Observations

Wow, I haven't blogged in a really long time, unless posting other people's poems and bizarre, wacky, tacky & true Christmas gift ideas counts as blogging. I've had a ton going on in my mind, but somehow the flow of words seems to come when I'm sitting on the subway and not in front of my computer. (In front of my computer I now have a compulsive urge to check my two email accounts, Perez Hilton, and Best Week Ever about eight thousand times an hour. Thanks, unemployment!) But I've decided to put my free time to good use, starting tomorrow, as I embark on a novel-writing project. I missed the deadline to National Novel Writing Month by, oh, 22 days, so I decided that I will make December my personal Novel Writing Month. Only 1,667 words a day! And no pressure to have things be new, fresh, unclichéd, or different -- I can write a totally hackneyed romance novel and it will be just in the name of self-improvement. The concept of doing something just for fun and not to make the world's most stellar spec campaign for my advertising portfolio has been unbelievably good for my state of mind, especially as I sat there brainstorming potential characters before deciding to hell with trying to come up with the most innovative, original characters and to base the darn book on people who I actually know. Ha, ha. We'll see if the pen is actually mightier than the sword.

But back to New York. Since arriving here a few weeks ago, my brain has been chock full of silly little insights and observations that I have not yet written down anywhere. So what follows is an assorted, unordered array of what's been running through my head.

One of the first things that struck me was how overwhelmed I was in the beginning to scent. Every few inches, I'd be bombarded by a new scent, usually in stark contrast to the one before. Here's how I think of the walk down to 86th street to0 get on the subway: Pine needles! Garbage! Urine! Roses! Bread! Garbage! Urine! Cinnamon! Chocolate chip cookies! Unknown vile scent! Car exhaust! Bus exhaust! McDonald's exhaust! Another unknown vile scent! Coffee! Pasta! Dog poo! I've noticed in the past few weeks that my sensivity to smells has waned quite significantly, as has my desire to gawk upwards at high rises or to spend a few extra seconds trying to establish whether or not I'm walking in the right direction. I don't think I've ever been in a city before that has so many scents to offer. San Francisco has a certain tree that blossoms every spring and the streets are filled with its pungent fragrance, but beyond that I've never really been struck with a city that bombards the nostrils as much as New York.

Another observation has been that shows like Seinfeld and Sex & the City suddenly resonate with a lot more truth. It always struck me as weird that Carrie and Jerry had so few friends. Surely they were popular people -- why such a small social group? However, the more time I'm here, the more I realise the benefit of having all your friends within walking distance. You visit this city from somewhere else without public transportation and imagine you'll be dashing all around the five boroughs (OK, four boroughs -- no one really thinks they're going to Staten Island) to meet your wild, wacky group of friends in an assortment of bars, cafes and restaurants. I've been here exactly three weeks and already going to Chelsea's beginning to seem like kind of a chore. Geez, switch trains at 51st? Ugh, how much work. After trekking down to Brooklyn on a couple of occasions (and don't get me wrong, I've loved Brooklyn thus far) and navigating a Saturday evening's completely wacky schedule (replete with changes and cancellations galore), I can see why Jerry was friends with his an apartment neighbour, or why Carrie limited herself primarily to three (sometimes four, if you count the gay friend). But on the other hand, when the train lifted out of Chinatown and crossed the bridge into Brooklyn, it was like emerging from a glittery jewel shrouded in fog, one of those moments where you leave your body momentarily and think, "This is the scene from the movie of my life, when the narrator says, 'It was the fall of 2006, and I had just moved to New York'" -- those are the kinds of moments that make those leaving-the-close-proximity-of-the-neighbourhood worth it.

On the Eve of Despair

In a half hour, it's officially the day of my birth and I turn 28.

Here is a poem, which I've probably posted before in some other melancholy, poignant moment of reflection.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Off to go weep tears of sorrow.

What I Want for Christmas

The Octodog. It makes your ordinary hot dog transform into an eXtRaOrDiNaRy octopus. Or maybe the semi-remarkable hat. That's pretty cool (or semi-cool), too.

