Friday, November 02, 2012

Men don't ever have to fucking deal with this shit.

I was walking towards the subway station but I had an envelope in my hand. I always do this. I carry the envelope right past the mailbox and find it still in my hand as I descend the subway stairs a block later. MUST REMEMBER MAILBOX. I see my juice guy. He's on the corner, juicing oranges or grapefruits and always has been or orange to add to it if you like. Ice? Pulp? Hola! gets hollered to the juice guy as I pass by. I head towards the mailbox and there's a man standing in front. A white man, with bright blue eyes. Stubble, frail, kind-looking and definitely homeless. I smile at him and stand before him, thinking he'll realize I need the mailbox. 

The way his eyes light up as he smiles back makes me realize he's got no perception of the mailbox behind him. He thinks I'm smiling at him in a way that's warmer than polite. Sorry, I just need to mail this. Oh! he abashedly steps aside. I drop the envelope and pass by, not looking back but I can tell he's watching me.

The next day, he's standing in the same place. And because I'm a woman and women always need to be aware of these things, I'd been checking for him half a block back. Of course, I sigh. So a concerted effort is made to walk quickly, smile at the juice guy and look straight down at my phone. My earbuds are in but the volume is turned down. Homeless man watches me and as I turn the corner I see his arm fly out to wave at me and he says something I can't understand. Walk faster.

I've seen him a few times since, always on the same corner and I cross the street to avoid him best I can.

Heading to the grocery store on the other side of Broadway, I wasn't expecting him and saw him too late. He was too close. I darted left and he started to walk towards me but he's slight and I'm stronger and faster and he didn't try to keep pace, just made sickening kissing sounds in my direction.

This is a new part of my routine.

I'm a day late, but happy NoBloPoMo.

Friday, March 02, 2012

Similarities between Art of Fielding and Infinite Jest

1.) Takes place at an elite academic institution
2.) Sports are the main event around which the plot is wrapped.
3.) Parent of a main character is the President of the school
4.) President has an affair with a student
5.) Big, husky character who acts as a counselor
6.) Said husky character has an addiction
7.) Husky character also gets the girl
8.) Main character is cerebral and slight
9.) The main characters both have names that start with the letter "H"
10.) Both H's are proteges in their sports, though extremely hard working
11.) Both H's suffer debilitating, mysterious ailments
12.) Loveable characters named Owen
13.) Both Owens are physically disabled.
14.) Father of a main character commits suicide
15.) Body of dead father is dug up post-burial
16.) Characters have meaty last names
17.) References to realistic sounding third party material that doesn't actually exist.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

packed

because i'm always living out of a backpack when a travel, and because i lived out of a single backpack for an entire month last year in southeast asia, soemthing about being able to fill a backpack for just two weeks felt luxurious.
 
i had all this space i could use! i'm even packing a cheap umbrella with the intention of just tossing it when i leave cusco (which opens up space in my bag for shopping). i'm packing the caudalie beauty elixer which is something frivolous and just takes up space. i'm packing an eye mask for the plane. things i'd certainly leave behind if i were gone any longer. i packed the gorgeous silk printed pants that i bought on sale at anthropoligie and haven't worn yet because it was too cold here for them when they were purchased. i mean, it's silly. i'm thinking of carting my mini humidifier with me just because i have the room in my bag.
 
and to top it all off i'll be in first class with all that reclining and legroom. i'm telling you, SO LUXURIOUS!
 
i wasn't all that excited before but i think i'm getting there. now that i'm running out of things to stress out about.
 
ooooh! and lounge access! free snacks and wine! people who come and let you know when your plane is boarding! eeeeeee!
 
two of my favorite things in life, together at last: brian williams and marcel the shell. DEAD.

