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!

Smoke.

This past week, a new law was enforced in New York City.  This law prohibits any smoking in the parks and pedestrian plazas within the city limits, including (but not limited to) Central Park and Times Square.

The penalty?  A $50 fine.  Which isn’t huge, but it’s still a penalty.

Now, I can see both sides of the story here: I have spent the past three years surrounded by heavy smokers, and although I have never taken on the addiction full-throttle, I have gone through periods in my life at which point I smoked on a semi-regular basis.  On the other hand, as I mentioned before, I have never been a heavy smoker, and I believe that the notion of a perfect afternoon lounging in the park can be destroyed by another park-goer’s second-hand smoke drifting over you stands true.  It’s rude, it’s gross, and it’s unhealthy– for everyone.

Argument 1: Pro.

Yes, smoking in public is a selfish act, considering it affects everyone around you, especially those in direct path of your smoke output.

Yes, apart from being selfish, it also has obvious health risks for everyone involved (whether they want to be or not).

Yes, parks and plazas are places where people should be able to enjoy themselves to the maximum, as they are public spaces that are meant for relaxation and basically doing whatever you want to do.  If another person’s activity is hindering your ability to enjoy your afternoon, it should be confronted.

Argument 2: Con.

As mentioned above, parks are plazas are places in which people should be able to go and relax– enjoy themselves.  If that relaxation involves smoking a cigarette, then so be it.  If the smoker is mindful enough to not smoke in close proximity to others, then it shouldn’t be an issue.

The city has already hiked up the price of a pack of cigarettes to $12.00 (if not more), and several laws have been put in place to make smoking more difficult, and therefore helping people to make the decision to quit.  I get that they are trying to get people to stop a bad habit, but at a certain point, when is this fight being taken past the point of helping people out, and instead making their lives unnecessarily more difficult?

New York City is one of the world’s top metropolises, as far as creativity, freedom, and progression go.  While laws are in the making to legalize gay marriage and decriminalize marijuana, why is the government finding it to be okay to hinder the rights of another even larger population within the city: cigarette smokers?

 

Yeah, that’s about all I’ve got.  Although I would like to make mention of something…

In July of 2006, when I first moved to Buenos Aires with my family, smoking was allowed pretty much everywhere.  Inside bars, restaurants, theaters– you name it.  In October of 2006, a new law was passed that within Buenos Aires city limits, there would be no more smoking indoors.  In a city where smoking is just about as popular as drinking coffee, there were plenty of oppositions, and the general population was obviously not thrilled about the change.  Now, just five years later, New York is already banning smoking from outdoor parks and plazas.  Just the thought of this same ban taking place in Buenos Aires would undoubtedly make a few Argentines shit their pants.  Just sayin’.

Summertime.

Well, looks like summer is here.  For real.  Not just another tease like the ones we’ve been getting since March– you know the ones: three consecutive days of sunshine and warmth, and just when you think it’s here to stay, you wake up one morning with every intention of leaving your jacket at home, only to find that the temperature has dropped 30 degrees and it’s pouring rain.  Sigh.  Yes, you know the feeling.

BUT this past week has been consistently warm and sunny.  Scratch that– HOT and sunny.  We’ve even reached the 90s on a couple days, so I’d definitely say summer is here to stay.  Besides, it’s nearly June– this weather is much overdue at this point.

So.. Summer.  It’s amazing how much a city can change with the simply change of the weather.  Everything from restaurant seating to drink specials to fashion trends to public events to people’s moods take a turn for the better.  People are no longer dragging their feet while bundled up to their nose in black coats and scarves.  Nope, it’s almost as if everyone has acquired a skip in their step– walking is about 300 times more enjoyable now than before.  Flowers are blooming, the sky is bluer, the grass is greener, and everyone is happier.

Oh, summer, won’t you stay forever?