New York

I find it hard these days, sans camera, to have good reasons to sit down and post. It's much easier to play "show & tell" than to write things of more substance and meaning. In any event, here's the brief update.

I arrived here on Tuesday night, and headed to my Aunt's apartment on the Upper East Side, where I'll be residing til I find gainful employment and can begin looking for an apartment within my budget. (More like, it will exceed my budget, but I'll cross that bridge -- like, literally -- when I come to it.) Wednesday I met with a creative director for some very insightful, tough feedback on my portfolio, and then spent the rest of the day following up on general job hunt related things. I shared some pizza with my cousin that evening, unpacked, caught an episode of Seinfeld -- nothing particularly exciting. On Thursday I met some women who were interested in some freelance writing, and then met with Shelley to brainstorm exciting and new ideas for my book's newest and latest incarnation. After a few hours of concepting, we headed to a bar on Third Avenue. Having spent relatively little time on the Upper East Side, I had no idea where to go and dragged us into a yuppie-filled ribs bar with a football game on the television. Shelley and I grabbed cheap beers and fled to the back room where we sat at a table in the corner, thus out of anyone's way. I later mentioned this to Catherine, who quipped that the bars on the Upper East Side are like being at a New England College party, and I couldn't agree more. Yesterday I interviewed at an agency, then headed to Catherine's in Chelsea so we could order in Mexican, watch Arrested Development, and chat, before I headed to Union Square to work at my very first party.

I've thrown many a party in my day, but I've never had the opportunity to be paid to attend one. A friend's brother's friend wanted to pay someone to tidy up as the party progressed, and since the price was right, I thought, "why not?" Now I would say, "never again." It was a fun party, but there's something really not-so-fun about playing Drink Nazi all night and chucking guests' half-sipped beverages into the trash while they're drunkenly pouring themselves a second. I was allowed to drink during the party, which was kind of cool, although I will say it's rather depressing to be on your second glass of wine, not talking to anyone, and obsessing about whether or not the ice bucket is half full or half empty. At least I wasn't the girl hired to man the elevator, dutifully checking guests' names off the list as they arrived.

Going into Brooklyn tonight for dinner and drinks. Yippee!

Cool Video

Saw this cool video in Amsterdam from this Swedish band back in September and forgot about it til it was featured during last week's Gray's Anatomy. Presumably a song off an upcoming album, as it's not yet available on iTunes. Enjoy!

LA Weekend, Pt. II

Picking up the tale from where I last left off -- I awoke Sunday morning to the aroma of breakfast burritos, then showered and headed off towards the ocean with Gwyn, Chuck and Paige.


We drove through Beverly Hills, passing many a famous sight along the way ...


... such as the Beverly Hills Hotel.













After a lot of driving, we ended up on 14th and Arizona, where we parked and headed towards the beach ...


... passing through the Santa Monica Promenade, where there are these awesome dinosaurs made out of ivy.


Yes, freaks everywhere.


And hippies.


Lots of hippies.

(Just kidding, Gwyn.)








Finally, we arrived at the ocean.














We walked towards on the pier towards the rides.



















We decided it was such a beautiful day that we should ride the ferris wheel.


Chuck and Gwyn before soaring up into the air.






























After the excitement of the Ferris Wheel, Gwyn, Chuck and Paige played some game while I found the ladies room and then Gwyn, Chuck and I waited in line for a half hour to ride the roller coaster.






We decided to leave and head south to Venice Beach.




















































As we walked back to the car, we got to watch the sun sink into the Pacific, making for a pretty sunset.


So that was our evening -- just some Mexican food for dinner, then Gwyn and I staying up til the wee hours drinking beer, playing with her cat, and talking. The next day I had two meetings, then headed north to Santa Barbara. No photos of that part of the journey. And Tuesday I headed north on 101 to Marin around noon, after a nice lunch with Jason at a nice café in Santa Barbara. So that's my trip. More cute photos of Gwyn's cat to come.