tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28544736330842912942024-03-08T07:47:51.881-05:00Year OneA documentation of the first year of an average person living in New York CityG.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-47693247440964427332007-07-27T16:57:00.000-04:002007-07-27T17:00:18.458-04:00Katie Michel (cont'd) (Day 81)The Pittsburgh Post Gazette ran an article about my friend and her family. A link to the article - which features quotes from friends, family and customers, as well as gives information for where to make donations to - is <a href="http://post-gazette.com/pg/07208/804842-122.stm">here</a>.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-55657913593257094492007-07-26T00:47:00.000-04:002007-07-27T17:01:11.991-04:00Katie Michel (Day 79)It was a dark, snow covered night during the thanksgiving season when my then girlfriend and I had an argument regarding which bus stop to go to in order to catch the shuttle to the airport resulting in us being stuck in downtown Pittsburgh expecting to either be late for or miss our flight to Philadelphia. With stress levels as high as our suitcases were heavy, we crossed Liberty Avenue and ducked into a Dunkin' Donuts with our cell phones in our cold and desperate hands looking at each other wondering who we could call to help us in making our flight on time.<br /><br />After a few minutes of my girlfriend trying to call some of her friends, a thought came to me - "I wonder if Katie Michel is around..." I searched my phone book quicker than I ever had before and pressed "send" when I arrived at her name. To my favor, Katie was at home, and agreed to come across town to chauffeur my girlfriend and I to the airport.<br /><br />Twenty minutes later, Katie Michel came down Liberty Avenue in the snow, smiling behind the wheel of the four-door she had named Rutherford for a reason I either never knew or can't remember. As Katie pulled over over, my girlfriend and I jammed our luggage into the car where we could, and thanked her the entire way to the airport which was still a thousand times less than we should have. Promising something special for her when we returned from our holiday, Katie just smiled, and told us we didn't have to do anything for her and wished us a good and safe trip.<br /><br />Not expecting anything in return for the kindness and generosity she gave to others is a quality that makes Katie Michel stand out in my mind. Never did it seem that Katie was doing me a favor, or that I was inconveniencing her in anyway - instead, if ever I needed anything from her, it always seemed as though she wasn't only willing or able to do it, but that she actually wanted to do it.<br /><br />Living each day to it's fullest is a saying we hear a lot, but that's exactly how Katie lived her life. Diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis, and having been through a lung transplant by the time I had met her, Katie Michel made the most of every day she was given knowing that each day she had was a gift - another day she had beaten her odds.<br /><br />It was in the spring following her holiday rescue of my girlfriend and I that I overheard Katie cough and knew her lungs were in rejection. As quick as I asked her about it, she told me not to worry, that she was switching medications and was hopeful that the symptoms would subside. A few months later though, she was admitted back to the hospital which is where she would stay until July 24th, 2007 when she passed away at the age of 24.<br /><br />Two days before I left Pittsburgh, the last thing she ever said to me with the help of a nurse was "I love you." It took all the energy I had to hold back my tears until I made it out of the hospital and called my sister to tell her about the kind of friend I had, and how unfair it was that this was happening to her. As long as I knew her, though, Katie Michel was always a strong and hopeful person who kept a positive attitude through all her hard times. A great friend, and the best kind of human being you could hope to have in your life are what will keep her special to me.<br /><br />I spoke with her brother earlier today, and her family is asking those who knew her to make donations to a scholarship fund. If any of you have been touched by her life, or perhaps even just this story, feel free to visit www.olsh.org, to donate.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-51634129195015963542007-07-10T23:25:00.000-04:002007-07-10T23:39:57.875-04:00On Driving (Days 62 hrough 64)My friend Diane and her boyfriend John came to New York for a food show with the promise of a place to crash while here. While we had fun when we could (I've been working a lot lately), their means of transportation to this fair city of mine was Diane's car.<br /><br />What I have to say on driving in this city is this: If you have any inkling that you are a bad driver, a driver who gets stressed out easily, or someone who in general doens't like crowds, loud noises, surprises or really, just other people - do not drive in this city.<br /><br />I love Diane and John dearly, and wold not consider either of them a bad driver, even if Diane has some of her own reservations about it. However, the two times the three of us were ina car together we got lost - once in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and the other time ending up in Hoboken, New Jersey.<br /><br />Awkward laughter, road rage, and finally crying were all responses to the stress of driving in and around the city. it's not even that the city itself is that hard to drive in - the streets in manhattan are basicallya grid - it's that the driving here is so agressive that with so many two-ton death machines on the road, if you're not sure of where you're going, or wha you're doing, you'll get lost, or possibly even run over in teh shuffle.<br /><br />The subway is cheaper than the tolls, gas, parking and pills you need to help de-stress, and to be honest, if you're coming for a visit to New York form any other major city, Southwest and jetBlue probably offer some kind of cheap airfare, with Amtrak or *shudder* Greyhound being acceptable options as well.<br /><br />Knowing Diane will eventually read this, I hope she doesn't feel that I think odd of her for her, or resent her in any way for getting caught up in teh stress of motorized transportation her ein the city. To be honest, I'm looking forward to the next time her and her navigator come visit because after all was said and done, I'm pretty sure they decided flying was a better option.<br /><br />If you're planning a visit to New York anytime soon, I suggest you do the same.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-14988276984178454222007-07-10T22:04:00.000-04:002007-07-10T23:18:53.781-04:00On Love, Cigarettes (Night 60)Since my first Marlboro Red when I was standing at the bus stop at about age 15, I've gone back and forth between smoker and non-smoker. I've quit after being caught by parents, in order to keep a girlfriend, and most recently, after a throat abscess that landed me in the hospital twice about two years ago. i suppose that even through that, though, there are still things about it that are attractive to me.<br /><br />For instance, I enjoy the smokers lifestyle. A typical night of mine as a smoker in college was spent at bars or coffee shops taking in more than necessary of what was served me, talking to made friends, and making new friends - whether fellow writers, cheating hostesses, or the owners of the establishment I was in.<br /><br />Moreover, though, something I learned about myself not so long ago is that I have an odd - if not comfortable - relationship with pain. While not a "cutter" or anything like that, I do deal with pain, or painful experiences, by laughing through them in what is usually a self-deprecating manner. I would rather deal with the pain of hurting myself than with that of the actual "problem" afflicting me.