In between complaining about the sketchy construction site down the block and lack of adequate temperature control, I really did try to love Brooklyn. I did my best to make my apartment feel like home and take advantage of everything the borough has to offer. But I didn’t realize until I left, how uncomfortable I was there. It's kind of shocking to me. I thought I was settled and relaxed and happy to be there.
Then I moved to this new apartment. The difference between thinking you’re settled, and relaxed, and actually feeling that way -- will make you wonder what you were thinking! There’s a difference, it turns out, between everything you need being within walking distance and spending half your life on the F train; between your windows facing a slab of broken concrete and ones that overlook the Hudson River. There’s a difference between having your best friends two blocks away and having to carry your belongings Friday through Sunday because your weekend plans never include Brooklyn.
I feel safe here and at ease. I feel like this was exactly the right move to have made. Every time I come up the stairs and open the door to our roomy, charming apartment, I realize that I’m so much happier in Hoboken than I ever was in Brooklyn. It’s not just the relief, or the air conditioning talking. This place feels right.
I waffled about taking the apartment -- about the stress and cost of moving again, how long I was really going to be living here anyway, and whether it was just plain stupid to pack up and move only four months after I had just packed up and moved. For weeks Andrea listened to me say -- "I don't know. I don't know if I'm going to do it. I want to. I do. But, I mean, it doesn't make sense." Tired of my indecision, she said to me -- "No, it doesn't. But it makes the most sense for your happiness."
I paused a long moment and I nodded because I didn’t have a response to such an obvious statement. I called Keri the next day. You might have noticed that I am so very glad that I did.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Race Day
I can check one more thing off my New York City list – today I ran in the Nike NYC Half-Marathon. It was two and half hours of self-inflicted torture that I can’t wait to do again. Here’s the short version:
5 AM Pop out of bed (honestly, I’d been up for about 30 minutes nervous that I would miss the alarm)
5:30 AM Walk to the PATH huddled under my umbrella praying that I don’t get struck by lightening
6 AM Join the crowd of runners, homeless, and left over Saturday night club goers on the train to the City
6:20 AM Score a free cab ride with two other runners to Central Park
6:45 AM Homesickness and serious nerves cause a mini-emotional moment that ends quickly when I realize we’re on the news
7:15 AM Cross start line. Here we go!
7:45 AM 5K complete -- pacing well
8:15 AM 10K complete. Made full lap around Central Park at this point. Made it through the hilliest part of the course and my legs are feeling it
8:30 AM Run out of the Park onto 7th Ave. The feeling of running through Times Square is surreal. Wish Dad was here –- he would love this! All of the tourists have come out of their hotels to cheer on the runners. Catch my second wind
9 AM Course takes us toward the Westside Hwy around mile 9. The weather is still overcast, breezy, and cool
9:15 AM Hit second wall. Look to my left and see my co-worker Michelle and her sister. Perfect moment for a running buddy. Only a 5K left
9:30 AM Try not to look miserable as I pass the camera crews. Cheese!
9:45 AM Cross finish line and vow not to run again for a long while
The weirdest part of the whole experience is that it’s over. I’ve been thinking about, planning and training for today for several months... the excitement of being drawn in the lottery, one limp-tastic training injury, and a lot of lame Friday nights in prep for my Saturday morning long runs. It’s that day after Christmas feeling of let down wrapped in relief. I think I just need to come up with my next race goal. In the meantime, I’m going to happily enjoy a week sans running shoes.
Michelle and I crossing the finish line (she's in the gray tank and white hat)...
5 AM Pop out of bed (honestly, I’d been up for about 30 minutes nervous that I would miss the alarm)
5:30 AM Walk to the PATH huddled under my umbrella praying that I don’t get struck by lightening
6 AM Join the crowd of runners, homeless, and left over Saturday night club goers on the train to the City
6:20 AM Score a free cab ride with two other runners to Central Park
6:45 AM Homesickness and serious nerves cause a mini-emotional moment that ends quickly when I realize we’re on the news
7:15 AM Cross start line. Here we go!
