Save the Shop Around the Corner!

Yes, this is another story about a West Village bookstore that's closing . . . then reopening a few blocks away. The New York Times called this a reprieve. The store in this case is Left Bank Books, on W. 4th St. I've been in here only once, because it sells predominantly first editions, making it attractive but expensive. Attraction + expensive = me avoiding it. I, however, have walked by it many times because I love love love how the store looks. Chipping white paint, slightly disarrayed books in the front windows, glass door, small chalkboard billboard on the sidewalk in front. It's perfect. In fact, a picture I took of it serves as my Twitter background. I'm happy the store will still be open, because someday I will buy a book from there, but sad it won't look the same. Yes, this really does matter to me. Click on the link to the store and you'll understand. Now we wait to find out which expensive clothing store moves in.

The day before Black Friday

Thanksgiving looms and Americans are today mentally if not physically preparing for The Meal. And if Wal-Mart is to be believed, some people are even buying special plates and spoons to be used for this one meal only. Like a good New Yorker I will be paying someone else to make my T-Day dinner, mentally and physically. (I blame this on the city, but I'd be doing this wherever I lived. I'm giving someone a job. Yes, you're right to feel shamed, turkey cookers.)

The college is offering a full Thanksgiving buffet for $20, which includes wine. I don't even like turkey, but sleep well knowing that I will eat at least half the ticket price's worth of mashed potatoes and, if all goes well, drink more than the ticket's worth of wine. Judge not; this is my tribute to frugality, and I'd expect you to do no less. In addition, if you haven't noticed, Christmas is the next holiday after Thanksgiving. Christmas is the Dark Ages of the year, a period of cultural decline and the death of all things enlightening and Good, so if I need to drink my way through Advent I think it best you let me. Happy birthday Jesus. Sorry we suck so much.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We've invited our parents down to the big city to spend the food-focused day with us Thursday. Rumor has it a local department store organizes a parade, so we'll be heading downtown Thanksgiving morning to see if this is true. The family is coming in tomorrow night, so we'll be going to watch the balloon inflators do their thing, which will likely be awesome and likely render us less obligated to wake up early on parade morning to get a viewing spot. Fingers crossed, our parade-watching manner will lean more toward lackadaisical than enthusiastic. The weather forecast for Thursday is 56 and cloudy, and for this I am thankful. Then it's back to the hometown for a few days to visit friends and family and rock to Bad Hair Day and watch a friend get married.

So if I don't say it later, have a happy Thanksgiving.

Follow-up/through

I declared recently that I'd be reading more books (that I'm not getting paid to copyedit). I'm happy to report that I finished Love in the Time of Cholera and have begun Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. Feel free at anytime while reading this to interrupt and congratulate me.

As I also mentioned previously, this week is Independent Bookstore Week NYC. To celebrate, Tim and I hopped the L to Brooklyn last night and heard Jonathan Lethem read from his new book Chronic City at Spoonbill & Sugartown. Here I bought said book and had Mr. Lethem sign it, then soon after lamented my lack of foresight and leaving my copy of Motherless Brooklyn at home. I'll likely bring it with me to the December 4 finale of his marathon reading of the new book (awesome, right?) at BookCourt. So before then I need to read up to where he left off last night so that I can be a good audience member and teacher's pet.

This morning we visited the bookshop I mentioned yesterday, Biography Bookshop. This is another achievement for which you can congratulate me. In the sunshine and our sweaters we browsed the bargain book tables on the sidewalk, making piles of desired books and then, downcast, returning books back to the table in an effort to abate our gluttony. We bought books of course, all but one of which were under $10.00, including an originally $60.00 hardcover collected works of W. B. Yeats. The more expensive book was Juliet, Naked, by Nick Hornby, a book that is on my list of New York City related books to read (as is Chronic City). So Ms. Tillman's No Lease on Life has been trumped for now, but she is no. 1 on my Borrow from the Library list. (And libraries are awesome. Please don't view my book-purchasing binge as an affront to the glorious opportunity to borrow books for free from your public library, and do feel free to judge my penchant for making books mine - mine! - by buying them and owning them and keeping them in my possession for ever and ever because I. love. them. so. much.)

And as of this minute, I having nothing to edit. In regular-people terms, I have the day off of work. I could fold the clean laundry, or I could read until Glee comes on. I'm not folding laundry. You can congratulate me on this decision too.

A little farther east

Since my previous pronouncement of my favorite part of the city I've unastonishingly made many visits to this pronounced area. I've twice made the mistake of visiting the West Village on the weekend, and because of this became sourly aware of the previously tolerated abundance of Marc Jacobs stores. Oh, hey, there's a Ralph Lauren, too, and they all have lines of faux-fir-vest clad girls with their male chaperones in their rolled up jeans and leather loafers waiting at the door, an occurence that could not be soothed by flourless chocolate cake because Magnolia Bakery, too, has a line, in which I clearly refuse to wait. And now the Biography Bookshop across the street from the cupcake parade is closing.

In an attempt to hate the player not the game, I will not blame this on the fancy retailers who in a capitalist society can put their stores on cobblestone streets if they want to, nor will I blame Magnolia Bakery, whose fault it's not that Carrie Bradshaw ate one of their cupcakes and sent swarms of faux-fir-vest clad Sex and the City lovers to the corner of Bleecker and West 11th. So who are the players to hate?

I watched and liked watching Sex and the City, so I cannot join the chorus of native city dwellers decrying the SATC effect, especially since I've lived here for only three months. It's not the reason I like the West Village nor why I moved to the city, nor will I ever be waiting in a high-end line to buy the patent leather mary janes for $1,500 instead of $2,000, but my deep affection for my new home makes me understand why someone would put it in the title of their show, make it a character, and aim it toward an upper-middle-class chick-lit audience. You can't tell someone how to love something, even if you think they are doing it wrong. "True love can be expressed in only Harlem dive bars and East Village hookah shops, in Chucks and plaid listening to obscure bands on your iPod and cooking vegan split-pea soup for you and your five roommates."

We pick our favorites and then begrudge them success. We don't want to share. Oprah better keep her book-club-wielding hands away from our favorite book. You die a little the minute you hear your favorite indie band played on the radio. Chace Crawford mentions your favorite coffee shop in an interview and it feels like Christmas morning and Santa forgot to stop at your house.

As with any gentrifying neighborhood, locals rightly lament the loss of a loved identity. The players call it progress, but this isn't what it is. It's just change. The closing Biography Bookshop has opened a new store under the name Bookbook a little farther east on Bleecker, a direction I've been walking more lately. It's less quaint, more grittyish, and maybe someday I'll browse the used record store and not look like a poser or a douche. But I still like the stoops on Perry Street and Magnolia's flourless chocolate cake, so I'll still be visiting, just during the week.

I hope that you've had enough to drink. It's going to take courage.

I've been alone a lot since we've moved, exacerbated by the fact that I work from home. Being alone isn't a new state of being for me, but in its new quantity it has become a new state of grace. I don't feel the need to be a piece to fit a puzzle, nor is any role written for me. I'm slowly learning to try to stay out of my own way and avoid the traps I set for myself.

Having followed my husband to the city as he studies at Columbia, I sometimes feel a little like Charlotte in Lost in Translation. I think Hugh Jackman should play Bob.

Vote No on 1

It blows my mind that people would actually vote to take rights away from anyone, especially rights protected by the Constitution, especially in the name of God.

Thankfully love can never be defeated, even if ignorant, hate-filled sociopaths vote to try. My thoughts and prayers are with you today, Maine.

Saturday's soliloquy

Often while attempting to accomplish a task I think of another task that also needs accomplishing. In an effort to not forget to accomplish this other task, I leave the initial task to tend to the next task. This thought process then happens again, leaving two or more tasks unfinished in an attempt to finish others. Because I'm multiply tasking, this could be considered multitasking, except I have trouble fulfilling the "concurrent" implication of multitasking's definition (except with work, I'm actually and thankfully an adept multitasker while in copyeditor mode).

In noncopyeditor mode I seem to really do only one task at a time. I'll pull up the subway map online with the purpose of mapping a route, but while the map's loading I'll go get the ID out of last night's pants pocket to put in my purse, but when picking up my pants I realize the pile of folded clothes on the floor should really be put away, then while putting the socks in their disheveled drawer I begin to undishevel the drawer and come across some new tights that need to be taken out of their packages, then while placing the cardboard packages in recycling I decide the recycling should be taken out, then I'll set down the recycling to pick up the shoes that have accumulated in the doorway, then while taking those shoes to their designated spots walk by my computer with the subway map fully displayed. So, I set the shoes down and map my route, finally accomplishing my initial goal but creating four new unaccomplished chores in the process.

