subscribeA rant about the power of compelling writing.
Tuesday February 9, 2010
…and the different emotions and point of view that compelling writing may hopefully illuminate for the consumer.
I live in New York City. I take public transportation. I’ve had more colorful and interesting experiences taking the public transit system here than I did back in Pittsburgh (which was technically my first major solo encounter with public transit), but none of them have lived up to the stereotypical horror stories I heard growing up in the suburbs. Some of my experiences here have been delightfully strange (subway dance routines being the favorite) and some have been plain old creepy (use your imagination, I’m sure it’s close). That’s fine. Sometimes I overhear arguments (always fun!) or one-sided very loud phone conversations (always curiosity-prickling).
But what bothers me — that which makes this a rant — is when I overhear someone’s blatant ignorance, prejudice, misogyny, homophobia, or… well. When people are being offensive (and not quiet about it!), I get annoyed, but when they’re being offensive as a direct result of miseducation, misunderstanding, or a (voiced!) unwillingness to learn… *grumble* I get very mad. Seeing and hearing this kind of thing on TV, on the Internet — that’s expected. But on the bus?
Today it was homophobic in nature. I overheard two teenagers (tenth grade by my guess) talking about being gay in the military and what “being gay” is, by definition, and then how that definition (involving a comparison to a woman) correlated to a gay person’s inability to be an ineffective soldier. (GRRRRR.) One actually asked the other to define “gay” because he didn’t really get what it was. The other teen’s response was so offensive, so misinformed, so casually homophobically ignorant and… I can’t even describe the way it made me feel. As if I’d been punched in the gut, maybe. I’ve heard stories of homophobia, seen blatant homophobia and talked with friends and peers who’ve experienced it first-hand, but never before has it hit me so hard. I’m straight, but that doesn’t change the way it makes me feel. I hated this today. What made this worse was that the teen finished his definition by saying, “That’s what I think it is. I’m pretty sure, like, that’s it.” That actually made me almost turn around and say something — and these were very scary-looking teenagers! (I am easily intimidated) — because I couldn’t believe what he’d just said was, apparently to him, speculation. Loud, ignorant, offensive speculation.
I think before today I might have been a little mistaken in my own assumptions about the prevalence of this kind of thing in the world. I knew it exists, but I didn’t think that knowledge applied to my little corner of the world. Knowing a thing exists outside of my own sphere of experience and experiencing it are two different things, and it took getting my gut metaphorically punched today to remind me of that. Things like this happen every day across the world, and those comments aren’t only about sexual orientation. That ignorance doesn’t only occur in people under the age of 18.
I’ve been told this. Over and over. Statistics, news stories, vague accounts. But I’ve never had a gut-level reaction about casual, callous homophobia/ignorance through any of those “telling” experiences in real life. The only experience I can correlate this with is, honestly, something I read. Someone else’s evocatively-written first-hand account was the closest I’d come before today to feeling that same emotion — and I think that says something, oddly, about the power and necessity of art, of good writing, of fiction and brilliant narrative non-fiction. It has the power to convey profound truths without us having to experience them for ourselves. Today, I did, and that comparison has really hit me hard. That’s what good writing can do.
Good writing has the ability to make us feel things we may not otherwise be in a position to feel, and because of that we are fuller, richer human beings. That old adage, show don’t tell: that’s the beauty of good writing.
Today reminded me, in a very strange and unexpected way, why I write fiction, why I write fantasy; why I consume books and watch movies.
I haven’t experienced a lot of things first hand. In some cases, I may never experience certain things — going to the moon, taking core samples from the icy crust of Antarctica’s Lake Vostok — and for those things I tend to depend on fiction to give me the sense of that realism. To educate me by illustrative, gut-wrenching example. I look to movies like The Hurt Locker to make me feel what it’s like to be under pressure as a bomb specialist in Iraq in 2004. (A recent rental; it’s been on my mind since.) Films like Slumdog Millionaire (which I know surprised a lot of people I know) have an effect when they show you a world you’ve never seen — whether because of lack of experience, travel, or simple knowledge — and by showing you that glimpse, they can affect change. (I’m one of those believers that a change of mind, of heart, can later have a profound impact on the world. Call me an optimist if you must, but I believe that.)
