midsummer dream's night

All I want from life right now is a warm night. Just one.

Where I can wear a dress with my thighs exposed, maybe a jean jacket, maybe be warm enough to take it off and drape it over my slingbag. Where I welcome the wind to my face with my eyes closed, cheeks pointing to the sky like bobbing baby fists. Where I can walk through Harlem, maybe over to the East River, and the wind there will be cooler, but not by much, and I can sit on a bench and feel the chills climb my spine as it tousles the strands of my scalp. Maybe it's about 7:38pm, and the sun is just about down, but not quite, and I can still make out Queens in a purple haze. Perhaps I imagine little Italian families preparing dinner in their heirloom apartments across the river, and then I wish I had a big plate of spaghetti.

Once on the 6 train between 33rd and 42nd streets, I peeked up from my book and saw, sitting across from me, a young timid Asian woman asking an old white man for directions to Penn Station. He told her we had just passed the stop she needed to get over there, to the West side. She had missed her chance. She looked confused and just kept repeating, "Trehn. Trehn." The man just kept shrugging and looking around helplessly. She said, "I'll just wait. I'll just stay on the trehn."

I caught the glance of a beautiful young black woman sitting next to them, with a buzzed head and a black RUN DMC t-shirt. She was  eavesdropping too. She rolled her eyes and smiled and I smiled back and we both turned our attention back to the Asian woman. The man didn't know what else to say to her. He looked defeated. Then the black woman reached over the man, tapped the Asian woman on the shoulder, and said, "Just get off here at Grand Central, take the shuttle to Times Square, then take the 1 or 2 train down to Penn. You need to get to the West side." The Asian woman looked like she understood, smiled, and thanked her, clutching her little red backpack. She got off when the train stopped. The black woman looked at the silent white woman across from her and smiled. I smiled back.

Point is, I felt the warm night I wanted inside that subway car, and I carried it upstream all the way home. 

Winter spring blooms, part two

I can't even express how fucking over winter I am, but this photo is a start.

These are flowers. I bought them for myself. On my lunch break. Just so I can fool myself into thinking it's actually warm and pretty and happy outside, and not cold and windy and soul-sucking.

They  cost me $8, a two-block walk, and only a small amount of my dignity. And they were totally worth it.

Fuck you winter. Spring 4ever!!!!!

iPhone Inspiration: Winter spring blooms

So I've kind of decided that winter is my least favorite season. It used to be one of my favorites, because in the South it's really mild and basically amounts to an excuse to snuggle under blankets and eat chocolate and sausage balls and celebrate the birth of a religious figure you may or may not actually believe in. I always hated summer more than the other seasons, because I despise sweating when I'm not actually doing physical activity, which is essentially the definition of a Southern summer. Summer in the South still might be one of the worst things ever, but compared with winter in New York, it ain't that bad.

Winter in New York is more terrible, because it's a stealthy little bastard. Summer in the South sucks, but at least it sucks immediately. You walk outside one day in mid-May (or April) and, fuck, it's summer. You're wearing jeans and a tank top and you're suddenly aware that it's far too hot for such garments. You turn around, go back inside and put on a cute little summer dress with flip flops. You come back outside and shut the door behind you. Your dress would blow in the wind like in a cute indie movie, but it doesn't, because there is no wind. It's just hot as balls. Stagnant. Sticky. Thick. Sauna-y. And, immediately, you're like fuck this. Then it continues for three to four months, the entire duration of which your hair is in a ponytail because if it's down it sticks to your neck and is completely disgusting. Then suddenly it's fall and you remember why life is bearable.

By contrast, winter in New York starts out delightful. It's cold, but it's bearable, and it's kind of fun walking around in your big heavy coat and cute new scarf and vintage snow boots. All your friends are bundled up too, and you might go tromping through Rockefeller Plaza to see the Christmas tree. You might stop and get hot chocolates on the way.  There are little stringy lights up everywhere, and you're all AHHH! Christmas in New York is so magical!  You go home for Christmas but you can't wait to get back for New Year's. The snow falls outside your window, light little tufts of gorgeousness that settle into a big pile of happiness.

This continues for, like, a month and a half. Mid-January rolls around, and you suddenly realize you like winter a little less. The snow gets harder, and grayer. Piles of snow-happiness turn into mountains of hard, packed together snow-ice-street-grunge... stuff. It gets in your way when you are walking to the train. Then it melts and huge puddles form on street corners but they look like pavement at night and you step in them and your foot sinks a good four inches so it's a good fucking thing your mom gave you these awesome vintage snow boots because they are the Army tanks of shoes. Snow becomes wintry mix. You're like ugh but you deal with it because what else are you gonna do?