I'll then begin to take the shoes to the bedroom, come across my ID I threw on the bed, set down the shoes, and pick up the ID and put it in my purse. Task 2 done. Then while walking over to the open sock drawer trip on the shoes on the floor, pick up the shoes, and put them away. Task 5 done. Then I'll close the sock drawer, leave the clothes folded on the floor, and return to the map to make sure I've got the route right in my head. Three out of five is a good batting average, especially harboring the fear that once I start organizing the sock drawer I'll need to do yet something else.

I don't think this behavior is completely abnormal or has severe psychological implications. (You'd want to say attention deficit, but I'm a copy editor, so obsessive-compulsive tendencies would be more accurate.) Fear of commitment? I can give you a few people to call who will support you on that one; that is, if I still had their numbers.

Friday frustrations

Girls who wear weather-inappropriate clothing just because they want to look trendy. Subway riders who don't move in away from the doors after entering train. Cowardly Democrats. Clothes launderers who take up four washing machines and then four dryers (two loads of clothes fit in one dryer). Snarky hipsters who define themselves by what they hate and who they don't want to be more than what they like and who they want to be. Noncomformists in their noncomformist uniform therefore making themselves more conformist than conformists in our J. Crew and Old Navy. Finding maple candy but not maple sugar candy at the greenmarket. People who think God loves them more.

Thursday thoughts

I ran alongside the Hudson from 121st St. to 11th St. today. It was a gorgeous day and the scenery past the Pier i cafe was new to me and I just felt a little like Forrest Gump. This was just a little over 5 miles, but in NYC this is enough to pass through different worlds. Morningside Heights to Upper West Side to Midtown West and past the Intrepid Museum to Chelsea to West Village. Then I went to a bakery and bought a cupcake.

So I guess I didn't really share any thoughts, but "report" doesn't start with "th."

P.S. My blog entries are posting a day late. This one seems to be okay. But don't worry, I would never warble on a Thursday.

Wednesday warblings

(I hope you are enjoying my alliterative titles. I may be pushing my luck with today's title, but I do consider my writing to be a melodious succession of low, pleasing sounds.)

Because of what I do for a living, I could argue that I read new writing constantly, on topics ranging from acquiring graphic novels for libraries to psychotherapy for college students to religion and spirituality in social work. However, editing and reading are two different tasks. I'm actually embarrasingly out of touch with current literary fiction* and creative nonfiction. I've decided to begin changing this status.

Like many people, I don't have a lot of time to read for fun . . . and I want to watch Glee and Lost and 30 Rock and football and go to a play and a museum and a bar and for a run and for baked goods. So, more accurately, I don't choose to spend a lot of my free time reading for fun. Since moving to New York City, though, I've consciously acquired more so-called free time, and starting today I will use more of it to read. In fact, I've just applied for my New York Public Library card. Once I finally finish Love in the Time of Cholera, having made it 29 years in life without reading this book, I'm going to start reading new books, new to me at least. I'll aim for contemporary but won't limit myself. I've decided to start reading books about or set in New York City (indulging obsessions isn't always unhealthy). First up, which I want to buy because the main character is a proofreader, is No Lease on Life by Lynne Tillman, "the chronicle of one ordinary woman's day in the East Village." I'll wait until the week of November 15-21 and buy it from an independent bookstore for Independent Bookstore Week NYC.

I'll, as always, keep you posted.


*And I especially don't know anything about popular fiction. Like music, if I don't like it I don't pay attention to it, even for scholarly value or street cred. Pop fiction just doesn't do it for me. Refer back to my discussion on how I like character more than and sometimes to the detriment of plot. I would own up to being a literary snob if this were the case, but it's not - if I liked pop fiction I'd unashamedly like it, and I score far too poor on literature questions in trivia games to ever be considered a snob. But I do hope someday to add "literary snob" to the list of reasons I'm unpleasant to be around.

Tuesday triflings

Though Almost Famous holds court as my favorite movie, it's not because I can identify with the movie's rock writer hero, however much I'd like to identify with a rock writer who has Lester Bangs as a mentor (I'm far better suited to be a Band-Aid). In college I liked to think of myself as an amateur new-music connoisseur, mostly because I was - dork alert - the entertainment chair of the activities programming board.* As it turns out, I wasn't a music connoisseur of any level. I liked music, and was aware of genres, themes, trends, and even a little history, but I lacked the passion to really pursue music knowledge beyond reading Rolling Stone and listening to music I immediately liked.

Turns out, the music I like best is singer-songwriter fare, folk, indie pop (epecially the Britpop), and music that would fall under the umbrella of alt rock. Yes, I am white. This doesn't mean I don't like or appreciate other forms of music, except for screamo. In my younger years I had a deep affection for jam bands, but I think this was a result of my proclivity for summer concerts and sitting in the lawn and not really needing to pay attention to the music. Now I need more structure (sorry jazz), more story. To explain it a different way, right now my Pandora Radio stations are the Mountain Goats, Brandon Patton, Vampire Weekend, Antje Duvekot, Alexi Murdoch, R.E.M., and the Frattelis. Actually, looking at this list, it makes me seem way cooler than I am. Rest assured that I'm not cool when it comes to music; you can come over and I'll show you the CDs I own, including Mariah Carey and Jewel. I would actually really like to learn more about good rap, but I'd desperately need someone to hold my hand and guide me. I realize that if I succeed in this venture I will look like Michael Bolton driving into work in the beggining of Office Space, but so be it.

The music I listen to often becomes so precious to me that I go for very long periods of time without caring about or seeking new music. It's kind of like saying, "I don't need anymore friends, thanks." Ellis Paul will get me through life just fine. To combat this, today I decided to visit NPR's Song of the Day and added about a month's worth of songs of the day to my NPR playlist. As a result, I'm happy to report that I've added Wussy to my "possibly to buy from iTunes" list. Their first album came out three years ago, but they are new to me, so congratulate me.

So if you've learned nothing from these Tuesday triflings, which is likely, then I'll leave you with this: I am not the person to ask about music, new, old, or otherwise. For my part, I promise not to bring it up in real-life conversation unless I have a good and specific reason, because it's impossible to talk about music and not sound like an a-hole.


*The secret is that this position was better than a backstage pass. The ways in which I enjoyed this position I'll leave up to your imagination.

Monday musings

This past weekend I traveled back to my hometown and home UMC Conference to attend a Board of Ordained Ministry meeting. The content of this blog post is not necessarily a reflection of the board or its meeting - I support the board and its purpose (otherwise I would not be a member of it) and I even support the polity of the United Methodist Church (otherwise I would not be a member of it) - but I can't help but think, all of the time, that the church/Church is wholly irrelevant to any positive changes in society. This frustrates the hell out of me.

I'm the token "young adult" on the board. I'm okay with playing this role. Young adults of the Church in general are often sequestered and held accountable for coming up with the solutions to save the Church. The problem is the definition of "church." If you're as lucky as me, you've sang "a church is not a building, a church is not a steeple, a church is not a resting place, the church is a people . . ." and then you went to the trustees meeting to make sure we had enough money to put new carpet down, buy new candlesticks, and fix the roof and the furnace and the dishwasher and the padding on the pews. So, one step toward a solution to "save the church" is to have fewer buildings.

Another, far more important step, is to be a part of positive change, not a hindrance to it. Even better, be a leader of positive change, not an entity who joins change already in progress and then congratulates itself on how forward-thinking, earth friendly, and accepting it is when the secular charitable/humanist organizations have treated the earth and people better than the general church for basically all of modern history.

The term "organized religion" has gained - and earned - a nasty connotation. I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but the keyword is "organized." It's a horrific shame that this organization has been used for all classes of evil, but it has, can be, should be, and must be used for all classes of Good if it is to survive as a church of any defintion. I remain a part of this United Methodist beast because I hope that this organized group of people can effect positive change, and to get it to do so I must be a part of it from the inside. By positive change I mean recognition of gay equity, health care for all, education for all, food for all, and poverty and war for none.

