going to be laid off, I thought. Well, that was optimistic.
In the last couple of weeks, the office is feeling like a bad reality TV show. People are being eliminated one at a time, and the layoffs are happening in the middle of the pay period. Out of the four people laid off in the last three weeks, three of them were the newest hires (although one of them had been there two years). There seemed to be a reason to the madness, and then this week someone who didn't seem to be in that line of fire, and who had an active project, was laid off. That was unsettling. At this point, it seems like any of us could be next.
We finally had an office meeting today to discuss the current situation. The partners told us that although we've been able to get a couple of small projects, they're not the size that we need to sustain the office, and there will be more layoffs if something big doesn't come in.
Although I am anxious about the situation, I feel there are people that will go before me, and I'll survive as long as the firm survives. Hopefully, things will turn around before then.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Highs and Lows
First the good news - I was able to get into a headstand without assistance this week! Yay! The not so good news - some stuff of a questionable nature showed up in my tests this week, and I have to have more on Friday.
DAY 17
The sails for the day had been canceled, so I was pretty free for whatever class I wanted to take. Joe was teaching an Open class at 12:30, so I headed over to the studio. Great class, as always. Unfortunately, I was preoccupied with multiple other things: one, the transit for Pioneer was scheduled in the morning, I needed to be there at 0600, and the weather looked absolutely uncooperative; two, Christoper (number 12) had been acting like he had last spring, basically he was too busy to fit me into his life, and had blown off my attempts to see him this week. It's frustrating to realize that his job nine months ago or so was not the problem. It's him.
I ended up crying on a friend's shoulder (literally) that evening as I released all of the tension from dealing with yet another failed potential relationship. I'm back on OKC.
DAY 18
Transit day. I get down to the boat at 0600, and its pouring rain and cold. Weather forecast is for cold temperatures and high winds. We attempt to leave for Haverstraw, but after about 45 minutes of motoring against the wind to get around the Battery, we return to the dock. Captain Dorfman decides to try again at 1700, but the wind conditions do not change, so the trip is postponed until the morning when the weather is expected to improve dramatically.
I thought maybe I could make it to a class in the intervening hours, but ended up switching between napping on the couch and watching a Twin Peaks marathon for most of the day. I was able to leave the house for the 5:30 Restorative Class. Ah, relaxation.
Turn to was at 0500 the next morning, so I turned in early.
DAY 19
Transit day, take 2. By the time I got down to Pier 16, I could see that stars were out and that it was going to be a clear day. It was still cold, but at least it wasn't raining. Most of the way up we had NW winds, and were able to raise the fore and staysail for about 30 minutes. We made the 35 mile trip in 6.5 hours.
Needless to say after a day out in the cold and wind, I was exhausted when I got back home. I had plans for dinner with Filipa to talk about our man troubles. I thought I could make it to a class, but after losing 2 1/2 hours to a nap, I just didn't quite make it to class.
DAY 20
7:30PM Open Class with Joe. He is quickly becoming my favorite instructor at Om. It was a vigorous class, I ended up sweating bullets, and towards the end of the class when we were doing inversions, I was able to get up into a headstand. I was able to really differentiate what muscle groups I needed to push to stay in the pose, and to keep pressure off my neck. I really enjoy moments where I really feel like I'm making progress.
DAY 21
In the morning I packed up my yoga stuff so I could go to class after work to continue on with the challenge. Before all that though, I had to deal with my 8:30 mammogram. Some milestones really suck.
I got to the doctor's office a couple of minutes early to fill out paperwork. I'm waiting....and waiting....A little after 9:00, a nurse comes out apologizing for the delay, and says its going to be another 30 minutes. I have a meeting at 11:00 that I need to go to since my boss is sick. I contact Jen in the office to see if she can get the drawings up to the gallery since I won't have time to go to the office and make it up to midtown for the meeting.
9:30, nurse comes out again. She again apologizes for the delay. One woman goes ballistic. I on the other hand decide that I need to reschedule. The nurse calls my name a minute later. I figure that I've got 90 minutes, and I'll be ok for my meeting. At this point, I'm much more concerned about being late than getting these routine scans done.
I change into the completely unfashionable hospital gown that just looks great with my boots, and sit in a second waiting room for about 15 minutes. They call me in, I get pushed and pulled and prodded, and then sent out to the waiting room again while a doctor checks my films.
For those of you who have never had this procedure done - it's miserable. While I was waiting, I was listening to these two older women who between then have probably had this procedure 20 or 30 times at least. One of them was complaining about one of the technicians, and how if she got stuck with that woman she was going to politely ask for someone else. When you think about how the breasts are one of the most sexualized and fetishized female body parts, this flesh is basically treated like play-doh when it comes to making sure it's healthy.
The nurse calls me in to the room for some additional films. I figure that I must have moved ever so minutely, and the image wasn't clear. I once again go out to the waiting room. 10 minutes later, they call me in for a third set of films. Now I'm worried.
A little while later as I'm sitting in the examination room, the doctor comes in and tells me that I have 'bright spots' on my films, and that although she thinks they are most likely not a problem, I have to have a biopsy to make sure that they are not malignant. I wish she had said that they have to do the procedure to confirm that they're benign. Semantics, I know.
Luckily, they have an opening on Friday morning. I'm going to continue thinking that it's probably nothing.
So no yoga tonight. I also can't do anything strenuous for three days after the procedure, so no yoga for the rest of the weekend. Well, maybe a restorative class on Sunday.
DAY 17
The sails for the day had been canceled, so I was pretty free for whatever class I wanted to take. Joe was teaching an Open class at 12:30, so I headed over to the studio. Great class, as always. Unfortunately, I was preoccupied with multiple other things: one, the transit for Pioneer was scheduled in the morning, I needed to be there at 0600, and the weather looked absolutely uncooperative; two, Christoper (number 12) had been acting like he had last spring, basically he was too busy to fit me into his life, and had blown off my attempts to see him this week. It's frustrating to realize that his job nine months ago or so was not the problem. It's him.
I ended up crying on a friend's shoulder (literally) that evening as I released all of the tension from dealing with yet another failed potential relationship. I'm back on OKC.
DAY 18
Transit day. I get down to the boat at 0600, and its pouring rain and cold. Weather forecast is for cold temperatures and high winds. We attempt to leave for Haverstraw, but after about 45 minutes of motoring against the wind to get around the Battery, we return to the dock. Captain Dorfman decides to try again at 1700, but the wind conditions do not change, so the trip is postponed until the morning when the weather is expected to improve dramatically.
I thought maybe I could make it to a class in the intervening hours, but ended up switching between napping on the couch and watching a Twin Peaks marathon for most of the day. I was able to leave the house for the 5:30 Restorative Class. Ah, relaxation.
Turn to was at 0500 the next morning, so I turned in early.
DAY 19
Transit day, take 2. By the time I got down to Pier 16, I could see that stars were out and that it was going to be a clear day. It was still cold, but at least it wasn't raining. Most of the way up we had NW winds, and were able to raise the fore and staysail for about 30 minutes. We made the 35 mile trip in 6.5 hours.
Needless to say after a day out in the cold and wind, I was exhausted when I got back home. I had plans for dinner with Filipa to talk about our man troubles. I thought I could make it to a class, but after losing 2 1/2 hours to a nap, I just didn't quite make it to class.
DAY 20
7:30PM Open Class with Joe. He is quickly becoming my favorite instructor at Om. It was a vigorous class, I ended up sweating bullets, and towards the end of the class when we were doing inversions, I was able to get up into a headstand. I was able to really differentiate what muscle groups I needed to push to stay in the pose, and to keep pressure off my neck. I really enjoy moments where I really feel like I'm making progress.
DAY 21
In the morning I packed up my yoga stuff so I could go to class after work to continue on with the challenge. Before all that though, I had to deal with my 8:30 mammogram. Some milestones really suck.
I got to the doctor's office a couple of minutes early to fill out paperwork. I'm waiting....and waiting....A little after 9:00, a nurse comes out apologizing for the delay, and says its going to be another 30 minutes. I have a meeting at 11:00 that I need to go to since my boss is sick. I contact Jen in the office to see if she can get the drawings up to the gallery since I won't have time to go to the office and make it up to midtown for the meeting.
9:30, nurse comes out again. She again apologizes for the delay. One woman goes ballistic. I on the other hand decide that I need to reschedule. The nurse calls my name a minute later. I figure that I've got 90 minutes, and I'll be ok for my meeting. At this point, I'm much more concerned about being late than getting these routine scans done.
I change into the completely unfashionable hospital gown that just looks great with my boots, and sit in a second waiting room for about 15 minutes. They call me in, I get pushed and pulled and prodded, and then sent out to the waiting room again while a doctor checks my films.
For those of you who have never had this procedure done - it's miserable. While I was waiting, I was listening to these two older women who between then have probably had this procedure 20 or 30 times at least. One of them was complaining about one of the technicians, and how if she got stuck with that woman she was going to politely ask for someone else. When you think about how the breasts are one of the most sexualized and fetishized female body parts, this flesh is basically treated like play-doh when it comes to making sure it's healthy.
The nurse calls me in to the room for some additional films. I figure that I must have moved ever so minutely, and the image wasn't clear. I once again go out to the waiting room. 10 minutes later, they call me in for a third set of films. Now I'm worried.
A little while later as I'm sitting in the examination room, the doctor comes in and tells me that I have 'bright spots' on my films, and that although she thinks they are most likely not a problem, I have to have a biopsy to make sure that they are not malignant. I wish she had said that they have to do the procedure to confirm that they're benign. Semantics, I know.
Luckily, they have an opening on Friday morning. I'm going to continue thinking that it's probably nothing.
So no yoga tonight. I also can't do anything strenuous for three days after the procedure, so no yoga for the rest of the weekend. Well, maybe a restorative class on Sunday.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The blatant crash of Autumn
So Fall is here. It's made its presence known with unseasonably cold temperatures, rainy weather, and gray skies. I was hoping Indian Summer would appear this weekend for the last sailing of the summer, but due to the forecast, the season has basically been scratched other than a couple of more education sails and the trip up to Haverstraw on Sunday through Tuesday. I'm doing the transit and the programs on Monday. It's going to be cold and rainy, and most likely miserable. It's the last chance for sailing this season though, so I'll take it. Hopefully Monday will be sunny, or at least dry. Highs are only forecast for the mid 50's though.
Turn to is 0600 on Sunday, so practicing yoga on that day is shot. Monday, I'll do it once I get home - I doubt I'll be able to get to the studio in time for even the last class at 8PM.
Here's the wrap up of the rest of the week though.
DAY 15
Officially half way there! There is a meeting for all challenge participants on Monday at 6:30, but unfortunately I won't be able to make it. Thursday was the first of the cold raw days. I planned to go to the 7:45PM Stretch/Restorative class. Once I got home after work, it took all I could muster to leave the house again. I grabbed my rain gear and headed out before I could change my mind.
The instructor wanted us to concentrate on being instead of doing. Nothing should be a strain, everything should be with minimum effort. In that way, I succeeded.
DAY 16
I got up in the morning and made a list of things to do on my day off:
Tennis was a bit optimistic. It had rained the day before, but the streets were starting to dry. I texted Elena to tell her I was heading to the courts. Once I got there and looked at the courts. They were still soaked and covered in leaves. No tennis.
Yoga's a bit easier to predict. I went to the 12:30 open class. This week I've gone to mostly stretch or restorative classes, so it was good to get to a more vigorous class. The class (like most vinyasa classes) concentrated on variations for sun salutations, but then we moved on to inversions. Those are a challenge. The order the instructor wanted us to do them in: headstand, handstand, forearm stand.
I start out with the headstand. I've been working on the preparation of each of these poses. No matter how much
upper body strength you think you have, this is really tested when you need to rely on these muscle groups to hold your body up. For all these poses, its best to start by doing them against a wall so that there is something to stop the momentum of your legs. It also helps with balance. I was able set up for the headstand on the floor (see diagram), and was abl
e to kick one leg up to the wall. I'm not able to stay in the pose yet.