<br /><br />Something I linked this to earlier in the week is my opinion of love at the moment. For those of you meeting me through this blog, I'll just say that I've been hurt a lot in my relationships, and it sounds all so melodramatic but I'm of the mind right now that I can't continue to go through the pain of opening u to someone and then having them hurt me in return. in fact, shortly after my last relationship ended, it was to teh point where I was seriously considering hurting myself in order to not be able to be hurt by the "real problem" of the relationship ending, and so after picking up the habit again in teh not so recent past - this is why I smoke.<br /><br />It's not because I believe my jokes of how "it looks cool", or that I even believe I'll be one of the lucky few who makes it to his 110's on nothing but a scotch, bacon and cigarette diet - it's because even though I know teh addiction only ends one way - at least I know it. There's no surprise end as in a relationship - no being cheated on, no engagement broken off, and no being told 'we're just not right for each other."<br /><br />And so, as in any relationship, even in cigarettes there are consequences, and in New York City, it's not just consequences of health but of laws as well. Tis past friday night I was having a cigarette on an outdoor subway platform - a place with nary a "no smoking" sign in sight, when an officer of the law - one of new York's "finest", so to speak - came up to me asking for identification and fined me fifty dollars.<br /><br />The citing officer told me the chances were good that if contested I'd get the fine reduced, if not thrown out completely, but that he had to issue the citation anyway. With that in mind, I'm panning ot plead "not guilty" and go before a majistrate to argue my case - I'm new to the area, there were no posted sings, and I wasn't hurting anyone but myself.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-1837142635409455032007-07-06T11:51:00.000-04:002007-07-06T12:55:17.027-04:00The Writer Returns (Day 60)It's been 26 days since my last post, and I feel kind of terrible for it. Not only have I let things go on here, but personally, I'm sacrificing my need to write. It's therapy, in some way, I suppose - even if I'm not getting all that personal on here. The mental excercise, though, is what I believe helps rid myself of some of the everyday stressers and makes me "feel" better.<br /><br />That being said, a lot has happened in 26 days...<br /><br />1) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I'm going to be an uncle again.</span> In June my sister told me she's pregnant for the second time. Come December or so, my nephew will have a little brother or sister to play with..<br /><br />2) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I've moved.</span> I know live ina sectio of New York known as Ridgewood that borders Brooklyn and Queens. My roommate is a 21 South African girl named Leann brought here by way of Colorado. Her boyfriend, James is around a lot as well.<br /><br />3) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I'm preparing for promotion.</span> I briefly met another store manager here in New York who said he'd be looking for an Assistant manager in the fall. My current store manager told him (with me in the room) that I would fit in well with his store and hat I'd be ready by fall. I'm grateful to have the support, and am anxious and eager to take on more responsibility for the company, but I'm also a firm believer in Murphy's Law as well. I'm planning for the best right now, and focusing on being the best I can be in my position right now.<br /><br />4) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I got robbed.</span> I drank a bit too much one nite a few weeks ago and ended up passing out in the Union Square subway station. When I came to, my sport coat, wallet and PDA were gone. The PDA is a loss, but luckily my bank card was turned off immediately and the money refunded, and through the kindness of a stranger, my State ID was returned to me. It's been a hassle, and replacing some things cost me some money, but in the end it's not as if I got punched in the face or anything.<br /><br />5) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I got punched in the face.</span> Two days after being robbed I was coming around the corner towards my apartment when a large man bumped into me. I didn't think anything of it until he came back, spun me around and began saying something to me in beer soaked Polish. Finally asking me "Is there a fucking problem, motherfucker?" in English, I told him "No. Get the fuck off of me", and released his arms from their pinning of me to a fence. As his arms were flung up and outwards, he took one back, clenched a fist and took one swing at me, connecting with my jaw. A man yelled from the street and my assaulter took off. Luckily though bigger than me, he hits like a girl 9at least when drunk.)<br /><br />6) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I changed my phone number to a New York number.</span> If you don't have hte new one, let me know and I'll send it to you.<br /><br />7) <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I visited family and friends in Pennsylvania. </span> I went to Lancaster for a visit from Saturday through Tuesday. I saw and talked to a lot more people their than I have in a long time. Amber's sister (Kate) had her baby with some complications but all is well now. Lisa (you know, the one who helps me "run" this site) is still a social butterfly and incredibly fun to talk to and shop with. Ashley was able to take the two hours I saw her for (the first time in five years) and make me realize why I miss having her in my life. And finally, while my youngest siblings weren't home this past weekend, I did see my sister (in town from Chicago) for a day, which is never enough time.<br /><br />That's about where things stand right now. Diane (a friend form Pittsburgh) and her boyfriend are coming to visit me this coming Sunday through Tuesday, which is exciting, and sometime in teh near future I need to call Joe, Josh and Cait and see when I cna make plans to hang out with them.<br /><br />I'll update soon.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-4307299890274020292007-06-10T22:27:00.000-04:002007-06-10T22:53:06.185-04:00"Look Before You Leap", being the moral of thsi story, I suppose (Day 34)After trying to recover from teh hangover for half the day, Josh and I decided to head into Manhattan to buy CD's, DVD's and Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream Ice Cream. I boght my box sete of Ghostbusters I and II back (it had been stolen 2 years ago), and Josh bought an Elvis Costello record or two. Approaching 8th Ave., Josh spotted a place called "DVD Palace" nad persuaded me to check it out with him.<br /><br />The first thing I noticed upon entering was the staircase leading downstairs with a neon "Adult Section" sign glowing in the midday sun coming through the door. The man working the door stopped Josh and I and asked if we had ever been there before and thsi is what happens...<br /><br />Doorman: "You two ever been here before?"<br /><br />Josh: "Uh, no. Is thsi stuff to rent or to buy?"<br /><br />Doorman: "No, we don't rent anything man. It's all to buy."<br /><br />Josh: "Oh, ok. Good. That's what we want."<br /><br />Doorman: "Ok, well, let me tell you about the place. Up here are all our karate movies, and then here you've got all our adult movies which you can take into the booths right here and watch 'em, and If you decide you like 'em, you can buy 'em. Downstairs are all our new releases.<br /><br />Josh: "Uh, ok. Thanks."<br /><br />Realizing that this is not the kind of place we were hoping for, we hold out hope a moment longer to go check out the new releases which we come to discover are intermixed with condoms, jellies and dildos.<br /><br />After we left the store we proceeded up 8th Ave. in search of the ice cream and find that every other storefront is advertising some form of adult entertainment.