To me, almost more than any other genre, fantasy can’t lose that sense of human connection, the base-level emotions of humanity that bring us together and drive us apart. (Though I’m sure this can apply to science fiction and any other genre in which the world has the capability of being more important than its people.) Fantasy is, like any good fiction, ultimately a mirror of our reality. When I read it, when I write it, I can explore other cultures, worlds, and characters. People I’ll never meet. But they can have a profound influence on the way I view others and the way I view the world. I said earlier today (in a very different context!) that the best fantasy story is one that uses the “genre” to illuminate the differences, possibilities, and promise that exist in our world but by seeing them in a fantastic context they stand out all the more starkly for it. It’s the emotional, “show” connection that gives fantasy, fiction, narrative non-fiction — all good writing, in a sense — its power.
(Okay, this also may be Battlestar Galactica influenced — I’m on Season 2 now, bear with me — and how humanity- and emotional-centric that “science fiction” show is — as it should be.)
No, I’m not going to turn today’s experience into fiction. (A blog entry will do, ha.) I’d be the first person to tell you that I hate preachy books. Doesn’t mean I can’t take that emotion I felt today and work with it, though.
Fiction, at its best, helps to make us feel things our own first hand experience may prevent us from feeling, or to illuminate those things we see every day and don’t appreciate — the list goes on. My take away from today is that as a writer I have the power to show by example and sometimes, in my sheltered little world of a computer screen and daily habits, I need to be reminded that I don’t know everything feels, but what I know, I can share. In turn, I can learn from others.
Maybe one of those teens will see a compelling movie or read an engrossing book — maybe? — that will teach them something, illuminate what they don’t understand. Maybe someone will tell them a compelling story that will get them to see a different point of view. See — because understanding can’t be forced. But seeing is the first crucial step. That is, in essence, what compelling stories ought to do. I hope one day they encounter a story like that.
Staten Island Chuck
Monday February 9, 2009
This weekend, while gallivanting around Brooklyn with a mattress in the unseasonably warm, sunny weather, my friend told me that Staten Island Chuck had predicted an early spring on Groundhog’s Day in direct contradiction to Punxsutawney Phil’s prediction of an extended winter. Being a New Yorker, I think I might have to put more faith (and hope) in Chuck’s prediction. Also, given the deliciously warm temperature of 50 degrees Fahrenheit this last Sunday and the sunshine — the air itself smelled like happiness — I think I’m going to believe Chuck. I hope for a reasonably warm March 7, at least. Shopping for a wrap to go over the wedding dress on Friday and seeing the lack of, uh, warmth they offer… I’m hoping I won’t have to resort to a cardigan/full-on coat, or at least not for long. I wish the wedding wasn’t consuming my thoughts as much as it is increasingly doing. It is a wedding; I suppose this is what it is supposed to be doing.
I can’t help but wonder if avoiding obsessing over the wedding is contributing to my ridiculous pace in this draft. I’ve been writing so much since early January — since serious wedding planning really began. 70,000 words in 30 days (and yeah, it’s just about 30 days now) is nothing to sneeze at. And they are good words. And yet I wonder… could I be so focused upon writing without having something else (like the wedding) to avoid focusing upon? Having — theoretically — all day, every day to work solely on this draft has really amped up the productivity potential, of course. Bryan has been encouraging me to keep chugging throughout the evening, as well, and it being winter — and therefore leaving the house to gallivant around in the cold is undesirable — I’ve had even more reason to simply stay in front of the computer. Maybe that’s a contributing factor?
Regardless of the reason behind this productivity, I am so pleased with this first draft. Each one I’ve written has shown a marked improvement in my own sophistication as a writer and I’m so proud of this one. I am so anxious to finish and polish it but my perfectionist nature is going to fight me on it and make sure it’s perfect. (Thank goodness for that, though.) I hope it can hit the high standard I set for myself and my work. Already it’s doing that in draft form. Throughout all of this, though, I keep thinking I’ll never write a draft this fast ever again. I’m not sure I believe it’s happening but I see the words, I read them, and I just think, Wow. This is crazy. Über crazy. I mean… 70,000 words in 30 days?! I’m telling you it’s because of the miracle outline, That Which Is Showing Me Where to Go. Without that I’d be as lost and rambling as I was during NaNoWriMo, but there is no room for rambling when I have so much stuff happening.