7:45 AM 5K complete -- pacing well
8:15 AM 10K complete. Made full lap around Central Park at this point. Made it through the hilliest part of the course and my legs are feeling it
8:30 AM Run out of the Park onto 7th Ave. The feeling of running through Times Square is surreal. Wish Dad was here –- he would love this! All of the tourists have come out of their hotels to cheer on the runners. Catch my second wind
9 AM Course takes us toward the Westside Hwy around mile 9. The weather is still overcast, breezy, and cool
9:15 AM Hit second wall. Look to my left and see my co-worker Michelle and her sister. Perfect moment for a running buddy. Only a 5K left
9:30 AM Try not to look miserable as I pass the camera crews. Cheese!
9:45 AM Cross finish line and vow not to run again for a long while
The weirdest part of the whole experience is that it’s over. I’ve been thinking about, planning and training for today for several months... the excitement of being drawn in the lottery, one limp-tastic training injury, and a lot of lame Friday nights in prep for my Saturday morning long runs. It’s that day after Christmas feeling of let down wrapped in relief. I think I just need to come up with my next race goal. In the meantime, I’m going to happily enjoy a week sans running shoes.
Michelle and I crossing the finish line (she's in the gray tank and white hat)...
Friday, July 18, 2008
Stuff I Like
What’s with popular bloggers turning their work into conventionally published books? I’m not sure I quite understand the whole concept. As a reader, I find it a bit presumptuous to ask me to pay for static content when I used to enjoy free daily entries.
One of my blog standbys -– stuffwhitepeoplelike.com –- released a book earlier this month. I wonder every time I open its homepage if today’s the day the author will run out of things white people like. But, alas… we apparently like a lot of stuff.
I read a commentary on the blog (and the new book) in the NY Times today that made me laugh. I’ve had major (blog) writers block recently, so I thought this might be a nice shake up from my regular, riveting poetry and list writing.
In case you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, check this out: stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Stuff NJ-Natives Like:
Hair gel
Yager bombs
Skin cancer
Exercises that allow for easy mirror admiration
VERY crowded beaches
The f-word
Stuff Maddie Likes:
Mickey
Watermelon
Mirrors (not unlike the guitos referenced above -- minus the muscles)
Swimming pools
Gree-pa
Stuff Norris’ Like:
Lamenting over our oversized heads
Working in “crap” into greeting card messages
The display shelf
Repeating jokes
Excessive car care
Punctuality
Stuff Advertising People Like:
Pretending people like advertising
Trying to be cool
Complaining
Free stuff
Acronyms
Stuff Dallas People Like: (Greg, this one’s for you)
Bar covers
Obnoxious sports teams
Pretending to be a major city
Luxury cars (probably leased)
Claiming to be better than Houston
Stuff Chelsea Likes:
Joey Greco
Christmas music
Guys in fruit costumes
Encouraging Becca to have a second martini
Complaining about foreign cable companies
Making Leslie feel bad
One of my blog standbys -– stuffwhitepeoplelike.com –- released a book earlier this month. I wonder every time I open its homepage if today’s the day the author will run out of things white people like. But, alas… we apparently like a lot of stuff.
I read a commentary on the blog (and the new book) in the NY Times today that made me laugh. I’ve had major (blog) writers block recently, so I thought this might be a nice shake up from my regular, riveting poetry and list writing.
In case you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, check this out: stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Stuff NJ-Natives Like:
Hair gel
Yager bombs
Skin cancer
Exercises that allow for easy mirror admiration
VERY crowded beaches
The f-word
Stuff Maddie Likes:
Mickey
Watermelon
Mirrors (not unlike the guitos referenced above -- minus the muscles)
Swimming pools
Gree-pa
Stuff Norris’ Like:
Lamenting over our oversized heads
Working in “crap” into greeting card messages
The display shelf
Repeating jokes
Excessive car care
Punctuality
Stuff Advertising People Like:
Pretending people like advertising
Trying to be cool
Complaining
Free stuff
Acronyms
Stuff Dallas People Like: (Greg, this one’s for you)
Bar covers
Obnoxious sports teams
Pretending to be a major city
Luxury cars (probably leased)
Claiming to be better than Houston
Stuff Chelsea Likes:
Joey Greco
Christmas music
Guys in fruit costumes
Encouraging Becca to have a second martini
Complaining about foreign cable companies
Making Leslie feel bad
Thursday, July 10, 2008
High Times
After a week of my mom’s food, babies galore, and some air-conditioned rest, I’m back to the ol’ NYC grind. My time home went entirely too fast. I feel odd writing about my trip when I was hanging out with most of the blog’s readership. However, Graham insisted. He likes the “shout outs.” Check.