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-51480339564929674812007-06-10T21:12:00.000-04:002007-06-10T22:27:00.919-04:00Wild Night (Night 33)9pm - It's 9pm and I can't get in touch with Joe, who I have plans to go out with. I look at Josh and ask, "Josh, do you want to go get drunk?" "Kind of," he replies. Cait tells us to go have a guys nite and Josh and I don't hesitate to oblige her.<br /><br />10pm - After a train ride intot eh Village and a stop to get cash, Josh and I make it to Bar None - a bar which promises $2 drinks every nite from 11pm to midnite. We order a drink inside, where it seems to empty to be a bar in New York. Josh's Guinness is $6, my Whiskey and Coke is $5.<br /><br />10:32pm - A shot girl comes up to us offering something orage with vodka or a Jagerbomb. I choose the Jagerbomb. Through the flirting she's required to go through with me, I find out that she's a Penn State, marketing student. She mentions something about an internship in the city, but I don't remember much of what she said about it. I can only guess selling overpriced shots to eager twenty-somethings is what she meant.<br /><br />11:01pm - Josh orders a $2 Whiskey and Soda Water. I try to order 5 of my drinks and the bartender tells me they have to give them to me one at a time during the special.<br /><br />11:04pm - I order my third drink.<br /><br />11:08pm - My fourth drink and a call from Joe telling me he and his girlfriend are heading into Manhattan to meet up with us by around midnite. Along comes drink number five.<br /><br />11:15pm - A girl named Jacqueline approaches Josh and I and tells us she's the event planner for the bar. She asks us how we like the place and we tell her we like it fine. I give her a fake name as Josh fills out the mailing list. Afterwards, Jacqueline buys Josh and I each a drink.<br /><br />11:30pm - After six drinks and a shot, I'm starting to think I should slow down. I find the restroom, and after my go, man the table as Josh has his.<br /><br />11:45pm - Jacqueline comes back and asks us where our drinks are. I tell her I've had seven already. She buys Josh and I another each.<br /><br />12:02am - Joe arrives and the four of us decide to go to a place he describes as "a Johnny Cash bar."<br /><br />12:25am - We enter Doc Holiday's (the Johnny Cash bar) and find seats at the bar. Joe tells me to order four PBR pounders and tells me I'll be surprised at how cheap it is. I order the beers and he's right, I am surprised - $16 is far too cheap for four PBR's.<br /><br />12:32am - "Ring of Fire" comes on the jukebox, and the stocky, suicide girl of a bartender jumps on the bar laces a shot in her mouth and ignites it, causing a fireball to erupt. She then sprays the crowd down with seltzer water.<br /><br />12:44am - Joe orders another round of beers.<br /><br />1:15am - I order another round of beers.<br /><br />1:35am - I make my way to the bathroom. After, I put a dollar in the jukebox which contains no records by what you would call "modern" artists, and what the juke does have hasn't been released since 1972 save the one Johnny Cash record from the oughts it has. I pick two songs, but somehow notice that I have ten more plays. I tell some douchebag ina polo shirt that I have plays left if he wants.<br /><br />2am - Joe orders what will be our final round at the bar. He tells me about job offers he's gotten, and speaks highly of his girlfriend, who earlier inthe evening I asked ot teach me Russian. I don't remember her response.<br /><br />2:30am - We depart the bar and suddenly my drunkenness kicks into overdrive. I start calling random girls, "baby" and tell some random guy on the street to "leave me the fuck alone." A few blocks later some girls on a balcony that I cna't see start shouting into the street, "I can see you!" I lie and shout back, "I can see you!" We go back and forth for a few minutes until I spot a bike on the street and try to steal it - turns out it's chained though.<br /><br />2:40am - I see another bike and try to steal it until I notice a bottle of wine housed in it's basket. Upon finding out the bottle is empty, I smash it on the sidewalk.<br /><br />2:50am - We arrive at 4th ave. and after goodbyes that seem to take ten minutes, begin to art ways. I see a guy at the corner, and ask, "where the fuck did you come from?" My friends apologize for me.<br /><br />3am - I tell Josh I'm hungry and find an open food cart. I order up a chicken kebab and with food in mouth proclaim, "you are the man! seriously, you rule!" to the vendor.<br /><br />3:04am - Josh and I head into the subway but it turns out my metrocard expired at midnite. We walk across the street to the station with an open card machine and buy myself a one trip ticket. The sensation of needing to relieve the biggest piss int eh world hits me as we get to our platform.<br /><br />3:20am - While standing I stumble and Josh gets scared that I'll fall onto the train tracks. he tells me to lean against the subway map as a lonely saxophone begins to play. "This is awesome!" I say. I begin improvising words and singing along. I don't remember any of it, but Josh tells me, "well, the saxophone was good."<br /><br />3:40am - The Q train arrives and Josh and I get on it. I have no recoolection of anything until we arrive at our stop half an hour later when, surprisingly, Josh is able to wake me up, and even more surprisingly, I haven't pissed myself.<br /><br />4:20am - We get back tot eh apartment. In the midst of taking off my clothes, I launch a quarter from the inside pocket of my jeans across the room. It seems like the coolest thing ever at the time, but i pass out anyway.<br /><br />10am - I wake up with the worst headache known to man to the sounds of pots and pans as I groan, "Ow!" from the couch. Cait tells me she's making blueberry pancakes and bacon and that their's Orange Juice in the fridge. Josh and Cait are the best people ever.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-79608593119901654732007-06-10T21:05:00.000-04:002007-06-10T21:11:42.573-04:00Apartment (Day 33)I responded to some craigslist ads and ended up finding a place ot live. I'll be sharing a small two bedroom apartment in Queens with Leann, a 21 year old waitress originally from South Africa who took some psychology courses before moving to New York around the age of 19.<br /><br />Anyone who wants the address - whether to send me letters or presents in the mail, or to plan a trip to come visit me - e-mail me and I'll send it your way.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-14961127633098596642007-06-10T20:31:00.000-04:002007-06-10T21:05:42.578-04:00Fat Bottomed Girls (Day 32)A girl came into the store with a bent debit card that instead of being able to be swiped through the register, had to be entered manually. The girl was tan skinned, curly haired and average looking and when I joked, "ran it through the laundry machine?", she started her bubble voiced response with, "No I'm a big girl and I accidentally sat on it..."<br /><br />As someone living in one of (if not the) fattest countries in the world, it's hard not to find at least one person a day who has at least a little extra weight. I dont' give it much thought (hell, I could lose some weight too) unless the person in question is obese, or at least acting in an obese way.<br /><br />Obesity to me isn't all an issue of size, but rather an attitude. If you're overeight, but staying active - walking around, having fun, offering something meaningful to society, or maybe even acknowledging the fact that you're not a model and are trying to better yourself for your own purposes, fine.<br /><br />if on the other hand you're allowing yourself to fall by the wayside by keeping a job that keeps you on your ass all day, eating fried foods and cheesecake, and instead of doing anything productive are rather taking up space, well, how does one allow themselves to become that?