Textbooks.

I bought my books today.  Doing Race and Inquality and Society: Social Science Perspectives on Social Stratification.

 

My first class begins on Thursday, and it’s call Race, Class, and Power.  I feel like I did when I was preparing for my first day of high school– unsure of where my class was, concerned that I wouldn’t have the proper materials for the first day, worried about whether the other kids would be smarter than me or not.  I actually found myself texting my sister to ask if kids these days usually write in notebooks or if laptops have taken over the art of note-taking.  (As it turns out, it’s about half-and-half– I’ll stick to the simpler method, though: good ol’ pen and paper.)  Once I got to the bookstore, I found it surprisingly easy to locate my books, choose the ones I wanted, and walk out of the store prepared for class.  Amazingly, this did a huge favor in calming my first-day nerves.

As I used to in college, I decided I’d get a head start on my reading and study the first chapter or two in my new textbooks.  I found the nearest cafe, which also happens to be my new favorite hangout (and only two blocks from my house!), ordered a coffee, and opened up Inequality and Society.  I read a total of three paragraphs before my mind began to wander.

What was I doing reading a book on inequality when I could just look around me and likely learn just as much?  There I was, sitting at a cafe in Harlem, surrounded by people of all backgrounds, races, ethnicities, sexualities, classes– everything.

The 20-something East European girl working behind the counter with the 40-something Asian man.  The older black couple enjoying their scones in a corner.  The 20-something white guy, who was obviously a student and the epitome of the hipster movement (if you can call it that..?).  The 30-something white guy, who was well-dressed and spent his entire hour in the cafe talking on his iPhone.  A heavy-set late-teenage girl who sat eating a muffin on her own while reading a fashion magazine.  And the milk-delivery man, who looked to be in his 40s and of middle-eastern descent.  And that was just inside the cafe.

As I looked around at each of the patrons, I started to think of all of the different biases that could be taking place within this small space.  Granted, everyone was in their own realm of whatever they were doing, and weren’t likely paying much attention to those around them, but I found it entrancing.  I literally sat there watching people for over an hour.  Just watching.  What they wore, what gadgets they had, the type of winter coat slung on the back of their chair, what they ordered to drink, how they ate their food, whether they looked up when a new person walked through the door, and whether they acknowledged any of the other people sitting in the cafe with them– and if so, how.  I just couldn’t stop.

By the time I left the cafe, I’d established that cafes were not the ideal study spot for me if I planned on getting any studying done over the next semester.  I also established that I am positively in love with sociology and the study behind how society works.  And finally, I established that I am ready to go back to school and learn about it all.

 

Wish me luck!

Concordia.

Surely by now many of you have heard about the sinking of the Costa Concordia that happened on Friday night.

I have gotten messages from a lot of land-friends saying things like ‘Wow, thank God you don’t work on ships anymore!’  and ‘Must make you thankful that you left ships when you did..!’.

The truth?  All of this talk about the Concordia is actually making me reconsider my life on ships.

It may just be a phase, but my Facebook feed (obviously, the most influential aspect in my life) has been nothing but messages from my ship friends posting about the Concordia, their sympathy for fellow sea-faring crew, and realizations that the dreaded twice-weekly boat drills may not be entirely useless.

This camaraderie between cruise ship crew members is something that I truly miss about ships.  Enough that I am considering returning to my ship life.  Granted, this is not something I am going to do right away– I’m not ready to jump back on a ship and sail the world again.  But I am definitely taking it into account for my five-year plan.  Or, at least the five-year plan that I am now creating due to this eye-opening tragedy.

New York, of all places, is probably the least socially-bonding city I could have chosen to live in on my return to land.  It’s big, it’s lonely, and it’s full of people who are also lonely, but make little to no effort to welcome new friends into their lives.  New Yorkers are known for being cold.  Hell, Americans are known for being cold.  We just aren’t a culture of opening up to people right away.  That being said, I love New York and I love living here, but there’s no doubt about it– it’s a very lonely place to be.