Since I've moved away from my hometown and Conference, however, I've taken a step back from my church involvement. I attend worship at a church I like a lot, though I haven't even gone every Sunday. There are so many Good people and organizations in the world that have nothing to do with religion, and in these past two months I've found myself wanting to scream at the Church "Get the hell out of the way so we can do God's work!" But I haven't gotten seriously involved with any of these organizations either. I like being able to name Jesus as part of my motivation, because I believe in God and I hate, hate, hate what Christianity in today's society means and care enough to want to change what it means. But I'm at a crossroad. And I'm religion-tired, or unmotivated. I'm afraid to commit because I'm afraid of burnout and even more of disenchantment.

I'm just beginning to settle in my new home. I need structure and routine more than the regular person (I'm a copy editor for Pete's sake), so taking the time to establish this has been more important than figuring out how I'm going to help save the world. (On top of this, I'm selfish and a bit of a chickenshit.) I've been exploring the city, visiting museums and parks and plays, meeting new people, and literally taking time to smell the roses. In a city that's supposed to make me hard and cynical I've found my walls becoming thinner. I've found myself more centered and open and, dare I say, faithful. I thank God for where I am, in every sense of that phrase.

I'll figure out my role in the grander scheme. In this moment I'm content to be a busy copy editor supporting her smart, good husband who is motivated and who is on the path to help save the world by educating the world. (He couldn't be doing this without me, of course.) It's clear that this is a time in my life for me just be patient and listen, to slow down and shut up and listen. Will I be able to do this? We'll see. I'm so ready to try.

Watch out for the whimsy

A few posts ago I talked about walking around the West Village on a whim one afternoon. It has since become one of my favorite things to do. Since we recently had our camera fixed, I decided to take it with me yesterday morning. Here is what I see.


The Magnolia Bakery. There are Magnolia Bakeries closer to me than this one, and a fantastic Hungarian pastry shop a few blocks away, but I like this particular bakery. Location, location, location. And the dude leaning on the mailbox.



Used book store. I did not go in, and thus have at least some money left to my name.



I took this picture mostly because I want the blue bike. So, added to the book store photo, it seems my photo journal is also my Christmas list.



Perry Street. My favorite street. Many streets all over New York City look like this street, especially in the West Village and Brooklyn, but I've decided that Perry is my favorite.



This is Hudson River Park, at which I sit on the picnic table and work (or not). This is a view back toward the street. The two tall glass buildings are on the corner of Perry Street and West Street. All-glass buildings may be my least favorite type of building (probably because I like to throw stones), but I love these apartments. What you can't see in this photo is inside these buildings. From what I can tell from being a gawker - which I don't feel so bad about since the buildings are made of glass I can see through - the apartments are multilevel, open, postmodern lofts and have a sweet spiral staircase. The view of the river from these apartments must be grand. So, once Tim becomes a public school teacher and we can afford an $18,000 a month mortgage payment, we'll move there. And once Miramax discovers this blog and pays me the billions it's worth to turn into a movie, we'll move to the unit with the spiral staircase. These are also the buildings in front of which I saw two paparazzi sitting, so I'd have a famous neighbor. Tina Fey? Steven Tyler? (It's probably better if I don't find out.) However, since I get mistaken for Charlize Theron all of the time, the paps might get annoying.



Here's my cupcake, my proofreading job, the river, and New Jersey. The end.

Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig sighting

Because I paid for it and went to their play, A Steady Rain. Haha - gotcha *makes hands into the shapes of guns and alternates shooting you with each. Pew pew.*

Yesterday morning I went down to 45th street to "rush" A Steady Rain. This means I waited in front of the theater to buy student rush tickets (deeply discounted tickets to Broadway shows for students). I got there at 8:00 and was the first in line, joined about 10 minutes later by a fellow rusher. The line slowly grew after that. For two hours I sat on the lovely sidewalk, leaned against the building, and waited, proofreading two full chapters and watching Broadway wake up.

For this show student tickets were the last row of the mezzanine, which didn't hurt my feelings since I was getting Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig for $30.00. Much to my straight-female delight, the seats were good because the theater was small. We were in the center by the aisle, the premium student-rush seats awarded to the first in line (who could have slept in a little longer and still gotten tickets). Even in the back we could still see Joey's (Daniel Craig) eyes shift, see Denny's (Hugh Jackman's) (fake) tatoo, and see Hugh Jackman's angry face - my favorite Hugh Jackman face. And his character swore a lot, which was hot.

When given the option between character or plot, I'll always choose character. Ninety-two percent of the time I don't care what people do but why they do what they do. So, knowing that this play was just two dudes sitting in chairs and telling us a story, I was looking forward to a character-driven play. However, the story they tell is mostly plot-driven - they are cops after all, society's bastions of who cares why they did just that they did it and we can prove it. Joey and Denny's tellings of the story(ies) reveals character, of course, but because they tell us right out what motivated them to do what they did. What's the fun in that? Dear writer, let me figure it out so I can feel smart and intuitive! Joey's choices lent to some speculation, and Lenny's verbosity contained some subtext (dear writer, I love subtext), but it wasn't too hard to smoke out.

No writer is obligated to write complicated characters because not all characters are complicated, so my desire for more to "figure out" about Joey and Denny in A Steady Rain is more a reflection on me than on the writer. The play was not simple, though my postplay reflections probably make Denny and Joey more complicated than the writer intended. (But they are mine now, dear writer; you gave them to me. I may even throw in some homoeroticism.) But when reading a story or watching a television show/movie/play, I don't spend so much time wondering whether or not characters will have sex or kill someone or graduate high school but why they do or don't do these things. That's the fun part. I know, I'm so deep.

As expected the acting was astral, of the stars. (See? So deep.) James Bond didn't show up for a second. Daniel Craig was great as Joey, shoulders slumped, a higher voice, weak eyes. Hugh Jackman did a better job of remembering us up in the balcony, but this could be because Denny was more showy. Yeah, let's go with that. Wolverine didn't show up per se, but Denny had fits of anger worthy of Wolverine but far less complicated and minus claws. Yes, Wolverine/Logan's anger is more complicated than Denny's, but Hugh Jackman's angry face is the same. Yessss. I liked the directing (my favorite being when Denny stood in the dark while Joey talked), the lighting, and the few backgrounds that were used as the story progressed. I liked that it was a straight, no-intermission, ninety-minute show. I liked that twice the audience gasped in unison. I liked Denny's colorful descriptions of the world's bad things and people. I liked the Chicago accents they both successfully donned (epecially Daniel Craig). I liked the play. I'd watch it again.

In theory I'd actually like to see it played by American, not distractingly attractive actors, for what the deep people call verisimilitude. If they play were cast this way, however, on Broadway it would not be. If in real life I'm going to see it again, I'm going to watch Hugh and Daniel on Broadway. Now to figure out where can I cut $30 from next month's budget . . .

Photo bombing

Being a cultured bunch, my high school graduating class and I decided to take a day trip to an amusement park for our senior trip. We rode roller coasters, ate park food, went down water slides, but we had the most fun taking turns getting into the background of other people's photos. This was the late 1990s, before digital cameras were prevalent and affordable (and still required floppy disks), so the camera of choice was disposable camera, containing film that needed to be developed in order to view the pictures, making our appearances in these photos all the more surprising and hilarious, in our minds. What we didn't know, was that this was called photo bombing, an activity I encourage.

The Internet is full of amusing photo bombs. The funniest photo bomb I've ever witnessed was my brother standing behind a sparsely branched and decorated Christmas tree with his ass hanging out while family photos were being taken on the other side of the tree. Not until said photos were printed out for Christmas cards was my brother noticed. Great success.

Why am I bringing this up? New York City offers great opportunity for photo bombing. Our part of the city doesn't offer as many photo bombing chances as Times Square or the Empire State Building, but we do have some tourist attractions (and drunk undergrads who want to do group photos at the bar). I vow now to not let opportunities to drop a p-bomb pass me by. Yes, I know I'm old and not very spontaneous or funny, but I will be that girl in the background more than once before a year passes. I encourage you to do the same.

(Not That Scary) Adventures in New York City

I survived the haunted house. Once again, my imagination of what it could be was far worse than what it was. I had a glass of wine before we went, went to the bathroom when we got there, and looked the first vampire right in the eyes when he jumped out at me from the corner, mostly because he came right up to me and looked me in my eyes. I jumped a lot. I was a good audience member. By the third or fourth room it became just as much fun to taunt the scaries as it was for them to taunt you. Good bloody fun. Barring a Nightmare: Cockroaches or Nightmare: Enclosed Spaces, I'll go again.

Forget about the frog

Glenn Beck learns to never actually try and prove that what he says is true. We'll never forget about the frog.