Actually, no.  I’m getting ahead of myself.  Now, don’t get me wrong– I love summer, I love summer fashion, I love summer vibe.  I love summer.  What I do not like is tossing and turning in your bed because it’s so hot.  I do not like acquiring a sweat mustache with every block that I walk.  And I do not like determining whether I can or cannot wear jeans based on the humidity.

Today I went to Central Park and decided to catch some rays while reading a book on a bench.  I carefully chose a bench that was just enough in the sun that I could (attempt to) acquire a tan, but just enough in the shade that I wouldn’t acquire that tone (aka fireworks-red) within ten minutes.  As it turns out, I didn’t even have to worry about it, because within eight minutes I felt like I was sweating profusely and evacuated that bench for it’s shadier, cooler counterpart.  At this rate, I’ll finally darken my skin just a hue or two by October.  Sigh.

 

That being said, I will just have to train myself to live in the heat, work in the heat, and generally function in the heat.  Hey, I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.

Welcome, Summer!  We’re happy to have you.

Let’s Talk About the Weather.

Weather.  Something so omnipresent and worthy of mention has become nothing but a cliche topic.  I almost feel like talking about the weather deliberately demonstrates the fact that you have nothing better to talk about.  Nothing interesting in your life, nothing you want to share with that other person, simply nothing.

Example: Going in and out of by office building everyday, I pass by my doorman Khalik as I wait to load myself into an elevator– all along the way talking about the weather.  Surely, Khalik has something better to talk about than the fact that it has been raining for a week.  Or that the sun was out yesterday, but now it’s gone.  And as much as I’d like to ask him, it’s not quite the kind of relationship people have with the doormen of their office building.  Not that I wouldn’t be interested in hearing more, but rather that I am constantly in passing– never staying more than the length of the wait for the elevator– and also that the lobby is small enough that anything I speak to him about, everyone else in the lobby can hear.  And I doubt Khalik wants to expose his weekend plans and private life to a bunch of strangers that he sees every single day.  Then again, how can I be sure he’d even want to expose that information to me?  I’m just another one of those everyday strangers.  I may greet him more, joke around with him more, be a little more excited to see him in the morning, but I’m still one of those strangers.  Distant enough to want to maintain that distance.

So, we talk about the weather.  Ever-changing.  Omnipresent.  Unavoidable.  Cliche.

Home Cinema

I spoke briefly of my tennis and roasted vegetable crazes in my last post, but I neglected to mention a third.  Not purposefully, but rather because I didn’t realize I was in such a craze until it was pointed out to me today.

I’m not a big movie-watcher.  I seldom go to the cinema.  And I can’t remember renting a movie on my own accord at any point in the past four years.  Not even on ships, when movie rentals for crew were free.  I just don’t really like movies.

Lately, however, I’ve developed a taste for films.  A specific genre of films, that I suppose you could say is a combination of classic, depressing, dark, and foreign.  Again, I’m not a film person, but I’m finding that I really enjoy coming home from work, roasting some vegetables, having a beer, and watching a good film.  Who would’ve thought?

My last few films that I’ve watched include:

Nueve Reinas– an Argentine classic from the early 2000s about two criminals who meet up and plan the ultimate con.

Harold and Maude– an American classic about a teenage boy obsessed with death and suicide, who befriends an outrageous elderly woman, whom he later falls in love with.

Y Tu Mama Tambien– a Mexican film about two sexually-charged teenage boys who go on a road trip with an older 30-ish woman to find a non-existent beach.

A Clockwork Orange– a ruthless criminal who has no concept of humanity gets incarcerated, and is selected for a government experiment that aims to “decriminalize” a person by making them physically ill whenever a violent thought crosses their mind.

The Virgin Suicides– Five sisters raised in a protective household in a small town all commit suicide.

Welcome to the Dollhouse– a middle-school girl is tormented at school and attempts to make herself cool, only to ultimately further humiliate herself.

Not sure what spurred my cinematic change of taste, but I am really starting to enjoy movies for what might be the first time in my life.  I think I may begin some sort of quest to watch more classics.  Classics that I feel that I’ve missed out on a lot of references by not having seen the movies.  And maybe, just maybe, I’ll try to veer away from my depressing preference.  We’ll see how it goes.