Ships, for me, were the cause for a major change in my social life and social abilities.  Ships are a place where everyone opens up to one another, and consistently maintain a “we’re all in this together” mindset.  Sure, it can be pretty miserable at times.  You work hard, you do daily tasks you despise, and you live among adults who sleep in bunk beds and have little to no strong personal bonds in their lives that last longer than the length of a contract.  But that is why everyone bonds so quickly– it’s a floating vessel full of sociopaths and loners who can all open up to one another.  Surely, I am only voicing my personal opinion, which likely doesn’t accurately portray everyone’s view of ship life, but this is what I see.

After my first two contracts on ships, I came to the realization that I am one of those loners.  One of those ‘sociopaths’ (okay, I realize that ‘sociopath’ is a little strong, but you get the idea). I like bonding with people, but I am very particular about the people with whom I like to form long-time bonds with, so this is the perfect solution.  On land, people are not interested in short-term friendships or friendships with people whom they have little in common with.  On ships, all you have are short-term friendships and friendships with people whom you have little in common with.  That is what makes it so great– you make friends on ships that you would never befriend on land, and it works well, because they have the same mentality as you, and knowingly spending a few months with this person is not going to lock you into a lifelong commitment.  You’ll have fun with this particular group of people, and who knows– you might really bond with a few and keep them for long term– but the general understanding is that they are ‘ship friends’.  Friends you have on ships, who you love to spend time with on ships, but it just wouldn’t work on land.

Now that I’ve painted an awful portrait of my opinion of shipboard friendships, I have to defend it by saying that the camaraderie is stronger than anything I’ve had on land.  And I miss that.

Putting together a Pros/Cons list this afternoon about my return to ships came down to this:

Pros

-Travel

-Constant New Experiences

-Constant New Friends

-More Savings

-Overall, more fun.

Cons

-Lack in Career Development

-The Haunting Thought that I ‘Failed on Land’

-I wouldn’t be able to continue my education (as I am currently planning to get my masters degree this Fall)

-Bunk Beds and Roomshares

-Maybe I’d go back and realize why I left in the first place.

-Maybe I’d go back and and wouldn’t realize why I left in the first place, and I’d become a ‘lifer’, unable to return to life on land.  Ever.

Regardless, I’ve got plenty of time.  Although I’ve set a rule for myself that if I plan to return to ships, I cannot do so if I am older than 25.  I’m not sure why I chose that number, but I feel like between 18 and 25 is the time to travel, have fun, and not worry (as much) about career paths.  After 25, I have to start making responsible choices.  Don’t judge me on this thought– I know it’s ridiculous and completely unreasonable, but hey– so am I.

Also, here’s a thought that’s been haunting me about the Concordia: Considering the majority of crew members are onboard  because it is the only means of making money to support their families at home, probably at least 70% of them will have to return to a ship in just a month or two after this horrific experience.  Awful, isn’t it?  My heart goes out to the crew members who are in this position, as well as the entirety of the crew that lost what was likely the majority of their most valued possessions– family photos, drawings from their children, and anything else that they brought with them from ship to ship to make them feel a little bit more at home.

Into Thin Air.

When anyone returns from a trip out of town, they are pummeled with the vague curiosity of ‘How was your trip?’.  Friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances– everyone asks the same question, regardless of your relationship or their interest.

In return, who knows what kind of answer they are expecting?  A quick “Great! It was amazing!” or a “Good– I spent all of my days on the beach with a beer and a book– the perfect vacation!” or something far more in depth?  I suppose it depends on the person, the location, the timing, and the actual interest they have invested in the trip itself.  Regardless, I find it difficult to measure.

I recently returned from a last-minute one-week trip to Beijing, where I was visiting my parents.  I’d never been to China, and hadn’t even been to the Far East for eight years, but I decided last minute that with the cheap ticket I found, my flexible work schedule, and my ache for travel, it was a good idea.  Also, the bonus of seeing my parents after a full year and the fact that I’d essentially only be paying for the ticket and visa, and my parents would cover the rest– how could I go wrong?

In the one week before I jetted off to Asia, I psyched myself up for my travels– the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, the Temple of Heaven.  I had to see it all– Heck, I was only there for a week, and who knows when I would be back?  I watched a few movies, read a few Wikipedia articles, and ripened my knowledge of Chinese culture and history so I wouldn’t walk in like a complete fool.  I was ready.

