Sunday, March 25, 2007

Man, you're tall.

Today, as I walked home from work through the park, there was a guy on ten-foot stilts.

And he was dressed in Victorian era clothing. Lots of black velvet and such.

Yep. Gotta love it here.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Poetic justice.

How nice is it that, after I have written two days ago about how lovely it is outside, that yesterday it snow-iced 4 inches? Yes, indeed. Let's hope this is winter's swan song becuase I can't take much more sleet-in-the-face.

Today is Saint Patrick's Day. Parade, revelry and drinking - none of which I am participating in. But let's reflect: Saint Patrick's day in New York makes me think of a day exactly four years ago, which for me was another Saint Patrick's day spent in New York. I was a senior at Fresno State, performing in a show, trying to graduate in two months and knee-deep in the Grad School panic. In Februray of 2003 in San Francisco, I auditioned for Tisch and the graduate acting program at NYU. I got a much-desired callback and on the 16th of March, I flew on a red-eye to NYC to secure my education for the next 3 years - or so I thought. I was trying desperately to convince myself that an MFA in acting was worth the $100,000 in loan debt that would follw me around for 35 years after graduating from such a pretigious school. I was trying to pretend also that I actually enjoyed acting - that it was something that I wanted to continue doing and it wasn't just something that I did because people said I was good at it.

Let's just say that I did not present myself well at this particular callback. In fact, I venture to say that it ranks number one as my Worst Audition Ever. However, if I had gotten into NYU, I never would have accepted my offer at the Chicago Conservatory of Performing Arts. Now, y'all know what I think of that "educational institution". But it took moving to Chicago and going to a super-crappy school in order to arrange my life path so that it would cross that of my darling husband. And now look where we are... in New York, on Saint Patrick's day, four years later. The Empire State Buling is lit green and I am in the same green sweater that I wore four years ago. (Even though I should be wearing orange, but we won't go into that.)

And now I shall go scrape the ice-snow off the car before it solidifies into an ice-block that won't melt until June.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

All the windows are open... our apartment. Right now. Cause it's beautiful outside.

Things are pretty okay in this fair city of ours. Aside from working entirely too much and sort of fighting off the mild depression that comes with having been sick for a week, I am okay. I am also a little (LOT!) bummed out because Nicole and her husband have decided to leave our little Polish ghetto for sunnyier skies, specifically Los Angeles. You can't actually get further away from here in the continental U.S. and now one more person who keeps me sane is going back to Cali. It is safe to assume that aside from my husband, the people that I care about most almost ALL live in California. Which leads to me ask the following: why don't I live in California?! To tell you the truth, I do love it. But I love New York, too, in a completely different way. I feel like this is where I am supposed to live, and not for some lame existential reason but for the simple fact that it feels good to me. It feels especially good to live here, despite the percieved rat-race overtones of it all.

Last night as I walked down into the F train to come home from work, I heard what sounded like cello music. And there, on the subway platform, was a guy tuning his cello. I was surprised because he looked (as best as I can describe) like Kevin Federline. By which I mean he was a little scrappy, a little bit gangsta, and not someone who you would immediately associate with Bach, which is what he began to play. I asked him where he was last night, cause last night I had my cello with me down here and we could've jammed. He got a kick out of that. Then when the F train came, he got on with all the rest of us, sat down, and began to play the prelude from the Bach Cello Suites. It was so beautiful, no where close to technically correct, and as the train climbed out of the tunnel and became an "el" train you could see out of the dirty windows the glittery Manhattan skyline against the sunset. It was truly a magical New York moment to be on the train, and I was instantly and deeply glad to be where I was. He finished the piece with a flourish and I applauded wildly, alone. He said thanks, got some change donations from some fellow riders, and hopped off as the doors were closing.

I think I shall practice on the subway playform one day, too. I don't sound nearly as good as that guy, but who will I offend? Yoyo Ma? I don't think he rides the F train very often.

I will conclude this blog with a plea to my friends and family: As it gets warmer here in the New York City, I urge you to think of just how much you long to come visit. Don't try to hide it; I know you lay awake at night thinking of ways to fly out here and visit Lonely Me. Think of the things we could do together... frolic in Central Park, eat at Katz's Deli, take pictures of skyscrapers. Doesn't that sound super-fun? And if you haven't met Jack the Dog, well... you should.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

What day is it?

My lack of new and interesting blog posts is directly related to the fact that all I have done lately is work. I get up and go to work, and then I come home. I think there mught be some dinner-eating in there somewhere, and maybe a little bit of tv watching, but really all I have been doing is working. Good thing I like my job as much as I do. However, I feel a cold coming on and I'm in the middle of working about 7 days straight. Who knew the Brooklyn wedding industry was so demanding...

That aside, all is well. My better half has been accepted to a PhD program and plans to begin this Fall. Doctor in the house! Exciting.

In other news, our doggy has overcome her tremendous anxiety and can once again be left alone for hours at a time. Anyone who knows us knows what a commitment it has been to help Jacky through her trauma, but we love that damn dog so much it's been worth every minute. She is the best. She has also learned the trick "gimme five". Except that she expects a treat everytime she "gives you five". So, we'll be sitting on the couch, watching tv, and she walk over and give us her paw. And then blink at us like "where's my treat? hello?" It's pretty amusing.

We had one day of Spring on Saturday... it was 62 degrees. It was lovely. I went for a run and then (of course) had to go to work. Story of my life. Now the temperatures are supposed to drop again, back into the 20's. Aw, crap. Here I am, talking about the weather. I am so boring.

And tired.

ps - my fingers hurt really bad from practicing the cello. However, I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm not getting any better...