The handstand was next. One of the preparation methods is to do the pose in an "L" position, with your hands on the mat, and your legs perpendicular to the wall. This is harder than it looks. The instructor helped me into this pose by standing behind me with her knees pressing into my shoulders to help me stay up. This pose is also hard due to the muscles in the backs of my legs being really tight also. But I was able to stay up for about 20 seconds. It's a start.
I was also able to get into the crow pose for the first time. That feels like a real accomplishment.
After yoga, I headed over to Diagnostic Radiology Associates to pick up some films in preparation for a mamogram next week. My first one was two years ago, so my doctor figured it was time for another one, especially since I turned 40 this year. October being Breast Cancer Awareness month, seems like a good time for one. They are strange ghost-like images, similar to sonograms and catscans. I don't understand them, but I glad some people are trained to.
Turn to is 0600 on Sunday, so practicing yoga on that day is shot. Monday, I'll do it once I get home - I doubt I'll be able to get to the studio in time for even the last class at 8PM.
Here's the wrap up of the rest of the week though.
DAY 15
Officially half way there! There is a meeting for all challenge participants on Monday at 6:30, but unfortunately I won't be able to make it. Thursday was the first of the cold raw days. I planned to go to the 7:45PM Stretch/Restorative class. Once I got home after work, it took all I could muster to leave the house again. I grabbed my rain gear and headed out before I could change my mind.
The instructor wanted us to concentrate on being instead of doing. Nothing should be a strain, everything should be with minimum effort. In that way, I succeeded.
DAY 16
I got up in the morning and made a list of things to do on my day off:
- Tennis
- Yoga
- Drugstore
- Pick up food for Salem
- Pick up medical films
- Clean my desk (way overdue)
- Hang second window shade (again, way overdue. Hung the first one back in August).
Tennis was a bit optimistic. It had rained the day before, but the streets were starting to dry. I texted Elena to tell her I was heading to the courts. Once I got there and looked at the courts. They were still soaked and covered in leaves. No tennis.
Yoga's a bit easier to predict. I went to the 12:30 open class. This week I've gone to mostly stretch or restorative classes, so it was good to get to a more vigorous class. The class (like most vinyasa classes) concentrated on variations for sun salutations, but then we moved on to inversions. Those are a challenge. The order the instructor wanted us to do them in: headstand, handstand, forearm stand.
I start out with the headstand. I've been working on the preparation of each of these poses. No matter how much
upper body strength you think you have, this is really tested when you need to rely on these muscle groups to hold your body up. For all these poses, its best to start by doing them against a wall so that there is something to stop the momentum of your legs. It also helps with balance. I was able set up for the headstand on the floor (see diagram), and was abl
e to kick one leg up to the wall. I'm not able to stay in the pose yet.The handstand was next. One of the preparation methods is to do the pose in an "L" position, with your hands on the mat, and your legs perpendicular to the wall. This is harder than it looks. The instructor helped me into this pose by standing behind me with her knees pressing into my shoulders to help me stay up. This pose is also hard due to the muscles in the backs of my legs being really tight also. But I was able to stay up for about 20 seconds. It's a start.
I was also able to get into the crow pose for the first time. That feels like a real accomplishment.
After yoga, I headed over to Diagnostic Radiology Associates to pick up some films in preparation for a mamogram next week. My first one was two years ago, so my doctor figured it was time for another one, especially since I turned 40 this year. October being Breast Cancer Awareness month, seems like a good time for one. They are strange ghost-like images, similar to sonograms and catscans. I don't understand them, but I glad some people are trained to.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Day 14 - nearly half way there
I've reviewed my progress so far, and I've practiced yoga 10 out of the last 14 days. I'm pretty pleased that currently I'm meeting with 71% of the challenge. I could do better though, and the rest of the week looks like it'll be easier to fit a class in.
DAY 14
Days have been dragging at the office since Thursday. The first week of October we had learned that our paycut was going to be extended indefinitely. That was bad enough. The worse news came last week when two more people were let go. I once again made the cut, and one of my co-workers told me that she thought that I'd be one of the last ones standing. I hope she's right. I took over a project from one of the people who left, a renovation of the Picasso Museum that we finished a couple of years ago. The Museum is looking to convert some of the areas close to the entry into a 'free-zone', mostly retail/cafe spaces to generate more revenue from the public who may not necessarily buy a ticket to the Museum. I'm hoping this turns into a trip for me.
I spent most of the day familiarizing myself with the existing building and investigating what we needed to renovate. I was also looking forward to checking out the Core class at Om.
The description of the class states that "A juicy, creative, flowing class integrating asanas, pranayama and pilates, focusing on strengthening your core throughout the entire practice. You'll see all the familiar elements of an OM yoga class intertwined with pilates based exercises. This awareness will deliver stability and freedom to your poses, relieve back pain, tone your tummy and awaken your core power!" I focused on the word "pilates" and thought the class was going to be different than it was. It ended up being an open class focusing on balancing poses - hence using the core muscles.
During the class, the instructor came over while I was in downward facing dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana) and told me to try to straighten out my legs more. Right! I was obviously attempting to with no success, so he tells me to engage my quads. I tried that, and was able to straighten them, oh, probably another millimeter. Over the last two weeks, I do feel some give in them, but its going to be a while before I can straighten them in that pose and get my heels on the floor. My first goal is to be able to touch the floor when I bend over. Baby steps.
DAY 14
Days have been dragging at the office since Thursday. The first week of October we had learned that our paycut was going to be extended indefinitely. That was bad enough. The worse news came last week when two more people were let go. I once again made the cut, and one of my co-workers told me that she thought that I'd be one of the last ones standing. I hope she's right. I took over a project from one of the people who left, a renovation of the Picasso Museum that we finished a couple of years ago. The Museum is looking to convert some of the areas close to the entry into a 'free-zone', mostly retail/cafe spaces to generate more revenue from the public who may not necessarily buy a ticket to the Museum. I'm hoping this turns into a trip for me.
I spent most of the day familiarizing myself with the existing building and investigating what we needed to renovate. I was also looking forward to checking out the Core class at Om.
The description of the class states that "A juicy, creative, flowing class integrating asanas, pranayama and pilates, focusing on strengthening your core throughout the entire practice. You'll see all the familiar elements of an OM yoga class intertwined with pilates based exercises. This awareness will deliver stability and freedom to your poses, relieve back pain, tone your tummy and awaken your core power!" I focused on the word "pilates" and thought the class was going to be different than it was. It ended up being an open class focusing on balancing poses - hence using the core muscles.
During the class, the instructor came over while I was in downward facing dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana) and told me to try to straighten out my legs more. Right! I was obviously attempting to with no success, so he tells me to engage my quads. I tried that, and was able to straighten them, oh, probably another millimeter. Over the last two weeks, I do feel some give in them, but its going to be a while before I can straighten them in that pose and get my heels on the floor. My first goal is to be able to touch the floor when I bend over. Baby steps.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Yoga Continued
Lots of stuff going on this week, but I continued on with the challenge somewhat successfully. I'm not hitting every single day, but I figure that its not exactly part of the practice to get angry at myself for not doing it every day. Its a challenge not a commandment. Days where I did not meet the challenge are in red.
DAY 8
No yoga. Again, didn't quite get up in time to do it in the morning, and I was getting together with Christopher for dinner so no yoga after work. We met for dinner at Rice, and then I got to experience the frustration of parking woes one encounters when living in the East Village while a film crew takes over your neighborhood. Needless to say, we had a side trip in the middle of the evening to Williamsburg to deal with the parking dilemma. Due to the fear of finding a spot, it was a short adventure.
DAY 9
My day of the week off due to the current paycut situation. Carrie was in town for work, so I was planning on meeting up with her and Kathleen in SoHo after having lunch with Roberta in Leffert's Garden. Or is it Manor? I forget. Either way, I had to be in Brooklyn around noon and SoHo around 3PM. Yoga, yoga, when can I fit this in when I've got plans for the bulk of the day? Plans included:
DAY 10
Woke up to a rainy but somewhat warm day. I was scheduled to sail the morning Harbor School sail from 1100-1500 hrs and then the 1600-1800 hrs public sail. The wind was perfect for sailing. Unfortunately, it also made me complete exhausted and not able to do much of anything for the rest of the day. No yoga.
I was however able to drag myself to Brooklyn for dinner with Heidi and Carrie. Heidi had gotten her share of the CSA bounty that morning, and made a great dinner (with Tom's help on the fish). Halibut, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and bok choy. Ice cream for dessert.
DAY 11
In looking at the calendar, I've missed two days this week, so I feel motivated to go today. Today was also the team day for the Ladies Social Tennis Club out in Prospect Park - four hours of play between the different members. I already woke up to sore shoulder muscles from sailing the day before. Tennis today was going to be challenging. Luckily on Sunday nights there is a restorative yoga class at Om. I love restorative yoga. Its a series of poses where you're propped up on pillows, blocks, or bolsters, and you rest for 10-15 minutes in a pose.
I head out to Brooklyn at around 9:15AM en route to Heidi's. This was the weekend that the MTA had decided it would be a good idea to do work on just about every single subway line. Instead of taking the normal route of the A to the F, I just take the A one more stop to Hoyt/Schermerhorn. I discover that although its a slightly longer walk from that station to her apartment, its a shorter trip since I don't have to wait for the transfer at Jay Street/Borough Hall.
Do I thank the MTA for this little bit of transit knowledge? Hell no. That's a small victory in the confounding set of options that I'll have to deal with for the day. We ended up driving out to Prospect Park and avoided MTA pain. For the morning at least.
The tennis wasn't so bad considering that the soreness in my shoulders in the morning was only the beginning of the pain that was surfacing from the day before. In the end, it was my whole back, as well as my sides and abs. Basically, the whole torso. Strangely, my legs were unaffected. I needed a massage.
At 5:00PM, I headed to Union Square for the restorative yoga class. As I was hoping, it was just what I needed. Although I did fall asleep in some of the poses. Really, what do you expect?
DAY 12
Ah Monday. Columbus Day. My office does not take this day as a holiday, so I'm in the office with about five other people. It was a slow morning, so I checked out Om's schedule for the day, and there is a stretching class at 7:30PM. Sounds good, hopefully they will concentrate on the back of the legs where I have the most trouble.
The slow morning turned into a slow day, and it seemed like it was days before I could leave my desk. I get to the yoga studio for the class, and all the students are waiting on the instructor. I'm anticipating a slight man to walk in - most of the teachers are either women or men of small stature. In walk
s this guy who is about 6'-4" and he's just big. Except he has a small head.
He starts off the class with us in Vajrasana. I hate this pose. It's a seated pose, where you're legs are bent underneath you, and you're sitting on your heels. My knees just don't like being bent that long. We're in that pose with different variations for about 10 minutes. I'm somehow able to unbend my legs afterwards.
Then we moved into downward facing dog. He decided that this would be a partner pose where people would pair up, and one person would place a strap around the other like a harness and help the person get deeper into the pose. Cue the S&M images of someone getting lead around like a dog on a leash. Hilarious.
A while later, he directed us into a pose where we were kneeling with one knee against the wall with the shin against the wall, and the foot of the opposing leg on the floor in front of us. We were expected to be able to sit up straight from this position. Sort of.
All in all, it was a very challenging class.
DAY 13
Took a break. Chey came over after work to do laundry.
DAY 8
No yoga. Again, didn't quite get up in time to do it in the morning, and I was getting together with Christopher for dinner so no yoga after work. We met for dinner at Rice, and then I got to experience the frustration of parking woes one encounters when living in the East Village while a film crew takes over your neighborhood. Needless to say, we had a side trip in the middle of the evening to Williamsburg to deal with the parking dilemma. Due to the fear of finding a spot, it was a short adventure.
DAY 9
My day of the week off due to the current paycut situation. Carrie was in town for work, so I was planning on meeting up with her and Kathleen in SoHo after having lunch with Roberta in Leffert's Garden. Or is it Manor? I forget. Either way, I had to be in Brooklyn around noon and SoHo around 3PM. Yoga, yoga, when can I fit this in when I've got plans for the bulk of the day? Plans included:
- A viewing of The September Issue. Fantastic fashion documentary of the production of the Vogue 2007 September Issue. It's right up there with Unzipped, the Isaac Mizrahi documentary. Although I still can't believe Anna decorated her townhouse with that shabby chic furniture.