My first major ‘Aha’ moment came when I was flying into my layover destination: Dubai.  With a sister no more than one hour away from the airport, it was difficult to know I was so close yet unable to see her with my tight transit time.  Regardless, I was eager to take a very brief look into the terrain and culture that she had been living in.  As we approached Dubai, I could see the Burj Al Arab, Palm Island, and the Burj Khalifa.  I could see the beaches, the compounds, and the desert.  Wow, I was there.  I was in Dubai.

I sat in the airport for three hours between connections, sipped on a Starbucks coffee and lounged in various chairs until my flight was to board.  I got on my flight to Beijing, and watched out the window as we departed, miles and miles of desert passing below us.  I eventually closed the window and took a much-needed nap.

A couple hours later, I was awoken by a lot of loud Chinese chatter.  I asked the man sitting next to me what everyone was saying, and he told me to open my window.  I slid up the blind and saw exactly what the fuss was about: we were directly above the Himalayas.  Seriously, directly above the Himalayas.  I couldn’t believe it– these massive snow-capped mountains lay below us, and just a few hours before we’d been surrounded by arid desert for miles.

Despite the absolute beauty of the peaks, I found myself in awe of the situation: I’d been to the Himalayas when I traveled through India and Nepal with my family in 1998.  I’d been longing to go back ever since, Nepal having burrowed itself deep in my heart.  I dreamt year after year of my family’s return to Nepal– We all fell equally in love with the mountainous glory of the country.  And here I was– a last-minute purchase I’d made to jet off to Beijing brought me directly above the place I’d been dreaming of for years.

I kept thinking: This is the way life should be lived.  With the flexibility to travel and discover and rediscover and see all the places you’ve always dreamt of– the only thing standing between us and that dream is likely time and money.  But I can almost guarantee that if you work hard over the course of a year and spend moderately, you’ll have enough savings to buy a flight and the necessary amenities for your travel (of course, this also depends on your destination and type of travel, but it can be done in most places).  Even if only for a week.

Basically, that moment over the Himalayas gave me an entirely new perspective on my life and how I should be living it.  I did something completely out of character for me: I made a snap decision to spend lots of money and take several days from work.  I knew it was a bit irresponsible, and my bosses weren’t thrilled with me leaving with so little notice (I also went over my vacation days by two– so I am in the hole for next year.  Yikes.).  But it was a great decision I made, and I am proud that I was able to do that.  Next time, I’ll just have to give a little more notice, but it is entirely possible.

And then I got to Beijing.

Big, Icy Christmas Snowball.

Fast forward a couple months, and I am sitting on my bed the weekend before Christmas, finding myself wondering how Christmas could have possible snuck up on me so quickly.

Could it be because it’s still 50 F degrees outside as opposed to 30 F, freezing, and a wonderland of white?

Could it be because I spent last week in China visiting my parents, preventing me from getting my full dosage of Christmas exposure?

Or could it be that I simply have not drank enough eggnog?

Regardless, Christmas is nearly here, and I find myself feeling like I’ve been hit in the face with a big, icy Christmas snowball.

This year I put together a bit of a Secret Santa Holiday Party for my office, which at this point consists of eight men, our office, and plenty of booze.  Oh, and presents.  And me.  I’ve definitely not put forth my 100% effort to assemble this party, but half of the office is Jewish, anyway, so it’s not like I have a tough audience.

Anyway, I went shopping for my Secret Santa gift today, and realized that the last weekend before Christmas is not the time to do Christmas shopping.  I figured that while I was out shopping, I may as well get myself into the spirit of Christmas as much as I possible could.  Besides, New York is the most Christmassy city in the world– this should be easy.

I did everything right: I bought a warm drink and sipped on it in a cafe, I went into four different stores to sense the holiday cheer, I was extra kind to those I spoke with, cheerfully wishing everyone a happy holiday, and I even bought wrapping paper, which so perfectly peaked out of the top of by Duane Reade bag, giving off the true essence of the season.