<br /><br />My point here is that I was taken aback when the girl brought it up, as I hadn't given it a thougth myself, and it's not every day that you hear someone talk about their own weight without the slightest of uncomfortability coming along with it - and, without sounding sexist here - especially a woman. It was good to see that this person, at least, didn't believe in the "ignorance is bliss" rule. She appeared happy and healthy even as she was bringing up her weight. It seems logical to guess that this attitude isn't a rarity seen in a fleeting, coffee shop moment, but rather one that translates to her everyday life.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-18844367848602267382007-06-10T19:51:00.000-04:002007-06-10T20:31:12.970-04:00Fashion (Day 31)I'm a man in all the obvious ways as well as some that aren't so obvious. Aside from the whole "having a penis" thing, I eat steak, drink whiskey, like action movies and have a fear of commitment and even more of a fear of having children. I wear jeans, like brunettes and along with my special brand of charm - or "misanthropy" as I like to call it - comes the normality fo a few extra pounds that I could spare from my 69 and a half inches.<br /><br />I'm finding, however, that "fashion" for a man here in New York means being built like a five foot four, 95 lbs. twelve year old girl. Every store I go into displays it's "extra small" size on the mannequins and tabletops, and every displayed pant size seems to only reach the length of 30 inches and the waist fo 32. The counter help performs he miracle of being able to fit into these clothes while all the while delivering no particular kind of service to their customers.<br /><br />I suppose what I'm wondering here is when it became cool to be short, scrawny and awkward? I know that nerdiness becomes cool some time in your mid-twenties, and I know that most women like a man who at least pretends to be a bit cultured. That doesn't mean they like men whose body structure wouldn't allow them to help carry the groceries, let alone change a tire, and I'm almost certain that no woman wants a man whose newly purchased "extra small" shirt and size 28 jeans reeks of pheromones more than Chanel No. 5.<br /><br />As for women, their fashion sense isn't any better. All day long I see women walking down the street wearing what can only be defined as a short dress over top of their pants along with sunglasses so large that they put Bono's to shame. Gone are the days when all a woman had to do was look good ina pair of jeans, replaced by todays standard of gaudiness and cellular telephones that cause the perception of Times Square exploding onto their face.<br /><br />"It costs a fortune to look this trashy," is a quote of Bono's I read once without giving it a second thought. Here in this city, though, where it's hard to find any of the aforementioned products for less than fifty dollars, perhaps it is true that tackiness, gaudiness, or more simply - trashiness acts as social stature. I can only hope I never become rich to the point of looking like rags.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-16022899230425210582007-05-31T00:47:00.000-04:002007-05-31T01:20:16.765-04:00"In My Country There Is Problem, And That Problem Is Transport..." (Day 30)"I've gone local."<br /><br />These words rang through my head while taking the Q train to work at 4:45 in the morning, and to a lot of you, they mean nothing. To the millions of people who take MTA transport, however, it means that whatever "express" train you thought you got on, is actually making every stop (a "scenic route", of sorts) instead of the minimal stops an express train makes on its regular run.<br /><br />I don't have a problem with a longer train ride, to be honest. I just wish I knew when to expect them. A reasonable person might retort, "Why not look at a schedule!", and that would be a proper response in any other city. While there are schedules available here, however, no one seems to make use of them. Trains arrive and depart at will, which is about every 5 to 10 minutes during normal business hours - so I have no complaints on that, however they also get delayed or re-routed at will as well.<br /><br />A lot of trains actually have signs clarifying any misgivings about the route or routes that stop on that track. For example, at Church Avenue, the B train says where it goes and when - late nites and weekends have exclusions. At the same stop, however, the Q train placard tells riders that it's an express to Manhattan at "all times." I don't pretend to know the inner workings of the MTA, however in the month I've been in this city, I've "gone local" twice when I shouldn't have, have been told my train is delayed because of "an investigation" at another station twice, and have once been informed that my Q train was becoming an N train and that instead of waiting on the same track for the following Q, I'd have to walk up the stairs, to the right, down the ramp, to the left and then back down some stairs to catch another Q - which ended up being late.<br /><br />Announcements on board or in the train stations are a normal expectation as well, however, half the time the announcements on board are inaudible due to a problem with volume control, and when an announcement inside the station is made my a human instead of a machine, it's inaudible because of speed of delivery or the sounds of thousands of overlapping footsteps and conversations.<br /><br />A lot of times things go right on the MTA trains, however, and without them I wouldn't get to play my movie making game, nor would I have had half the conversations I had in my first week of being here. Still, it's not unheard of to have to deal with crazy women on ecstasy shouting "those ain't my niggas, them's white fingas on the triggas", foul smells, mystery goops and liquids, litter, and plain old assholes. For all of that, it's not unreasonable to ask to be informed about which route my train is going and when.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-82314696877358181332007-05-31T00:31:00.000-04:002007-05-31T00:47:38.087-04:00Mini Meta Post (Day 29)It finally happened.<br /><br />I'm failing my mission. I started this blog in an attempt to write a little bit each day on my first year in New York. I the past week, however, I've been writing more like very other day - sometimes every third.<br /><br />It's all my fault, I suppose. No one to blame but myself. I'm the one who found a job within a week of arriving here, and I'm the one working 40 uneven hours of work a week and losing the energy to write every nite.<br /><br />Likewise, I'm the one who came to New York with no place to live other than on my friend's couch, thus forcing me to spend what time I have to peruse the internet on craigslist looking for sublets so as not to overstay my welcome.<br /><br />So this is an apology to you the reader albeit an empty one. A promise that "I'll never do it again", isn't following, nor is any real guilt towards you.<br /><br />The guilt I feel is from feeling as though I've failed my writing experiment within the first month of taking it on. I can tell myself (and you) that I'll try to do better, or that I'll be more diligent, but in the end all I can do is write a post that sounds apologetic but isn't in order to decrease the number of posts I have backed up.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-49560321957842217532007-05-27T21:09:00.000-04:002007-05-27T22:18:32.998-04:00Holidays In The Sun (Day 26-28)This weekend saw me not doing anything new, so much as relaxing on my days off when I could, as well as helping to show some of New York to Josh's parents.<br /><br />Friday started early as my plans for later that evening were canceled and Josh started inviting me along to show his parents around New York as we went about tidying up his apartment. Our later excursion to the post office was a confusing one as a local drug store advertised postal service but then referred us up the street to the crowded and un air conditioned post office. Upon finishing our business there Josh and I headed back to his apartment, but then separated soon thereafter as I headed into Manhattan to pick up my paycheck.