Change of Pace.

Here we are again.  Weeks without a post.  I am considering making a new blog, as my current blog’s concept is no longer a part of my life.  Then again, when I started the blog in the first place, I had no intention of leading it in the direction that I did.  That direction being cruise ships.

At the point of Teal’s Rockin’ Blog’s inception, I did not know I would be working on a ship, and the ‘Rockin” in the title was only inserted due to a coincidental phase I was going through, in which ‘rockin” was my new favorite word.

Well, I no longer consider ‘rockin” to be such an instrumental aspect of my vocabulary nor my life, and I feel it may be time to move on from my Rockin’ Blog.

The new blog name is still undecided, as I have only seriously entertained this thought in my mind for no more than thirty minutes, and an outstandingly clever name takes more time than that to come to life.  Will keep you all updated.

In the meantime, life is pretty A-OK.  I am in the new apartment which is nothing short of perfect.  My room is cozy, my apartment is beautiful, my roommates are fantastic, and the dog is quickly becoming one of my best companions.  Rent is less than it was at my previous apartment, and my commute is more or less the same amount of time, despite the new place being located approximately 35 blocks further uptown than where I was before.

Downsides?  I don’t get a seat on the subway in my new commute, and it involves transferring from the local to the express in order to make the commute as quick as possible.  The neighborhood is much more Harlem and much less UWS than my previous location, and Central Park is a mile away, as opposed to a block.  Luckily, all of these aspects can be rebuttled by the fact that 1) my commute is still swift and the actual walking distance from my place to the subway is half of what it used to be, 2) I may not have Central Park, but I do have Riverbank State Park and the Riverside running trail 1/2 block from my new place.  And the park even has tennis courts.  And 3) my Spanish will get better simply by being exposed to the language on a consistent basis whenever I leave my apartment.  Yup, the new place is pretty great.

Since moving here, I have developed a few new crazes: baked/roasted vegetables and tennis.  Now that I have a kitchen in which I can cook when I want to, what I want to, and as loud as I want to, I feel as though I no excuse for not using all counter-space and appliances at will.  As part of my new commute, there happens to be a Trader Joe’s grocery exactly halfway through my travels.  I simply get off of the train at 72nd Street, walk across the street to TJ’s, buy my groceries in a perfectly enjoyable, clean, and affordable atmosphere, and hop back on the subway to complete my journey home.  Easy as that.  Every week I am buying ingredients like zucchini, yams, mushrooms, carrots, etc… to throw into the oven with a bit of salt, and bake to perfection.  It is simply the easiest, healthiest, and tastiest dinner I’ve made in a long, long time.

To combine with my healthy home-cooked meals, Taeko and I have also taken on a bit of an obsession with tennis.  Like I mentioned before, I am located no more than 1/2 block from Riverbank State Park, a park located right on the riverside, complete with basketball, baseball, handball, and tennis courts, as well as play structures and benches galore..!  We meet at the courts, play some tennis for a couple of hours, and basically tire ourselves out to the point of linguini-arms (and yes, I just coined that term).  Tennis is fantastic, and I am hoping to have a tennis-filled summer, even if it is just me playing on my own against a wall.  Hey, Forrest Gump did it on a table, why can’t I do it on a court?

New Place? Check.

The deadline was set for when I needed to find a new room, and just a day or two after I wrote my last post, I found the perfect apartment..!  Now, I know that I said this about my current apartment when I first got it, too, but this time it’s different.  This time I know what to look for, and what not to look for.  I know where I am working, and what my morning commute looks like.  I know what kinda of atmosphere I want to come home to at night, and the type of people I’d like to share that atmosphere with.  Aaand, I’ve found it.