(Scary) Adventures in New York City

Don't worry; it's scary on purpose. In the name of trying new things, and because I hate myself, this Friday I will be going to Nightmare: Vampires, "New York's Most Horrifying Haunted House." (We also had a coupon.)

I'm not an adrenaline junkie, nor am I a fan of scary movies. I'm also not a good person to take to haunted houses because my first instinct when someone jumps out at me is to punch him or her. However, this isn't your typical stick your hand in "eyeballs" and mummies popping out of tombs haunted house. If you haven't already clicked on the link above, once you do you'll see what I'm talking about. And no grabbing or touching is involved. I checked. It's theater . . . in which you are one of the characters.

It took me a good hour to decide whether I wanted to go. I don't think I'll regret it, as long as I don't soil myself or punch anyone, and may even have fun, but I'm really not looking forward to waiting in line to go in. This has nothing to do with the waiting or the line, just the fear/anxiety/anticipation I'll be feeling before we go in. This will probably be the worst part. I could drink a glass or two or eight of wine to relax, but then I might pee my pants. Maybe a shot or two? I might throw up. Drink or take nothing? I might have a heart attack. I've got two days to make this very important decision. I'll keep you posted.

Adventures in New York City

Today I went down to the IFC Center and saw Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, which is based on a David Foster Wallace novel of the same name (which I didn't read - don't tell). I went for the following reasons: (1) I wanted to see if John Krazinski could be unadorable and (2) the subject was men. It turns out John Krazinski can play a nonphysically unadorable character. That the subject was men motivated me not in a Samantha Jones way but more out of curiosity. The main character in the movie is a female grad student studying feminism who decides to do her research on how the feminist movement has affected men and on what modern men think modern women want. For a good review of the movie, see Jed Cohen's in the Huffington Post, but right now we're talking about me. I have a tendency to romanticize or completely simplify men, depending on the man. Since it was possible that this movie could provide a little insight to "the other side" I hopped and the subway and bought a ticket. Not that knowing what men think women want is a subject I often think about, but since I'm not a man, and can never be a man when talking to men, I've always wondered how (straight) men truly feel about women. But I'm guessing for every man asked a different answer is given. Which probably isnt' a bad thing. No person with a penchant for character-driven movies will feel they wasted their time watching this movie (just be prepared for the movie characters to sound like book characters), but it didn't make my to-buy list like Away We Go did. The book, however, I may read.

After the movie I walked over to Bleeker Street to the Magnolia Bakery. I'm not a person prone to whimsey, but visiting a bakery in Greenwich Village left me feeling a little whimsical, as did the sunshine, and the kids playing in the playground across the street. So, on a whim of course, I walked down 11th street to the river hoping for a riverside bench or park. And a park there was. I ate my flourless chocolate cake in the little riverside park, stood up and wiped the powdered sugar off my pants, and walked back to Bleeker on Perry Street. When I reached Bleeker I crossed it and kept walking on Perry because I saw stoops on that side of Perry, and, as I've learned in this past month, I like walking down streets with stoops. Because it's whimisical? I'd bet good money that one of those stoops was Carrie Bradshaw's, and if not, they were very similar. (On the show she gives her address as something East 76th street, but I don't think it's a real address.) So far it's my favorite street in the city, but it could have just been the cake talking.

I realize I made two Sex and the City references in this blog. I'd apologize, but it will probably happen again, so I'm not really repentful.

I love when people say "OMG"

This morning at church the scripture reading was from Esther, and during the sermon the pastor explained that God isn't mentioned in the book at all, "not even an OMG." It was awesome.

Protect Insurance Companies

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

And the winner is:

My paycheck! Just in time for me to make quarterly income tax payments. . . .
Now we have to go grocery shopping. Yuck.

However, there is a lovely and not expensive service here in the city called FreshDirect, a grocery delivery service. I know. The $5.00 service fee may just be worth not going grocery shopping, a whole new beast in the metropolis.

The not so amazing race

There are many truly awesome aspects of being a freelance copy editor. Getting paid four to five weeks after completion of a project is not one of them. Most of the time this isn't an issue, and most of the time payment arrives in three to four weeks. This month? Not so much. It's a day into week five and still no paycheck. The month I move to NYC. This is making it interesting. My bank account reads $0.00 and we're running out of groceries. Payment is coming, but will it beat our consumption?

A can of soup, three pieces of bread, three eggs, a stick of butter, a can of refried beans, pancake mix, a box of macaroni and cheese, half a box of penne, quarter bottle of pasta sauce, two frozen hamburgers, six slices of cheese, peanut butter, jelly, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and two end pieces of Italian bread. We ate pancakes tonight.

We can definitely survive a week on this. It just becomes an issue when we have pb&j but no bread, pasta but no sauce, and the like. It's a sitcomish situation for sure. Well, if we were funny and interesting and attractive and had an apartment big enough to accomodate multiple characters at once, it would be sitcomish. Actually, I should speak for myself. My husband is hot, funny, and smart (we are in this city so he can go to Columbia's Teachers College after all), so if it weren't for my lack of all things appealing our situation could be compared to a sitcom.

This isn't a plea for sympathy or even for funds - it was our decision to move to the big city. I also have credit cards (on which March's gloriously frivolous train trip across the country were charged), so we won't starve. It just seems super silly to swipe the plastic under the circumstances. A can of refried beans is totally a meal. I'll keep you posted, sports fans.

Three weeks and three days

Is how long we have lived in New York City. Our camera has been broken since July, so we haven't been able to take and share pictures of our new home. We're waiting on some funds, then we'll be taking our camera to the shop, where it can hopefully be fixed. I really like our new apartment, and not just because it's in New York City.

To quote my friend Joe, who moved down here a few years ago, "EVERYONE seems to have a gold egg-laying goose but you." This statement is true. As two bumpkins in the big city we went out and about a lot when we first got here. Nothing we did was expensive, but even the cheap food and the subway rides add up after awhile. As does buying groceries and toilet paper.

We're very slowly falling into a routine, which is helping us feel more at home. More than most people, because I'm more uptight than most people, I need routine and structure. I've had a lot of work, which is a good thing not just for the wallet but for my need to be doing something seemingly purposeful.

I've also been attending church at St. Paul and St. Andrew United Methodist. Church and United Methodists also make it feel more like home. I like the church. Tim has work study on Sunday mornings, so I go to services by myself. For some reason this makes me feel like I stick out more. This is because I'm egotistic. I think people care about me more than they do, so really the cure to my nervousness would be for me to get over myself. I'll work on it.

Tim's the captain of an intramural soccer league, is student teaching at Manhattan Country School, and likes his classes and advisor. We've made some friends in our building and in the social studies department, and thank God for our friend Eric who went out of his way to make us feel welcome in the city. And contrary to popular insult, people in NYC have been nice, helpful, and caring. Our first week here I saw a dude help a girl carry her large suitcase up a flight of subway stairs. Because I've been trained so well, I thought, "He's going to take off with that suitcase the second he hits the sidewalk." He didn't.

I'm looking forward to using my student ID for free admission into museums, to taking advantage of student rush tickets and reduced-price Teachers College tickets for Broadway, to standing outside at the Early Show because I love Harry Smith, to the free Counting Crows concert in Central Park this Wednesday (and subsequent free concerts in the park and wherever else), and to parades and festivals and people watching. I don't want to live in New York City and ever feel like I wasted my time.

You think you are, but you're not

Some people think it's cute to correct other people's grammar and writing. Don't. (A few people in certain occupations are exempt from this directive. It's most likely not you.) Your desired outcome of sounding smart will backfire when you in fact make yourself look not smart by being wrong. If you can't help yourself, check the Chicago Manual of Style first. And I can't promise that even doing this will make you as cute as you think you are.

Packing up

We're packing up to move out of the apartment we've lived in for three years. Much more than not is going into storage since our NYC apartment will be half the size of our current space. We've been spoiled with the amount of space we've had, and, as they say, we've managed to fill it with stuff. We'll be in the city for certain for a year, then we'll determine what happens with all of our stuff after that. It's too much to decide what to take and what to leave without needing to determine what among the stuff staying will be sold/donated. We'll deal with that later.

In our current apartment we have an office. I know. In our NYC apartment the living room will also be doubling as a dining room and office. I'm doing my best to follow Thoreau's advice of simplify, simplify, simplify (though moving to a big city may not have been his first step). I spent the day today organizing my desk, which, beginning Friday, will constitute my office. Next up, books. Oh boy.