<br /><br />Once in Manhattan, I spent some time at my store saying hi to co-workers before heading out to decide what to do with my day. Deciding once again to make my way into Times Square to check out novelty T-Shirt prices for family members as well as to track down the MTV store to see what it was all about, I deposited my check and headed into headed up 7th Ave.<br /><br /><br />The trip was an ultimate disappointment, however, not only because I hate Times Square enough to begin with, but also in that the MTV store was nothing like I expected it to be. It was small, had only a meager selection of T-Shirts and housed a minimal selection of stickers at the front counter. To be honest, if any company or corporation had a market to advertise to, I figured MTV would be it. On a personal note, I was hoping for a vintage room featuring <span style="font-style: italic;">Liquid Television </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Remote Control </span>T-Shirts, a wall of nothing but <span style="font-style: italic;">Unplugged</span> CD's and DVD's, and maybe even <a href="http://imdb.com/gallery/granitz/3861/Events/3861/KarenDuffy_Kambo_6482705_400.jpg.html?path=pgallery&path_key=Duffy,%20Karen%20%28I%29">Duff's</a> leather jacket or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisa_Kennedy_Montgomery">Kennedy's</a> glasses encased in glass.<br /><br />To be honest, the rest of my Friday nite was boring. My initial plan after my, er, initial plans got canceled, was to try to track down Joe and go get drunk with him. As it happened, however, he tried to call me around 8pm when I was napping and my phone was on silent. I woke up around 10pm as Josh and his parents walked in from their sightseeing and dinner.<br /><br />On Saturday I decided to join Cait, along with Josh, his parents and two of their friends in more sightseeing. I'll be gin by saying that Josh's parents and their friends are in their late 40's or early 50's, hail from a suburb of Pittsburgh, and have never seen New York before. So their list of sights to see included the following:<br /><br />1) Statue of Liberty<br />2) Ground Zero<br />3) Times Square<br />4) Eat at a "real" New York Deli<br /><br />Instead of taking a ferry to get up close and personal with Lady Liberty in 90 degree weather, we decided to take the train into Battery Park which offers a fine view of the statue. The first to get frustrated with the pace we had to keep with Josh's parents, I saw Cait giving the same eye roll I was and found comfort and kinship in it. Still, Josh' parents (and now their friends) had been nothing but nice to me, and there I was saying to myself that these were the people I hate in New York - the slow walkers, the eons who take up the entire sidewalk, the ones who move with no purpose and take pictures in the middle of the street - I couldn't help but be frustrated, but I felt like a terrible person at the same time.<br /><br />In perspective, however, seeing Ground Zero and Lady Liberty wound's be things I would go and do on my own, so I was glad ot see them, even if at my own pace our list of stops would've taken me two hours as opposed to a whole day. That evening, after Josh's parents made their way back to Pennsylvania, the three of us had a mini-bitchfest for a few minutes and then decided it was time to buy a twelve pack of beer and watch House re-runs.<br /><br />My workday today was my making of amends for hating our tourist tagalongs yesterday I suppose. The store wasn't busy in the slightest due to the Memorial Day weekend, but what customers we did have all seemed to be tourists from out of the country. I was pleasant to all of them while still finding it odd that these fok would be taking a long weekend over Memorial Day weekend, an American holiday. One British woman told me she expected the city to not be as busy which I sort of chuckled at because A) it's New York, and B) I had actually thought it was a slow weekend int eh city from teh previous ones I had seen.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-35403514334960499782007-05-25T01:09:00.000-04:002007-05-25T01:33:11.924-04:00Good Little Children (Night 25)It's infrequent, anymore, that I see what the world would refer to as "good" children anymore. While I admit to being not only crotchety, but also a misanthrope, that doesn't change the fact that many parents today don't appear to be there for their children in any sense other than to pay their cell phone bill, buy them a venti frappucino at Starbuck's, and take them shopping. Simple values like picking up after oneself, saying "please" and "thank you", and being respectful of others seem to have fallen by the wayside as today's parents are busier and busier with their own lives.<br /><br />So tonite I was shocked when at around 10:30pm a boy around seven years old offered to hold his mother's bag in his lap while he sat and she stood for the duration of their ride on the Q train. Not only that, but on crowded train car, the mother took the time to give a mini-lesson in geography and subtraction to the child when he asked where they were and how many more stops they had. Not once did the mother ignore the boy, and not once did she raise her voice or degrade the child. Ina world (or city) more accepting, I would've like to have talked to the boy and his mother to tell the child how nice he was to her, see what kind of things he's interested in, and to tell his mother that I liked how curly her hair was.<br /><br />I found myself continuing to look over and watch the mother and child throughout the train ride in awe of all that was going on inside their immediate nucleus. What I was even more in awe of, by juxtaposition, was that when a seat net to the child freed up on the car, a man took it instead of pointing it out to the mother. It seems some people just haven't been raised right.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-80339182330057479882007-05-25T00:31:00.000-04:002007-05-25T01:08:50.366-04:00Eight Months (Night 24)Apologies for not posting this earlier. In all honesty, my last few days have been taken up by thoughts of what at was the impending <span style="font-style: italic;">LOST </span>season finale. A few days back I found a summary of the episode online and read it without knowing if it was accurate or not. In the day or so that followed, I literally lost sleep over what I had read wondering if it were true and what would happen in that case. As it turned out, what I read was true, yet, knowing the outcome of the episode as it was unfolding didn't stop the roller coaster ride of emotions I was put through.<br /><br />I realize that to most people it sounds insane to lose sleep over what's going to happen inside the lives of fictional characters, but at the moment, <span style="font-style: italic;">LOST </span>is one of two shows I regularly watch (the other being the always enjoyable, yet formulaic <span style="font-style: italic;">House, MD</span>). It's been a show full of good sotry telling with one (maybe two) not so good episodes in it's three season long history, and personally as it holds a place in my heart as the show I've watched with friends, called my sister afterwards to discuss plot points, and even had a relationship end after one season finale, I feel connected to it in some way. I am compelled to see this show through to the end.<br /><br />Last nite's season finale was jarring, and left me with the feeling that I should call the person responsible for introducing me to the show and say, "So, I know we don't talk anymore, and I hated you for a long time, but this is important - this is <span style="font-style: italic;">LOST</span>." I refrained, however, and am now in the beginning stages of an eight month wait for next season to begin. This got me thinking about eight things that will have happend in eight months:<br /><br />1) In eight months I'll have experienced Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years in New York.<br /><br />2) In eight months at least one friend will have given birth to her second child.<br /><br />3) In eight months I'll have gone back to Pittsburgh for my first visit since I've left.