I spent the past three weeks looking for apartments, and one of the first days searching on Craigslist, I found an ad for a room that sounded.. well, perfect.  There were four pictures– the kitchen, the hall, the dining room, and the living room.  All the rooms were brightly painted (very Frost), tastefully furnished, and sunny.  The ad was not terribly in-depth, but I got the idea that it was a good place to be.  I immediately began writing a reply to their post, and upon pressing the send button, I was informed that the post had been removed.  Ah!  My perfect place was just taken off of the market!  I was heartbroken.  Nonetheless, I continued looking for places, all the while with this idyllic apartment still in my mind.  In fact, I was still telling people about the place– my coworkers, my friends– I’d mentioned the place to almost everyone around me that would listen, simply because I was so in love with it and it had slipped through my very fingers.

Just about one week later, I decided to stay an extra ten minutes at work just to take a look at some apartment postings online before I headed home to a much, much slower internet connection.  I opened up the page, and within the latest five posts lay my long-lost ad!  It was back!  I squealed (yes, squealed) with glee and began writing them as quickly as possible, for fear that it would be taken away again (in which case, I would have had to wonder if it were just some cruel game someone was playing with me).  I perfected my post, pressed the ‘send’ button, and crossed my fingers.  Success!  It was sent!  And then, not more than two minutes later– double success!  They had already replied to me, inviting me to an interview!  Ridiculously giddy, I left the the office that day with two appointments priorly set up for the next two days to see apartments, and a third on Saturday which I had just set up for my perfect place.  Honestly, I might as well had cancelled the first two appointments, as my mind was already set on the third, which I hadn’t even seen yet.  But out of being responsible and always having a backup plan, I visited them anyway.

Saturday rolled around and I went to visit the apartment, located on W 139th between Broadway and Riverside– A great area near to City College, Riverside Park, and not more than two blocks from the subway.  I walked in and was warmly greeted by all three of the roommates and their dog, Billie (named after Billie Holiday).  We sat in the living room, which was just as beautiful as the photos had made it out to be, and we basically just chatted for just under an hour.  The roommates are a French Environmental Policies Masters student, an American writer, and an Austria jazz singer.  Pretty cool bunch, if you ask me.  Everything went well with them, but they said they had a few more interviews set up for the beginning of the week and would get back to me by Thursday.

Basically, I couldn’t stop thinking about the place for the next few days– I barely even slept one night because my entire night was filled with dreams and nightmares about getting or not getting the apartment.  I kid you not.  I couldn’t get the place out of my head.

To my relief, I got a message from them on Tuesday afternoon (at work.. I normally don’t check my e-mail at work, but I had been doing so incessantly over the past two days, just in case) and, again, squealed with glee.  I was chosen!  On top of that, all of the roomies wrote me a nice welcoming note, and invited me to a party they were going to be having on Friday.  I’m normally reluctant to attend any social gatherings at which I will know few people, but I knew I had to attend this one, just to make a good second-impression.  After all, I was going to be living with these people.

Friday came around and I headed up to the party (after my traditional Friday drinks in the office with my coworkers).  I arrived and, once again, was greeted with a warm, welcoming hug from Maria, the Austrian roommate, and quickly introduced to a few of the people in the apartment.  The place was full of 30+ people from all over the world with entirely different backgrounds, accents, and languages being spoken.  I felt right at home.

I somehow ended up staying at the party until 3:30am, and I was one of the last guests to leave.  I had a great chance to get to know the roommates a little better, as well as their friends, and it has further convinced me that this move will overall change my entire quality of life in the city.  Not a doubt in my mind.

Holy cow, that was the longest explanation of apartment hunting I’ve ever seen.  I guess it’s a good sign if I can’t shut up about the place, right?  Right. Kudos to whoever actually makes it to the end of this one.  Sorry, guys. Will try to choose a more interesting topic next time.

You’ve Been Stood Up

By now, I expect that most of you have veered away from my blog, having lost interest after weeks of no updates.  Why would you stick around, anyway?  That’d be like repeatedly making plans with someone after you’ve been stood up by them numerous times before.  I can’t blame you.