Disney Marathon

So the Disney Marathon is going to be really expensive. I haven't registered yet. I'm going to see what living in New York City is like for a bit before I plop down the money/swipe the credit card. I realize I have the rest of my life to run a marathon and that it doesn't need to be this January, but I just don't want to keep putting it off until it becomes something I simply forgo. I'm for sure running the Lake Placid half marathon again. Maybe I'll just do the whole marathon? I'll keep you posted.

United Methodists and health care

"We encourage individuals to pursue a healthy lifestyle and . . . also recognize the role of governments in ensuring that each individual has access to those elements necessary to good health." (Social Principles, ¶162T)

In case you were wondering.

The John 10:10 Challenge.

BishBash

was a success! Thanks so much to everyone who helped. You made it what it was: a good, good day.

Check out photos here.

2:18

The half marathon is finished. I'm so glad I did it. Some thoughts:

Before the Run
The Lake Placid marathon was very well organized. Granted, this is the first marathon/half marathon I have participated in, but I still feel sufficiently capable of judging that it was well put together. It allowed the runners the freedom to worry only about the running. Which I did. A lot. I stressed a bit about eating just the right food and about not injuring myself in a stupid manner before the race. I worried about not knowing the course and about getting lost, and I worried a lot about the weather (which went from sunny and 70s to imminent rain and high 50s to sunny and mid-60s on race morning - yay mountains!). I worried about not being able to finish the race. I was really, really nervous the morning of the race. It was hard to eat. But I managed half a bagel with peanut butter, a quarter of a banana, and a quarter of a Cliff's bar. This turned out to be, like the weather, just about perfect. I also drank some OJ and a lot of water, and 15 minutes before the race shot some infamous goo into my mouth. It was Clif Shot energy gel, 90% organic and all natural, with 50 mg of caffeine. Tim, knowing me so well, bought this for me in mocha flavor. Expecting the worst, this stuff tasted good, like thick, earthy chocolate syrup. I recommend it. Make sure to drink water after you use it (mostly to get it off of your teeth).

The Run
I must have looked at the course map one thousand times, but I could have ran the course blindfolded and fellow runners and marathon volunteers would have got me where I needed to be. The course itself was beautiful - through Olympic Village/downtown Lake Placid, around Mirror Lake, down to the ski jumps, out River Road (with farms, fields, a creek, and the Adirondacks in the background), and back. I heard more than one runner say "this is the prettiest marathon you'll ever run." I also heard, after running downhill, "We have to run back up that?" Yes, yes we did. Lake Placid is in the Adirondacks, after all, so it was a rolling course. It really wasn't that bad - honestly - I do not particularly enjoy running hills. You start on Main Street and head up the hill toward Mirror Lake. I made sure to stand toward the back of the start line to allow those faster-than-10-minute-mile runners to start ahead of me. However, I must have overcompensated because I ended up running around a bunch of people walking up the first hill. Next year I'll start closer to the middle. At mile 1 we all did a little cheer. "Yay mile 1!" Runners were snapping photos with their cell phones all around the lake. As the miles added up I was surprised at how good I was still feeling. I stopped and walked at all aid stations except the first one (it was crowded) to have water and then Gatorade. This helped mentally and physically. At mile 7 I ate some more goo. Not many spectators made it out to the River Road leg, but that's okay. Running for me is a solitary sport, on purpose. Many, many "Team in Training" runners participated (raising $890,000 for the Lukemia and Lymphona Society), so "Team in Training" coaches cycled out on the course cheering runners on. Also, since River Road was an out-and-back, runners ran on both sides of the road in both directions, cheering one another on periodically.

It wasn't until about mile 10 that I started thinking, I'm ready to be done. When running I count the miles backward, so mile 10 was really "3 miles to go." I started walking a little bit before and after the aid stations then, and then for a section of the final, steep hill. At mile 12 I said a silent good-bye to the people I had been running with as some went ahead of me and some fell behind. As you approach the end, which is the Olympic speed-skating oval, you can hear the crowds cheering and the announcers announcing. It's a perfect way to end the race. You make it up the hill and onto the track, run a loop, and cross the finish line as the announcer announces your name and where you are from. They place a medal on your neck, then you keep walking until your heart stops racing and your legs feel like they may be able to do something other than run.

After the Run
After walking a bit with Tim, I found a patch of grass in the shade from a tent and laid down. The grass was still wet from the night before. I immediately thanked God, for just about everything. After a minute, Tim helped me up and I went and signed up for my free massage. I got some free pizza, free ice cream, went to the final hill and cheered runners on, got my massage, went to the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery, and rode home. I will be running this again on June 13, 2010. If you have ever thought about running a marathon or half marathon, do it in Lake Placid. Just train some hills, and in the rain every now and then, just in case.

Next Up
I'm giving myself until Monday to decide officially, but next up is the Disney Marathon on January 10 in Orlando. This is a fun, laid-back marathon, so I hear, and since I will never be winning a marathon this suits me well. You run through every park in Disney World in Orlando, only one of which I've ever actually been to, and even through Cinderella's castle. Since it is a marathon, it is taken seriously and Disney caters to runners and runners needs over the weekend, which is also good to hear. And it's a flat course! And Mickey and co. cheer you on. Bring on the Disney Princes!

If I decide to do this, training begins September 14. The idea of running 20 miles, ultimately, for fun sounds a little nuts to me, but as it turns out I like being a little nuts. I like a little better who I am while I'm training - focused, purposed, healthy in practice and diet (for the most part), and contemplative. My feet are a little ugly, but my legs make up for it :-) As I stood in the start-line crowd Sunday and looked around, listened to conversations, I realized that these are my people. Like fellow Allegheny students, Buffalo Bills fans, United Methodists, runners are now a sect of people among whom I can say, despite and because of their assets and faults, Yup, these are my people. I will never be their leader, but I am a runner.

Straight Girl Secret #17*

When given the choice between the needy, neurotic girl and the cool, fun-to-be-with girl, a boy will choose to date the needy, neurotic girl. On more than one occasion he will say to cool girl, "I wish my girlfriend were more like you," but he will never leave NN girl for cool girl. In fact, if this boy is spending time with cool girl, it is most likely to make NN girl angry and more NN. He will tell cool girl, and maybe even himself, that it is just because he needs a break from his girlfriend, but this is not the truth.

So, if you are a cool girl, you have a few options to avoid being used. You can choose one or more of the following:
1. Tell boy exactly how you feel about his girlfriend and then stop spending time with him.
2. Call him out on his behavior, especially if in the past he's said he does not like needy girls, which he has likely said on more than one occasion, and then stop spending time with him.
3. Start acting needy and neurotic yourself.

The outcome of this situation if you choose options 1 or 2 will be the following:
1. He will eventually leave his girlfriend and you two can be friends again (be prepared for the obligatory ex-girlfriend phone calls, notes, threats, etc.)
2. You will be invited to their wedding, to which you will bring a gift that was not on their registry and that you know only he will like, and then you will never see him again.

So as you can see, it's much better to be the needy, neurotic girl.

If you are already the needy, neurotic girl: Well played, my friend, well played.


*If you've found yourself a secure man and you want to be with him for longer than a week, unrealistic demands, using sex as punishment and reward, and daily tests of love in which the rules are always changing, are not the glue. Honesty and communication work much better in this situation. So boring.

Straight Girl Trick #5824*

Suggest "seeing other people" only if you are currently dating someone you know will not see other people. That way, you have a fall-back for when you are alone on a holiday/birthday or are feeling lonely or need a crutch in social situations. Bonus: you never need to reciprocate. In this situation you also have a go-to for when you are feeling unloved and need a self-esteem boost.

Since this boy still wants to be with only you, in his head and heart he'll believe that if he sticks this through he'll "get" you back. You and I know this isn't true, that you'll date him again only if you get desperate since "seeing other people" is just a code phrase for "keeping you around until I find somebody better," but he never needs to know this.

Inevitably, he'll begin to drift away, pay attention to other girls, maybe even catch on to your game. Here are some tips to help delay this:

1. Send random yet often text messages about something you saw/heard that made you think of him.
2. Leave "thinking of you" posts on his Facebook wall or comment often on his posts.
3. Wear clothes you know he likes to see you in when using/seeing him.
4. Bring up as many "remember when we" comments in conversations with him as possible.
5. Invite him out on "dates" or over to your place to hang out. Of course these are not really dates. You want to maintain your, um, friendship. It's very important to you.
6. After these dates, if you are looking for some nooky or REALLY want to keep him hooked, have some nooky.