Each week that approaches, though, will get busier and busier. Some part of me hopes to finish the draft soon so I can focus more on the wedding but the procrastinator in me really wants to keep not thinking about the wedding for as long as I can. The more focus and energy I put in thinking about it, the higher my emotions, worries, and anxieties will run, and the more likely I am to start fretting over the details. So far I’ve been confident everything will work out. I have to find a way to maintain that attitude… by distracting myself. Yes. I’ll just keep distracting myself.
Things my studio apartment taught me.
Wednesday January 21, 2009
Living in 400 square feet is hard. Sharing that space with your future spouse is even more difficult. I’ve spent since July 2007 figuring out how to do this despite the fact that I dream of the day we can move into a bigger space — and gripe about the unrealistic sizes/costs of the New York City apartments in films/TV shows set in the city…. But even so this has been valuable. Moving from an admittedly gigantic bedroom I did not share into a dorm room (that I had to share…ugh…) was a special kind of pain. Moving from that into a one bedroom apartment at Pittsburgh rent prices was different. Moving from that to an apartment a fraction of the size of that apartment’s living room was… oh, dear. But as the title of this post indicates, I like to think it’s taught me something. Or many things, all of them being valuable. I am a glass-half-full person. If I wasn’t I’d be mad for several reasons by now. So here’s the rundown of my lessons to live by in a small apartment.
Lesson #1. If there is empty space — horizontally or vertically – anywhere in your apartment, you’re wasting valuable storage real estate.
This includes under desks, on top of bookcases (to the ceiling, people!), on top of dressers, underneath the bed. (Every single square inch of under bed space is currently used. Every single inch.) Under the desk go the printer, file boxes (I file everything quite meticulously), a box for the space heater when it’s not in use, and a little chest of drawers with office supplies & electronic gadgetry. We use a bookshelf near the kitchen for kitchen things — coffee maker, blender, fruit bowl — and a cubby hole storage unit near the entranceway/kitchen for dry food goods, winter hats & gloves, shoes, and my purses/bags. On top of the bookshelf go baskets of various things (candle holders & seasonal items; storage items like bubblewrap & foamy stuff I’ve been collecting to prepare for our move eventually; plastic serveware).
The miracle of today’s storage solutions is that things like baskets, colorful boxes, and patterned bins exist solely for the purpose of storage in plain sight. So long as it’s attractive, you can store anything right where everyone will see it. Really. Don’t think about stashing everything away, especially when you’re going to (with shoes or scarves in winter) use them frequently enough to find pulling them out of closets or under beds a hassle. Just go ahead, store it where everyone can see it.
Lesson #2. Stack. Everything.
Open our kitchen cabinets — they are all cabinet doors, no drawers whatsoever — and you’ll see that it’s packed as tightly as is possible for food to be. Of course that tends to lead to accidents — if you don’t unpack the cabinet when reaching for the tuna, the honey, soup, and tahini come tumbling down. But it’s a miracle what some shelf-shelving (the stackable stuff; undershelf hanging baskets for plasticware & plastic bags) plus some gosh darn OCD ingenuity can do for your kitchen storage space. Our silverware holder sits on top of a seldom-used mini loaf pan. Our fire extinguisher is stuck in the little corner made by stacking 9″x9″ baking pans on top of 9″x13″ baking pans. Every little bit of space in our kitchen is being used for something and if not it’s for good reason. (i.e. I kept knocking the same thing over so many times when it was stored in one location I knew it was time to keep that location clear.)
Lesson #3. Rethink ways to use items beyond their suggested uses.
Bookshelves are not only for books. Turns out books can be stacked 2 rows deep and shelves can be used for stacked organizers for files and papers.
Shelves can be used as locations for colorful storage bins that hold any number of things (shoes, winter accessories) that can slide in and out. DVD shelves can be used for series paperbacks & computer discs/games. Dressers can double as media stands (as our short one does for our television).
A “desk” can become a “dining room table” just as it can then morph into a “computer desk.” (Currently our “dining table” is both multi-purpose flat space, dining table, & computer desk; we are two people with two computers.)
