Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Another one bites the dust
My iPod shuffle -- the little clip-on one I received as a gift for my birthday -- broke this past weekend, leaving me music-less on my walks to and from work. Can Apple make a product that doesn't destruct within a few months of use? Now this iPod has just become symbolic of its giver: cool at first, then just cheap and disposable. Life imitating life. It's even lacking in irony.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Eek
I've had two incidents occur over the past couple weeks where I feel as though I officially live in New York.
The first occurred a few weeks ago when I was leaving a recording studio on East 21st Street and 5th Avenue. I was walking east around 6 pm, down a busy and crowded street filled with professional people walking quickly away from their offices. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy slumped against a phone booth. "Gee," I think. "That guy looks mildly deranged." Then I noticed -- eek! -- that not only was he mildly deranged, he also was exposing himself for all the world to see. And, um, touching himself. Rapidly. Eek. So I walked really quickly past him, avoiding eye contact, although I'm sure I had a look of digust and horror on my face as I passed. I get to the corner and the following exchange happened between me and a girl, which I felt to be quintessentially New York:
Girl: Which way is Fifth Avenue?
Me: It's that way, but that guy right there is masturbating.
Girl: Oh, OK. Cool. Thanks!
So despite the occurence being somewhat traumatising, the blassé exchange immediately following shed a funny light on the ordeal.
Then today I decided to use my Saturday afternoon for a good cause and clean the kitchen. I had gotten the dishes washed and a single counter wiped before I decided to tackle the stove top. I removed the racks (the things that the pots sit on, what are they called?) and decided to wash them. I removed the part that catches little bits of food and was setting them in the sink when something caught my eye.
At first I thought it was like a little molded piece of food. I peer closer and recoil in horror as my eye connects with another eye -- of a dead, shrivelled mouse lying underneath the burner. After I'd worked hard to not regurgitate my lunch, I panicked, freaked out, almost threw up again, thought about how to pick it up, for a moment thought about picking it up like dog doo but then decided I could not touch the thing, then finally (after a pep talk from my mom and roommate) used a soup ladle and scooped the frozen, long dead mouse up and into two plastic bags, which I promptly disposed of outside in the trash.
I feel like I'm running through a list of important only-in-New York incidents that have to occur for me to feel like I live here.
New York pervert? Check.
New York mouse? Check.
What's next?
The first occurred a few weeks ago when I was leaving a recording studio on East 21st Street and 5th Avenue. I was walking east around 6 pm, down a busy and crowded street filled with professional people walking quickly away from their offices. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy slumped against a phone booth. "Gee," I think. "That guy looks mildly deranged." Then I noticed -- eek! -- that not only was he mildly deranged, he also was exposing himself for all the world to see. And, um, touching himself. Rapidly. Eek. So I walked really quickly past him, avoiding eye contact, although I'm sure I had a look of digust and horror on my face as I passed. I get to the corner and the following exchange happened between me and a girl, which I felt to be quintessentially New York:
Girl: Which way is Fifth Avenue?
Me: It's that way, but that guy right there is masturbating.
Girl: Oh, OK. Cool. Thanks!
So despite the occurence being somewhat traumatising, the blassé exchange immediately following shed a funny light on the ordeal.
Then today I decided to use my Saturday afternoon for a good cause and clean the kitchen. I had gotten the dishes washed and a single counter wiped before I decided to tackle the stove top. I removed the racks (the things that the pots sit on, what are they called?) and decided to wash them. I removed the part that catches little bits of food and was setting them in the sink when something caught my eye.
At first I thought it was like a little molded piece of food. I peer closer and recoil in horror as my eye connects with another eye -- of a dead, shrivelled mouse lying underneath the burner. After I'd worked hard to not regurgitate my lunch, I panicked, freaked out, almost threw up again, thought about how to pick it up, for a moment thought about picking it up like dog doo but then decided I could not touch the thing, then finally (after a pep talk from my mom and roommate) used a soup ladle and scooped the frozen, long dead mouse up and into two plastic bags, which I promptly disposed of outside in the trash.
I feel like I'm running through a list of important only-in-New York incidents that have to occur for me to feel like I live here.
New York pervert? Check.
New York mouse? Check.
What's next?
Friday, February 16, 2007
So Excited!
Yes, it's a ways in the distance, but I just bought my ticket for my end-of-summer vacation: ten days in Argentina. ¡Olé!
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Some Thoughts
I unwisely forgot my camera at home this past weekend, so none of the fun is documented for your viewing pleasure. Darn.