I got home, settled into the couch in our living room, turned on the Christmas lights that line the window and twirl around our nearly 3-foot fir.  I sipped eggnog, watched Christmas films, and downloaded an entire playlist of Christmas music, which I am listening to as I type.

But you know what?  I still don’t feel it.

Where is my mind?  And why is it not on Christmas?  Is there something I’m missing?  I’ve been to two holiday parties already, I’ve eaten Christmas cookies, I’ve had cider beer at a pub, I’ve sipped an eggnog steamer.  What else is there?

As it turns out, we’ll have all four sisters together in New York for Christmas and New Years, a reunion that was originally scheduled to happen this Summer on the West Coast, but fell through last-minute, leaving only three sisters together.  Christmas was going to be the same three sisters again, until just last week the fourth T decided to join the gang and booked a ticket out to New York.  So that means four of us, which has not happened since Christmas of 2008 in New York City.  Funny how these things work out.

I’m hoping the coming-together of family (minus parents) will bring on the holiday cheer and get me in the Christmas mood, where I should be.  Bring on the sisters.

 

Great People.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten the chance to have ‘reunions’ with several of the friends I’ve made from ships.  Now, seeing friends from my past is not an unusual thing– In fact, by now you’re probably tired of listening to all of my ‘small world’ stories.  But not to worry, this post is not about how small the world is.

It’s actually about people.  And how amazing people can be.

Basically, on cruise ships, you make friends with the people around you.  Whether you have a lot in common with them or not, they’re who you spend the most time with.  So, naturally, I assumed that once I left ships and saw people on land again, after the initial three-hour reminiscing period, we wouldn’t have anything else to talk about.  We simply wouldn’t have any commonalities outside of our ship lives.

Fortunately, this has not been the case at all with my past few visits.

None of the past three friends that I have seen here were of my ‘closest’ friends on ships, but what I am finding is that I wish I had been closer with them when I had the chance.  I quickly discovered in our one-on-one time together they are all simply fantastic people.  The kind of people that just make you feel good.  Lighter than air.  And it just so happens that none of them even know each other, but they coincidentally are all equally amazing to be around.

And that’s not to say that all ship people are amazing people– granted, there are a lot of great people whom I’ve met over the years, but these people stuck out amongst the rest.  But not necessarily until I met them on land, away from the ship, its people, and its general mindset and contagious vibe.

Basically, it reassures me that 1) I will always be surrounded by amazing people– it’s just a matter of meeting them in the right setting before I realize their true caliber of extraordinaire. 2) I am an excellent judge of friends and character (duh.), and 3) there are some truly fabulous people in this world, and in my life.  Even if I do only see them once every year or two (or more).

Aren’t I lucky?

Master.

This was a big week for me.

I got a raise, I got health insurance, I now have shorter work hours, and I decided that I want to get my masters degree.  All that on top of three consecutive days of bar-hopping makes for a pretty overwhelming time.

So, the masters.  Ever since I graduated with my bachelor’s degree, I knew I wanted to get a masters.  I also knew that I loved sociology.  And I also knew that I was too young (19) to decide what I wanted to get my masters in and spend thousands of dollars on it.

Well, on Monday evening I came across a high school World History textbook  in my apartment’s bookshelf that a previous roommate had left behind (she was a high school teacher).  Automatically, I snatched up the book and brought it back to my room, eager to make it my next read.

That made me think.  I must really love to learn if a textbook is my book of choice.  On top of that, I’m excited to write the essays and answer the questions at the end of every section of every chapter.  Is that normal?  I mean, if I love to learn so much, why am I not taking classes?  And if I am going to take classes, why not get a degree out of it?

I thought a little more, and came to the realization that I’ve been out of school for three years now, and I still love sociology as much as I did the day I left college, as well as the day I started college.  That’s five years of loving sociology, which gives me a pretty good feeling that this just might be something that I truly love.

As it turns out, there is a City University of New York (CUNY) campus not more than three blocks from my house, and of all of the CUNY campuses (there are about ten throughout the city), this one happens to have the coursework and program that I am most interested in.  On top of that, it’s a commuter school, so having classes after work won’t be a problem for me, and tuition is crazy affordable for New York residents.