If he's a giver, which he likely is if he's still around, while completing steps 1-6 make him believe the door is still open a bit by talking about how you are confused by your feelings for him and need some time to figure it out.

Worst case scenario: He starts to actually see other people. When this happens, call him and tell him you want to get back together. Then, if you do get back together, just date for a bit and repeat this cycle. If he chooses the other girl, call a little later and lay it on really thick. Maybe even mention that you wanted to marry him (especially if he has brought up marriage in the past). Then, if you get back together, just date for a bit and repeat this cycle. Unless you've already found another boy to fill this role. If so, you know the drill.

So go get him girl, you deserve this one-way relationship. After all, it's not your fault he still loves you (or is it? wink, wink).



*If you are concerned with being a decent and unhorrible person, you may want to ignore this advice.

A report.

I didn't screw up my reading parts, and in fact spoke once in front of the entire conference and was (1) nervous for about half of the usual time and (2) didn't read the script while at the podium and still got all of the information in without adding any extra crap. I realize this report would be more cute (or cute at all) if I were 14, but, oh well. Late bloomer.

Grace achieved = about 80% of my ideal. Much better than I expected. I did lose some of that grace once home on Saturday night. Baby steps I guess.

A goal.

Grace.

What little grace I have is always tested at Annual Conference. Thankfully, it is also always heartened. May the latter outweigh the former. (Partly for your sake, but mostly for mine.)

A confession.

I do not like to speak in front of people. As much as I love to run my mouth I love it in the comfort of groups - at the dinner table, at a book study, yelling at a baseball game - or, even better, in writing. I could write a brilliant sermon and ruin it by trying to preach it. I could yell from a soapbox on the street corner but then hop down and run away when someone stops to actually listen. If I were a Shakespearean hero, my fear of speaking would be my tragic flaw. I would have insights to share, injustices to make known, prophecies to tell, but the world would never hear them because I was too afraid.

Rest assured, however, that you aren't missing any life-changing wisdom from my fear of speaking. And if you think you are, just read this blog. I know those of you who know me in real life probably find this fear incongruent with the amount of information I feel it necessary to share using my mouth, but it's true. I get up in front of a crowd and I get nervous, as most people do I suppose, but so debilitatingly nervous that I have trouble forming words. It's frustrating, totally not cute, and a little annoying. I'm too old for this crap.

Because I am so self-aware and smart, I've volunteered to read during two worship services at Annual Conference tomorrow. In front of a lot of people. But since it's reading, I may not screw it up. We'll see.

Harvey's Playbook: Let's Use It

Last month I watch the movie Milk. Having worked at a publishing company that among its specialties included gay and lesbian issues, I edited many books and articles on the subject, so I was familiar with the man and meaning of Harvey Milk. One of Harvey's strategies for advancing gay and lesbian rights was a plea to every gay person to come out of the closet, for every gay person to live openly and unashamed (since "hiding" only confirmed its shamefulness in society's eyes).

What if the pastors of the United Methodist Church did this? What if every gay clergy member came out and forced the Church to "defrock" them?

I am a straight layperson, so I cannot and will not make this plea. If all copy editors could be copy editors only if they had blue eyes, would I take out my tinted contacts to reveal my brown eyes? Until I'm put in a similar situation, I will not be the one to tell gay pastors to come out. But I will ask you - everyone - to think, what if? Whatever the number, the United Methodist church would lose a lot of great pastors, because being openly gay based on our discipline means you cannot serve as pastor. Voters at General Conference would be moved by awareness, the awareness and truth that helps erase fear. My goal in any of my arguments is not a boycott of the United Methodist Church; I want the United Methodist Church to recognize the error of our embarrassing "don't ask don't tell" policy, to, based on our belief in Jesus and God, allow gays and lesbians the same chance as straight people to become ordained and local pastors and deacons.

The Bible is full of human wisdom and examples of God's love. It's also full of outdated advice and laws applicable only to the time and place in which they were written. We do a great disservice to the writers of the Bible and God when we pretend otherwise. This includes the issue of homosexuality.

Now I want you to imagine the day the first openly gay person becomes an ordained minister. If this scares you, I want you to think about why. You'll recognize it is a problem within yourself and only within yourself - which is okay; you'll get over it. Those of you who feel like I do, know that it will be kind of awesome.

I don't feel this way or argue for gay rights, gay marriage, gay clergy to piss Christians off. I do it because I am a Christian, and can't, based on my beliefs, imagine feeling any other way.

And no religion too . . .

John Lennon in "Imagine" asked us to imagine that there is no heaven. Well, what if we imagined there were only heaven?

Free will allowed us to choose to leave the proverbial garden. Free will is the same thing that will bring us back. Us. Here. Now. I'm not going to tell you how to do this; you already know.

Ready. Set. Go.

[Insert line from song about New York City here.]

You may have heard me say in the past, and I think I've even said in this blog, that if I had to live in a city - besides Binghamton - I would pick Boston. This I chose out of the full-on cities I had spent time in: Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, New York City, Philadelphia, and Pittsburgh (but my friends from Pittsburgh are so cool that they could live in a sewer and it would give the sewer an unfair advantage). I've spent time in Chattanooga, Louisville, Nashville, and Toronto, but not enough to officially judge (but I'd pick Louisville). Portland (OR) and Miami can now be added to this list of cities I've spent enough time in to validly judge my desire/ability to live there (Portland wins). What's my point?

I've changed. I've felt it coming on for about a year. I realized it when Tim started applying to grad schools. When deciding what schools to apply to we took into account the quality of the school and whether or not we'd want to live where the college was located. I surprised myself when Boston pretty quickly disappeared from our list and New York City quickly hit the top spot. Tim had picked colleges in noncities too, but for this discussion I'm sticking to cities.

Maybe it's because I haven't visited in a while, but I think I liked Boston so much because it didn't feel like a city to me. Now, I'm ready for a city (though Morningside Heights is decidedly out of the Times-Square-like NYC), and I'm happy it's New York City. Though I never pursued it, I always just assumed I'd live in New York City at some point.

To reassure you, I will not attempt to be a "cool" city dweller. If you've met me even once, you know how hard it would be for me to be a NYC hipster. If you ask me where the new coolest anything is, I will not be able to tell you. I'm looking forward to finding a favorite (1) low key bar with microbrews, (2) place to get bagels, (3) place to get black and white cookies - no these are NOT half-moon cookies, and (4) place to work outside of the apartment. Also, attending a new church will be an interesting and I hope fun experience. My friend Leslie plays handbells at two-blocks-away Riverside Church, so we will definitely be visiting there. Libraries, museums, book readings, people watching, theater, etc. I know will keep me busy and likely make it hard for me to get my work done. I'll try to pace myself.

Water, water everywhere

Teachers College is 75% women. How often should I make Tim wear his "My heart belongs to a copy editor" shirt?

I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner . . .

It's officially official: Tim will be going to Columbia Teacher's College this September, which means we will be living in New York City, in Morningside Heights to be exact. Saturday we found out we received student housing, which was awesome news. As you might expect, our NYC apartment will be significantly smaller than our current apartment, so we'll be looking for storage in the next couple of months. (If you know of any good places let me know.) I'm really excited for this. Mostly because I can contribute to overheardinny.com.

Don't worry - I will not be creating a Tim and Tara in the City blog.

Really bad cakes

Since I'm a sharer, I will share with you a new funny blog I was reading (using to procrastinate) this morning: http://www.cakewrecks.com/. I bet you can guess what it's about, so I won't waste time describing it. I will, however, waste time telling you a cake story.

One August for my brother Jason's birthday we appropriately ordered him a cake and appropriately requested that "Happy Birthday Jason" be written on it. The order taker, after I told him what I wanted written on the cake, repeated my request in the form of a question, to which I verified by stating, "Yes, Happy Birthday Jason." Normally a trustworthy place to buy cakes, I did not open the opaque box until I returned home. When the box was opened, we saw the cake for the first time. It read "Happy Birthday Jafon."

Yes, the letter "s" when spoken through the telephone does sound like "f." But if you didn't ask for a specific spelling, were not 100% sure, and wanted to err on the side of caution, would you choose "Jafon" over "Jason"? Something to think about.

Race for the Cure

On Sunday, May 17, I will be running the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure in Elmira (then showering and taking the kiddies up to Sky Lake Open House, of course). Susan G. Komen for the Cure is a nonprofit, grassroots network of breast cancer survivors and activists working together to save lives, empower people, ensure quality care for all, and energize science to find the cure. If you'd like to support me and, more important, this cause, please donate here: http://www.active.com/donate/twintierskomen09/TBarnes29.