<br /><br />4) In eight months I'll have gone to Boston to see two close friends who will return from Europe.<br /><br />5) In eight months I'll be 27.<br /><br />6) In eight months I'll have been living in New York for nine.<br /><br />7) In eight months it will have been a little over 19 since I'll have taken a college class.<br /><br />8) In eight months it will have been over a year since I "left" working for a bank.<br /><br />There are events coming up in my life, then, that will no doubt distract me from next season's start. Still, you can bet I'll be checking spoiler sites and message boards, and contemplating picking up the phone to rekindle a - ahem - <span style="font-style: italic;">lost </span>friendship.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-61424338668865537722007-05-22T22:14:00.000-04:002007-05-22T22:59:21.239-04:00Batman, Groceries, Apartments and My Bad Attitude (Day 23)First, I'm sure you'll all notice that the featured picture this week is not of my standard black and white variety. As I wrote about the other day, one of the few comic book heroes I do get geeky over is Batman, and in case you hadn't heard, the sequel to 2005 <span style="font-style: italic;">Batman Begins </span>entitled <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dark Knight</span> comes out next July (2008). This time around the Joker is being portrayed by Heath (yes, <span style="font-style: italic;">Brokeback Mountain</span>) Ledger, and it appears from the photo I'm featuring - which is legit, I assure you - that director Christoper Nolan is giving the fans what they want: a more violent, and sinister looking Joker with a cut-smile look about him.<br /><br />If the newest Batman saga interests you, I suggest the following links:<br /><br /><a href="http://batman-on-film.com/batmovienews.html">Batman On Film (News)</a><br /><a href="http://thedarkknight.warnerbros.com/">The Dark Knight</a><br /><a href="http://ibelieveinharveydent.warnerbros.com/">I Believe In Harvey Dent</a><br /><a href="http://ibelieveinharveydenttoo.com/">I Believe in Harvey Dent Too</a> (not down, click and drag over the entire page).<br /><br />On to more things about New York...<br /><br />I went grocery shopping yesterday and ended up spending about $45 which got me one steak, four pork chops, a bunch of asparagus, a 12 pack of diet coke, a four pack of sugar free Red Bull, one roll of paper towels, one frozen pizza, one carton of Breyer's ice cream, and one bottle of store brand chocolate syrup (sometimes when I'm feeling like a ten year old, I crave chocolate milk - it's so good.)<br /><br />I suppose meat generally costs a bit, and the four pack of Red Bull was around eight bucks, but yesterday was the first time I left the grocery store feeling like I had gotten ripped off. I had three bags of groceries and had spent $45 without even really putting a full, normal meal together. I shouldn't complain too much, though, as my job affords me the opportunity to take home a variety of leftover lunch items. Still, it's hard getting used to how quickly money can be spent in this city.<br /><br />Another thing I'm getting used to is apartment hunting. Today a girl from work invited me to take a look at a room she's vacating in her apartment. We set up a time, cleared it with her other roommate (with whom I'd be living with) and by the time I was leaving work to check out the apartment, someone else had beaten me to it. It seems like the best way to get a place around here is to either A) use a broker, who will charge you service fees, or B) know someone who knows someone who knows someone... I've been looking on craigslist, and have some feelers out with other friends, but if anyone in the New York area knows of anything, please let me know.<br /><br />I'm also starting to wonder if maybe my "inner New Yorker" is starting to come out. Over the weekend I vented to Josh and Cait about my pet peeve of people walking with no sense of speed or purpose and they commented in the same way my mother had last week. At work I've also started to notice that I have no patience for customers who are rude to myself, other employees or other customers.<br /><br />Just today I was taking an order form someone and a woman behind me kept interrupting saying "excuse me" over and over. I turned to her and told her that I was helping someone else and would be right with her. She then complained that she had been given the "wrong kind of lid" (flat lid instead of a bubbled sip lid) and would now spill her coffee everywhere. I explained that we had run out of the kinds of lids she was referring to, and that a new order was coming soon. To be honest though, I learned how to drink a drink without spilling it when I was a child - I feel bad for people whose life experience was such that it didn't lend them an opportunity to learn such a basic fucking life skill. From the way my original customer rolled his eyes towards Miss Can't-Drink-A-Drink, I can see I'm not the only one feeling bad for her.<br /><br />Finally, I was given a free pair of Yankees tickets by Bank of America for reopening my accounts in New York (no Mom, this doesn't mean you don't have to send me my debit card - please send it quickly!) I debated the reopening process for a few minutes but then decided I can always close one set of accounts, and the free Yankees tix were worth it, as I feel I should see Yankee Stadium. It's bleacher seats, but I'll probably have the opportunity to move to better seats. If anyone wants to go see the Yanks play the Blue Jays in late September, I've got an extra ticket.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-4049730227610301242007-05-21T21:04:00.000-04:002007-05-21T21:37:28.183-04:00Making Movies About Working On The Railroad (Day 22)To start, I'd like ot thank all of you who have been commenting on Year One. In the three weeks I've been in New York, I've had some friends and family members comment, but in the last few days I've received comments from people I don't believe I know. Whether you've gotten the blog address from a friend, a slip of paper that was lost in NYC, or from my mother - thanks for reading and thanks for leaving feedback.<br /><br />I've also decided that as I reference music a bit, I need to find out how to post mp3's on a blog. If anyone knows how to do this, please contact me so you can learn me somethin' new!<br /><br />The other day I wrote about riding the subway with my mp3 player on and noticing how the visuals matched the music. Then yesterday I wrote about the gentleman who asked the train car for money. Today on my way home from work, a different gentleman than the one who boarded yesterday's train came aboard and started asking for money. While this man didn't go as in depth as yesterday's panhandling passenger, he seemed as thankful, earnest and humble about his collection.<br /><br />The reason I mentioned the mp3 posting above is because the song playing on my mp3 player at the time of the man coming aboard was Coldplay's "Politik." It's hard to explain what the visuals were like without having the song accessible, but if you can, try to imagine a man coming aboard a train and asking the passengers on the car for help from anyone who can offer it as Chris Martin's ethereal, brit-pop vocals begin to sing "Look at earth from outer space/Everyone must find a place..."<br /><br />If nothing else, I suppose it made me go all idealistic for a moment and gave me an idea for a video.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-22714938602624403782007-05-21T00:08:00.000-04:002007-05-21T00:30:12.128-04:00Working On The Railroad (Day 21)I was taking the Q train to work this afternoon when a man got aboard and immediately started talking to everybody. Strange people talking strangely is commonplace in New York, but what this man was trying to do was give away a free ice cooler at first, but then started talking about hsi personal life.