Friday of PayDay

I love payday Fridays. They make me feel accomplished at 9 a.m. as I click and type and pay bills all in one fell swoop. You gotta love that. Though paying bills is depressing in the since that I watch my new balance sink away from me, all because of bill damage I've done the month before. Don't we all wish we lived in a world that provided free cable and utilities and threw in occasional shopping sprees?

New York is gray today. It feels like Northern California, but it's what I think of when I think of big cities. Kind of gray and rainy amongst huge concrete structure and people moving around each other. It's not what NYC is really like. There are a lot of beautiful days where I disappear into a park and sit in the sun and watch everything going on around me. But there are enough gray days to rmind us all to not take the sunny ones for granted. I woinder what I'll think of New York when I'm old. How I'll remember these days of being poor, in debt, trying to scrape together enough money for the subway but then getting free entries to various clubs and parties. I love that part of living in the city, of finding ways to do fun things without spending a lot of money.

So what would my ambitions be for the future? That paychecks continue to increase, that rent suddenly goes down or that I win the lottery and am able to buy an apartment. That I'll maintain friendships with the people who have helped shape my life up here, who do so much to support me and help me. That the days of not being able to buy new anything will be behind me and I'll stop depending on my boyfriend for food.

New York City Animal Control

Last night I had one of the most disturbing experiences I"ve had in a long, long time. I was coming home from an absolutely amazing show- The Drowsy Chaperone- after a great evening with my friend C- who scored us great seats for free! and was in a great mood until I got off at my usual stop at the West 4th Street Station (for God's sake, dont' tell my mother I took the subway after dark). I was coming up the stairs and there was a homeless man sitting on the steps, hat out to collect money. That wasn't the disturbing part. What was disturbing was what was in his lap- several newborn kittens, twisting around each other in an old rag. THere were several people talking to him already, telling him that it wasn't a great idea to have kittens that young, asking where their mothre was. I stopped for a moment, horrified, then continued up the steps, resolved to call 311 and assuming that they would send Animal Control out to retrieve the animals.

After being on hold for a while I finally got put through to someone, and they told me that not only was there nothing they could do, that Animal Control wasn't open until eight. I badgered her enough for her to transfer me to the police but there was very little they said they could do. Besides, what would they have done differently with the kittens. So I cried and held Lucy and spent another hour and a half or so on the phone with various emergency vets around the city (all unfortunately private). I'm n ot sure why these kittens struck me as something to fight for, but the idea of them not having a chance really got to me. And I'm already very emotional when it comes to animals as it is.

This morning it started all over again. I began making phone calls and found out that Animal Control could not legally take away the animals. Then I called the ASPCA and was on hold for twenty minutes before realizing how late I was. So I walked to work on hold on my cell phone. Just as I was entering the building I finally got to speak to a real, live, person and it was such a relief to find out that I was not the first caller that morning and that they were, in fact,, on the look out for this man. Of course he had moved since last night, and God only knows where he sleeps during the day. But I have more hope that they will find him and at least find out what happened to those poor kittens. What i'm upset about is the lack of integrity on the part of city-wide vets and the police. They should all be equipped to handle these situations, or at least to humanely put the animals to sleep. I know it's hard- I've bottle-raised animals before and there is nothing easy about getting up and down several times a night to measure out liquid in a dropper, praying that it's the right amount, that they will live to see another day. But it's something they should look nto. Or at least give civilians access. Two ofthe vets I spoke with did not even have kitten formula on their premises.

Just makes me wonder where the tax-payer dollar is going. Yes, I'm aware that there are more pressing matters at hand- some could make a strong argument for the homeless problem, for one. But to place defenseless animals in the hands of a man who is probably mentally unstable or an addict just seems foolish.

Quarter Century Crisis?

We can't be sure that that's what I'm having, but I have been having all the symptoms: trouble sleeping, desire for sweets and chocolate, major desire for caffeination, feeling my life isn't going anywhere, addiction to really nice handbags, and large "Jewish-lady" sunglasses. I wonder if someone's trying to give me a sign. TO PULL IT TOGETHER. Obviously cake and louis vuitton aren't really going to fix my problems, but in my mind they don't hurt. I was in Louis Vuitton the other day (Just Looking, Of Course) and said something about how often I came in here, and how addictive LV was. The saleslady leaned towards me and said, "We have customers who come in almost every day." Can you imagine marching into Louis Vuitton four or five times a week? Can you imagine how much money they must spend in there? It's insane. Really.