Anyhoo, I went to a party last night and it occured to me that I've come to a point in my life where I derive basically no enjoyment from mainstream hip hop amplified for dancing. The deejay at this party started off spinning some reggaeton (fun, but not really my style), to modern hip hop, then transistioned into disco (always fun), and then back to modern hip hop. It was after the fun disco hour ended that I realised what it is about so much contemporary mainstream hip hop that's so utterly unfun to move around to -- it's boring. It's basically just a soundtrack of songs in minor keys, slow enough to do not much more than grind around. You know what I think is the lamest thing ever? Being over the legal drinking age and needing to "grind" against guys on the dancefloor. (And by being over the legal drinking age, I'm thinking in European standards here, people. If you're out of high school, you're an adult, and no longer need to resort to grinding against boys in nightclubs, bars or house parties to find a prospective beau.) Other than Usher's "Caught Up," not one hip hop or R&B track spun by the deejay was in the least bit appealing to me. When the disco comes on, somehow the whole party gets on to its feet. Why? Maybe because the songs are fun.
Now, I've been listening to hip hop -- on the radio, off mixtapes, before the internet, etc. -- for a loooooong time. I adore old classics and a lof of new underground stuff that comes out. But (and I feel like an old woman writing this) it doesn't sound like anything has changed, evolved, or developed in mainstream hip hop in the last five or ten years. Same old beats, same old bragging, same old choruses about ho's and gats. And in doing a little spontaneous research on iTunes just now, it occurred to me why the hip hop-as-party music approach is inherently flawed. A lot of hip hop is made for head nodding and listening, not for getting into the groove.
So there I am, at this party, when the vibe switches back to boring, commercial hip hop and R&B and some guy comes over to dance with me. I guess he expected me to start grinding him? I just kept dancing, smiled, made eye contact, and eventually he got bored and went away. Whatever happened to talking to someone else on the dancefloor? (Not that I even remotely liked this guy, but the point is, was he waiting for me to grab him and begin gyrating myself against his parts like an eighth grader in heat and then maybe we'd exchange 'hello's?)
Anyone who knows me from Miami has likely heard of the misery I endured living there. And it's no wonder -- the entire social scene is centered around grinding to strangers to boring, commercial hip hop and R&B. Cut to my memories of Spain (where the only people "grinding" to anything are drunken American college kids who don't know any better) and I was always out dancing to fun, upbeat music and when boys approached you on the dancefloor, they danced with you (not against you) and asked you things like, "Where are you from?" and "What's your name?" Rarely did these conversations lead anywhere, but it's nice to be approached like a human being rather than a object with a drunken pulse.
I'm guessing somewhere in New York there's plenty of boys and girls out dancing to good music who don't need to anonymously and arhythmically grind their private areas together, and with some effort, I intend to find them. In the meantime, what's up with all these people out there who find this kind of interaction so fun? Is it actually fun for them, or do they just think it's what they need to do to have fun (or bring someone home at the end of the evening)?
On another note, I have become a total podcast and Myspace junkie these past few months, spending a seemingly endless amount of time researching all sorts of new sounds and vibes coming out of different corners of the world (with a fairly large emphasis on drum & bass). I was listening to a Future Breaks podcast featuring Surya Dub, whom you should check out if you are interested in what I consider to be a really fresh and provocative blend of drum & bass, bhangra and dubstep. (Man, no wonder I'm not happy at the music selections at most parties.)
Anyhoo, I went to a party last night and it occured to me that I've come to a point in my life where I derive basically no enjoyment from mainstream hip hop amplified for dancing. The deejay at this party started off spinning some reggaeton (fun, but not really my style), to modern hip hop, then transistioned into disco (always fun), and then back to modern hip hop. It was after the fun disco hour ended that I realised what it is about so much contemporary mainstream hip hop that's so utterly unfun to move around to -- it's boring. It's basically just a soundtrack of songs in minor keys, slow enough to do not much more than grind around. You know what I think is the lamest thing ever? Being over the legal drinking age and needing to "grind" against guys on the dancefloor. (And by being over the legal drinking age, I'm thinking in European standards here, people. If you're out of high school, you're an adult, and no longer need to resort to grinding against boys in nightclubs, bars or house parties to find a prospective beau.) Other than Usher's "Caught Up," not one hip hop or R&B track spun by the deejay was in the least bit appealing to me. When the disco comes on, somehow the whole party gets on to its feet. Why? Maybe because the songs are fun.
Now, I've been listening to hip hop -- on the radio, off mixtapes, before the internet, etc. -- for a loooooong time. I adore old classics and a lof of new underground stuff that comes out. But (and I feel like an old woman writing this) it doesn't sound like anything has changed, evolved, or developed in mainstream hip hop in the last five or ten years. Same old beats, same old bragging, same old choruses about ho's and gats. And in doing a little spontaneous research on iTunes just now, it occurred to me why the hip hop-as-party music approach is inherently flawed. A lot of hip hop is made for head nodding and listening, not for getting into the groove.