These past several weeks, I have thought little to nothing of my blog.  I suppose I’ve been preoccupied with work, exhausted after work, and wasting my energy on watching TV series in bed.  It leaves me hardly anything to write about.

At least on the ship, I could live a terribly monotonous life, doing the same thing everyday, but at least I could say I was in a different location on a never-ending basis.  Turkey, Finland, Malaga, Nassau—I was consistently on the move, and could use that as ammo for making my life appear far more interesting than it actually was.

Now, I’ve lost that.  Don’t get me wrong—I love New York, and I realize that it is a place that many people in the world would love to be.  But when I wake up in the morning, I am still in New York.  The next day?  New York.  And the day after that?  New York.  The ‘interesting’ factor in my life has plummeted 10-fold.  But I guess that is to be expected when your previous job/lifestyle is one of envy to begin with.

My work here is going well, although the concept of looking forward to weekends still seems foreign to me.  After five days of working, I am both exhausted and surprised that the week passed so quickly.  That it is already another two days in a row for me to sleep in.

This city has a way of sucking the energy out of you.  It takes more than an elevator to get to work in the morning.  Instead, it’s an X-minute walk to the subway, an X-minute wait in the station, an X-minute ride to your stop, then an X-minute walk to the office.  Once you’re in the office, you’re sitting all day, doing whatever daily tasks your job entails.  The day ends, and you’ve sat in a chair for upwards of nine hours.  You’re anxious to use your legs again, and you do so in your commute back home—the exact same commute you took in the morning, only reversed.  Once you reach your bedroom door, you strip yourself of bag, coat, scarf, shoes, and earphones, and pass out on your bed, unwilling to move even just to change into your pajamas.  It’s 7pm and already you’re ready for bed.

You tell yourself not to sleep so early, so instead you watch TV series on your computer to keep yourself awake until it’s time to finally shut your eyes.  Somehow, you loose track of time and find yourself still awake at midnight, and curse the fact that you have only six hours to sleep before it is time to start all over again.  You promise yourself that the next night, you’ll be sure to go to bed by 10:30pm.

Six AM, the alarm sounds and you begin the day just as you began the day before, but a little drowsier.

This is not to say I didn’t work hard on ships.  That’s not the case. In fact, I worked harder on ships, worked longer hours, was more active, stayed up later, drank more, and still had more energy.

You know how they say that too much sleep makes you sleepier?  Well, I feel like this might be a similar situation.  My body is dormant at work, and dormant at home.  There is no physical activity apart from my walk to and from the subway.  My mental activity has taken a downturn, as well, considering the daily life of an administrative assistant doesn’t require the same creativity, on-the-spot thinking, and general outpour of energy that an entertainment host’s does.

This makes me think that I need to take on another activity.  Whether it be something I do on my own—like running in the park or studying a language, something I do with a group—like yoga or art classes, or simply spending more time with more people, and less time in front of a computer.

I have so far maintained my new years resolution of reading a book per month, and bought my April book choice today (Paulo Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die), which I expect to finish within the week.  I have also collected a crossword puzzle every day of the week in my AM New York—a free publication distributed around the city every weekday morning—which I am working my way through with time.  But I need something else… Something that doesn’t involve lying in bed.

I have also spent a hefty amount of my energy these past two weeks on apartment hunting.  The place I am living now isn’t exactly ideal.  I love the area, I love the proximity to Central Park, I love that it’s located on the C line, and I love that there is incredible ethnic food in all directions.  However, I hate cats.  I never realized my distaste for cats until I lived with them.  They alone are enough to drive me out of an apartment.  Aside from the cats, though, the living situation is tricky, as we currently have someone living in the living room, which means 1) there is no common living space, 2) I cannot cook without being in her ‘room’, and 3) I have to tip-toe my way around the apartment (in the dark) before I go to work in the morning, as to not wake her up.  This place is a room, not a home.  And a home is what I need.  Time to move on—May 1^st is the deadline, so let’s hope I find a place before then.