I mean, here I am, in an outfit pieced together from Gap and H&M and calmly looking at bags that cost upwards of $1000. May I remind you I haven't paid my taxes yet? Wow. Sometimes I even stun myself. And yes, I admit that I do love expensive bags and shoes and sunglasses, but ther eare reasons behind that, I'm sure. When I think of them I'll let you know. Do I even need a reason beyond a desire to always look chic? And I find it no coincidence that my favorite brands are French and Italian. Those people know what they are doing with the clothes industry. I keep imagining someone dropping a whole lot of money in my lap and have to say I can't think about being completely financially responsible with it. You can, to an extent, but then you need to treat yourself to something wonderful and absurd.

The problem with this scenario, is that I haven't had that much money fall into my lap. Turns out I'm just an average struggling twenty-something in the city. Pretending to be Rachel or Carrie but instead coming out more like the homeless bag lady extra. She probably made more for that role than I will this month. Which makes me think that maybe I am going through some sort of crisis. I wonder how many other people heading towards their mid twenties are in the same position. We are wanderers. The minimum wage hasn't gone up since 1996, gas prices are skyrocketing (not that it makes a difference when you live in the city), jobs are scarce, and the ones that are available don't pay anything. It's ridiculous for a twenty-something with a college degree to be working as an unpaid intern while waitressing somewhere yet it happens all the time. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I've never lived in a city where the wealth division is so obvious. No one believes in being discrete about it. There are plenty of good things to come out of this place- great actors, amazing designers, awesome cheap chinese food from Canal street.

Maybe it's less about being a crisis and more about pulling it together on our own. Learning to stand on two feet without our parents holding our hands, learning to accept the disappointment that comes with struggling. Learning that we are being built up, I hope, for something much better.

Immigration Vibes

Yesterday I was walking home from work when a man approached me, babbling rapidly about money. He handed me an index card upon which he had written "out of work, 3 kids in Romania, need many to bring them here". i've never felt bad about refusing someone like I did with him. Truly I didn't have any cash to give him, but for some reason it just hit me that this poor man (if he were telling the truth, of course) had come here for a "better life" and to give his family one, and was instead wandering the streets collecting minute amounts of money in order to fly his children over. It's again one of the times I wish I had more money, wished I could have paid for a plane ticket for one of them or something. I have no idea how much it costs to fly in from Romania, but I'm pretty sure it's a lot more than you'll get collecting on hte streets of New York.

Whenever I have an experience like that, it makes everything in my life seem so minute and ridiculous. Really. Here I am upset because I'm struggling to pay the CABLE bill and this man is starving on teh streets trying to get his children back. Who wouldn't feel bad, right? Again, it's the American way of life. We struggle with the idea that we're not it in this world, that there is more to the situation than it seems. I complain about my job on a pretty regular basis, not unlike all my friends, who also complain. But at least we have jobs. At least we're citizens who don't have to worry that they'll take our jobs away for not being here long enough, that someone will figure out we snuck our way into New York.

I went home and watched TV and cooked dinner and read a book and went to bed in my own bed because I could. Because I had all that available- food and entertainment and a warm thick blanket when the air conditioning got too cold. But I wonder if he did, I can only imagine what kind of place he's living in and can't blame him for begging in SoHo where women pay several hundred dollars for a bra from Agent Provocateur or more for a pair of really nice shoes. When all he wants is for his family to be in the same country. Makes you wonder what it was that you thought was so important before, right? I'm sitting here super concerned I won't get into my first choice grad school program and he's worried that he won't get breakfast or dinner the next day.

Egyptian Make-up

Yesterday I spent the majority of the day at the Met Museum uptown. There is an exhibit there running through July 9 on Hatshepsut, who happens to be one of my favorite historical women. She began her reign co-ruling with her nephew Thutmose III as Queen, but ended up dropping that in favor of King. She ruled for more than 15 years, and after her death Thutmose III had the majority of her statues destroyed and her name erased from all historical tablets. It's fascinating to think that someone was pretentious enough to believe he could completely erase someone who had ruled his country.