Magnets, magnets, magnets. In the kitchen, a magnetic “bulletin” strip became a holder of pot holders (magnetic hooks are your friends), our swiffer duster (magnetic clothes pin), & recipes. The wall above my desk is also a filing cabinet of important documents, organized through a bulletin board, magnetic board, and dry erase board (an adhesive “for college students” dry erase board that is terrific). Everything important gets tacked or magneted up and the place gets cleaned of old things on a regular basis. If it’s in front of me I always know where it is. The front door, made of fire-proof metal, is also magnetic. Instantly (using the STRONG magnets) holds letters & bills to be mailed, reminders of not to forget things on the way out, coupons, & dry cleaning receipts. We’ve never been late on the rent and I’ve never lost a dry cleaning receipt.
Lesson #4. Boxes (stackable, square or round) are your friend. As are (colored) permanent markers & labels.
Having learned from the kitchen that “stack everything” is crucial, this then requires boxes. Whether they be small kitchen plasticware, recycled shoe boxes, or recycled UPS delivery boxes, one can never have enough boxes. In fact, one should always keep a stack of various sizes (collapsed & stuffed behind furniture) on hand at all times. These boxes, filled & properly labeled) can be stacked to excess in the very tops of closets (go to the ceiling) along the sides of closets (you know, the part on the floor you can’t see because it’s hidden away from the door? Fill it with stacked boxes. With labels.) and everywhere else you can think.
Lesson #5. The smaller the space, the more frequently it needs to be cleaned.
Keep on hand at all times: a hand-held vacuum, antibacterial or pre-moistened wet wipes of various kinds (the all-in-one glass, counter, computer ones? Yes), a duster (preferably one that is not feathered & has disposable fluffy parts), & air freshener (via candle, spray bottle/can, plug-in device, or other method). Believe me when I tell you they have been indespensible to my existence. Perhaps it’s because when it comes down to it I’m a neat freak, or perhaps it’s because we’re people who lead really active and dust-raising lives, but I feel I have to do the cursory clean almost daily and the spring cleaning deep clean every month. Oh, and the air freshener? It’s amazing what having the kitchen share the air as the rest of your living space will do to your nose. Let anything sit in the garbage too long… Ew. (Which reminds me: don’t have a garbage can bigger than what fits the standard “medium” 8 gallon garbage bags (which are hard to find in a city where convenience stores and drug stores value shelf space as much as the rest of us do). 14 gallon? Pshaw. Your garbage will be sitting there for too long if you wait for that big boy to fill. We have a counter-top bin for organic waste (orange peels, egg shells) that gets tied and put in the big bag to be taken the chute, minimizing on scent all around.
Another tip: Clean when the sun hits the apartment. You know there’s a golden hour when the sun hits every [New York] apartment (well, not basement or the really cheap ones). Whenever it is, plan to clean then. The wonderful thing about direct sunlight is that it shows you just how dusty your bookselves are and where the bunnies are hiding under your desk. Cleaning at night with every single light on isn’t nearly as effective at showing you the little things you can easily miss in the quick once-over of the apartment. And you do want to clean quickly and efficiently, don’t you?
Lesson #6. Be realistic about keeping things around.
Every single inch is a treasure in 400 square feet. If you have the luxury of family (aka free and happy storage units) nearby, that’s one thing, but if you don’t, think about everything you’re keeping around. Realistically, will you use it? Will you wear it? Donate, donate, donate, and use your garbage can. Goodwill got to have the shoes & clothes that I couldn’t justify keeping in my closet with its negative space. The local library’s used book shop will enjoy the books I finally make myself donate because I just won’t read them ever again and really, I need the shelf space for the books I will reread. (When I do that, ugh.)
Lesson #7. Strive to keep things in their proper place at all times.
Not only will you remember where things are if they’re always where you expect them to be, but it keeps the floor and all horizontal spaces clear if you put things away immediately. Kitchen counter gets cluttered with dirty and clean dishes — put them in the dishwasher/sink or cabinets. Purses or bags on the floor? Empty them of the important stuff and shove them or hang them where they go. That sweater you wore once that’s still clean and is currently hanging over the back of the chair? Soon the sweater becomes the pile which is then a monstrosity of organization to have to deal with. Prevent the pile and put the darned sweater away immediately. This was the hardest lesson I had to learn and I’m still trying to be good about it. I’m pretty good about emptying bags/purses and putting them away and both Bryan and I got good at hanging jackets/sweatshirts up immediately last year out of necessity.