<br /><br />"My wife and I fell on hard times," he said as he offered a card with his name and phone number to anyone who would take it. He asked anyone to let him know if they needed work done on their house, as well as held out a hat stating that any money anyone could donate right there on the train would be used to do laundry and help put food on the table.<br /><br />I've seen panhandlers and street salesmen before, and like all those other times, I didn't give this man money. I was struck, however, not only by his ability to speak in public and sell himself, but also the extent to which he offered, asked and thanked the people. If he was lying, which may be the case, he at least put together a believable speech and wasn't rude, demanding or degrading to anyone. If he was telling the truth, though, it's quite a shock to the system to see how someone can get to the point that they can feel comfortable telling their life story to - and asking for help from - strangers.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-39208686179676891962007-05-20T11:11:00.000-04:002007-05-20T12:47:02.027-04:00"You're Such A Nerd." (Day 20)I made my way to the Village with Josh and Cait to go see Spiderman 3. It wasn't a great movie, but it wasn't a bad one either. Josh says I still have sticker shock from having to pay $11 to see a movie - on a Saturday afternoon, no less - but the all of ten minutes featuring Venom, and the scene featuring Bruce Campbell made it worth it.<br /><br />Though Josh and I being surprised by Cait with two large drinks, an order of nachos and a bottomless bucket of popcorn was fun, the real fun started once we all left the theater. Josh and Cait took me down to The Strand, a three story used book store where the music section is next to the Germanic history section and the aisle itself has a Philip K. Dick end cap, there's a Tears for Fears video collection on the same rack as a used copy of Brokeback Mountain, and all three floors are chock full of NYU girls.<br /><br />I perused the selection and stumbled across a book on Charlton Heston, a Warhol collection, the new Palahniuk novel, and an entire section dedicated to the artwork of men's magazines. I considered buying a couple "not for tourist" guides to sections of the city, but let it go for the time being before making a stop at the box sets, and the $1 book carts on our way out the door.<br /><br />After The Strand, Cait left Josh and I to go to a book reading, and before taking a trip to the local Walgreen's to see if we could hunt down Ben & Jerry's "Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream" (we couldn't), we decided to stp by Forbidden Planet - the local comic book store.<br /><br />Now, I admit to not being much of a comic reader. I've read a few Batman comics, used to have some Spiderman comics when I was younger, and have read a good bit of Frank miller's Sin City, but what I love about comic book stores is geekiness of it all.<br /><br />The first thing I saw when I walked in was the T-Shirt options hanging from the wall, but I was quickly distracted by the life-size Batman statue worth $2400 that was being raffled off. Making my way down aisle after aisle I came upon action figures from Buffy, Star Trek, and CSI: NY just to name a few, not to mention the loads of other memorabilia encased as well.<br /><br />On top of the memorabilia, the comic selection appeared to be extensive, although some things seemed out of place or hard to locate (there were Marvel comics on the DC Vertigo stand, for instance.) That aside, however, another thing I love about comic stores is that even if it's been a while since the last time you've been in one, you can almost always find something that catches your eye. This time around I found the comic version of the movie Se7en - the "Pride" killing to be specific. I considered buying it, but thought that going back when I had more time would lend me both the opportunity to see if I could find the issues I had missed, as well as the opportunity to see more hot, geeky, comic book chicks.<br /><br />Geek out.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-22300796536101894262007-05-19T11:21:00.000-04:002007-05-19T12:18:11.598-04:00Making Movies (Night 19)One of my favorite past times is wearing my mp3 player while walking or riding around whatever town I live in. Sometimes I watch conversations and imagine what's being said, and sometimes I watch the scenery and make my own music videos - while not even being high.<br /><br />Last nite I started <span style="font-style: italic;">There Is A Light That Never Goes Out</span> by The Smiths as the Q train was pulling away from Canal St. towards the Manhattan Bridge. The sight of Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge lit up at 11 o'clock at night appeared just as the first "...To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die" was ending,and the song ended as the train went into the tunnel on the other end of the bridge towards Dekalb Ave.<br /><br />As the lights in the tunnel led the train into Dekalb Ave., U2's <span style="font-style: italic;">Electrical Storm</span> started. The sonic properties of Bono's vocals played off the blue and white lights until we pulled into the station and people exited the train as "...You're in my mind all of the time..." was sung.<br /><br />I'm interested to find out if I'm alone in my film making, or if other people make their own movies in their mind as well. Send me a comment and let me know.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-25718155952709215192007-05-18T08:47:00.000-04:002007-05-18T09:28:32.583-04:00The Kindness of Strangers (Day 18)<span style="font-style: italic;">(I've written about how New Yorkers are self-involved. This is an example of being proven wrong...)</span><br /><br />Last nite an old woman who didn't speak english very well, and who was also a bit argumentative, came into the store and wanted to buy a half-pound of coffee. Myself and my co-workers got her order together and once the woman was gone, one co-worker informed me that the police had been called to escort hre out at one point for causing a scene after trying to get change for a $100 bill when only paying with a $10 bill.<br /><br />I told my co-worker I'd be sure to keep an eye out, and headed outside to take my ten minute break. While outside, an attractive brunette in her 30's said hi to me and asked "you work for Starbuck's, right?" I told her I did, and now recognized her as a customer whose bank card hadn't worked last week.<br /><br />As a lot of our customers during the daytime come from teh building the store is directly under, I figured she was a regular customer and told her not to worry about the cup of coffee. Now, outside on my break, she took the time to approach and thank me. We spoke for a few moments, exchanged first names, and parted ways.<br /><br />About half an hour later, the old woman was back in teh store asking for a small cup of coffee. She placed a handful of change on the counter, and after counting it I informed her that it wasn't enough for our smallest cup of coffee.<br /><br />Just then a familiar looking woman in her 20's got in line and said, "It's ok, I'll pay for the rest of her coffee." I asked if she was sure, and upon further endorsement, I gave the old woman her cup of coffee. The other customer told me to give the money back to the old woman, and then ordered a mint tea and a Rice Crispy square ("sinful square", she called them) while chuckling as as I expressed my shock that somebody would do that for another person here.<br /><br />It was as I was getting her order together that I realized why I thought I recognized this person - the customer bore a striking resemblance to Norah Jones.<br /><br />"Doesn't Norah Jones live on the Lower East Side?", I thought. "Why would she come all the way to midtown for a mint tea and a "sinful square? It can't be her," I thought.<br /><br />I'm not going to claim to have met Ms. Jones, because a memory has a tendency to change a bit over time - especially when you're trying to convince yourself who someone was or wasn't. I will say, however, that one reason I thought it couldn't be her is that she would be on tour in support of her new album. As it turns out, that tour doesn't start until June, so I suppose anything is possible.