What I liked most about her, though, was her taste. She had excellent taste in jewelry, and her make-up containers are nothing less than gorgeous. Carved alabaster and faciene jars with motifs of gods and plants on them, small ebony q-tip like things used to apply kohl to the eyes, handmirrors made out of a single sheet of silver. I imagine that if I had such pretyt things to look forward to everyday I would spend more time putting on make-up and really dressing well. Why don't we anymore? What happened to vanities and seperate rooms for dressing? I don't think it was that long ago that the majority of upper-middle class and upper class women had seperate areas or whole rooms devoted to the act of getting ready. And that is a great thing. There is nothing better (to me) than transforming yourself into something beautiful and wonderful from that average person you were only a little while ago.

I enjoy the Egyptians. They really knew how to live their life. They ate well, napped well, did physical activities and even believed the spirt continued on in this lifestyle in the afterworld (which is why offerings of food and nice jewelry were given to those who were a part of it) Hatsphepsut was no exception, but from what can be found of her reign, did an excellent job as ruler. There were very few female pharoahs in ancient Egypt, but Hatsheptsut stood for everything a female leader can be- strong, fair and still very elegant and pretty. Have to say I'm jealous.

Now I spend about half an hour getting ready for an eight hour day that in the long run means nothing in my actual life. I know there is a lot going on in everyone's life, and that most people work jobs they consider unimportant, but it's difficult when you consider that at least the unimportant people in olden days were mostly doing a whole lot of nothing. And spending plenty of time outdoors.

Fast Paced

Everything here is fast paced. When I get up in the morning I am usually exhausted already from the job that lies ahead of me. People here walk faster, talk faster, do things faster. Wall street execs handle multi-million dollar deals on a daily, if not hourly basis and nothing less is expected. If you've ever been on the stock exchange floor after it starts up, it is nothing but people in lab coats running around like chickens with their heads cut off and yelling numbers to each other. They control our economy. Watching the tickers go around and around you are more aware than ever of how fast everything has gotten.

Which makes me think about the peace of other lifestyles. Think about the Amish, for example. Their lifestyle has been virtually unchanged over the last several hundred years, since they arrived in the 18th or 19th century. They use manual labor to kep their houses and barns maintained, buckets to draw water from wells and pumps, fire to cook their food and light their candles. Everyone has their place in that community and while things move a lot slower than the city, there is definitely a sense of understanding that things will get done. In their own time.

And I think about the small communities of Japan where people start each morning with tea and a simple breakfast before beginning work, before starting their day. Where things are done almost languidly. I like the idea of slowing walking down a mountainside to work in a garden, and harvesting my own vegetables before returning to my house back up the mountains. Fresh air, excercise, healthy food.

Are we meant to be busy? I understand the drive to push, push push harder and harder, but not the drive to stay as far away from that as possible. I wonder what it would be like if New York slowed down. If the people who lived here walked slower, stopped to really appreciate some of the architecture and window displays here, enjoyed their Saturday afternoons at the various street festivals. Maybe we should have a protest that celebrates that.

Living on Your Parents Salary

Let's be honest: Recent years have produced some of the most co-dependent adults out there. A huge percentage of us in our twenties and sometimes in our thirties are still depending on our parents for financial security. I think back to when my dad went to college. His father wouldn't even pay for that! He had to work his way through, and hard, then work his way into the business wordl before finally becoming successful. Me, my parents paid my tuition and most of my expenses through college, and now are my unofficial "roommates" in New York. I'm not even ashamed of it, because up here i imagine more than half hte poeple living on the island of Manhattan who aren't in on the Wall Street thing are surviving because their parents help them, whether it's with rent, clothes, food, cable. To even rent an apartment here, you are required to make forty times your rent. So if you were making 140,000/year, you would be renting an apartment that cost roughly 1/40 of that. Name a person making that much who's living in a studio.

you would think I would be really ashamed of this. In some ways I am. I have two degrees and a minor from an excellent University. I live a fairly modest lifestyle, especially for New York, meaning I have some nice things but for the most part shop at Gap and H&M. I eat in most nights and my friends and I try to find cheap places to eat all the time. Because we're all in the same situation. An extremely small income for one of the biggest and most expensive places in the world. I'm sure if i had picked mexico city instead, my life would be much different. If I had even picked a town instead of a city my life would have been different. But instead I chose New York. I chose a dream that had been coming on for more than a decade. A dream of seeing whta life outside of a small state and small town would lead to. I have found it to be the most amazing decision I've ever made. Imagine changing everything about yourself in under a year- how you live, how you work, what you want out of life.