I can’t wait to move into a bigger place, but “bigger” will probably only be another hundred square feet, if that (though a bedroom door would be lovely). Living in a studio has forced me to be more organized than ever, simply out of sheer necessity, and it’s given me a measure of satisfaction to see how much stuff I’ve been able to pack away by using my proven storage methods of boxing and stacking and cramming. It’s really worked and really… I’m glad we’ve gotten to live here. It has tested our sanity but if we can handle this, we can handle a lot of things.
2008 and other such reminiscences
Wednesday December 31, 2008
I suppose this is the obligatory “year in review” post. I never really write these accurately. They always turn into much longer, ramblier reminiscences.
I find myself thinking about the past year usually around my birthday in November, simply because the birthday milestone always strikes me more deeply than the new year’s milestone. (Their relative proximity helps.) I usually can’t remember to write the new year’s date until past April, anyway. I’m usually good throughout January but into February and March I have a last year’s date relapse until in April I start writing the correct year automatically. Then I find sometimes in September I’ll accidentally write “2007″ or “2002″ or whatever the case happens to be and I’ll stare at the paper, say, “It’s September, for goodness’ sake!” and then giggle at the date.
It’s flurrying presently and with the windchill it feels about 20 degrees Fahrenheit which both adds to the new year’s flavor and makes me very happy that Bryan and I are not the sort to want to go to Times Square to watch the ball drop this evening. I haven’t yet met any person who lives in New York City who has any desire to actually go do that. (Especially in rain or snow.) Additionally I haven’t met any residents who live/work in Manhattan who like being around tourists. For the most part the tourists walk slowly, gawk, and get in the way of New Yorkers attempting to go about their daily routines, and if you know anything about the New Yorker stereotype you know we’re all impatient, ornery, and loud-mouthed. (It doesn’t take more than a month or two of residence or employment here to develop at least one of those traits. Even my very even-tempered friends feel the New Yorker temperament pulling at them.)
But back to the “year in review” part. (See? I’m bad at staying on-topic.) 2008 was busy. Busy and full of change, but looking back, nearly every year I’ve ever had has been both busy and full of changes. If I look back and call a year “slow and boring and all the same” I will cry. That’s not living life well, to my mind.
2009 will, in all likelihood, be busier than 2008. In 2009 there will be an epically historic presidential inauguration, my bridal shower, our wedding, our annual ski trip to Utah, our honeymoon to the Caribbean, two Pennsylvania receptions in May for the March wedding, and then a move from our current studio apartment once this lease is up at the start of the summer. I can’t wait to move to a bigger place. After the move, who knows what will happen in 2009. Hopefully the economy will be back up (or getting up), things won’t seem nearly as bleak in general when we look out at the future.
2008 started with us as we were at the end of 2007. Bryan was working as an investment banker, gone most of the week and when he was home he was either exhausted or too wired, mostly glued to his computer while I was glued to mine. We watched a lot of television; I did a lot of stuff alone, like eat dinners and listen to music and pretend to work out on our home’s elliptical. Over the summer, things got weird and interesting. Bryan got pounded by his bosses. He pulled all-nighters and had no time to breathe. He got to the point where he could not countenance working there any longer and took a leave of absence in July. During the leave he called up a contact and arranged an interview — and found himself another job. He formally quit and moved jobs in August and then we found ourselves in a strange place. We were finally able to set a date for the wedding, now that Bryan’s job wasn’t going to be able to keep him from attending it (as might have been the case with banking). Bryan was working normal business hours (9 to 5 or 6) instead of banker’s hours (9 to 12 or 2am) and we had so much more time together. We had to rearrange the studio apartment to give us some peace and some more space to work; we started eating meals and enjoying the city together. Things settled back to normal for the fall and in November I threw myself into NaNoWriMo with gusto, ultimately winning. December burred by in activity associated with the wedding and now it’s finally at the end of the year.
This year I read a lot of books, though I feel as if I read more at the end of 2007 than I did for most of 2008. Even so I encountered a lot of new authors. I accomplished a lot with my books and my worlds, though I wasn’t as consistent a worker as I could have or should have been. I look forward to 2009 as I look forward to every new day: I know I can be better than I have been and I’ll keep striving for that.