- Drinks....somewhere. Fancy new hotel on Crosby was not accepting 'non-residents' until the following week. We ended up at Sweet & Vicious.
- Dinner at MacBar. Now that I am ok with gluten, a macaroni and cheese fest was in order. I felt as good afterwards as any normal person ingesting massive amounts of processed cheese.
DAY 10
Woke up to a rainy but somewhat warm day. I was scheduled to sail the morning Harbor School sail from 1100-1500 hrs and then the 1600-1800 hrs public sail. The wind was perfect for sailing. Unfortunately, it also made me complete exhausted and not able to do much of anything for the rest of the day. No yoga.
I was however able to drag myself to Brooklyn for dinner with Heidi and Carrie. Heidi had gotten her share of the CSA bounty that morning, and made a great dinner (with Tom's help on the fish). Halibut, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and bok choy. Ice cream for dessert.
DAY 11
In looking at the calendar, I've missed two days this week, so I feel motivated to go today. Today was also the team day for the Ladies Social Tennis Club out in Prospect Park - four hours of play between the different members. I already woke up to sore shoulder muscles from sailing the day before. Tennis today was going to be challenging. Luckily on Sunday nights there is a restorative yoga class at Om. I love restorative yoga. Its a series of poses where you're propped up on pillows, blocks, or bolsters, and you rest for 10-15 minutes in a pose.
I head out to Brooklyn at around 9:15AM en route to Heidi's. This was the weekend that the MTA had decided it would be a good idea to do work on just about every single subway line. Instead of taking the normal route of the A to the F, I just take the A one more stop to Hoyt/Schermerhorn. I discover that although its a slightly longer walk from that station to her apartment, its a shorter trip since I don't have to wait for the transfer at Jay Street/Borough Hall.
Do I thank the MTA for this little bit of transit knowledge? Hell no. That's a small victory in the confounding set of options that I'll have to deal with for the day. We ended up driving out to Prospect Park and avoided MTA pain. For the morning at least.
The tennis wasn't so bad considering that the soreness in my shoulders in the morning was only the beginning of the pain that was surfacing from the day before. In the end, it was my whole back, as well as my sides and abs. Basically, the whole torso. Strangely, my legs were unaffected. I needed a massage.
At 5:00PM, I headed to Union Square for the restorative yoga class. As I was hoping, it was just what I needed. Although I did fall asleep in some of the poses. Really, what do you expect?
DAY 12
Ah Monday. Columbus Day. My office does not take this day as a holiday, so I'm in the office with about five other people. It was a slow morning, so I checked out Om's schedule for the day, and there is a stretching class at 7:30PM. Sounds good, hopefully they will concentrate on the back of the legs where I have the most trouble.
The slow morning turned into a slow day, and it seemed like it was days before I could leave my desk. I get to the yoga studio for the class, and all the students are waiting on the instructor. I'm anticipating a slight man to walk in - most of the teachers are either women or men of small stature. In walk
s this guy who is about 6'-4" and he's just big. Except he has a small head.He starts off the class with us in Vajrasana. I hate this pose. It's a seated pose, where you're legs are bent underneath you, and you're sitting on your heels. My knees just don't like being bent that long. We're in that pose with different variations for about 10 minutes. I'm somehow able to unbend my legs afterwards.
Then we moved into downward facing dog. He decided that this would be a partner pose where people would pair up, and one person would place a strap around the other like a harness and help the person get deeper into the pose. Cue the S&M images of someone getting lead around like a dog on a leash. Hilarious.
A while later, he directed us into a pose where we were kneeling with one knee against the wall with the shin against the wall, and the foot of the opposing leg on the floor in front of us. We were expected to be able to sit up straight from this position. Sort of.
All in all, it was a very challenging class.
DAY 13
Took a break. Chey came over after work to do laundry.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Challenge Interupted?
Trying not to. But it is a challenge.
DAY 4
I got up and thought about what I needed to do for the rest of the day, and when I'd be able to do yoga. My first thought - I should have gotten up an hour early. I was scheduled to play tennis, had to run over to Prospect Park for the rescheduled Pioneer picnic, and then work on the boat for the last two sails.
Things seemed to be working out when David called to work for me during the 4-6 sail, and Dan had already offered to work the 7-9. I thought I may be able to leave the picnic early and make the 5:30 restorative class. Then my mom called.
Mr. Fagan had died. Mr. Fagan was one of my parents' closest friends who had suffered from Prostate Cancer for nearly 6 years. He was the first to die from what has been referred to as the "Irish Mafia", the group of people that have been in and around my life for as long as I can remember. I told my parents that I wanted to go to the funeral, which was on Tuesday.
I really wanted to go home and be alone, but felt that I needed to stay at the picnic. In hindsight I should have just left. Hours later, I did enjoy the fireworks though. After the fireworks, I went home, and did one of the shortened versions on the yoga DVD. Although it was not a concentrated effort, I was glad to continue on the challenge.
DAY 5
I had decided the night before that I would get up early and do my practice in the morning. Since I had to head up to the compound right after work, and didn't quite get up early enough to head to the 7:30 class at the studio, I did one of the programs on the DVD. I got through the day, and headed up to Grand Central for the Hudson Line to Peekskill. Since I don't have a car, I had to head upstate to meet up with my parents. The funeral was the next day in Colts Neck, NJ at 9AM, and there was no way my parents were going to come into the city to pick me up before headed out to Jersey - the traffic was probably going to be a nightmare anyway.
DAY 6
I'm awakened from a banal dream where I'm on Pioneer during a crew meeting signing up for sails by a knock on my childhood bedroom door. Its my dad, telling me that it was time to get up. It was 5:30. It takes me a couple of minutes to get up, get to the bathroom, and jump in the shower. I had realized the night before that I forget to pack my bag of toiletries; I had nothing with me, but at least there was a new toothbrush in the bathroom that I could use.
As we were getting ready to leave to house, both my parents mentioned how they were having a really hard time dealing with his death. They knew this day was coming, but it was still somewhat of a shock. There is always the hope that something will work out, some drug will be discovered, somehow the person will beat it. Mr. Fagan is the sixth person I've known in the last eight years who was diagnosed with cancer - 2 of them prostate, 1 brain, 1 melanoma, 1 pancreas, and 1 a rare form of abdominal cancer. Other than my cousin's wife who had the pancreatic cancer, they had all either gone into remission or had stabilized and seemed like they had a chance. They have all succumed to the disease, two of them in one week back in 2003. Its awful having to decide who's funeral you're going to go to - the one in New York for your old boss or the one in Denver for a very good college friend.
The Irish Mafia were the group of people that we grew up with in New Jersey before we moved to New York in 1980, and Mr. Fagan and his wife Ita were my favorite parents out of the group of my parents' friends. Most of the Mafia were from Ireland, some of them - like my father - had married an American. There was a core group of four couples, and all these couples had at least three kids, and we were mostly within eight years of each other, with most of us settling within a four year age difference. Between my family and the Fagan's, there was my sister Erin, then Brian, then me, then Erris, then Tara, my younger sister. A couple of years later the Fagans had another daughter, Orla. We all grew up together, our fathers belonged to the Friendly Sons of the Shillelagh, and we learned Irish step dancing.
After we moved to New York, my parents remained close to the Jersey crowd, and we would continue to go down there on weekends for all sorts of festivities. In recent years, the men had joined the Sons of St. Patrick, and both Mr. Fagan and my father have been honored by this group.
After the funeral, the family hosted a brunch at the same hotel that my sisters and I had thrown my parents a party for their 40th wedding anniversary, which is the last time I saw most of the Mafia back in 2004. Although my family had moved to New York nearly 30 years before this, my parents' close friends were still centered around this Irish community in New Jersey, and we decided to invite these people to celebrate my parents dedication to each other. Even outside of the core group of four families, there are many more people that are a part of this group. I was reminded of how close this group remains as I was speaking to friends of my parents, and its truly an amazing bond of friendship these people have formed, mostly due to having a culture in common. This group lost a vital member this week.
After the brunch, my parents drove me home into the city. I felt that I needed to do something to get my mind off of the events of the day, so I looked up the yoga schedule. There was an open and restorative class at 4:30. Fantastic. It was just what I needed.
DAY 7
Back to work. At least it was snack day. I was going to go to a yogaCORE class at 8PM, but once I was home, I really didn't feel like leaving again. I did the full practice from the DVD. I really need to work on that preparation for forearm stand.
I feel like I'm making some progress. Although my legs are still really tight - don't know how much that can really improve - I am starting to get the Sanskrit names for the poses.
DAY 4
I got up and thought about what I needed to do for the rest of the day, and when I'd be able to do yoga. My first thought - I should have gotten up an hour early. I was scheduled to play tennis, had to run over to Prospect Park for the rescheduled Pioneer picnic, and then work on the boat for the last two sails.
Things seemed to be working out when David called to work for me during the 4-6 sail, and Dan had already offered to work the 7-9. I thought I may be able to leave the picnic early and make the 5:30 restorative class. Then my mom called.
Mr. Fagan had died. Mr. Fagan was one of my parents' closest friends who had suffered from Prostate Cancer for nearly 6 years. He was the first to die from what has been referred to as the "Irish Mafia", the group of people that have been in and around my life for as long as I can remember. I told my parents that I wanted to go to the funeral, which was on Tuesday.
I really wanted to go home and be alone, but felt that I needed to stay at the picnic. In hindsight I should have just left. Hours later, I did enjoy the fireworks though. After the fireworks, I went home, and did one of the shortened versions on the yoga DVD. Although it was not a concentrated effort, I was glad to continue on the challenge.
DAY 5
I had decided the night before that I would get up early and do my practice in the morning. Since I had to head up to the compound right after work, and didn't quite get up early enough to head to the 7:30 class at the studio, I did one of the programs on the DVD. I got through the day, and headed up to Grand Central for the Hudson Line to Peekskill. Since I don't have a car, I had to head upstate to meet up with my parents. The funeral was the next day in Colts Neck, NJ at 9AM, and there was no way my parents were going to come into the city to pick me up before headed out to Jersey - the traffic was probably going to be a nightmare anyway.
DAY 6
I'm awakened from a banal dream where I'm on Pioneer during a crew meeting signing up for sails by a knock on my childhood bedroom door. Its my dad, telling me that it was time to get up. It was 5:30. It takes me a couple of minutes to get up, get to the bathroom, and jump in the shower. I had realized the night before that I forget to pack my bag of toiletries; I had nothing with me, but at least there was a new toothbrush in the bathroom that I could use.
As we were getting ready to leave to house, both my parents mentioned how they were having a really hard time dealing with his death. They knew this day was coming, but it was still somewhat of a shock. There is always the hope that something will work out, some drug will be discovered, somehow the person will beat it. Mr. Fagan is the sixth person I've known in the last eight years who was diagnosed with cancer - 2 of them prostate, 1 brain, 1 melanoma, 1 pancreas, and 1 a rare form of abdominal cancer. Other than my cousin's wife who had the pancreatic cancer, they had all either gone into remission or had stabilized and seemed like they had a chance. They have all succumed to the disease, two of them in one week back in 2003. Its awful having to decide who's funeral you're going to go to - the one in New York for your old boss or the one in Denver for a very good college friend.
The Irish Mafia were the group of people that we grew up with in New Jersey before we moved to New York in 1980, and Mr. Fagan and his wife Ita were my favorite parents out of the group of my parents' friends. Most of the Mafia were from Ireland, some of them - like my father - had married an American. There was a core group of four couples, and all these couples had at least three kids, and we were mostly within eight years of each other, with most of us settling within a four year age difference. Between my family and the Fagan's, there was my sister Erin, then Brian, then me, then Erris, then Tara, my younger sister. A couple of years later the Fagans had another daughter, Orla. We all grew up together, our fathers belonged to the Friendly Sons of the Shillelagh, and we learned Irish step dancing.