… And although I am not a New York resident quite yet, I plan on getting my residency in the next year, which would make me available to start classes in Fall 2012 (I was hoping for Spring 2012, but I don’t want to be spending full out-of-state tuition prices).

The next step is getting all of the material together, which may be tricky as I have very few academic sources that I can reach out to for letters of recommendations.  Definitely one of the downsides to graduating from Acadia in 1 1/2 years– it’s not much time to build strong relationships with professors.  I am sure I’ll figure something out.  In the meantime, I’ve been looking around thrift shops for any interesting sociology books to brush me up on my studies.

At this point, I feel like I have forgotten most of what I have learned, ranging from the theorists to the theories to the subjects within the program– College was such a whirlwind that I am finding it difficult to recall my past studies.  Ah well, I have about a year to pull myself together, which shouldn’t be an issue at all– after all,  I love sociology.  And I love to learn.

Anyway, this is something that I am really excited about, so I actually feel like it’s something that I’ll go through with.  And the raise, better hours, and insurance are just toppings on the sundae.

Not a bad week.  Not at all.  Plus, it’s fall!  Beautiful fall in NYC, you can’t go wrong.

To Vacation or Not to Vacation?

I recently discovered (and by recently, I mean today) that I have a few more vacation days than I had thought, and that my vacation days do not roll over to next year.  So… I guess it’s time to take a vacation.

I just got back from my West Coast trip not more than two weeks ago, so it seems a little premature to be thinking of vacation time, but before I know it, it will already be November and my time will be almost out, so I’ve got to take this thing on right here, right now.  So here are the criteria:

About six days’ worth of vacation (including the weekend)

Somewhere warm

Preferably somewhere where I know someone (and therefore have company/cheap place to stay)

Somewhere that is not too far to travel

So… those criteria alone make this a little tricky.  Basically, Caribbean, Texas, Florida, or Mexico.  OR option number two: staycation!  If Talya ends up coming to the city over Christmas, I can very likely just take those four vacation days off to spend with her.  Granted, it won’t be warm here, but a little sister time has more value than sitting alone on a beach somewhere.  Right?  Right.  Plus, it’s cheaper, so I can save for another vacation next year, which…

Will likely be to Greece in late July to see my family.  Which means that I will spend most of my vacation days on that trip, and therefore have to wait 10 more months before I’d get on another vacation.  Unless I take a real one in December.  Which leads me back to square one…  Sigh.

Vacation or  Staycation.  That is the question.

Year 22

As life goes on, I continue to neglect my blog.  Amazingly enough, it looks as though I had a lot more free time on my hands while working on the ships than I do when I’m on land.  This is probably especially true to New York City as opposed to… well, pretty much any other city in the States.  Potentially one of the truest in the world.  But I still love it here.

I find that five days in a work week is not a lot at all.  Mondays I will normally come home after work to clean, sleep, and just catch up from the weekend.  Tuesdays I do errands after work.  Wednesdays I normally meet up with a friend for a drink after work.  Thursdays is Girl’s Night with Taeko and friends, then it’s the weekend.  Just like that, the week passes.  I’m a natural homebody, so two nights a week to myself is not nearly enough.  Which is why I use a lot of my time on the weekends to walk around the city on my own, go to sleep early, and just… be.

On top of my ‘busy’ schedule lately, I’ve also managed to squeeze in a visit from Tara in the city, a 10-day trip to the West Coast, and my birthday.  And yes, I realize that my life really doesn’t SOUND that exciting and unmanageable, but, like I said, I’m a homebody, and when I have more than two events in a week, it overwhelms me.  Guess things are going to have to change.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, birthdays are a big deal for me.  A way to measure the progress of my life over the past 365 days.  Where have I gone?  What have I done?  Who have I met?  How have I changed?  You know.  That stuff.  Well, this year my birthday was pretty anticlimactic, as it came the day after our trip to the West Coast, and thus was a day of unwinding from the travel as opposed to winding up to celebrate.  Which worked out nicely, because 22 isn’t a big deal (aside from the fact that I turned 22 on the 22nd, but that doesn’t mean anything to anyone but myself).

