So, I did this thing. It’s been a pipe dream for years, but not something I ever thought would happen. Just kind of like living in Paris for a year- I mean, many are called but few are chosen, amiright? Of course I want to live in Paris for a year, but naturally I don’t expect it’ll ever happen. But this thing, well, here’s what went down… I was planning to audition sometime for the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, not necessarily…
I have made no secret of the fact that I love birthdays. I mean, I’m one of those annoying people who counts down the days and tells everyone when it comes and marches around collecting all the free drinks from coffee shops and that kind of thing. Ya know? I love to analyze the past year and see where life has taken me and for me it’s also a good mid-year time to make a few new resolutions. Finally, it’s…
A couple weeks I sat in a coffee shop feeling particularly homesick and forlorn and in need of adventure and decided to see what it would cost to go somewhere for the weekend, anywhere cheap. So I began browsing inexpensive flights and lo and behold, there was one for that very weekend to Charlotte. On a whim I snatched it up and spent the next few days of work just barely able to contain my excitement as I waited for…
Summer has come at last, full swing, and all my questions about what New Yorkers meant when they said that summer is sweltering here and that the whole city smells like garbage are being answered. Today I went from place to place in search of adventure, and following me like a flea was the persistent smell of dog piles. Yes, I checked my shoes, but apparently this is what Queens smells like in the summer. The garbage piles smell like…
Dear Linen Pants, whoever thought of you should be knighted. You are the breeze to a July day, the ice to lemonade, the watermelon to picnics. Cool and baggy and light and airy, you wouldn’t deign to get static, and when you wrinkle you simply look more chic than before. If the hot south ever had a signature clothing item, it should be you. Dear Red Trench Coat, I can’t remember my life before I met you. Your capacious pockets…
No, this is not a post about the evils of Instagram, or about my Instagram fast, or even particularly about the merits of Instagram. I don’t have anything new to say about any of those topics- I’m not that clever or insightful. This is simply a post about what my Instagram feed looks like, because when I find something I like, I want all my friends to know about it in case they like it too. For instance, wouldn’t it…
…your bag never weighs less than about fifty-three pounds. It is liable to contain any or all of the following items at any time: a pair of shoes, two full meals, an umbrella, a banana, a five pound bag of flour, a book or maybe two, enough chargers and headphone cords to tie up a prisoner, pepper spray, an actual pepper, keys for all the twenty-three locks in your life, a hat, a sweater, a large box of cookies for…
Contrary to appearances, I am alive and not dead. When I planned to move here, I thought, I’ll have so many adventures and stories to tell, and since I won’t have any friends, I’ll have all the time in the world to write them! I planned to write voraciously, and perhaps I’d even be so bold as to write a book! Well. How the mighty have fallen. It is true that I have so many adventures worth writing about here….
“It’ll be fun!” they said. Here’s the thing. Up until now, I’ve considered myself a whole-hearted lover of flying. Part of the joy of going someplace was the getting there; flying was its own separate thing to be excited about in every adventure that called for it. Sure, sometimes you got a little airsick and sometimes your ears hurt and we all know airport food is overpriced, but it was still worth it for the joy of that moment when…
Do you ever get these little ditties stuck in your head that won’t leave for years and years? I do. There’s a line I heard once that runs through my head with shocking frequency, “Love is patient, love is kind. Love means slowly losing your mind.” Why it has stuck is anyone’s guess, but it pops in at the most random and inopportune moments to say hello. There’s another one that’s slightly less morbid that often comes to mind as…
Rosie said I don’t post enough pictures. Rosie is usually right. Therefore, here you go. Let us commence with a Sunday afternoon spent roaming downtown Brooklyn. I do a lot of roaming, you see, since I have a lot of time to spend alone and there are only so many things that are fun to do by oneself. Exploring is one of them… And we move on to a sunny Saturday spent exploring Forest Hills, Queens… And to finish it…
I don’t spend a lot of time being scared of my surroundings in the city. Perhaps I’m naive, but I carry my pepper spray (when I remember it) and watch my surroundings and usually I feel pretty safe. That said, there are a certain number of things that I deal with here that are just downright scary. Would you like to hear about them? One. I get so nervous in turnstiles. Am I alone in this fear? I don’t too…