After we moved to New York, my parents remained close to the Jersey crowd, and we would continue to go down there on weekends for all sorts of festivities. In recent years, the men had joined the Sons of St. Patrick, and both Mr. Fagan and my father have been honored by this group.
After the funeral, the family hosted a brunch at the same hotel that my sisters and I had thrown my parents a party for their 40th wedding anniversary, which is the last time I saw most of the Mafia back in 2004. Although my family had moved to New York nearly 30 years before this, my parents' close friends were still centered around this Irish community in New Jersey, and we decided to invite these people to celebrate my parents dedication to each other. Even outside of the core group of four families, there are many more people that are a part of this group. I was reminded of how close this group remains as I was speaking to friends of my parents, and its truly an amazing bond of friendship these people have formed, mostly due to having a culture in common. This group lost a vital member this week.
After the brunch, my parents drove me home into the city. I felt that I needed to do something to get my mind off of the events of the day, so I looked up the yoga schedule. There was an open and restorative class at 4:30. Fantastic. It was just what I needed.
DAY 7
Back to work. At least it was snack day. I was going to go to a yogaCORE class at 8PM, but once I was home, I really didn't feel like leaving again. I did the full practice from the DVD. I really need to work on that preparation for forearm stand.
I feel like I'm making some progress. Although my legs are still really tight - don't know how much that can really improve - I am starting to get the Sanskrit names for the poses.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
The 31 day challenge
I've been practicing yoga on and off since shortly after I finished college. Unfortunately, it's been mostly off. Earlier this year my therapist recommended resuming my practice and going to yoga at least twice a week, one of the classes should be a restorative yoga class. She said that I owed it to myself. I had never thought of it in that manner, and started looking for a restorative class. I figured if I could find a studio where I liked the restorative class anything else would fall into place. This took longer than I expected.
The first place I tried was Om Yoga. I liked the studio a lot, and the instructor was great. Unfortunately the class was on a Sunday, sailing season was about to start, and I usually sailed on Sundays. I figured that since that place was great, it wouldn't be so hard to find another. Again, I was wrong.
Next I tried Virayoga. Their restorative class was in their annex, which was a 100SF room big enough for two people to do yoga. The instructor started out with asanas that would be in a typical yoga class. After about 30 minutes, she started the restorative part of the session. Unbelievably, she continued talking. She went on and on, and it was in no way relaxing not to mention restorative. I nearly left, but being one of her two students, that would have been awkward.
There were other studios, but they had their restorative classes on Fridays. I typically sail on Fridays also, so I didn't bother trying them out. Instead, I decided to start sailing on Saturdays so that I could go back to Om Yoga.
Restorative yoga is one of the most relaxing activities I've ever encountered. Its very close to meditation, but you arrange yourself in different poses where you're propped up on bolsters, blankets, or blocks, and remain in the pose for 15-20 minutes. In its own way, its rigorous. 180 degrees from this are their open classes. I went to one of those today, a class run by Joe, and was invigorated. One thing I really like about yoga is that I can stay focused and my mind does not wander (at least in the open classes. Sometimes that's a little hard during the more relaxing poses). I only think about what I'm doing in the present.
This month, Om is running a challenge - 31 days of yoga. Practice once a day for every day in the month of October. Although I've been going semi-regularly for the last two months, I think participating in the challenge will help me establish a better practice. This is how its been going so far:
DAY 1
Didn't go. Planned on taking a 7:45PM Open class, but was distracted. That afternoon I was at a board meeting at the Cooper-Hewitt, and was invited to the cocktail party after. That was not the distraction, that one I felt pretty good about saying no so that I could go to yoga - one distraction avoided. However, on the way home I remembered that it was Lex's last day at the Seaport, and there were drinks planned for her. Another friend also texted wanting to avoid his own studying. I got caught up in distraction number 2 and joined some Seaport folks in wishing Lex well.
DAY 2
I had Friday off, but couldn't do my typical 12 noon class since I had volunteered to help out on Pioneer in the afternoon. Thursday night I set my alarm for 6:30 so I could go to a morning class. That didn't work, getting up that early on a day that I don't have to go to work wasn't the greatest plan. There were two classes at 10AM, a Basics and an Intermediate. Thinking I wasn't quite ready for an Intermediate class, I went to the Basics class. Too basic.
DAY 3
Open class at 12:30. Joe was teaching, so I was looking forward to it. It was similar in effort to his class that I took last week, but he focused on different poses. It was really enjoyable, and it was the first day of the challenge that I was satisfied with.
I hope that the rest of the month goes as well as today. To deal with days that I can't make it to the studio, I bought a DVD. There's also a cable channel that broadcasts 30 minute classes, so I'm DVRing them. When I put my mind to something, I can usually get it done.
The first place I tried was Om Yoga. I liked the studio a lot, and the instructor was great. Unfortunately the class was on a Sunday, sailing season was about to start, and I usually sailed on Sundays. I figured that since that place was great, it wouldn't be so hard to find another. Again, I was wrong.
Next I tried Virayoga. Their restorative class was in their annex, which was a 100SF room big enough for two people to do yoga. The instructor started out with asanas that would be in a typical yoga class. After about 30 minutes, she started the restorative part of the session. Unbelievably, she continued talking. She went on and on, and it was in no way relaxing not to mention restorative. I nearly left, but being one of her two students, that would have been awkward.
There were other studios, but they had their restorative classes on Fridays. I typically sail on Fridays also, so I didn't bother trying them out. Instead, I decided to start sailing on Saturdays so that I could go back to Om Yoga.
Restorative yoga is one of the most relaxing activities I've ever encountered. Its very close to meditation, but you arrange yourself in different poses where you're propped up on bolsters, blankets, or blocks, and remain in the pose for 15-20 minutes. In its own way, its rigorous. 180 degrees from this are their open classes. I went to one of those today, a class run by Joe, and was invigorated. One thing I really like about yoga is that I can stay focused and my mind does not wander (at least in the open classes. Sometimes that's a little hard during the more relaxing poses). I only think about what I'm doing in the present.
This month, Om is running a challenge - 31 days of yoga. Practice once a day for every day in the month of October. Although I've been going semi-regularly for the last two months, I think participating in the challenge will help me establish a better practice. This is how its been going so far:
DAY 1
Didn't go. Planned on taking a 7:45PM Open class, but was distracted. That afternoon I was at a board meeting at the Cooper-Hewitt, and was invited to the cocktail party after. That was not the distraction, that one I felt pretty good about saying no so that I could go to yoga - one distraction avoided. However, on the way home I remembered that it was Lex's last day at the Seaport, and there were drinks planned for her. Another friend also texted wanting to avoid his own studying. I got caught up in distraction number 2 and joined some Seaport folks in wishing Lex well.
DAY 2
I had Friday off, but couldn't do my typical 12 noon class since I had volunteered to help out on Pioneer in the afternoon. Thursday night I set my alarm for 6:30 so I could go to a morning class. That didn't work, getting up that early on a day that I don't have to go to work wasn't the greatest plan. There were two classes at 10AM, a Basics and an Intermediate. Thinking I wasn't quite ready for an Intermediate class, I went to the Basics class. Too basic.
DAY 3
Open class at 12:30. Joe was teaching, so I was looking forward to it. It was similar in effort to his class that I took last week, but he focused on different poses. It was really enjoyable, and it was the first day of the challenge that I was satisfied with.
I hope that the rest of the month goes as well as today. To deal with days that I can't make it to the studio, I bought a DVD. There's also a cable channel that broadcasts 30 minute classes, so I'm DVRing them. When I put my mind to something, I can usually get it done.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The waiting game
It's a rainy late September, and I'm slated to sail all day. In looking at the sky and the rain coming down, I'm doubting we sold any tickets, but its the kind of rain that looks like its going to clear up. Eventually.
Charlie calls me at 1130 hrs to ask a favor. He doesn't have the number to the visitor's service desk, and asks if I can walk over there to see what the ticket situation is for the rest of the day. He sounds ready to cancel the whole day. I'm to call him at 1200 hrs.
I walk over to the Museum. The conversation goes something like this:
"How many tickets have we sold for today's sails?"
"None for the 1-3. 18 for the 4-6. 2 for the 7-9."
"18? Are those actual tickets are reservations?"
"Reservation. 18 tickets for one person."
I groan. Damned ghetto charter. If it weren't for that group, we could cancel the whole day. We don't even know if they'll show up. I call Charlie and he officially cancels the 1-3 sail, and says he'll call reservations around 3 to see what's going on with the group. If it's still spitting rain like this, I doubt they'll want to go out.
So the waiting starts. On days like this, what I'd rather be doing is watching the Mad Men marathon (I can at least watch part of that, on right now is the "I'm Peggy Olsen, and I want to smoke pot" episode) or True Blood on HBO Demand. Or knit. Or finish that lanyard. Or a combination of those. A museum show would be great also - free access with my Smithsonian ID card (the Cooper-Hewitt project is at least good for that).
What I'd really like to do is go to a restorative yoga class at 1730 hrs. Unless both the 4-6 and the 7-9 are canceled, that can't happen today either.
I'm not saying I'd rather be doing all these things instead of sailing. I'd love it if there were three sure-to-go-out sails today. We're at the end of the season, so the opportunities are waning to go out on Pioneer. What I don't like is not being able to plan anything else, staying in and watching the radar.
It's 1252 hrs. now. I'll update during the day.
1500 hrs.
I leave the apartment again, half thinking that the 18 person group is not going to show up. The sky is clearing, but still...depends on where people are coming from. We wait until 1535 hrs., the group shows up, so we get the boat ready in half the time. The sail is uneventful, the NYU students are happy. We end up heading in a little early because there is a front appearing to the west, a line of menacing clouds hanging over Jersey.
1804 hrs.
All the passengers have disembarked. Mike calls Visitor's Services to see what the ticket situation is. Still only two sold. Captain Charlie debates what to do. We've got five volunteers, two passengers, and a guest with a front approaching. No one really ever wants to tell eager passengers that we're canceling the sail, so the decision is postponed. At around 1835 hrs, a couple is seen checking out the sail times poster, so we have a volunteer approach them to see if they want to go out for a sail. They do, so we now have four passengers, so the captain makes the executive decision to go out on the 7-9 sail. I assign dock lines, we get the passengers aboard, Mike gives the safety speech, and we're ready to go.
The passengers are more than ready to help us raise sail, so I get them assigned to the main peak and throat lines. About halfway through raising the main, Mike calls me back to take over setting the main. He runs down to the engine room where there is obvious trouble. There are abnormal sounds coming from the aft cabin, and the transmission is not staying in gear. Charlie directs me to lower the main and raise the fore. This gets done, and then the captain asks for the main to be raised. Luckily, we had very enthusiastic passengers who were more than happy to raise the sail again.
All this time Captain Charlie is on the radio with the Coast Guard. First they direct him to radio channel 21. Then 22. After he gives them our position, East River off of Pier 11, then Pier A, drifting towards the deep water range. He tells them he is trying to stay off the Whitehall ferry terminal. They ask him if he has GPS (we don't) and whether he will anchor in the deep water range. Why the description of our position isn't good enough is not clear. Neither is their suggestion to anchor in the deep water range. The captain's plan is to gybe the main and sail into the pier.
Mike and ZZ have been working in the aft cabin on the transmission. After getting some fluid in the transmission, things seem to be working in some order, and we get the boat turned around. Since we can't trust reverse, the docking plan is to get the bow spring on, port side, haul it in tight, and get the boat around. We start coming in, and the captain decides this approach won't work, and we move everything to starboard side to.
We come close to hitting Peking, but the captain wasn't worried. We get the boat in tight to the float, and the passengers disembark. After, we move some docklines around, I direct the volunteers in getting the boat put to bed while Captain Charlie and Mike assess the state of the engine. There are some concerns that the transmission is leaking into other areas of the engine, and Captain Charlie alerts Captain Richard to the issues we faced this evening.
All in all, everyone handled themselves well. As far as volunteers, we had a deckhand, a deckhand in training, and two new (but luckily sharp) volunteers. I couldn't have asked for much more. Mike thanked all the volunteers, and we retired to Fresh Salt.