Anyway, due to delays of all sorts, I ended up arriving home from Washington at 3am on the morning of my birthday instead of 9pm the night before, as originally planned.  No biggie.  My boss told me I didn’t have to come in on my birthday, anyway, so I was in the clear.  The next morning, I slept in, went to brunch on my own, went to the Museum of Modern Art (which I’d never had the chance to go to, as it closes at 5:30pm on weekdays, and weekends are total mayhem), bought some used books at a neat thrift shop, then met my sister and our friends Paula and Crista for a beautiful picnic on the riverside.  Yup, not bad at all.

The reflection of the day was pretty satisfying, though, as 21 was likely one of the most defining years I’ve had so far.  Granted, 16, 17, 18, and 20 were pretty big years, too (Brazil, Argentina, Canada, and graduation/cruise ships), but I feel like my resignation from ship life and my relocation to land almost defined me more as an adult than any of my other changes.  I actually live a ‘grown up’ life now, whatever that means.  An apartment, a commute, a full-time job (in which I’ve already been promoted from assistant to manager, I might add), the beginnings of a social circle, and a regular pay stub.  I’ve also changed the way I’ve looked, and therefore the way I feel.  I suppose I just feel more comfortable with my life than I have in a long time.

So, I’ve definitely progressed significantly in the past year.  And I have a feeling that my progression will plateau a bit for the next year, because that’s what I need.  A plateau.  Which is something I am sure I’ll feel badly about a year from now– that I haven’t done anything drastic or life-changing– but 22-year-old Teal needs to take a stand against 23-year-old Teal, and just… Stay.

Okay, okay… maybe just six months.  Just to start out with.  We’ll see.

PVD in NYC

Some of you may be aware of my affinity for electronic music.  It’s kinda something that I absolutely love, but do not act upon that love as much as I wish I did.

It all began when my oldest sister, Taeko, came back from a year-long exchange in Chile.  The day she came home, she was anxious to play her new music for all of us.  She played, we listened, and I loved.  Then, the next year, Tara came back from a year-long exchange in Brasil.  Same story– she came back, anxious to play her new music for all of us.  This time, it was a little more electronic than what Taeko had played, and I was even more enamored of it.  The next year, I was on a year-long exchange in Brasil, where I, too, listened to electronic music in bars, clubs, raves, school, my room, the car– you name it, electronic music was everything.  Granted, most of it was commercial electro, but the clubs and raves often played the harder stuff, and I just couldn’t get enough.

The next year, we moved to Argentina.  Buenos Aires is one of the capitals of the world when it comes to electronic music, and undoubtedly the epicenter of the clubbing/raving scene in South America.  World-renowned DJs were almost regulars in the city, there were unlimited raves and electronic music festivals to attend, and that’s where my love for electronic music blossomed.

The next year, I moved to Canada.  Nova Scotia, Canada.  Wolfville, Nova Scotia, Canada.  A town of 3,000 in the rural Maritimes.  Needless to say, the electronic music scene was not huge.  Or existent.  I still listened to electronic on my own, but lacked any exposure to new music or any form of electro dancing.  A year and a half was spent there, more of the same.  Then I moved to ships.

With such an international crowd, electronic music was a common musical interest.  However, the only bar scene we had was the crew bar, and after a 14-hour day of work, the last thing you want to do is dance your heart out.  Especially if you have to work again the next morning at 6am.  It’s just not really done.  With the international crowd also came international music, aside from electronic.  Caribbean reggaeton, dance hall, and reggae, Indian and Philippino pop music, Latino salsa, merengue, bachata, and the list goes on…, so this was the music typically heard in the crew bar, along with American 90s rock hits.  Don’t ask.

On my breaks from the ships, whenever I got a chance to go to Argentina, I’d go out dancing again, and feel like I did years before.  Electronic music, I just can’t get enough.