Monday, December 12, 2011

men in bars

this from cadiz is terrifying. and it could happen to anyone. i know that i've nodded off a few times while driving. found myself closing my eyes. i'm so lucky that something like this has never happened to me. (and don't even get me started on how, in high school, i used to drive into the city for operas and full on change into dresses and strap on heels and put on makeup while driving on 290 west. jesus.
i was sitting at the bar at marea, getting my fusilli fix, when the man next to me started chatting with me. he was from majorca, some finance minister or something. we were talking about his island and travel in general. i'm always meeting strangers. he mentioned his wife and children, so (presumably) i wouldn't have to worry about him thinking that anything romantic would happen. about halfway through dinner he asked how old i was. then he asked if i was married. i said no. and just like that, the tone of the conversation shifted. "oh, such a shame! you need to get on that because you're getting old and need to worry about having children."
um, excuse me?
"oh, actually, i don't have to rush. i'm not interested in having children."
the look of utter shock, SHOCK registered on his face. then it softened, "oh, you'll change your mind."
"no. no, i don't think i will."
"yes, you will"
"no, i won't"
"you just don't know it yet."
"i resent you acting like you know more about my body and my life ambitions than i do."
"you're young, that's all"
"but not so young that i don't need to worry about my eggs dying, apparently."
it went on and on like this. i just reminded him that he knew nothing about me and that he could think whatever he wanted but that he was wrong. a few times he acquiesed and leaned back and in a way that was so placative and condescending he'd put his hands up in a surrender pose and say, "you're right! you're right!" and i'd say, "i know." but then he'd say, "but in 1000 years, the world will be changed by my progeny, not yours." i responded, "i'm okay with that." "but you need to continue your lineage" "i need to do no such thing."
this is a fancy restaurant. people talk in hushed tones. but i found my voice rising to the point where, having asked for my check before i'd even finished my $22 glass of sauvignon blanc, saying something to the effect of, "you're serbian and you're a man, so i get that you think you're right all the time. but this is not about you, not everything is all about you and what you want and what you think."
to a stranger. at a bar. i've known many serbian men in my lifetime and they've all been of that mold. infuriating to argue with, completely condescending. i started to write him off as just a cultural oddity. but it was frustrating all the same. there's nothing like a man, treating a woman like a silly little uninformed thing, for disagreeing with him. And here I am, racial profiling out of anger.
he kept saying, "i'm only saying this to you because i'll never see you again." and i kept thinking, "well, that's just as good a reason to NOT say this to me." and i also thought about how small this world is and that he'd sealed our fate such that i'll absolutely run into him again. maybe it'll be on a future trip to greece. maybe i'll be right back where we started, at the bar at marea.
god knows that if i see him, i'll hide.

Friday, December 09, 2011

finishing touches

just about ready to go.
 
have my crazy ass itinerary done with all flight numbers, transfers, entry fees, exit fees, train numbers, hotel/hostel/b&b info, restaurant reservations and just about everything else you can think of in one place.
 
have put some things aside: outlet converter, iphone speakers, eye mask, comfy pants for the plane, baby wipes (so so useful), altitude sickness meds
 
have downloaded the maps, as per my WSJ article and updated my currency converters. also added money to my skype acct so i can call the fam on christmas.
 
to do: add a couple movies to my ipad, figure out what clothes i'm bringing. low 60's and rainy in cuzco, sunny and high 70's in lima, high 70's with some rain in easter island and high 80's in santiago. that's just a bit all over the place to be really fucking annoying.
 
crazy party up in my head, you're invited!

Thursday, December 01, 2011

so sad

and hilarious.
 
read the reviews for: microwave for one

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

the end!

first off, i want to thank cadiz and syar. both of whom did much better at achieving nablopomo than myself but both of whom were sweet enough to come here and comment regularly throughout the month. cadiz, reading how much went into your wedding exhausts me, but seeing how lovely the result, i know all the hard work was worth it and the food was KICK ASS. syar, this: "Oh the pains of being your own person, of living in your own skin, of speaking in your own voice, and declaring yourself. I am, I am, I am." was so beautiful. in fact, they've all been beautiful. i don't risk visiting actual blogs while i'm at work, so i don't comment often but know that i'm reading! and enjoying!
 
it's weekends like this last one that make me remember why i'd kept this place running for so long. it's not the most exciting reason and certainly not the most literary, but if i don't write some of these things down, i fear i'll forget them. my life is too nice to leave little bits forgotten by the wayside.
 
so, y'all, i'm firmly in the feminist rage part of "i love dick" and it's making me so angry! the first half was sort of, "i am woman, watch me falter and be crazy" and then it transforms into something like, "i'm crazy because i've been oppressed by men who consistently degrade women and fail to see them as intellectual equals" but it's not ranty because she then starts ticking off artists and their critics and each little drop fills a pail, and then another pail and then another and i'm basically at the point where i'm seeing red and wanting to scream, "fuck you!" at every man i see. however painful it was to follow her earlier behavior, and witness the failure of these films which she later sort of  admits weren't any good, to put all of this on display and just OWN it. (i guess to be perfectly honest, she owns her crazy while blaming other people for it, but that's done in a way that isn't as hypocritical as it sounds.) anyway. and kraus is just reckless with herself, physically and emotionally. anorexia is the subject of enough of her writing that it's clear she likely has issues with it herself. on top of the fact that she keeps putting herself into situations in which she's battered (i.e. chasing after dick who, very early on, is clearly an asshole and then is a jerk to her face while post-coital). she lacks any sort of instinct for self-preservation.
 
i think i over-suffer from self-preservation. i take very few risks in life. this means a few things. my life is generally drama-free and even-keeled. it also lacks spontaneity. i make a fool of myself so infrequently that i'm wondering what bits of character i'm missing out on.
 
happy end of november, folks.