Funny how a day that starts off as a day of waiting turns into a day of being in high alert. The adrenelin is still running 3 1/2 hours after I got off the boat.
As Captain Charlie stated at Fresh Salt, "If all else fails, you can always put up the sails to get home." I thank everyday that I get to sail with this man. It's always a learning experience.
Charlie calls me at 1130 hrs to ask a favor. He doesn't have the number to the visitor's service desk, and asks if I can walk over there to see what the ticket situation is for the rest of the day. He sounds ready to cancel the whole day. I'm to call him at 1200 hrs.
I walk over to the Museum. The conversation goes something like this:
"How many tickets have we sold for today's sails?"
"None for the 1-3. 18 for the 4-6. 2 for the 7-9."
"18? Are those actual tickets are reservations?"
"Reservation. 18 tickets for one person."
I groan. Damned ghetto charter. If it weren't for that group, we could cancel the whole day. We don't even know if they'll show up. I call Charlie and he officially cancels the 1-3 sail, and says he'll call reservations around 3 to see what's going on with the group. If it's still spitting rain like this, I doubt they'll want to go out.
So the waiting starts. On days like this, what I'd rather be doing is watching the Mad Men marathon (I can at least watch part of that, on right now is the "I'm Peggy Olsen, and I want to smoke pot" episode) or True Blood on HBO Demand. Or knit. Or finish that lanyard. Or a combination of those. A museum show would be great also - free access with my Smithsonian ID card (the Cooper-Hewitt project is at least good for that).
What I'd really like to do is go to a restorative yoga class at 1730 hrs. Unless both the 4-6 and the 7-9 are canceled, that can't happen today either.
I'm not saying I'd rather be doing all these things instead of sailing. I'd love it if there were three sure-to-go-out sails today. We're at the end of the season, so the opportunities are waning to go out on Pioneer. What I don't like is not being able to plan anything else, staying in and watching the radar.
It's 1252 hrs. now. I'll update during the day.
1500 hrs.
I leave the apartment again, half thinking that the 18 person group is not going to show up. The sky is clearing, but still...depends on where people are coming from. We wait until 1535 hrs., the group shows up, so we get the boat ready in half the time. The sail is uneventful, the NYU students are happy. We end up heading in a little early because there is a front appearing to the west, a line of menacing clouds hanging over Jersey.
1804 hrs.
All the passengers have disembarked. Mike calls Visitor's Services to see what the ticket situation is. Still only two sold. Captain Charlie debates what to do. We've got five volunteers, two passengers, and a guest with a front approaching. No one really ever wants to tell eager passengers that we're canceling the sail, so the decision is postponed. At around 1835 hrs, a couple is seen checking out the sail times poster, so we have a volunteer approach them to see if they want to go out for a sail. They do, so we now have four passengers, so the captain makes the executive decision to go out on the 7-9 sail. I assign dock lines, we get the passengers aboard, Mike gives the safety speech, and we're ready to go.
The passengers are more than ready to help us raise sail, so I get them assigned to the main peak and throat lines. About halfway through raising the main, Mike calls me back to take over setting the main. He runs down to the engine room where there is obvious trouble. There are abnormal sounds coming from the aft cabin, and the transmission is not staying in gear. Charlie directs me to lower the main and raise the fore. This gets done, and then the captain asks for the main to be raised. Luckily, we had very enthusiastic passengers who were more than happy to raise the sail again.
All this time Captain Charlie is on the radio with the Coast Guard. First they direct him to radio channel 21. Then 22. After he gives them our position, East River off of Pier 11, then Pier A, drifting towards the deep water range. He tells them he is trying to stay off the Whitehall ferry terminal. They ask him if he has GPS (we don't) and whether he will anchor in the deep water range. Why the description of our position isn't good enough is not clear. Neither is their suggestion to anchor in the deep water range. The captain's plan is to gybe the main and sail into the pier.
Mike and ZZ have been working in the aft cabin on the transmission. After getting some fluid in the transmission, things seem to be working in some order, and we get the boat turned around. Since we can't trust reverse, the docking plan is to get the bow spring on, port side, haul it in tight, and get the boat around. We start coming in, and the captain decides this approach won't work, and we move everything to starboard side to.
We come close to hitting Peking, but the captain wasn't worried. We get the boat in tight to the float, and the passengers disembark. After, we move some docklines around, I direct the volunteers in getting the boat put to bed while Captain Charlie and Mike assess the state of the engine. There are some concerns that the transmission is leaking into other areas of the engine, and Captain Charlie alerts Captain Richard to the issues we faced this evening.
All in all, everyone handled themselves well. As far as volunteers, we had a deckhand, a deckhand in training, and two new (but luckily sharp) volunteers. I couldn't have asked for much more. Mike thanked all the volunteers, and we retired to Fresh Salt.
Funny how a day that starts off as a day of waiting turns into a day of being in high alert. The adrenelin is still running 3 1/2 hours after I got off the boat.
As Captain Charlie stated at Fresh Salt, "If all else fails, you can always put up the sails to get home." I thank everyday that I get to sail with this man. It's always a learning experience.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Deciding upon fruit
I've never been good at selecting fruit. I do my best with what I've heard as surefire ways to pick a good one, but to no avail. I feel that when I get a really great tasting piece, it's all luck. Case in point this week: peach. I find that they are especially difficult; there really seems to be only 2 - 3 weeks a summer when they're good. Most of the time, no matter what the color or even firmness level, they're hard and tart. Not what I want out of a peach.
The last couple of weeks they've been good, but then today, ugh. I picked one up at the deli on the way to work today. It was on the larger side, but a beautiful yellow undertone with dark red patches. It smelled delicious. After lunch, after looking at it for hours, I bit into it. Absolute disappointment. It was still fragrant, but the texture was mealy. I nearly spit it out right there. I took another bite thinking it was just that spot, but no. The whole thing had such an unappealing texture. Such disappointment.
I posted my disappointment as my Facebook status. This was mostly just because I needed to change it, but people immediately started commenting, lamenting the sad state of finding good fruit. Everyone had a suggestion for picking good fruit, ranging from slapping a watermelon to making sure that pomegranates have to be a deep red. Here are some others I've found:
1. Bananas: A banana should be complete yellow when ripe. A banana with a lot of brown spots tastes better than a yellow banana with a green top.
This one I totally disagree with. Bananas with brown spots are too soft and gross for my tastes.
2. Oranges: For the juiciest, sweetest, fruit, look for oranges with a sweet, clean fragrance.
3. Tangerines: The best tangerines have a strong sweet smell.
4. Mangos: Haden mangos are good when they are yellow/orange, only slightly firm, and yield to gentle pressure.
From what I've read, in general you should be able to rely on smell, color, feel, and weight (fruit should be heavy). I would think that these rules are easier in the summer when its easier to find local fruit - unless you live in warmer climates.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Blue sky memories
Last week I was out for drinks with a friend, and we were talking about the gorgeous blue sky that day, that specific cloudless blue that you usually only see early to mid-September. I always have mixed feelings about a sky like this. One the one hand, its one of my favorite colors, and seeing it has the immediate impact of putting me in a good mood. On the other hand, it reminds me of a day eight years ago when the sky was this exact incredible color. We traded our recollections of that infamous day, which for both of us are still vivid.
I think on the eighth anniversary most New Yorkers are reflecting on that day, like we do every September 11th. What follows is my experience from that day, and the days following.
NEW YORK, NY
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001
8:46AM
It was one of those perfect September days, one where it was in the low 70's with a cloudless sky. As I climbed out of the subway at the Chambers Street A station, I noticed there was a crowd gathered at the corner of Chambers and Church Street. I was a little early for work, so I wandered over to see what was going on. Everyone was looking up to the southwest at the Trade Center. What they were looking at was incredible: there was a huge gash in the upper floors on the north facade of one of the towers. Everyone assumed it was an accident, that a Cesna had flown into the tower. A sidewalk vendor kept telling people that no, it was not a small plane, it was an American Airlines jet that crashed into the North Tower. I was amazed, the hole just didn't look that big, the scale of the building was deceiving. No one seemed to believe him, thinking he was exaggerating, that he was mistaken in what he had eyewitnessed. I left the corner to go to my office.
9:03AM
I called my mom to tell her to turn on the news, that a plane had flown into the Trade Center. As I was getting the words out, I felt a faint tremor. The second plane had hit. There was a collective realization that this was not an accident.
My office was on Reade Street between Greenwich Street and Hudson, and there were only a couple of us there. We didn't know what to do: should we get to work? should we leave the area? I had walked down to the corner of Greenwich and looked south. There were rows and rows of people walking north on Greenwich. They were all covered in dust and blood. I looked up towards the tower and saw people jumping from the top floors of the tower. I turned away in horror from this sight and walked back to my office.
My office was in the ground floor of my boss's townhouse, and he had come down to tell us to come upstairs. The three of us who made it in that day went up to his living room and spent time talking about what was going on, watching the coverage on TV where we learned that we were not the only city that had been attacked. There were rumors that a plane had hit the Sears tower, and there were rumors that there were up to 10 planes that were missing. Luckily this did not turn out to be true. I walked up to the roof and looked south. The top of both towers were engulfed in flames, and people were jumping from the windows. One after the other they lept, at least 30 of them in the matter of a minute. The mind works in curious ways, and I was reminded of an educational filmstrip that I saw when I was probably around 8 years old. It was of a group of lemmings jumping off a cliff. At the end of the film, my teacher would run it backwards, and you could see the lemmings rising from the water up to the safety of the cliff. I immediately felt ashamed for the comparison, and put it out of my mind. I can't even imagine having to make the choice these people had to make knowing they were never going to make it out of the towers alive: be burned alive or jump to your death.
9:59AM
I walked back inside the penthouse to watch the news coverage. A couple of minutes later, there was a rumbling, and the guys finishing up work on the roof rushed inside. They told me the tower was coming down.
I went down two flights to join the rest of my office and my boss's family. The south wall of the townhouse was glass, and at the time it was like looking at an opaque wall, the smoke outside was so thick. We all silently stared at the wall, hoping that flames were not to follow.
10:29AM
After the smoke cleared, Sara, my boss's wife, suggested that we go down to the office to get our purses and other personal belongings just in case we needed to evacuate. Liz, the office manager, and I offered to go and get everyone's stuff. As we were grabbing the bags, there was another rumble, just like an earthquake. The glass storefront started vibrating, and we ran to the cellar. We stayed down there for a couple of minutes, and then went upstairs once we thought it was relatively safe.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, we continued watching the news coverage, and called our families. The relief in my parents' voices was palpable. They did not know how much of Lower Manhattan had been affected by the tower collapse, and I was only five blocks away. My mother told me that my sister hadn't heard from her husband, he was at work in WTC 5, one of the lower buildings. She didn't heard from him for hours; when she did finally hear from him he told her that he had run out of his office, leaving his cell phone and wallet behind, and none of the payphones were working.
We stayed at my boss's house until around 5PM. I borrowed Sara's bike, and rode back to Brooklyn. As I biked down Reade Street crossing West Broadway, I took one last look south towards the Trade Center. It was a blur of red, orange, and black, a hellish sight. I wondered what the next couple of days would bring.
I called my mother when I got home, and she told me that three of my cousins were missing, all firemen. Later that evening, I gathered at an apartment on Atlantic Avenue with friends and my friend Will kept my glass of bourbon and ginger filled.
The next day, Heidi and I walked around Brooklyn looking to donate blood. Lots of other people had the same idea, and no more blood was needed - they had nowhere to store the blood that the flood of volunteers was willing to give. I spoke to my mom who told me that all three of my cousins had been heard from, they were apparently a little busy the day before, and couldn't call their wives and mothers. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go to work for the rest of the week, so I took a train up to the compound to get out of the city. I have never wanted to escape New York in that way before.