Now at the end of 2008 I’ve been tremendously busy with wedding planning stuff and in early 2009 I imagine it’ll only get worse and more hectic. Only a few people are coming to this wedding and it’s taking up so much of my energy to plan it. I can’t even imagine having a wedding involving hundreds of guests. (I can barely imagine the cost, either.) But 2009 will bring that wedding and it’ll happen regardless of whether or not it goes off perfectly or with a few hitches. I’m confident things will work out and I’m trying somewhat desperately to not be a nitpicker, perfectionist, or obsessive control freak about every detail. I’m trying to be calm and relaxed about it all. We’ll see how it all ends up.
What else happened in 2008?
It was the first full year of my life I didn’t attend any school, as I can recall. (I started nursery school full-time in September of the year I turned 3 that November, with pre-school the year after that. I started Kindergarten at 4.)
I look back and marvel at how fast all of it went by. What happened in 2008? The seasons changed, the layout of the apartment changed, we explored more of Manhattan than we ever have… we got older. And it’s done already. I remember thinking, back in the late 1990s, that 2010 was so far away. But as of tomorrow, 2010 will be next year. I’m… flabbergasted. I still remember when that year seemed something futuristic, unreal.
I think sometimes that the years I spent in high school were the longest years of my life and every year that leads me further from that time makes that sentiment all the more real. These years beyond that have gone by fast — speed-of-light quickly, a few of them. Like the college years. I was having too much fun for time of have lingered pleasantly around those years. “Time flies when you’re having fun” and all of that? Why is it so true? I didn’t have a lot of fun in high school and the days seemed to hang on me. For a lot of it, I was miserably focused on work, reading, and writing, not really looking up and staring at the world beyond a vague wish/prayer for it to be over as soon as could be arranged. Perhaps most of my elementary and secondary schooling years were that long. Fifth grade seemed to take an eternity. Eighth grade was a good year, I think; that one went fast.
I guess I’m glad 2008 is over. 2007 being over was much more somber because it meant so many things were real. 2008 ending is just a year ending. I’m looking forward to too many things in 2009 to be forlorn about this year’s end.
So happy new year, everyone. I hope your 2009 is exciting.
Winter wonderland?
Friday December 19, 2008
It’s been snowing for most of the day here in New York City and it’s mushy outside. It hardly even looked like it was snowing but for the accumulation. The Christmas tree sellers who are camped on the sidewalk outside our apartment building put a little tree on a post near their hut:
It’s probably the closest I’m going to get to seeing a snow-covered Christmas tree this Christmas, but hey, it’s New York — I could take the trek and brave the tourists down at Rockefeller Center, if I really wanted.
When New York City gets “blanketed” it’s never very pretty unless it’s the big white flake kind of snow that accumulates in quantities of at least 6 inches or a foot. Otherwise it’s grayish or mushy or icy.
When I was in high school, interning at a publishing company in Manhattan, there was a snowstorm in February that dumped almost two feet of snow on the city. Suburbs getting that much is one thing but it rarely happens in the city itself. I was up to my knees in it. What was miraculous about that storm was how silent it made the city. Cars couldn’t move; people hardly dared venture outside. None who braved the drifts (myself included) were really dressed as they should have been for stomping around in crazy snow. People in New York are certainly over-prepared for cold weather (the wind can cut between buildings with a pierching chill cold enough to rival my coldest ski mountain experiences) but the sheer quantity of that much snow left most people unprepared. Usually, though, if it’s snowing the sidewalks and streets are [pretty] clean almost immediately so usually you don’t even need snow boots, as you would in the suburbs where you probably have to trudge through your driveway to shovel it.
Anyway I bet the snow won’t stick around for long. It never really does. Hopefully I’ll get to enjoy it a little tomorrow.
Living in the big city
Thursday October 16, 2008
I really do love living in New York City. Even if it’s so expensive it’s painful, even if Bryan and I will have to move out of Manhattan by next summer (we desperately want more room; this studio is painfully small and there are 1- and 2-bedrooms in other boroughs for the same price). But it’s been worth it. Part of it is the glamour of having a New York, NY address, part is simply the experience of walking a few blocks to Central Park or riding a few stops to anywhere in Manhattan. I’ve even become a bus expert. So long as I can figure out which bus to use, I can use them just as easily as the subway.