Thanks!

Facebook quizzes

are pointless, self-indulgent, and wonderful. According to Facebook, I'm Ghandi, John Wesley, St. Jude, Weezer, Kermit the Frog, Elizabeth Bennett, Jean Grey, Tolstoy, Patrick Henry, the Gospel of Luke, Fidel Castro, and I should have married Johnny Depp. So worth the time taken to find this out.

Properly extending words:

Why, why, why, when someone wants to stretch out the sound of a word, do they just add extra final letters? Usually this is an "e" (or sometimes, even stupider, "t"). With the "e," all this does is turn a usually silent letter into an extra syllable, making the word a different word altogether and misspelled.

Some examples:
"I'm homeeeeee!"
Meaning: homey. If you say this, you are either (1) a homeboy, (2) homelike, or (3) homely. Maybe all three.
What you should say: "I'm hooooommme!"

"I loveeeee the Muppets."
Meaning: lovey. Also an adjective. If you say this in this way, you are misusing an adjective, which is really embarrassing, and also using a nonexistent word. "Lovey" appears in Webster's dictionary only as "lovey-dovey."
What you should say: "I looooovvve the Muppets!"

When is extending the last letter okay? With words that end in vowels and y, h, r, s, z, w, and sometimes f (but only when abbreviating one specific word).
Boooo! Hisssss! I love Taraaaaa! I love Crocodile Dundeeeee! Whyyyyyy? I'm wearing FuBuuuuu! Spaz Boy is such a spazzzzzz!

If "Free Falling" by Tom Petty is now in your head, you're welcome.

Christian Charity Raising Money To Feed Non-Gay Famine Victims

Go Lions!

In a few weeks Tim and I are heading down to NYC for the official tour of Teacher's College. We're doing the whole shebang: financial aid, lunch with students, campus tour, and campus housing tour. Tim is 99.9% sure this is where he wants to be, and we're taking the tour to hopefully solidify the last .1%.

Yes, Columbia is expensive. And as we've consistently proven, we haven't exactly established a brimming college fund (and also took a train trip and bought B-Mets tickets; I like to spend money on experiences . . . or I'm just hedonistic). However, we've found out that the government, via loans of course, will cover all tuition and housing costs. Tim applied for scholarships and grants through the school as well, which we find out about later this month. Positive thinking is back in effect. Let me know if you know of any available scholarships!

We decided before we got married that we were okay with living in college-loan debt. This "comfort," we'll call it, is helping make the Columbia decision as well. It's frickin Columbia! (With a 98% job placement rate for Teacher's College.) Someday we will pay the loans off, even if "someday" gets pushed back a bit further.

A branch of my gym is nearby, and I've been investigating United Methodist Churches to attend. So far, this one seems to be my best bet. I haven't really begun thinking about what it will mean to be moving away and how much I'm going to miss being where I am right now. I'll do that in August.

Week 2

Today finished week 2 of my half marathon training. This week I ran outside, and was lucky enough to have the weather cooperate. Today was the four mile run. What makes running outside different from the treadmill are the inclines and declines, needing to share the path with other people and animals, and no televisions (which serve as wonderful distractions for someone who doesn't have cable). However, the hardest part about running outdoors is pacing. Even when I set my pace to a song I know is the pace I want I always end up going too fast and feeling completely pooped by mile 2. Then I slow down, try not to be embarrassed by my heavy breathing, and plow through, chugga chugga chugga.

The Lake Placid half marathon officially doesn't allow headphones. I'm a little worried about this and will likely try to sneak through with some little earbuds. Don't tell. I have realized that running is a good time to pray, but pretty soon I get really bored with my own thoughts and worries and need to move on--probably how you feel when you read this blog too often.

I've also begun to approach food differently. It's become more than just something to eat when I'm hungry. I actually think about the nutrients, vitamins, protein, blah blah blahs now when I have meals and snack because I actually have to. Needless to say I'm eating a little better and including foods I wouldn't normally (but I am having macaroni and cheese and hot dogs for dinner tonight, so don't worry; I haven't changed completely). It's a little weird. I may start buying energy bars for a purpose other than being too lazy to make lunch.

I probably won't be writing about EVERY week of training, mostly because it's boring to everyone but me. Notice here that I said "probably." Just saying.

Sad day in Binghamton

Yesterday sucked. I don't have a story to tell. I don't have insight or enlightenment or anything special to say about yesterday's "Massacre on Front Street," "Bloodshed in Binghamton," or whatever you want to call it. I'm not going to write here how I feel right now about the shooter, who lived a short walk away from me. I'm really just writing this for posterity. Binghamton, NY, was the top story on national and international news outlets on April 3, 2009, and it really, really sucked.

These little town blues . . .

Today we found out that Tim got accepted by Columbia University! Woo hoo! Barring this being a really cruel April Fool's joke, I am really excited. Columbia is ranked #4 by U.S. News and World Report as the best graduate school for education. Tim's approach to teaching, education, and, well, life, is very similar to John Dewey's, on whom Teacher's College's mission is based. If this is where we decide to go, I have a feeling it will be a really good fit for Tim.

Either way, I'm pretty sure we are city bound.

Columbia to Met's games = about an hour subway ride.
NYU to Met's games = about 40 minute subway ride.
The difference is negligable.

Week 1

I started marathon training this week. My first run on Tuesday kicked my butt, mostly because my pace was way too fast. I've since adjusted and feel a little more confident. I do need to buy new sneakers, though, since I've developed some pretty nice blisters on my feet. Tomorrow is four miles. Bring it on. (My approach right now is to taunt the miles, fight them, and defeat them. As the miles grow and the half marathon gets closer, I'm hoping the miles and I will reach an agreement and learn to enjoy each other's company.)

Photos of train trip

If you're interested, I've added some photos of our trip to our trip blog.

The future of everything

Yesterday on Morning Edition was a story on the future of figher pilots, on how military planes exist now that can be piloted from the ground by remote. The interviewer and interviewee talked about the future of warfare as if they were talking about the future of television or cars, as if war were an inevitable and appropriate venue for technological advancement.

Why aren't we envisioning and ASSUMING a future without war? Every time I participate in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life they say, "Hope we don't see you next year," meaning that they hope cancer is cured and we'll no longer need to raise money for research. Why can't we approach war as something to cure, not as something to spread in the most efficient way? I puke in my mouth a little every time I think of how much money and intelligence is wasted on war and warfare and how much better the world would be if our energy went elsewhere. Like toward curing cancer.

The more I live and seek success and goodness the more I realize that we have it all wrong. My husband argues that we are Darwinist beings who will kill or be killed until we are all killed. He thinks our current state is our natural state. I don't believe this. If I did, I would never want to have children (which I do, someday) nor would I seek anything else in life besides wealth and physical health. This is not our natural state. We have chosen this state, and we can choose to return to Good. It's hard - I'm not by any means Good, but I could get there with help.

What should we do about it? I don't know. Spend money better? Seek education more? Eliminate borders? Share the REAL good news (which is that it doesn't have to be this way)? If you know tell me and I'll help you.

Home

We're back from our trip. I'll post pictures this week (or next).

Coming Together for the Common Good

Tonight at 8:00 p.m. begins the annual 40-hour fast for change sponsored by the Labor-Religion Coalition of New York State. The fast ends Friday March 6 at noon. The goals of this fast are sacrifice (food - even missing one meal can help a person refocus his or her priorities), pray (for public officials making important decisions), and communicate (to others about why you are fasting: "an end to wage theft, a shrinking of the wage gap and increased attention to 'the least among us'").

A local ecumenical prayer service will be held tonight at 7:00 at Sarah Jane Johnson United Methodist Church in Johnson City, NY. A statewide event, this local event is sponsored by Broome County Council of Churches, Clergy for Peace, Catholic Community’s Justice and Peace Advisory Council, Social Justice Network of the Wyoming Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church, and Just Faith Group at the First United Methodist Church of Endicott. For a list of events throughout New York, visit this Web site: http://www.labor-religion.org/fast09-statewide-events.htm.

Marathon update

I can't really figure out how to run for a charity without joining a run-for-charity group, so, the Lake Placid half marathon in June will be a run-for-Tara race. Maybe I'll wear a Sky Lake T-shirt.

However, if you are saddened at this lost opportunity to give me money, our Future Educator fund - established to send one young, attractive, intelligent male history major destined to change the world one student at a time to grad school - is always accepting donations.