That Friday, I got a call from my office manager. She said that Lower Manhattan below Canal Street was closed to the public, but that on Monday they were going to start letting people who lived between Canal and Chambers through the barrier. We were going to meet at the SoHo Grand Hotel for breakfast Monday morning, and attempt to get down to the office. My boss was thinking that since he lived in the area, he would be able to get his employees in the secured zone. He was right, and the National Guard officer told us that over the next couple of weeks we would need to bring ID and a letter proving our employment within Lower Manhattan. We walked the nine blocks to Reade Street to see the state of the office. My boss hadn't been home yet, so he had no idea whether there was power or telephone service. We walked in, tried the lights and phones, and everything was in working order. Apparently we were lucky: because the building was new (construction had just finished the month before), we had been able to connect to the relatively new electrical and phone service coming from the north. Most of the neighbors service came from the south, which ran under the WTC and had been destroyed. We were able to get back to work, which allowed me to start to get back to a sense of normalcy.
Of course, things were not normal. I had to go through a National Guard post to get to work everyday. Trucks with debris from the WTC drove past our storefront several times a day. There was an RV parked outside our office from Chunky Soups, they were donating food to the workers. There was also the stench from the burning site, a combined smell of burning plastic, metal, and things we didn't want to think about. Although the EPA had stated the air was safe to breathe, my boss came in one day with the independent test results that the PTA from his kid's school had contracted. Their recommendation: wear an N100 mask if you can spell the smoke. I wore a mask intermittently almost everyday for the 99 days that the towers burned.
NEW YORK, NY
SEPTEMBER 11, 2009
10:19AM
I'm watching the news coverage of the annual event at the WTC. The Reading of the Names started after a moment of silence at 8:46AM, and they are up to the letter K. It is absolutely heartbreaking seeing family members lose their composure when getting to the name of their loved one. The immensity of 2,819 deaths over the course of approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes is apparent is hearing this seemingly endless list. At the first anniversary of the attack, the NY Times ran a section with the photos of all the victims. Seeing page upon page of the black and white 1"x 1 1/2" photos had the same impact.
Its good to see that there has been progress on the building site. The steel structure for the memorial can be seen behind the stage, and I'm remembering back to the day this past year when I heard that what had been referred to as the Freedom Tower, would offically be called 1 World Trade Center. I think this was an important move of looking towards the future and what the site will become upon completion.
I think on the eighth anniversary most New Yorkers are reflecting on that day, like we do every September 11th. What follows is my experience from that day, and the days following.
NEW YORK, NY
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001
8:46AM
It was one of those perfect September days, one where it was in the low 70's with a cloudless sky. As I climbed out of the subway at the Chambers Street A station, I noticed there was a crowd gathered at the corner of Chambers and Church Street. I was a little early for work, so I wandered over to see what was going on. Everyone was looking up to the southwest at the Trade Center. What they were looking at was incredible: there was a huge gash in the upper floors on the north facade of one of the towers. Everyone assumed it was an accident, that a Cesna had flown into the tower. A sidewalk vendor kept telling people that no, it was not a small plane, it was an American Airlines jet that crashed into the North Tower. I was amazed, the hole just didn't look that big, the scale of the building was deceiving. No one seemed to believe him, thinking he was exaggerating, that he was mistaken in what he had eyewitnessed. I left the corner to go to my office.
9:03AM
I called my mom to tell her to turn on the news, that a plane had flown into the Trade Center. As I was getting the words out, I felt a faint tremor. The second plane had hit. There was a collective realization that this was not an accident.
My office was on Reade Street between Greenwich Street and Hudson, and there were only a couple of us there. We didn't know what to do: should we get to work? should we leave the area? I had walked down to the corner of Greenwich and looked south. There were rows and rows of people walking north on Greenwich. They were all covered in dust and blood. I looked up towards the tower and saw people jumping from the top floors of the tower. I turned away in horror from this sight and walked back to my office.
My office was in the ground floor of my boss's townhouse, and he had come down to tell us to come upstairs. The three of us who made it in that day went up to his living room and spent time talking about what was going on, watching the coverage on TV where we learned that we were not the only city that had been attacked. There were rumors that a plane had hit the Sears tower, and there were rumors that there were up to 10 planes that were missing. Luckily this did not turn out to be true. I walked up to the roof and looked south. The top of both towers were engulfed in flames, and people were jumping from the windows. One after the other they lept, at least 30 of them in the matter of a minute. The mind works in curious ways, and I was reminded of an educational filmstrip that I saw when I was probably around 8 years old. It was of a group of lemmings jumping off a cliff. At the end of the film, my teacher would run it backwards, and you could see the lemmings rising from the water up to the safety of the cliff. I immediately felt ashamed for the comparison, and put it out of my mind. I can't even imagine having to make the choice these people had to make knowing they were never going to make it out of the towers alive: be burned alive or jump to your death.
9:59AM
I walked back inside the penthouse to watch the news coverage. A couple of minutes later, there was a rumbling, and the guys finishing up work on the roof rushed inside. They told me the tower was coming down.
I went down two flights to join the rest of my office and my boss's family. The south wall of the townhouse was glass, and at the time it was like looking at an opaque wall, the smoke outside was so thick. We all silently stared at the wall, hoping that flames were not to follow.
10:29AM
After the smoke cleared, Sara, my boss's wife, suggested that we go down to the office to get our purses and other personal belongings just in case we needed to evacuate. Liz, the office manager, and I offered to go and get everyone's stuff. As we were grabbing the bags, there was another rumble, just like an earthquake. The glass storefront started vibrating, and we ran to the cellar. We stayed down there for a couple of minutes, and then went upstairs once we thought it was relatively safe.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, we continued watching the news coverage, and called our families. The relief in my parents' voices was palpable. They did not know how much of Lower Manhattan had been affected by the tower collapse, and I was only five blocks away. My mother told me that my sister hadn't heard from her husband, he was at work in WTC 5, one of the lower buildings. She didn't heard from him for hours; when she did finally hear from him he told her that he had run out of his office, leaving his cell phone and wallet behind, and none of the payphones were working.
We stayed at my boss's house until around 5PM. I borrowed Sara's bike, and rode back to Brooklyn. As I biked down Reade Street crossing West Broadway, I took one last look south towards the Trade Center. It was a blur of red, orange, and black, a hellish sight. I wondered what the next couple of days would bring.
I called my mother when I got home, and she told me that three of my cousins were missing, all firemen. Later that evening, I gathered at an apartment on Atlantic Avenue with friends and my friend Will kept my glass of bourbon and ginger filled.
The next day, Heidi and I walked around Brooklyn looking to donate blood. Lots of other people had the same idea, and no more blood was needed - they had nowhere to store the blood that the flood of volunteers was willing to give. I spoke to my mom who told me that all three of my cousins had been heard from, they were apparently a little busy the day before, and couldn't call their wives and mothers. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go to work for the rest of the week, so I took a train up to the compound to get out of the city. I have never wanted to escape New York in that way before.
That Friday, I got a call from my office manager. She said that Lower Manhattan below Canal Street was closed to the public, but that on Monday they were going to start letting people who lived between Canal and Chambers through the barrier. We were going to meet at the SoHo Grand Hotel for breakfast Monday morning, and attempt to get down to the office. My boss was thinking that since he lived in the area, he would be able to get his employees in the secured zone. He was right, and the National Guard officer told us that over the next couple of weeks we would need to bring ID and a letter proving our employment within Lower Manhattan. We walked the nine blocks to Reade Street to see the state of the office. My boss hadn't been home yet, so he had no idea whether there was power or telephone service. We walked in, tried the lights and phones, and everything was in working order. Apparently we were lucky: because the building was new (construction had just finished the month before), we had been able to connect to the relatively new electrical and phone service coming from the north. Most of the neighbors service came from the south, which ran under the WTC and had been destroyed. We were able to get back to work, which allowed me to start to get back to a sense of normalcy.
Of course, things were not normal. I had to go through a National Guard post to get to work everyday. Trucks with debris from the WTC drove past our storefront several times a day. There was an RV parked outside our office from Chunky Soups, they were donating food to the workers. There was also the stench from the burning site, a combined smell of burning plastic, metal, and things we didn't want to think about. Although the EPA had stated the air was safe to breathe, my boss came in one day with the independent test results that the PTA from his kid's school had contracted. Their recommendation: wear an N100 mask if you can spell the smoke. I wore a mask intermittently almost everyday for the 99 days that the towers burned.
NEW YORK, NY
SEPTEMBER 11, 2009
10:19AM
I'm watching the news coverage of the annual event at the WTC. The Reading of the Names started after a moment of silence at 8:46AM, and they are up to the letter K. It is absolutely heartbreaking seeing family members lose their composure when getting to the name of their loved one. The immensity of 2,819 deaths over the course of approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes is apparent is hearing this seemingly endless list. At the first anniversary of the attack, the NY Times ran a section with the photos of all the victims. Seeing page upon page of the black and white 1"x 1 1/2" photos had the same impact.
Its good to see that there has been progress on the building site. The steel structure for the memorial can be seen behind the stage, and I'm remembering back to the day this past year when I heard that what had been referred to as the Freedom Tower, would offically be called 1 World Trade Center. I think this was an important move of looking towards the future and what the site will become upon completion.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Time spent well
As the unofficial end of summer arrives, I've been thinking about how I've spent my time this summer. I always feel the need to plan trips out of the city, but typically I get so caught up in what's going on in the city that it's hard to find time to leave. I don't want to miss out on anything. This summer I did have two events that compelled me to get out of the city - a wedding at Mass MoCA and a wedding in Maine. I also had the two week 'exile' when I had to take a furlough at work. Other than that, there was the day at the beach (well, that was technically still in the city, Staten Island), and two other trips in the past couple of weeks. The first of these trips was to Fire Island, the second was to Marshall's Creek, PA to go kayaking in the Delaware River.
FIRE ISLAND
AUGUST 24TH-25TH
While sailing on August 22nd on board Pioneer, talk turned towards Chey's upcoming week out in Kismet on Fire Island. I had Monday off, so we made a plan where I would join her out there for the day. Getting to Fire Island can be a bit of an ordeal - subway to LIRR to Ferry. It's fine if you time it right, but most of the time it takes at least 2 1/2 to 3 hours - but as soon as you step off the ferry onto the carless walkways, its worth it. This was the second time I've been out to Fire Island; the first time was 2 or 3 years ago with friends that had a share in Fair Harbor. Both times I've immediately had the feeling that I need to spend more time in this place. The absence of cars has a remarkable effect on my well being. The air is clean, both from the odor and the sound of combustion engines, and its immediately relaxing.
Chey and Ryan came out to meet me and direct me to the house. The arrangement of houses and wooden sidewalks can be confusing: nothing seems to be marked, and finding a place that you've never been to before can be difficult. They greeted me like people who've been at the beach for days even though they had just arrived the night before in what seemed to be a pretty frazzled arrival from what they told me when we were finally at the house. We had lunch, discussed the upcoming kayaking trip logistics, then Chey and I headed to the beach loaded with US Weekly, People, and books to balance out the trash.
The beach was mostly empty, and reminded me of the beaches down at the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Those beaches are expansive, and although there are rows upon rows of houses filled with happy vacationers, the beaches never seem crowded. We spent a couple of hours in the sun reading and napping. Around 5 or 6PM, we headed back to the house to have a cocktail, and think about what to make for dinner.
Dinner is a bit of an epicurean adventure. The deal with the house is that the people that are there on the weekend stock the pantry and fridge, and for the most part if you're there during the week, you can pull together a meal out of what is left over. We had chicken, portabello mushrooms, corn, and a salad mix. There was some honey and Grey Poupon, so I was able to make a marinade for the chicken, and although there was no balsamic vinegar, and very little olive oil, Chey was able to pull together the makings of grilled portabellos with the little olive oil we had and lemon juice to substitute for the vinegar. There was no butter for which there is no substitute, so Ryan went to go be neighborly and see if he could borrow from the neighbors (he was successful). It was a great meal, finished the evening off with drinks, a walk on the beach, and some episodes of the first season of Mad Men.