I've come to appreciate the idea of an apartment or house with more than one room, of having a car to drive, of being on highways with the windows down and music blasting. Of not feeling bad that your suit isn't real Chanel, of not having to dodge hordes of people in lower Manhattan on Thursday and Friday afternoons. Then there is living in the Village, of being able to get up on a Sunday morning, pick up a Times and head to a local diner for breakfast. Of taking the train out to Queens to see a basketball game. Of ice skating at Rockefeller whenever you felt like it. Just because you felt like it.

Living like this takes money, money that I don't have. So yes I ask my parents for help. The best part is, they give it to me.

David Blaine is No Magician

There is nothing "magical" in the least, about setting yourself up in a globe for a week and subsisting solely on fluids. There is nothing magical about starving yourself for 44 days. And I'm not sure I see anything special about leaping off the top of a building. But obviously the public does. Otherwise I guess David BLaine would be screwed. The man does nothing except plan stunts which will involve him a) risking his own life and b) television crews all over the place.

The only thing that impresses me about David Blaine is his complete lack of self-respect. How sad that the only way a man can make a living is to pull stupid stunts. Can't someone offer him an actual job? Or is he too much of a risk for company insurance? Many of my friends went up to Lincoln center this past week to check out Blaine floating around a bowl full of water, staring out at them (or seeming to. It seems he couldn't see while he was underwater. They made generalized comments about it, saying that he must be crazy, insane, it was weird, etc. But no one questioned it either, asking why the man would do this? And where is his family in all this? I can't imagine that his mother would have an easy time sitting back and watching her idiot son get all wrinkly and dehydrated, then try and force himself to hold his breath for nine minutes. For some reason I thought you sustained brain damage if you weren't taking in oxygen for more than eight. Of course, I imagine his body has sustained this abuse long enough that it doesn't even matter.

The more I see of David Blaine, actually, the less impressed I am with him. In his stunt last night he was handcuffed in something like eight places in this bowl. The idea was that he would be forced to complete this task or die. Except not really. The minute he really began struggling his team of doctors was right there, pulling him out and hooking him up to an oxygen tank. It wasn't like something you would do in the summer at the pool with all your buddies shouting out the seconds. He had actually been training with the Navy SEALS for this event. It was absurd. Training so that you could hold your breath for nine minutes underwater and then... what? Would you suddenly have some sort of ephiphany? Come to terms with the death of your grandmother? As far as I could see, the only thing he learned from this experience was that he couldn't do it, and therefore did beat the world record holder (who held his breath 8:58). I'm not sure where or how.

What I have to wonder about is why. Why did Blaine feel this need to make himself seem better than those who came before him? And what the hell does that have to do with being a magician? They showed him performing some sort of card tricks in the street, but I didn't see how that made him a true magician either. When I think of magic, I think of someone like David Copperfield, who actually makes himself disappear in weird places. At least that seems mystical. David Blaine trying to prevent his lungs from bursting doesn't seem all that fantastic. But I didn't really have any say in the matter, and America obviously felt differently since the whole hting was aired live on ABC and hordes of people filled Lincoln Center cheering him on.

Waiting in Line

In theory it should save time to live in a big city. Everything is convienient, there are four hundred places to get the very thing you need, and always someone wtih the 411. But there is one small glitch in this system of supply and demand. Lines.They are everywhere- at the Duane Reade, the public library, and most bathrooms. Not that there aren't lines in North Carolina, but certainly not the way they are here.

At the supermarket down the street you are always in a mad dash to hop in front of someone. Someone's register is always being closed for the afternoon, morning, fifteen minutes, and then it's a race to join the queue that's open. You grab yor eggs and orange juice and try to break in front of that old woman who always uses about three hundred coupons at a time. And she gets social security!

It's really an unbelievable system to me. That we live in a place with ten million people, hundreds of thousands of cash registers and yet the lines are even more unbelievable. On sunday I was returning home from my Kaplan class and passed a random line on 4th street. Just people, maybe 50 gathered, playing cards, smoking, napping in lawn chairs. The line ended at Tower Records on Broadway, so I went in to find out what the line was for. This was about 6 p.m. on Sunday evening. The guy admitted that they were doing a special Pearl Jam concert celebrating their new CD. I said,

"Oh, so that's why they're in line out there."
"What?" He said, squinting at me through black-framed D&G glasses.
"All the people out there."
"No, the line doesn't start until tomorrow afternoon. They're just lined up waiting for the line."