I did learn an important lesson on the trip – the cheapest flight is not always the best flight. The cheapest flight does, however, always guarantee a cast of characters on board. On the flight to Atlanta, I sat next to a real winner. While already in the air, the Atlanta airport was shut down due to bad weather. We took a few laps around Georgia waiting for it to reopen, but low fuel forced us to land in Columbus. Once on the ground, my row-mate proceeded to throw a genuine hissy fit on the phone with his family that included one too many f-words for my taste. Trying not to make eye contact, but unable not to look in his direction, I saw that he had a High Times in his lap with a joint sandwiched between two pages. For him, it marked the article he didn't quite finish about the best artificial heat lamps. For me, it marked my loss of faith in airport security.
Somewhere between Columbus and New York, I remembered that I had concert tickets for the next day. The plan seemed a lot more reasonable before I spent a long evening with the president of Snoop Dogg’s fan club. But, I sucked it up and Whitney, Jennifer, Sarah, and I joined the throngs of lesbians and hippies at the band shell in Prospect Park. Minutes after staking our place in the crowd, it began pouring rain. So here’s the scene – I’m running on four hours sleep, still in my work clothes, cold and wet, anticipating having to soon use a porta-potty, and well, a little cranky. As it turns out, the skies cleared, the plastic/non-flushing toilet was not so bad, and Feist was quite charming. Perhaps not $35 I would spend again, but well worth it.
I’m reaching my four paragraph blog limit, so I must bid you adieu. If I wasn’t so tired (and a bit homesick), I would have some Full House-style ending to wrap this up for you. If one comes to me today while I’m solving the world’s cereal advertising problems, I promise to add it later.
I did learn an important lesson on the trip – the cheapest flight is not always the best flight. The cheapest flight does, however, always guarantee a cast of characters on board. On the flight to Atlanta, I sat next to a real winner. While already in the air, the Atlanta airport was shut down due to bad weather. We took a few laps around Georgia waiting for it to reopen, but low fuel forced us to land in Columbus. Once on the ground, my row-mate proceeded to throw a genuine hissy fit on the phone with his family that included one too many f-words for my taste. Trying not to make eye contact, but unable not to look in his direction, I saw that he had a High Times in his lap with a joint sandwiched between two pages. For him, it marked the article he didn't quite finish about the best artificial heat lamps. For me, it marked my loss of faith in airport security.
Somewhere between Columbus and New York, I remembered that I had concert tickets for the next day. The plan seemed a lot more reasonable before I spent a long evening with the president of Snoop Dogg’s fan club. But, I sucked it up and Whitney, Jennifer, Sarah, and I joined the throngs of lesbians and hippies at the band shell in Prospect Park. Minutes after staking our place in the crowd, it began pouring rain. So here’s the scene – I’m running on four hours sleep, still in my work clothes, cold and wet, anticipating having to soon use a porta-potty, and well, a little cranky. As it turns out, the skies cleared, the plastic/non-flushing toilet was not so bad, and Feist was quite charming. Perhaps not $35 I would spend again, but well worth it.
I’m reaching my four paragraph blog limit, so I must bid you adieu. If I wasn’t so tired (and a bit homesick), I would have some Full House-style ending to wrap this up for you. If one comes to me today while I’m solving the world’s cereal advertising problems, I promise to add it later.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Jersey Girl
My shins are bruised, I have two broken finger nails, and every piece of clothing hanging in my closet is wrinkled. But, I’m not worried because I am finished moving for the rest of my life!! (This is a humongous lie; however, it’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.)