So there I am, at this party, when the vibe switches back to boring, commercial hip hop and R&B and some guy comes over to dance with me. I guess he expected me to start grinding him? I just kept dancing, smiled, made eye contact, and eventually he got bored and went away. Whatever happened to talking to someone else on the dancefloor? (Not that I even remotely liked this guy, but the point is, was he waiting for me to grab him and begin gyrating myself against his parts like an eighth grader in heat and then maybe we'd exchange 'hello's?)
Anyone who knows me from Miami has likely heard of the misery I endured living there. And it's no wonder -- the entire social scene is centered around grinding to strangers to boring, commercial hip hop and R&B. Cut to my memories of Spain (where the only people "grinding" to anything are drunken American college kids who don't know any better) and I was always out dancing to fun, upbeat music and when boys approached you on the dancefloor, they danced with you (not against you) and asked you things like, "Where are you from?" and "What's your name?" Rarely did these conversations lead anywhere, but it's nice to be approached like a human being rather than a object with a drunken pulse.
I'm guessing somewhere in New York there's plenty of boys and girls out dancing to good music who don't need to anonymously and arhythmically grind their private areas together, and with some effort, I intend to find them. In the meantime, what's up with all these people out there who find this kind of interaction so fun? Is it actually fun for them, or do they just think it's what they need to do to have fun (or bring someone home at the end of the evening)?
On another note, I have become a total podcast and Myspace junkie these past few months, spending a seemingly endless amount of time researching all sorts of new sounds and vibes coming out of different corners of the world (with a fairly large emphasis on drum & bass). I was listening to a Future Breaks podcast featuring Surya Dub, whom you should check out if you are interested in what I consider to be a really fresh and provocative blend of drum & bass, bhangra and dubstep. (Man, no wonder I'm not happy at the music selections at most parties.)
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
New York: A Photo Recap
I've been a bad blogger. Too much time doing other things and not enough time focused on uploading the tons of photos I've taken in the last month. So here's a super quick rundown of some events in my life.
Right when I arrived in New York, my friend Viktorya was in town from Barcelona visiting her family. We went for pizza in midtown.
Viktorya and Catherine.
Viktorya and her sister, Julie.
Viktorya and our friend Hersch, whom we both know from our TEFL course in Barcelona oh-so-many years ago.
The next day I took the subway with Steve, Shelley, and Vahbiz out to Brooklyn to go to the museum and see the Annie Liebowitz and Ron Mueck exhibitions, which I wrote about on my other blog.
Shelley and Vahbiz marveling at the sight of Manhattan as we proceed over to a new borough.
Steve pointing out the wonders of a life beyond midtown to our favourite Costa Rican-from-Hong Kong.
Wait, is this a photo op?
Vahbiz.
Steve informing Shelley on the great customs of entering The Brooklyn.
OK, so the BMA was great, the Ron Mueck exhibition was mind-blowing, and after all was done, Ellie and I went to Cobble Hill, had a glass of wine, then went back into Manhattan and attended a party thrown by someone she met through Middlebury alumni connections. The next day I went to a fabulous lunch at my aunt's apartment, and then began my new job.
From there everything's rather blurry -- the first week of work was pretty intense, and I can't really remember what I did that weekend. I think I had some girls over on Saturday night to drink a bottle of wine before heading out for dinner. The next week passed quickly and that weekend I remember having Daniela over, then meeting Karen at the new bar near my house before we all set off for a lawyer party in Park Slope, followed by some nightclub in Williamsburg.
Hmmm, OK ... then I worked another week ... details are all kinda blurry ... it's not really important, I guess. Then I had a visitor from overseas who inspired me to take out my camera again to capture the loveliness of New York in the dead of winter.
Before I get into that, here's a picture of the Bright Lights of the Big City. Why? Just 'cuz.
OK, so I had a guest and one of the obligatory things you do with guests in NYC is take them to see Central Park, regardless of temperature or wind chill.
Here is the guest, braving the cold.
I'm sure all these photos will be used for the next NY Tourist promotional materials. Doesn't the city just look inviting?
We walked all the way up to the Cooper-Hewitt National Design museum to check out an exhibition I'd been wanting to see, which was pretty cool.
The next day we took the (free!) ferry to Staten Island, so that we could get a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty on the way there.
Which is off in the distance here.
That night we went to Cobble Hill and then Park Slope to meet Sarah for some pan-Latin food (and plantain chips, yum!). After, we went to Union Hall for a drink. I'd met the manager once before through a friend, and he mentioned that none other than Sweden's own Peter, Bjorn and John were playing that night, of the very whistling song we'd discovered in Amsterdam! So we found ourselves the last three people admitted to a secret show for the band, a huge thrill as their two shows in Manhattan the next two days were sold out. We felt very hip and exclusive, and I think it shows in these photos.