They were lined up waiting for the line? A foreign concept. I remember the lottery at Carolina for basketball tickets, and camping out at State in high school for football tickets. but never lining up to prepare to LINE UP. It seemed a bit over the top. Not unlike New York itself. People are big on the lines. If you don't believe me, try to break in a Starbucks early morning line and see if you make it out alive, with all your appendages attached. I dare you.

Today I'm joining a line. Boyfriend scored us tickets to see Conan O'Brien being taped. And while the actual taping does not commence until 5:30, we will line up way earlier than that. I'm actually taking off work to see this thing happen. Plus Tom Hanks is going to be there. It's all very exciting. But we are lining up in the actual line, not the line to join the line.

A Man and His Dogs

A flaming gay man walking four matching toy poodles. A girl dancing to something in her I-Pod. A guitar player p[laying some Pearl Jam cover. And that is New York. I passed about ten bakeries, forty sushi places, a Seminary, two public schools, and three small parks. On the cab ride from Javits back to our office.

Gift Show season has arrived again and with it the peace I only get when I'm in a cab going from one place to another. If I'm in the office I'm busy. If I'm not in the office I'm busy running errands, making sure our displays look good, sucking up to customers, praying for my legs to numb so I don't feel anything in my feet. It means I'm working longer days, weekends and smiling a heck of a lot.

Sleeping bette,r too, I guess, considering.

Immigrant Protests

Yesterday immigrants were encouraged not to show up to work, school, or go shopping. To stop whatever they were doing, in order to show President Bush and the rest of the country how important the immigrant population actually was. Ironically, I and my co-workers came to work. We ate lunch (paid for with American money), I went to the gym (again paid for with money) and did everything that I normally do. Ironic, given that I am only a second generation American citizen, and my grandmother was an immigrant. While one half of my family was a part of the original settlers in Virginia and North Carolina in the late 1600s, the rest of my family drifted over on their own.

I wonder how someone can say that they are just going to stop letting people into the country. Do we need to slow down or limit the numbers coming in? Absolutely. But to just put an end to it, to threaten to deport people, some who have been here many years, is absurd. Even if we wanted to we couldn't possibly find every single legal and illegal immigrant located in this vast country. Our government can't even find money it sent somewhere. I would love to see Bush and his hunting buddies go after people.

It really makes you consider what being an American citizen is all about. I understand the concept. I understand that you're supposed to delcare your loyalty and you get a new passport and a social security number, and you sever your relationship with your old country. You literally begin again as a person. I love that concept. That you really transform yourself. Like a butterfly.
Except now those butterflies are getting chased out as quickly as they're trying to come in.

So yesterday the streets were crowded with peole waving flags from other countries and yelling that they deserved rights, too. I agree. They absolutely deserve rights and as much of a chance as we had.

The NYU Vibe

This weekend was unequivocally gorgeous. Perfect weather, I was with my perfect boyfriend, we were practically skipping through the park. Actually, he's not so much a skipper but you get the point. I pulled out my camera for the first time in ages and shot a roll in Washington Square Park. It was incredibly crowded. I love this time of year. It's before the students leave for the summer which is really nice. I like seeing them hanging out and playing guitars (SO MANY GUITARS) and reading and listening to their IPods, essentially soaking up the student life.

I really miss that lifestyle. Even though you did have to spend a ton of time studying and working on papers and stuff you were almost completely flexible in what you were doing. Three hour lunches, and naps, and late nights out knowing you could sleep in the next day. Knowing that you could go on a weeklong hike because you had about three months for the summer. And a few days in the fall, Thanksgiving break, Christmas Break, you name it breaks. It's a very European system because it offers a ton of flexibility.

Now that I'm out and about, of course I realize that I want more of that in my life. More time off. One of the hardest things about moving to a city like New York is that unless you have unlimited money or plenty of connections, you're not going anywhere during the summer. I wouldn't even know the way to the Hamptons if someone gave me a car to drive out there! I couldnt' tell you how to get to Connecticutt rivers or lakes or anything of that sort. In North Carolina, I could get to a source of water faster than you could blink. It would only take a few minutes for me to get ready and then I was off. Seriously. I was within an hour of my parents lake cottage and a couple of hours of the ocean at any point and time I felt like it. Hello, public access. I never had to have an invite because I was a part of a standing invitation.

No Longer.Now I'm searching for sources of water and coming up empty and counting out vacation days, which are very limited. Trying to figure out wher eto move from here. How to work out such terrible things as summers. I may have to get a job scooping ice cream or something.