Well, here I am in NYC, one of the most influential and diverse cities in the world, with an amazing club scene, yet I very seldom go out clubbing.  After last weekend’s debacle at the Stonewall Inn, my love for dancing was rekindled.  That week, I searched for chances to go out, and it just so happened that Paul van Dyk, one of the consistent top DJs of the past ten years was coming to NYC to do a show.  I had to go!  But with who?  It’s hard to find a good companion at electronic shows, because some people simply just don’t get it.  Well, I decided to reach out to the friend of my friend who I went to the Stonewall Inn with last weekend, and see if she was up for it.  She’d never been to an electronic show before, so she decided she’d give it a go.

The show took place on Governors Island, off the south coast of Manhattan.  Just a 10-minute ferry ride from Manhattan itself, but so far downtown that it’s a bit out of the way.  Regardless, it sounded like a fantastic venue to see PVD.

Friday comes around, and after I get out of work, I meet Katie at her place, we grab a beer, then head downtown together.  As we load onto the ferry, we notice that pretty much everyone else around us is 1) European or 2) Guido.  What?  I definitely expected some Europeans, but Guidos?  Not so much.  For those of you who don’t know what a guido is, just think Jersey Shore and you’ve got a pretty accurate idea.  The guidos and guidettes outnumbered any other group there by 8 to 1.  It was crazy!  Who’dve thought that guidos are more in touch with world music than the general population?  People surprise you, sometimes.

We get to the island, debark, and the music is thumping.  Paul is up on stage doing his six-hour set, we grab another beer, then head out to the dance floor (aka grassy area with a big tent, massive sound system, and view of the New York City skyline).  We’re dancing, and we happen to meet a kid named Andrew.  Andrew is probably on something, but regardless, he is having the time of his life, and making sure that everyone else around him is, too.  We have a total blast dancing with this kid, who is all over the place, and somehow manage to work our way to the very front of the audience– mere feet from PVD.  Amazing!  In the two or three times I’ve seen PVD before, never have I managed to get that close up, and it wasn’t even that difficult.  Katie, Andrew, and I are dancing for hours, and it brings me straight back to Buenos Aires days and my love for electro.  Seriously– I feel like no one cares how you dance, and you just let your body pulse with the beat of the music.  You do what you want, not concerned about people around you or what they think.  Everyone is in a haze, so there’s no pushing and shoving like there is at a normal concert.  It’s just… enigmatic.  There are no words to explain it, but I couldn’t be happier about having that part of my life back.

Now here’s the kicker– raves and electro shows anywhere else in the world go until the wee hours of the morning, often even 9 or 10am.  Here?  Paul finished at midnight, and that was that.  Done.  Over.  They all put us on a ferry and sent us back to Manhattan the second the clock struck midnight.  I was in shock– could it really be?  Only in the States.

After the ferry, I took the 1 train, then the 3 train, then back to the 1 train, getting back to my house at about 1:30am.  Again, outrageously early for being at an electro show.

But here’s the thing:  I love going to these shows, because I can literally have maybe a drink or two and a redbull and dance for hours and hours.  At a club, I always find myself drinking far more, and not even dancing as hard.  Electronic music is literally my drug, and I need very little to keep me going.  Last night when I got home, besides a hoarse voice, sore muscles, and achy feet, I felt totally fine.  Made myself a sandwich, talked with my roommate, and went to bed.  Woke up today, still sore, but that soreness you feel only after dancing your heart out for hours, and having a great time.  A fantastic sore.  No hangover, no nothing.

This is why I love electronic, and why I need to bring it back into my life.  Thank you, PVD, for exceeding my expectations and helping me to rediscover my love for electronic.  Just love it.

NYC Gay Pride Week + Stonewall Inn + Legal Gay Marriage in NY = Monumental

Last night, history was made.  Not only in New York City, nor New York State, but a nationwide (if not worldwide) statement was made.  And I had the honor of taking part in it all.

I’d been following the newspaper articles about the Senate and the numerous delays in the hearing for gay marriage in the state of New York, but I didn’t realize that what was likely to be the final hearing was scheduled to take place on the evening of Friday, June 24th– the kick-off to NYC Gay Pride Weekend.