Anyway, the guest finally left, leaving me with a $450 credit card bill thanks to all the extravagant meals we dined on whilst he visited. Good thing I learned all about the Scottish stinginess from this one! *SNAP*
The next weekend was very mellow and rather unremarkable, although I will post these last photos of my nice trip up to Connecticut to see Grandma for brunch. I met my sister at Grand Central, then headed to Stamford. Uncle Dave, Aunt Yin, and two of my cousins, Will and Tom, drove over from Riverdale and we all went for brunch. Then Aunt Sarah came and we sat around and talked for the remainder of the afternoon. The best part? Leaving with a bag filled with Grandma's homemade fudge and chocolate chip bars. YUM YUM!
My Aunt Yin, knitting.
Grandma and Uncle Dave.
My sister.
My extremely cute cousin Will.
My extremely cute cousin Tom.
My extremely cute cousins avoiding adult conversations and watching football in the other room.
Hopefully will get back to posting more frequently. At least when the weather gets a bit warmer and it's not an act of torture to walk around taking nice photos to post.
Besos! xoxo
Right when I arrived in New York, my friend Viktorya was in town from Barcelona visiting her family. We went for pizza in midtown.
Viktorya and Catherine.
Viktorya and her sister, Julie.
Viktorya and our friend Hersch, whom we both know from our TEFL course in Barcelona oh-so-many years ago.
The next day I took the subway with Steve, Shelley, and Vahbiz out to Brooklyn to go to the museum and see the Annie Liebowitz and Ron Mueck exhibitions, which I wrote about on my other blog.
Shelley and Vahbiz marveling at the sight of Manhattan as we proceed over to a new borough.
Steve pointing out the wonders of a life beyond midtown to our favourite Costa Rican-from-Hong Kong.
Wait, is this a photo op?
Vahbiz.
Steve informing Shelley on the great customs of entering The Brooklyn.
OK, so the BMA was great, the Ron Mueck exhibition was mind-blowing, and after all was done, Ellie and I went to Cobble Hill, had a glass of wine, then went back into Manhattan and attended a party thrown by someone she met through Middlebury alumni connections. The next day I went to a fabulous lunch at my aunt's apartment, and then began my new job.
From there everything's rather blurry -- the first week of work was pretty intense, and I can't really remember what I did that weekend. I think I had some girls over on Saturday night to drink a bottle of wine before heading out for dinner. The next week passed quickly and that weekend I remember having Daniela over, then meeting Karen at the new bar near my house before we all set off for a lawyer party in Park Slope, followed by some nightclub in Williamsburg.
Hmmm, OK ... then I worked another week ... details are all kinda blurry ... it's not really important, I guess. Then I had a visitor from overseas who inspired me to take out my camera again to capture the loveliness of New York in the dead of winter.
Before I get into that, here's a picture of the Bright Lights of the Big City. Why? Just 'cuz.
OK, so I had a guest and one of the obligatory things you do with guests in NYC is take them to see Central Park, regardless of temperature or wind chill.
Here is the guest, braving the cold.
I'm sure all these photos will be used for the next NY Tourist promotional materials. Doesn't the city just look inviting?
We walked all the way up to the Cooper-Hewitt National Design museum to check out an exhibition I'd been wanting to see, which was pretty cool.
The next day we took the (free!) ferry to Staten Island, so that we could get a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty on the way there.
Which is off in the distance here.
That night we went to Cobble Hill and then Park Slope to meet Sarah for some pan-Latin food (and plantain chips, yum!). After, we went to Union Hall for a drink. I'd met the manager once before through a friend, and he mentioned that none other than Sweden's own Peter, Bjorn and John were playing that night, of the very whistling song we'd discovered in Amsterdam! So we found ourselves the last three people admitted to a secret show for the band, a huge thrill as their two shows in Manhattan the next two days were sold out. We felt very hip and exclusive, and I think it shows in these photos.
Anyway, the guest finally left, leaving me with a $450 credit card bill thanks to all the extravagant meals we dined on whilst he visited. Good thing I learned all about the Scottish stinginess from this one! *SNAP*
The next weekend was very mellow and rather unremarkable, although I will post these last photos of my nice trip up to Connecticut to see Grandma for brunch. I met my sister at Grand Central, then headed to Stamford. Uncle Dave, Aunt Yin, and two of my cousins, Will and Tom, drove over from Riverdale and we all went for brunch. Then Aunt Sarah came and we sat around and talked for the remainder of the afternoon. The best part? Leaving with a bag filled with Grandma's homemade fudge and chocolate chip bars. YUM YUM!
My Aunt Yin, knitting.
Grandma and Uncle Dave.
My sister.
My extremely cute cousin Will.
My extremely cute cousin Tom.
My extremely cute cousins avoiding adult conversations and watching football in the other room.
Hopefully will get back to posting more frequently. At least when the weather gets a bit warmer and it's not an act of torture to walk around taking nice photos to post.
Besos! xoxo
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