The movers showed up on Sunday with an enormous moving truck that they then packed with my embarrassingly sparse number of possessions. I did a bit of begging to ride along so that I wouldn’t have to take the subway. They eventually acquiesced, so I climbed into the middle seat, waved goodbye to the three-legged cat and the drunk guy who apparently got tired riding his bike and was taking a nap in the median, and said a few Hail Marys under my breath hoping to get to New Jersey in one piece.
Along the way I saw all four of the new waterfall installations and the remnants of that morning’s Gay Pride Parade. I rambled along in my best Spanglish about my NYC experience and the movers bragged about their kids and their record number of parking tickets. Driving an enormous moving van through Manhattan, we ate ice cream (funny story), cursed at a few bad drivers, pretended to pick up people hailing taxis, and successfully didn’t take out any side mirrors.
When I arrived in Hoboken, we had to play an amusing game of musical rooms that concluded with me sleeping on the couch. However, I was able to finally move everything into my new room last night. Sarah came over with her (pink) tool kit and a Diet Coke (she’s my hero) to lend a hand. She even fixed all the scratches on my cursed IKEA dresser with a furniture pen. With longer hair, more Emo music, and a bunk bed, it would have been just like move in day at the dorm. Sarah’s the best. I couldn’t survive this city without her.
With the move complete, I’m now less than 24 hours away from my Texas trip. Between now and then, I must stay awake through three meetings (Zzz), finish my first major presentation for my new client (eek), pick up my broken sandal from a guy who fixes shoes, TVs and blenders all in the same shop, make sure that my nunchucks and brass knuckles didn’t make their way into my suitcase, and trek to Astoria to sleep on my friend Jen’s couch (because I L-O-V-E couches) so that I don’t miss my flight in the AM.
When will life be normal again?!?
My street...
My building...
Elysian Park (This is right outside my window. The Hudson River is on the other side of the park.)...
The entry way (that's my room in the back)...
The living room...
The living room from the other direction:
The "everything" room...
The movers showed up on Sunday with an enormous moving truck that they then packed with my embarrassingly sparse number of possessions. I did a bit of begging to ride along so that I wouldn’t have to take the subway. They eventually acquiesced, so I climbed into the middle seat, waved goodbye to the three-legged cat and the drunk guy who apparently got tired riding his bike and was taking a nap in the median, and said a few Hail Marys under my breath hoping to get to New Jersey in one piece.
Along the way I saw all four of the new waterfall installations and the remnants of that morning’s Gay Pride Parade. I rambled along in my best Spanglish about my NYC experience and the movers bragged about their kids and their record number of parking tickets. Driving an enormous moving van through Manhattan, we ate ice cream (funny story), cursed at a few bad drivers, pretended to pick up people hailing taxis, and successfully didn’t take out any side mirrors.
When I arrived in Hoboken, we had to play an amusing game of musical rooms that concluded with me sleeping on the couch. However, I was able to finally move everything into my new room last night. Sarah came over with her (pink) tool kit and a Diet Coke (she’s my hero) to lend a hand. She even fixed all the scratches on my cursed IKEA dresser with a furniture pen. With longer hair, more Emo music, and a bunk bed, it would have been just like move in day at the dorm. Sarah’s the best. I couldn’t survive this city without her.
With the move complete, I’m now less than 24 hours away from my Texas trip. Between now and then, I must stay awake through three meetings (Zzz), finish my first major presentation for my new client (eek), pick up my broken sandal from a guy who fixes shoes, TVs and blenders all in the same shop, make sure that my nunchucks and brass knuckles didn’t make their way into my suitcase, and trek to Astoria to sleep on my friend Jen’s couch (because I L-O-V-E couches) so that I don’t miss my flight in the AM.
When will life be normal again?!?
My street...
My building...
Elysian Park (This is right outside my window. The Hudson River is on the other side of the park.)...
The entry way (that's my room in the back)...
The living room...
The living room from the other direction:
The "everything" room...
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