In fact, I was unaware that it was Gay Pride Week until I met up with a friend of mine who was visiting from out of town, and she asked me if I knew about any of the events happening around the city.  Uh, no.  Well, this same friend sent me a text on Friday night– her last night in the city– asking if I wanted to join in on the celebration at the Stonewall Inn.  Before committing to anything, I decided I’d Google the place and see if it was something I was interested in.

Now, I’m not entirely sure how I wasn’t aware of the Stonewall Inn, nor the Stonewall Riots before last night, but I guess I just missed that in my History of Gay Activism 101 course.  Probably because I never took one.  Anyway, I Googled the place, and immediately became aware of the symbolism and importance of this place to the gay community.  For those of you who don’t know, the Stonewall Inn was a bar back in the 1960s that was almost a safe-haven for sexual minorities to be themselves in a bar setting.  Well, the police also had a tendency to raid gay bars and cause general mayhem.  One day, after a particularly bad raid of this sort, the Stonewall Riots took place, in which the gay community began to take a stand for their rights as homosexuals.  These riots continued on for several more days, and today are marked as the beginning of the Gay Rights Movement.  Pretty emblematic.

Anyway, Normal Teal would shy away from anywhere that would be total madness, and opt for a slightly less chaotic environment, but as my friend was in town, I figured I might as well give it a shot.

I stepped out of the Subway station on Christopher Street/ Sheridan Square, which is only about a block from the Stonewall Inn, and immediately could feel the energy around me.  The streets and sidewalks were swarming with people, and a massive crowd could be seen gathered in front of the Inn.

To my surprise, I managed to enter the door of the Inn, but didn’t make it much further for the first 15 minutes– The place was PACKED.  Literally, there was no room to move around.  We were probably violating every fire code there is, but no one seemed to be too concerned.  There was no music playing, but rather the live dialogue of the Senate as they proposed the gay marriage bill.  There was cheering, cameras, press, beer, rainbows, booing (for the opposing parties of the Senate, of course), and a lot of sweat.  It was total mayhem, but everyone seemed to pretty much be on the same page.

Found my friends inside, and as the Senate went on and on, the Inn cleared out just enough that one could move their arms away from their sides, where they’d been plastered upon entering.  Finally, after a few more speeches and a recess, the Senate announced that the bill passed, making gay marriage officially legal in the state of New York.  The crowd went WILD– tears running down faces, couples who’d been together for years embraced each other, friends embraced each other, hell, strangers embraced each other.

NY1 Channel was turned off, music was turned on, and the entire bar began to pulsate with energy and excitement.  The downstairs was completely packed, so my friends and I wandered towards the back, to see if there was another bar set up to grab a drink.  Somehow, after wandering through the back, past the bathrooms, past another strange room, up some stairs, and through a hallway, we found entirely new section to the bar that we hadn’t even known to exist.  A full bar, a DJ, a dance floor, a stage– It was a complete bar, but with about a quarter of the people in it as there were downstairs– undoubtedly because of the hard-to-find location.

Got some drinks, began to dance, and before we knew it, the dancefloor filled up with people until it was just as packed upstairs as it was downstairs.  In true gay bar fashion, there were go-go dancers and topless bartenders and hoards of shirtless men on the dancefloor.  We continued dancing until the wee hours of the morning, and upon leaving the bar, found that the crowd in front of the bar had barely died down from the time we entered– it was 4am and the celebration was still going strong.

Completely beat from the evening I’d just experienced, we all rehydrated with some bottled water, hopped on the subway, and headed home.

Now, a couple things to note about the evening:

1) This just goes to show that getting out of your comfort zone can definitely play to your advantage– I’d have never experienced this night unless it were my friend’s last night in town and I felt obligated to go out.  Note to self: Get out more.

2) I went into the evening pretty oblivious to the monumentality of it all.  The venue, the Senate, and the fact that it was NYC Gay Pride Week– can’t really beat that.  I love this city.

3) Although a bit overdue, the fact that this law was just passed in New York State will set major precedent for other states (and countries) to come, as it is one of the most influential places in the world.  Pretty cool to be in the middle of it all.

Happy Gay Pride Week, everyone!