<br /><br />Whether or not I met a celebrity isn't the point of the story, though - the fact that two strangers went out of their way to be nice to someone else for a few seconds is.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-74658983747765028552007-05-16T18:55:00.000-04:002007-05-16T20:55:37.827-04:00Buy Me Hats or (Not Such A) Miracle on 34th St. (Day 17)Now that I know where I'm going when taking the trains and walking around, I've started wearing my mp3 player on the train ride and subsequent walk to work.<br /><br />As I exited the subway station at 34 St. in front of Macy's (you know, <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> Macy's - of Thanksgiving Day Parade fame), I stopped to change the song on my mp3 player. All of a sudden I felt something hit the back of my head and feared the worst:<br /><br />"Did a bird...just...shit on me?"<br /><br />I reached my hand to the back of my head and felt some kind of liquid. As I looked at my hand, my fears were put to rest as I saw something that didn't resemble bird excrement, but rather looked more like a soy latte. From what I remember, there was no discernible odor, but that didn't stop the feeling of disgust that overcame me as I wiped my hand off on Macy's exterior wall.<br /><br />With 20 minute to get to work, I ran into Macy's and asked the doorman where the public bathroom was. He told me it was on the 7th floor, and I made my way to the elevators trying in desperate embarrassment to not have the back of my head face anyone. I found the bathroom and spent 10 minutes washing out my hair without being able to know if whatever grossness was forced upon me is gone.<br /><br />I made it to work with about three minutes to spare. Once back at Josh's apartment, I told him the story and he informed me that he is under the impression that the windows in Macy's don't open. We determine that either a bird did in fact shit on me (a scenario I'm not willing to even contemplate), or that someone threw something at me.<br /><br />Either way, if you'd like to send me a hat - or multiple hats, <a href="gregosisek@gmail.com">e-mail me</a> to discuss style options and receive a shipping address.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-8587969881733445852007-05-16T18:35:00.000-04:002007-05-16T18:55:24.615-04:00Bad Attitude (Day 16)A friend of mine asked me today, "Have you developed the New Yorker bad attitude yet?"<br /><br />First of all, it's not just New Yorkers who have bad attitudes - I was born and raised outside fo Philadelphia, and then lived in Pittsburgh for eight years and I developed a bad attitude on my own, thank you very much. Second of all, as I've written before, I don't think New Yorkers as a whole have bad attitudes, they're just self-involved.<br /><br />What I have noticed, however, is that things that used to be pet peeves are now major annoyances. For example, before I moved here my managers in Pittsburgh (who lived in New Jersey and worked in New York before moving back to Pittsburgh) told me to make sure I "moved like I had a purpose" even if I didn't have one. As I'm someone who's a fast walker, and who detests it when people walk down the middle of the sidewalk at a speed slower than surrounding foot traffic, this was not going to be a difficult task for me.<br /><br />As I've found, however, there are a lot of people who don't heed this advice. It's a city of 8 million people, and probably close to double that during business hours, and still there are always people walking slowly down the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the entranceway to a storefront or subway station, or otherwise not paying attention to where they've positioned themselves. In other cities, this has been a pet peeve that resulted in some - shall I say - less than christian thoughts. In New York, however, I'm betting I've got about another two weeks or so before I blurt out, "fucking move, asshole!"<br /><br />I told my mom this the other nite, and she said, "Becoming a real New Yorker, aren't we?" Maybe she's right, but I'd argue I was always like this - it just took New York to show me my full potential.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-79077190459212522932007-05-15T00:36:00.000-04:002007-05-15T00:51:46.983-04:00You're Welcome (Day 15)I stuck around the store after work today awaiting my first week's worth of tips only to have an error occur which resulted in me being shorted on my tips. I notified my store manager, and the woman who gets the tips together and a solution was figured out.<br /><br />After I received most of the remainder of my week's worth of tips, I found the co-worker responsible for getting tips together and thanked her personally for helping me out. She looked straight at me and didn't say anything. I'm not sure if I said something to offend her, or if she was having a bad day (or anything for that matter), and honestly, it doesn't matter. I was raised to say "you're welcome" when someone thanks you. Over the years I've used the words "no problem", or "yeah, it's cool", as a replacement, but I didn't even get that. Instead, I thanked a co-worker for helping me out, and I got a cold, blank stare in response.<br /><br />I suppose I'm going to have to get used to the fact that not everyone I'm nice to is going to be nice to me in return - especially not in a city where (as I've written before) the focus is on the individual. I was just surprised that the coldness came from a co-worker when everyone else I work with has been open and receptive to my arrival.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2854473633084291294.post-31026771376221549892007-05-15T00:11:00.000-04:002007-05-15T00:35:40.380-04:00Musical Atrocities (Day 14)First, I was serving a drink to a couple of asian girls, when I noticed one was wearing a Rolling Stones tongue logo T-Shirt. As I'm a fan of the band, I commented that I liked the shirt. The girl said thanks, and when I asked her, "are you a fan?", she said, "um, I just thought the shirt was cool."<br /><br />I'm all for fashion, but I can't stand poseurs. I compare this to my store manager talking of a time when everyone walking around New York wore a Yankees cap because they were at the top. If you're really a fan - great, but quite jumping on the bandwagon. Quit wearing clothes for teams, bands or stores you don't actually support because it looks "cool." Real cool comes from not having to think about it, but doing it naturally. I might wear nice things and like to shop, but once I'm out of the shower it still only takes me twelve minutes to get ready. Find your own style - don't fake someone else's.<br /><br />Which leads me to the next atrocity...<br /><br />I was talking to Kayla (a co-worker), and I mentioned that I was happy to be able to hear Tom Waits on our music system at work, to which Kayla responded, "who's Tom Waits?"<br /><br />"You've...never...heard...Tom Waits?", I questioned, and she affirmed with a "Nope. What's he like?"<br /><br />It took me a minute,but i eventually told her that if you walked into a bar in New Orleans and saw someone leading a band through blues-rock, old-time, and 1940's piano music, all based on the darker side of life,and sung with a voice like that of Louis Armstrong - that would be Tom Waits. Kayla said she thought it sounded interesting, and I told her I'd play some for her sometime because she needs ot hear it. After work I went home and made a sort of "Tom Waits' Greatest Hits" playlist that I'll eventually burn for her.<br /><br />Sadly, I haven't figured out to post mp3's on my blog yet (if anyone knows, please tell me). If you're like Kayla and don't know who Tomm Waits is, go to Google or You Tube and search him (note: "Tom Waits Live" works well in You Tube), you won't regret it.G.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03217406603246421636noreply@blogger.com