The next morning I dragged myself out of bed to catch the 7:25AM ferry back to the mainland. I was on the edge of calling in sick, but knew that I had a full week at work, and would pay for that lapse in judgement one way or another. On the ferry back, I vowed to somehow find a way to spend more time on this island next year. I've since spoken to my friend Amy who had the share in Fair Harbor, and may be able to get some time in her house next year.
MARSHALL'S CREEK, PA
AUGUST 30TH
Earlier in the summer, Emily had sent around a list of trips she wanted to make this summer. I think we succeed with two of them - one to the beach (Great Kills) and a kayaking trip out to the Delaware Water Gap.
We had a couple of scheduling issues, but Emily, Adam, Anilsa, and I got over to Staten Island to meet up with Tom. Tom is the only one of us with a car, and it is a lot easier to get from Manhattan to SI via ferry than it is to get to Manhattan from SI by car. Years ago, you used to be able to take your car on the ferry, but that was stopped years ago right after 9/11 due to security concerns. The ferry is also free.
After about an hour and a half of 'are we there yet' and 'are we still in New Jersey' questions from Emily, we arrived at Adventure Sports in Marshall's Creek, PA. There was some filling out of liability paperwork, some cash handed over for the kayaks, a safety speech, then we were on our way to the river. After another safety speech, the driver put our kayaks and canoes in the water, and we were on our way.
The water and hills surrounding the Delaware River are gorgeous. Emily was determined to get in the water as soon as possible, and she succeeded in doing that within five minutes of being on the water by trying to change out of her shorts in the kayak.
Lesson 1: Do not try to change out of your clothes in the kayak. It will only end in disaster, or at least you in the water and a puddle in your kayak that you just can't quite get rid of.
She was able to get over to the side of the river, and with the help of Adam and Anilsa, was able to get most of the water out of the kayak. This was a constant root of laughter throughout the trip as Emily was constantly adjusting the angle of her clothes that were trying to dry on the front of her (and eventually my) kayak.
The three hour trip down the river was a mix of paddling alone, floating in a group, and getting through the rapids. All in all, it was a good day.
When I returned to the city, I was later than I expected, and had to get over to Greenpoint to meet up with a group of friends at Doug and Naomi's for the inaugural OC: The Game match. Since none of us had watched the show in a while, we bent the rules to fit our needs. It was a great way to end the weekend, drinking champagne, playing a board game, and watching the OC after a fun day out of the city.
Lesson 2: I need to get out of the city more next summer.
FIRE ISLAND
AUGUST 24TH-25TH
While sailing on August 22nd on board Pioneer, talk turned towards Chey's upcoming week out in Kismet on Fire Island. I had Monday off, so we made a plan where I would join her out there for the day. Getting to Fire Island can be a bit of an ordeal - subway to LIRR to Ferry. It's fine if you time it right, but most of the time it takes at least 2 1/2 to 3 hours - but as soon as you step off the ferry onto the carless walkways, its worth it. This was the second time I've been out to Fire Island; the first time was 2 or 3 years ago with friends that had a share in Fair Harbor. Both times I've immediately had the feeling that I need to spend more time in this place. The absence of cars has a remarkable effect on my well being. The air is clean, both from the odor and the sound of combustion engines, and its immediately relaxing.
Chey and Ryan came out to meet me and direct me to the house. The arrangement of houses and wooden sidewalks can be confusing: nothing seems to be marked, and finding a place that you've never been to before can be difficult. They greeted me like people who've been at the beach for days even though they had just arrived the night before in what seemed to be a pretty frazzled arrival from what they told me when we were finally at the house. We had lunch, discussed the upcoming kayaking trip logistics, then Chey and I headed to the beach loaded with US Weekly, People, and books to balance out the trash.
The beach was mostly empty, and reminded me of the beaches down at the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Those beaches are expansive, and although there are rows upon rows of houses filled with happy vacationers, the beaches never seem crowded. We spent a couple of hours in the sun reading and napping. Around 5 or 6PM, we headed back to the house to have a cocktail, and think about what to make for dinner.
Dinner is a bit of an epicurean adventure. The deal with the house is that the people that are there on the weekend stock the pantry and fridge, and for the most part if you're there during the week, you can pull together a meal out of what is left over. We had chicken, portabello mushrooms, corn, and a salad mix. There was some honey and Grey Poupon, so I was able to make a marinade for the chicken, and although there was no balsamic vinegar, and very little olive oil, Chey was able to pull together the makings of grilled portabellos with the little olive oil we had and lemon juice to substitute for the vinegar. There was no butter for which there is no substitute, so Ryan went to go be neighborly and see if he could borrow from the neighbors (he was successful). It was a great meal, finished the evening off with drinks, a walk on the beach, and some episodes of the first season of Mad Men.
The next morning I dragged myself out of bed to catch the 7:25AM ferry back to the mainland. I was on the edge of calling in sick, but knew that I had a full week at work, and would pay for that lapse in judgement one way or another. On the ferry back, I vowed to somehow find a way to spend more time on this island next year. I've since spoken to my friend Amy who had the share in Fair Harbor, and may be able to get some time in her house next year.
MARSHALL'S CREEK, PA
AUGUST 30TH
Earlier in the summer, Emily had sent around a list of trips she wanted to make this summer. I think we succeed with two of them - one to the beach (Great Kills) and a kayaking trip out to the Delaware Water Gap.
We had a couple of scheduling issues, but Emily, Adam, Anilsa, and I got over to Staten Island to meet up with Tom. Tom is the only one of us with a car, and it is a lot easier to get from Manhattan to SI via ferry than it is to get to Manhattan from SI by car. Years ago, you used to be able to take your car on the ferry, but that was stopped years ago right after 9/11 due to security concerns. The ferry is also free.
After about an hour and a half of 'are we there yet' and 'are we still in New Jersey' questions from Emily, we arrived at Adventure Sports in Marshall's Creek, PA. There was some filling out of liability paperwork, some cash handed over for the kayaks, a safety speech, then we were on our way to the river. After another safety speech, the driver put our kayaks and canoes in the water, and we were on our way.
The water and hills surrounding the Delaware River are gorgeous. Emily was determined to get in the water as soon as possible, and she succeeded in doing that within five minutes of being on the water by trying to change out of her shorts in the kayak.
Lesson 1: Do not try to change out of your clothes in the kayak. It will only end in disaster, or at least you in the water and a puddle in your kayak that you just can't quite get rid of.
She was able to get over to the side of the river, and with the help of Adam and Anilsa, was able to get most of the water out of the kayak. This was a constant root of laughter throughout the trip as Emily was constantly adjusting the angle of her clothes that were trying to dry on the front of her (and eventually my) kayak.
The three hour trip down the river was a mix of paddling alone, floating in a group, and getting through the rapids. All in all, it was a good day.
When I returned to the city, I was later than I expected, and had to get over to Greenpoint to meet up with a group of friends at Doug and Naomi's for the inaugural OC: The Game match. Since none of us had watched the show in a while, we bent the rules to fit our needs. It was a great way to end the weekend, drinking champagne, playing a board game, and watching the OC after a fun day out of the city.
Lesson 2: I need to get out of the city more next summer.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The China Syndrome
In 1987 when my grandmother died at the age of 91, my mother set aside part of her humble inheritance for my sisters and I that would be given to us upon our engagement as a gift from her, and put $500 in a CD for each of us. We were among the youngest of the grandchildren; I was a senior in high school with my sisters two years on either side of me, so none of us were close to marrying age. My grandmother had traditionally given five place settings from the betrothed couple's pattern of choice as a present, and my mother thought it would be proper to continue this tradition.
Over the years since, my sisters have readily complied with the tradition. My younger sister was the first to get married in 1999, and this is when we first found out about the gift which seemed to come from beyond the grave. It was a very tearful moment for my sister and my mom, and a reminder that this great lady was not around to experience her youngest grandchild being married off. This scene was repeated in 2006 when my older sister was married.
I for one have never been one for family tradition. In college, I did not join the masses of clicking heels pledging a sorority, I joined WUVT, the college radio station. I became a Democrat. I dyed my hair unnatural colors and would come home for break dressed like a 'refugee.' After college, I moved across country by train. I haven't owned a car since 1993.
I have remained unmarried, and the money in the CD has nearly tripled in the 22 years since it was deposited. Last Thanksgiving, my mother offered that I could cash in the CD when it matured next, and buy my own set of china. I had to tell her that I really did not want a set of china, and that I would like to use the money for something else. I believe it's a combination of having no use for two sets of dishes mixed with the practicality of living in a New York studio apartment and having no room for a special set of dishes. She was amenable to this until I told her what I preferred - a LeCorbusier LC4 Chaise Lounge.
My mother was not happy with me deciding on a piece of furniture. She told me that she didn't think that was appropriate, that I should maybe consider jewelry - another thing that I really had no use for, and would most likely only lose. She also reminded me that her name was also on the CD.
I knew I should have been clearer. This was not only a piece of furniture to me. Le Corbusier is one of the most influential architects of the 20th century. His furniture designs are classic and this was my favorite. It is one of the most comfortable chairs that I have ever sat in while still being elegant. It's perfect, and something I think is worthwhile to have in a home.
A couple of weeks ago, my extended family was once again getting together for a wedding, this time for my oldest cousin's youngest daughter. She and her fiance had decided to get married in Maine, so I had left the city early to go up to my parents' two nights before. The china conversation came up again, and I finally convinced my mother of the importance to me of the LC4. When I presented it as a work of art, and that the lounger was featured in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, she saw the value in it.
I'm glad I won the battle. Unfortunately, my current apartment not only does not have room for china, it doesn't have room for any other furniture either. But someday.
Over the years since, my sisters have readily complied with the tradition. My younger sister was the first to get married in 1999, and this is when we first found out about the gift which seemed to come from beyond the grave. It was a very tearful moment for my sister and my mom, and a reminder that this great lady was not around to experience her youngest grandchild being married off. This scene was repeated in 2006 when my older sister was married.
I for one have never been one for family tradition. In college, I did not join the masses of clicking heels pledging a sorority, I joined WUVT, the college radio station. I became a Democrat. I dyed my hair unnatural colors and would come home for break dressed like a 'refugee.' After college, I moved across country by train. I haven't owned a car since 1993.
I have remained unmarried, and the money in the CD has nearly tripled in the 22 years since it was deposited. Last Thanksgiving, my mother offered that I could cash in the CD when it matured next, and buy my own set of china. I had to tell her that I really did not want a set of china, and that I would like to use the money for something else. I believe it's a combination of having no use for two sets of dishes mixed with the practicality of living in a New York studio apartment and having no room for a special set of dishes. She was amenable to this until I told her what I preferred - a LeCorbusier LC4 Chaise Lounge.
My mother was not happy with me deciding on a piece of furniture. She told me that she didn't think that was appropriate, that I should maybe consider jewelry - another thing that I really had no use for, and would most likely only lose. She also reminded me that her name was also on the CD.
I knew I should have been clearer. This was not only a piece of furniture to me. Le Corbusier is one of the most influential architects of the 20th century. His furniture designs are classic and this was my favorite. It is one of the most comfortable chairs that I have ever sat in while still being elegant. It's perfect, and something I think is worthwhile to have in a home.
A couple of weeks ago, my extended family was once again getting together for a wedding, this time for my oldest cousin's youngest daughter. She and her fiance had decided to get married in Maine, so I had left the city early to go up to my parents' two nights before. The china conversation came up again, and I finally convinced my mother of the importance to me of the LC4. When I presented it as a work of art, and that the lounger was featured in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, she saw the value in it.
I'm glad I won the battle. Unfortunately, my current apartment not only does not have room for china, it doesn't have room for any other furniture either. But someday.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Back in the saddle
So after a three month hiatus, I'm back to looking on OKCupid.com, better known as shopping for dates. After the disappearance of date #12 back in April, I realized I was exhausted, and longed for a sense of normalcy in my life where I wasn't constantly focusing on how many dates I could get in one week, whether I would be kissed, and having a ticking time clock going the entire time, knowing if a date didn't hit the 120 minute mark, it wouldn't count. For a couple of those betting dates, things I'd rather have been doing with 120 minutes:
1. Seeing a movie.
2. Having drinks with friends.
3. Working (oh right. Those dates WERE work).
4. Rust busting with a needle gun.
5. Coloring my hair/doing laundry/vacuuming.
Some of you may know vacuuming is not something I love to do, although some of the other five were tasks I spend time doing after the bet was done. I enjoyed them. Especially the rust busting. Seriously, if you've never done it, there are very few things more satisfying than freeing a large expanse of metal from rust. Same goes for scraping paint with a heat gun. Lettie is now free of that awful Admiral Blue paint thanks partially to my efforts.