It’s also been strangely educational in some unexpected ways. One of which has been seeing Au Pairs / babysitters / nannies with their charges in baby carriages and the way they deal with and treat those children. Some of what I’ve seen has completely turned me off entirely from ever, ever, ever hiring a random nanny. I saw a child sucking on an antibacterial wet wipe (she was about 18 months) while her nanny was on her cell phone; I’ve seen kids dragged into retail stores, running around (at about 3 years old) while their nannies shop and chat (in Payless Shoe Source, for instance); I’ve seen kids in baby carriages squinting in the pain of direct sunlight while their sun shade sits propped up and unused; I’ve seen kids improperly strapped in; too many children hanging on one stroller; it’s both bothersome and worrying. A lot of it comes from the simple situation of the nanny is on her cell phone and is simply not paying attention to the child, even in a half-distracted way. (To support nannies everywhere, I’ve seen mothers doing this, too; it’s always the 30-something mothers, though, not the 20-something mothers. The 20-somethings tend to have Baby Bjorns strapped on and they look energetic while the 30-somethings tend to have a few kids and look either harried, defeated, or simply too busy to be bothered to care.)
I’ve taken some interesting day-trips, too, alone, with friends, and with Bryan. I’ve seen and done a lot in the last sixteen months. I’ve seen an off-off Broadway show, an off-Broadway show and of course Broadway shows and walked around Times Square often enough to both know it well enough to no longer get lost in it but also be exhaustedly tired of having to deal with all the tourists. You speak to people who have to work around Times Square or move through it for their commute and you hear the same thing. It’s plainly exhausting to press through the stalled and staring tourists. I’ve also been through Central Park often enough to know it reasonably well. I have by no means scoured the park as well as I should like, but that’s still a happy to-do to accomplish. I’ve gone to all the major museums, though the Whitney is a big one I still need to check off my list. Bryan and I were even invited to go to an evening at the MoMA (which happened to be sponsored by UBS, and Bryan had been working there at the time).
I’ve gone to the IKEA in Brooklyn in three different ways: by subway and IKEA’s shuttle, by Zipcar with Bryan, and by the NYC Water Taxi service that goes right to IKEA’s door. The last was facinating. IKEA is located in Red Hook, Brooklyn, which is sort of around the bend from New York Harbor. In going from Pier 11 by Wall Street to Red Hook I was able to see much of the touristy things, even a nice shot of the Statue of Liberty. It’s always a pleasant thing to see when I’m downtown, seeing the statue. It’s a simple reminder of where I live and how lucky I am to live here.
One thing I do miss about the suburbs are the stores. Living cheaply is so important to us because of our rent, but finding cheap things to buy require trekking to Brooklyn or Queens, or stocking up when we’re not in the city. (But stocking up, naturally, leads to yet another Catch-22; we live in a studio apartment so where would we put that stuff?) Living in Pittsburgh we were only a drive away from pretty much any store (except H&M, heh), enabling us to buy cheap things at Walmart, Target, Sam’s Club, and of course the malls. New York City doesn’t really have malls. There are a few pretend malls but as a suburban girl at heart (New York City’s suburbs, thank you), I know a mall when I see one and they don’t exist here. Also because I have to take public transportation everywhere, I have to carry all of my purchases everywhere. I though I’d had it bad in Pittsburgh when we’d have to carry our groceries up a steep hill and a few flights of stairs to get to the elevator to our fifth floor apartment. Here I have to walk blocks and blocks with heavy bags if I’m so enterprising as to go to Target, IKEA, or Trader Joe’s, all of which require a few hours’ venture of a trip. It makes things interesting, I suppose, hehe.
I also really love the New York Public Library system (especially compared to Pittsburgh’s!) — that, and I love being able to take walks. In Pittsburgh you could walk some places but it was relatively restricted to stretches here and there, with long roads in between. Sometimes the traffic was prohibitive; sometimes there weren’t sidewalks. It’s not, of course, anything like that here. I can walk pretty much anywhere assuming I want to be walking all over the place. And it’s relatively hard to get lost. I promise you. Once you know the rule of thumb of the numbered streets, it’s simple. It’s even easier once you get the hang of which streets go north and which south and which do both, and where they split, etc. The village is still a bit confusing but I know its main streets and I understand its layout much better now than I had before moving here last year so I don’t really fear getting lost down there any more.
Speaking of walks, I think I’m going to go walk right now.
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