Then the end of February rolls around, and you're a fucking fire-breathing dragon, vengefully melting snow drifts, icicles, and possibly any people in your path. You turn the corner on your way to work and an icy cold blast hits you in the face and makes it impossible for you to breathe for three to four seconds because you just got the wind knocked out of you by other wind. When you can breathe again, you take a deep one in and then yell FUCK! or maybe even FUCK YOU! Snow is still piled on sidewalks but all you see is death and destruction, be it real or imagined/hoped for. You stay inside your office at lunchtime and order takeout Thai, refusing to acknowledge that weather even exists anymore. You scarf it down shamefully, flinging rice noodles and dumpling bits all over your desk and keyboard because you just don't give a shit. You snap at coworkers who kindly ask for bagels from the kitchen. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the office mirror and you barely recognize yourself. Who have you become? What has this New York winter done to you? Is that caked dumpling sauce in your eyebrow?

And then sometimes, you get a reminder that nothing lasts forever, and that this too shall pass. Yesterday, the universe - via the 4/5 train - gave me such a reminder: a woman carrying a bouquet of red tulips - my favorite flower - in her eco-friendly grocery bag. It was so New York, so Spring, and so very welcome.  I took a photo and played around with it on my iPhone - yeah, I have Photoshop mobile, what? - and decided to make weekly(ish) segments called iPhone Inspirations, in which I post stuff I've seen/written/pondered on my iPhone. I do this a lot, especially whilst traveling by train or bus.

 

  

 

Happy early Spring, everyone.

Home, times three

Normally I would start this post with an apology, because (once again) I am sucking it up in the blogosphere. Before I moved to New York and even for the first couple of months after I got here, I was all about my BtoA blog, and I updated at least once every few days. Slowly it slipped into once a week, and then shortly after that, once every ten days. Now it's been a full 13 days. Instead of apologizing, however, I'm here to say that I'm actually really happy about it. I'm not sorry, because the significant lack of blogging has been caused by a significant increase in awesome life experiences, which I will of course share with y'all now.

I went home and to Oxford last weekend. It was pretty uneventful. I ate Ajax and Taylor and went out to the new Parrish's and City Grocery. Everything seemed basically the same. It felt weird to be back in the South, riding around in cars and driving and feeling how slow everything really is compared with NY life. While I still miss my parents, going home was a nice reminder that the South is not where I want to be right now. Maybe when I'm older and want to have a family and stuff, but for now I just know NY is where I'm supposed to be.

I started my new job last Monday. It pays, and while for the purposes of office duties I am technically an "editorial intern," my supervisor gave me the okay to put "freelance editorial assistant" on my resume. She told me this on my first day, and it was pretty much an amazing start to a week that would prove to be equally amazing, as far as first weeks go. I got to write, and I have several writing assignments pending. Of course I also do entry level duties like shipping stuff, sorting mail, taking phone calls, and transcribing, but I am doing all these things for money in New York in the worst economy in recent memory, and thus I do them with nothing but joy.

I went to DC this weekend to see A, and it was basically a perfect weekend. The weather was uhmazing, nearly 70 degrees both days and sunny. I had brunch with all his friends, and they're hilarious and tatted up and amazing. We went to the National Museum of American History, which I found surprisingly enjoyable, aside from the nauseating number of tourists. We went to the cherry blossom festival, which was fun but also really touristy, vom. The trees are beautiful though, and we sat by the tidal basin under the blooms and watched ducks as the sun went down. I know, I know. Blablabla TMI.

So gorg

We celebrated my new job Saturday night; he bought us a bottle of champagne (nom nom nom), which we promptly consumed while we watched Twilight (yes, lolz) before heading out to the bar where he works most weekends. PS, Twilight = probs the worst movie ever made, but that didn't stop A from constantly asking questions and sitting on the edge of his seat while Bella's pathetic fate was decided. Lolz best boyf ever? Mayhaps.

I finally feel like things are coming together for me. I have a job that I already love, and even though I still look forward to the day when I'm full-time with benefits, I am learning the value of patience in a terrible economy while in the meantime just doing the best I can professionally. When I left for DC Friday evening and I watched the city disappear in the distance, it dawned on me that I am literally making my dreams come true. I'm not by any means finished with this process, but I am at least through the first and most difficult stage. Since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a writer, and since the first time I came to NYC I knew I was meant to live here. And here I am, getting paid to write and taking the 6 train to work everyday and living in a brownstone walk-up in Harlem. How many people can say they've even attempted what they always dreamed of doing? Not many. I'm in love with my life right now, and I can only be gratious and humbly accept the amazing things I am lucky enough to experience.

Until next time.