First there was a 33-year old recent graduate from an intense MBA two year program at Columbia. As a general rule I don't mix with MBA's; guys who work in investment banks don't appeal to me in the least. He seemed to have a more interesting pre-post-graduate life - he was a set designer - so I decided to give him a chance. There was a flurry of emails, he caught my interest, and even though one of his daily companions was a small dog, we set a date. I'm always wary of guys who live with a pet that is smaller than my cat. On the Friday that we were supposed to meet up, he emailed me wanting to postpone. Since I was dealing with a deadline at work, and was exhausted and not really in the mood to be pretty and charming, I agreed. There were a handful of emails that followed, and then, nothing.
A couple of weeks later I got an email from OKCupid.com saying I had a 4 or 5 star match with someone else on the site. He was a rare book appraiser for a small non-profit, had great taste in music, film, and books (not a big stretch), and was attractive. We met for drinks one night, which led to meeting again to go explore the High Line and more drinks and making out on a street corner at a subway entry. A third date was scheduled. I had my reservations , there were some things that just didn't click with me, but I put them out of my mind, wanting to be open to different types of people. I figured a third date wouldn't hurt. For the third date, we met up for dinner in my neighborhood. After dinner, I said good night. We made plans to meet up again a couple of days later, but that morning he texted saying he was hungover, and didn't think he would make it. This was at 11AM. We weren't going to meet up until 7PM. I set aside the distinct possibility that he was blowing me off. A couple of days later he confirmed what I had tried to put out of my mind: he'd decided to spend time with someone else. This wasn't a big surprise, nor was it in retrospect a big disappointment.
I have to applaud this guy for having the guts to do what a lot of guys (and girls, I have to admit) just can't quite drum up the courage to do when online connections just don't work out - be decent enough to reject someone, even if its over email. More times than not, guys just disappear without a word. In the past, I would endlessly wonder what happened to them. It would depend on what I knew about them, but some of the things I've considered have been:
About an hour later, my Blackberry was blinking.
1. Seeing a movie.
2. Having drinks with friends.
3. Working (oh right. Those dates WERE work).
4. Rust busting with a needle gun.
5. Coloring my hair/doing laundry/vacuuming.
Some of you may know vacuuming is not something I love to do, although some of the other five were tasks I spend time doing after the bet was done. I enjoyed them. Especially the rust busting. Seriously, if you've never done it, there are very few things more satisfying than freeing a large expanse of metal from rust. Same goes for scraping paint with a heat gun. Lettie is now free of that awful Admiral Blue paint thanks partially to my efforts.
First there was a 33-year old recent graduate from an intense MBA two year program at Columbia. As a general rule I don't mix with MBA's; guys who work in investment banks don't appeal to me in the least. He seemed to have a more interesting pre-post-graduate life - he was a set designer - so I decided to give him a chance. There was a flurry of emails, he caught my interest, and even though one of his daily companions was a small dog, we set a date. I'm always wary of guys who live with a pet that is smaller than my cat. On the Friday that we were supposed to meet up, he emailed me wanting to postpone. Since I was dealing with a deadline at work, and was exhausted and not really in the mood to be pretty and charming, I agreed. There were a handful of emails that followed, and then, nothing.
A couple of weeks later I got an email from OKCupid.com saying I had a 4 or 5 star match with someone else on the site. He was a rare book appraiser for a small non-profit, had great taste in music, film, and books (not a big stretch), and was attractive. We met for drinks one night, which led to meeting again to go explore the High Line and more drinks and making out on a street corner at a subway entry. A third date was scheduled. I had my reservations , there were some things that just didn't click with me, but I put them out of my mind, wanting to be open to different types of people. I figured a third date wouldn't hurt. For the third date, we met up for dinner in my neighborhood. After dinner, I said good night. We made plans to meet up again a couple of days later, but that morning he texted saying he was hungover, and didn't think he would make it. This was at 11AM. We weren't going to meet up until 7PM. I set aside the distinct possibility that he was blowing me off. A couple of days later he confirmed what I had tried to put out of my mind: he'd decided to spend time with someone else. This wasn't a big surprise, nor was it in retrospect a big disappointment.
I have to applaud this guy for having the guts to do what a lot of guys (and girls, I have to admit) just can't quite drum up the courage to do when online connections just don't work out - be decent enough to reject someone, even if its over email. More times than not, guys just disappear without a word. In the past, I would endlessly wonder what happened to them. It would depend on what I knew about them, but some of the things I've considered have been:
- The all too common falling off a cliff / under a bus / onto the subway tracks (morbid, I know).
- His work piled up so high on his desk, that it fell over and buried him.
- Deportation.
- A rare case of amnesia.
- A crashed server, loss of my email, phone number, and OKC account information.
About an hour later, my Blackberry was blinking.
Exile in Fishkill
I'm on day two of my self-imposed exile from New York City. Salem took the trip with me, mostly because I felt really guilty about any thoughts of leaving her in the apartment with very little ventilation while I spend two weeks up at my parents' house upstate, better known by some as The Compound. Granted, as my friend Doug pointed out years ago, its not an actual compound since there is only one residential structure on the property, but I do prefer Heidi and Carrie's reading of my parents' somewhat sizable house years ago. It's on an acre and a half of land up in the hills, surrounded by woods. It's used by me to get away from the city sometimes, therefore, it's a Compound.
Why the exile? you may ask. Well, as part of the latest non-layoff strategy by my firm, along with the 20% paycut, we all also had to take a two-week non-paid vacation/furlough/leave. Yes, it's a bit of a stretch, but everyone involved seems to be in agreement that this was the best for everyone. At this point, there are very few people left in the firm that can believe they are safe from getting laid off, and although this may be preventing the inevitable from happening - more layoffs in October - it gives the firm more time to evaluate what to do ITE (in this economy. Picked that up from Heidi). Anyway, I decided to spend my two weeks where I would spend no money - up in Fishkill.
As most places of exile, I'm taken away from my day to day life. There will be no sailing. There will be no chances to be the guest star of Chey's blog for two weeks. There is no easy access to gluten free eating. The local Walmart had no gluten free bread, although they did have the gluten free pasta that I would normally buy at Whole Foods. Nothing is within walking distance accept for Fishkill Farms, the local orchard. Even that's a stretch. Yes,that's right. I did just say I walked into a Walmart.
This has led to some strife, mostly between the two cats. Finn, my parents' cat, has been at some times at ease, some times looking totally fearful of his life. It may surprise some of you who have met Salem, but she's been the total neurotic New Yorker, growling anytime Finn comes within 10 feet of her. I guess living in a New York apartment, she really has not had anything farther away from her anyway. She immediately assumed the whole house as her own, and Finn is welcome nowhere. The poor thing is fearful no matter where he is. I really hope Salem calms down. There of course have been some joking comparisons to her owner's own assertive behavior and what she has learned from living with me. She's always such the zen cat down on Pearl Street. At any time, I'm expecting this to happen:
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/kitchen_floor_conflict_intensifies
Politics are another source of strife. Being a liberal leaning Democrat, it can be a challenge staying in a house where 90% of the time if the TV is on, Fox News is broadcasting, and there is right wing talk radio tuned in on the car radio. It's inescapable. Left on long enough, a familiar sinking, yet crushing, feeling in my chest, matched with an aching in my left shoulder lets me know that all of this really stresses me out. Luckily, the house is huge, although I can still hear some whispering from the TV twisting the great thing that President Clinton did today for those two women in North Korea into something awful, something that he only did for his own advantage.
This is what really bothers me about Fox News and the right wing talk radio. It's not that their viewpoint is a polar opposite of mine, it's the negativity towards the current administration, and the seething resentment of any opinion other than their own. There is also a bizarro world contrast in their reporting between now and the last eight years when Bush was in power. How on earth were those days all wine and roses, and now its all the world is basically coming to an end? It's all brought down to a junior high school level - everything is stupid. Democrats are accused of leaving their offices to go to the strip club instead of answering phone calls from these talking heads at 7PM. I brought up that as an example to my mother as to why I couldn't stand to listen to it anymore. Instead of having any intelligent debate about issues, they are resorting to juvenile accusations against the opposing side, and that the rhetoric is just so vile and negative. She told me to lighten up. I told her that if she was listening to a left wing radio show, and they were spewing similar crap against the GOP, she'd be offended. No response of course. This attack media is all ok as long as you agree with what they are saying. The extreme media is the reason for the great divide between opposing sides, they thrive off of people's anger.
I suppose exile can't be all good.
Why the exile? you may ask. Well, as part of the latest non-layoff strategy by my firm, along with the 20% paycut, we all also had to take a two-week non-paid vacation/furlough/leave. Yes, it's a bit of a stretch, but everyone involved seems to be in agreement that this was the best for everyone. At this point, there are very few people left in the firm that can believe they are safe from getting laid off, and although this may be preventing the inevitable from happening - more layoffs in October - it gives the firm more time to evaluate what to do ITE (in this economy. Picked that up from Heidi). Anyway, I decided to spend my two weeks where I would spend no money - up in Fishkill.
As most places of exile, I'm taken away from my day to day life. There will be no sailing. There will be no chances to be the guest star of Chey's blog for two weeks. There is no easy access to gluten free eating. The local Walmart had no gluten free bread, although they did have the gluten free pasta that I would normally buy at Whole Foods. Nothing is within walking distance accept for Fishkill Farms, the local orchard. Even that's a stretch. Yes,that's right. I did just say I walked into a Walmart.
This has led to some strife, mostly between the two cats. Finn, my parents' cat, has been at some times at ease, some times looking totally fearful of his life. It may surprise some of you who have met Salem, but she's been the total neurotic New Yorker, growling anytime Finn comes within 10 feet of her. I guess living in a New York apartment, she really has not had anything farther away from her anyway. She immediately assumed the whole house as her own, and Finn is welcome nowhere. The poor thing is fearful no matter where he is. I really hope Salem calms down. There of course have been some joking comparisons to her owner's own assertive behavior and what she has learned from living with me. She's always such the zen cat down on Pearl Street. At any time, I'm expecting this to happen:
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/kitchen_floor_conflict_intensifies
Politics are another source of strife. Being a liberal leaning Democrat, it can be a challenge staying in a house where 90% of the time if the TV is on, Fox News is broadcasting, and there is right wing talk radio tuned in on the car radio. It's inescapable. Left on long enough, a familiar sinking, yet crushing, feeling in my chest, matched with an aching in my left shoulder lets me know that all of this really stresses me out. Luckily, the house is huge, although I can still hear some whispering from the TV twisting the great thing that President Clinton did today for those two women in North Korea into something awful, something that he only did for his own advantage.This is what really bothers me about Fox News and the right wing talk radio. It's not that their viewpoint is a polar opposite of mine, it's the negativity towards the current administration, and the seething resentment of any opinion other than their own. There is also a bizarro world contrast in their reporting between now and the last eight years when Bush was in power. How on earth were those days all wine and roses, and now its all the world is basically coming to an end? It's all brought down to a junior high school level - everything is stupid. Democrats are accused of leaving their offices to go to the strip club instead of answering phone calls from these talking heads at 7PM. I brought up that as an example to my mother as to why I couldn't stand to listen to it anymore. Instead of having any intelligent debate about issues, they are resorting to juvenile accusations against the opposing side, and that the rhetoric is just so vile and negative. She told me to lighten up. I told her that if she was listening to a left wing radio show, and they were spewing similar crap against the GOP, she'd be offended. No response of course. This attack media is all ok as long as you agree with what they are saying. The extreme media is the reason for the great divide between opposing sides, they thrive off of people's anger.
I suppose exile can't be all good.
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