Positive thinking: first result

Tim got into NYU! This is very exciting. We can't afford it, of course, but if we choose to go here we'll just have to figure it out. Time to look for scholarships . . .

Rockland is gaining on us!

Don't let Rockland win. OWEGO is the coolest small town in the United States. Vote here: http://www.budgettravel.com/bt-srv/coolestsmalltowns/

Tim and Tara on a Train

As some of you may know, and some of you may not, Tim and I are going on a train trip across the country next month. I'm so excited about this that I've started a new blog to document our week. It's called Tim and Tara on a Train. Visit it if you'd like to hear about our trip!

Job opportunity!

Sky Lake in Windsor, NY, is now accepting applications for paid summer staff for 2009. Tell your friends! The more the better :-) Go here to see what jobs are available and to download an application.

Finally, a cure for Christmas caroling!

P.S. Despondex is not recommended for camp counselors.

Vote Owego as America's Coolest Small Town

Owego is up to win, by user votes, Budget Travel's Coolest Small Town. Go here to vote often!

Steak night!

So, this post is a little late, but I've just watched the "My Lawyer's in Love" episode of Scrubs and Dr. Cox fired intern Ed. Boo!

Tara tries positive thinking

I previously solicited prayers and positive thoughts for my husband while he applies to graduate school to obtain a master's in teaching or the equivalent. He's officially sent in a few applications and is finishing up the rest. If you feel so moved, please continue your prayers and positive thoughts (thank you, thank you, thank you).

You've likely heard the mantra "hope for the best, but expect the worst." I suppose this is close to my usual life approach, except to truly hope it can't be held back by expectations. So I usually just end up expecting the worst, mostly because of pride - when the worst happens I can then say "I knew it." A blow to my pride really is my greatest pain, which is kind of sad for a girl who is often an airhead (and obviously a little egocentric). These negative expectations combined with my airheadedness makes me a ton of fun to hang out with.

But.

I'm going to think positive about this. No, really.

We've aimed high, so it will be a big deal for Tim to get into any of the colleges he's applied to, so imagining any acceptance letter solicits a joyful response. I like this feeling. I'm going to focus on it - not on any negative feeling. Putting this in writing now holds me accountable. I'm talking irresponsible optimism here. Join me?

February

I usually do love letters in February, but right now I don't really feel like writing them. If this changes I'll of course resume my theme month. They are consistently lame anyway. I just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you.

25 Things

If you have a Facebook account, you’ve probably been tagged in the note “25 things” (or similar title). Friends write 25 factoids about themselves, send you this note, and request that you write 25 factoids about yourself. I actually enjoyed writing mine, and I am so self-involved that I’m going to try to come up with 25 more here. This is likely my attempt to convince myself I’m interesting, as I’m sure you’ve already decided one way or another. You should try this too.

1. I hate shopping, especially grocery shopping. Sometimes I’ll enjoy a good bookstore or record shop, but I really have to be in the mood.
2. I don’t like talking on the phone and avoid it.
3. Besides Pacey, and the rampant self-reflection and pop psychology references, what I miss most about Dawson’s Creek is the music. The show had really good music. When I have the precious opportunity to flip through channels, I’ll sometimes stop on a CW melodrama to listen to the music.
4. If I weren’t married I’d want to be Zach Braff’s girlfriend (or at least his public persona’s girlfriend). I know he tries a little too hard to mean something—and if you ever really want to mean something you can’t actually try to mean something—but goshdarnit I find it endearing. For all of the reasons you hate him, I love him. And he was nice to Keith at the Bowery Mission, and this makes Zach cool.
5. I don’t do cute: I don’t call my husband “Timmy,” I don’t sleep with stuffed animals (Batman, though filled with stuffing, is not a stuffed animal), Oscar is my favorite Muppet, I don’t talk baby talk unless I’m trying to piss off my cats or teach babies irony, and the only cartoon character I have on an article of clothing is Smurfette, on pajamas, and this is only because Santa gave them to me.
6. I do like Santa, but I do not like Christmas.
7. I wish I were a better liar.
8. I’d love to be that girl who lights up the room, but, let’s face it, I’d crack under the pressure. And I’d probably have to be cuter.
9. I’d love to be a brilliant writer. For awhile in college I thought I may have it in me, but I’m pretty sure the professor who made me think so just wanted to sleep with me.
10. I’m surprised I married a normal person.
11. I laugh at my own jokes.
12. I’m sometimes a good heckler, even avoiding heckling based on the player’s appearance or mother’s sexual morality. However, I need to be inspired by either beer or fellow hecklers.
13. I wish I could play guitar. If I tried harder I might be able to, but it didn’t come naturally like wanted it to so I stop trying. I think they call this lazy.
14. I’m closed-minded toward people who aren’t open-minded.
15. I’m not ready to have a child. Call me stunted.
16. Sarcasm is my greatest strength (and weakness).
17. I worry a lot, about things that could happen. I realize the futility of this, but when something happens and I didn’t worry about it, I beat myself up for not doing anything to prevent it.
18. I like cuss words. They are a necessary part of communication. They are, however, horrendously overused and thus have lost all poetry.
19. I’m very protective of my husband. This isn’t to say that I don’t realize he is/was a grown man who can/could make his own decisions, but if I know you’ve hurt him I probably don’t like you. I’d say sorry, but I wouldn’t mean it. I’m kind of a German shepherd.
20. Of the who, what, when, where, why, and hows in life, I focus mostly on the why. It’s both maddening and fulfilling.
21. I avoid haunted houses, because when I am startled I punch. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
22. I don’t like action films. Some examples: Indiana Jones, Terminator, or anything directed by Michael Bay. I don’t like college boob movies either. Even more than the movies, I don’t like guys in real life who try to be like the boob movies guys. I want you to look in the mirror and repeat: I am not Van Wilder, nor do I want to be.
23. I watch the Super Bowl for the Super Bowl.
24. My high school class is trying to have an 11th-year reunion because we didn’t have a 10th. I hope my reunion is like Liz Lemon’s.
25. I think more people should actually read the Bible, not quote it.

Dating Tip: Don't Date People Who Call a Cab for a Getaway Car

Cab driver Harold Webb of Toledo, Ohio, isn't nosy. When passengers enter his cab carrying three televisions, he doesn't like to ask questions. C'est la vie is Harold's policy. He does, however, draw the line when you offer to sell him one of the televisions for cab fare.

Daniel Standridge, after looting a Greek restaurant and dropping his wallet in the stairway, decided it would be a good idea to call a cab to assist with the transport of his stolen goods. Harold Webb was the lucky driver. Danny asked Harold to drive him home, his actual home, unafraid that Harold would suspect any criminal activity; people take cab rides with multiple televisions and boxes of liquor all of the time. Besides, his excuse was flawless: the restaurant was going out of business and the boss wanted three TVs and some liquor.

Unaware of his lost wallet until it came time to pay his getaway driver, D-dog asked Harold to wait while he retrieved money from the house. Finding no money, Dan the man then asked Harold to drive him to the ATM. Alas, Senor Standridge had only $9.00 available, and tried to sell Harold a TV. Whether it was the lack of compensation, or all of the other factors, Harold decided to call the cops. He knew the theft's address after all.

If you must date a thief, at least date one who has a car.

Dating Tip: Don't Date People Who Set Pubs on Fire, Then Themselves, Then their Car

And then goes to the nearby hospital to get treated for burns.

On a clear, calm night in May, Lee Sood took a leisurely late-night drive down a quiet Rugby High Street in Coventry, Warwickshire. Mr. Sood thought to himself, Gee, I should liven it up a bit 'round here. After consulting his two BFFs in the car with him, he decided to throw a brick through the window of Walkabout Pub. The loud crash and the tinkling sound of the broken window delighted the three friends, but was over too soon. Then he thought, I know! I'll set it on fire! His friends agreed that this would indeed be fun and pretty. It didn't work out so well.

Dating Tip: Don't Date People Who Fake Their Own Deaths and Go to the Funeral

Alternate title: "Don't Date People Who Fake Their Own Death in Order to Leave Church."

One day in late 2006, 27-year-old Alison Matera of Port Richey, Florida, grew tired of singing in the choir. She told her fellow songbirds that she had cancer, and had only months to live. She then left the church and went on hospice care. Her caring hospice nurse, with a voice very similar to Alison's, kept the choir updated on Alison's treatment. Then, on January 18, 2007, Alison's sister, also having a voice similar to Alison's, informed the church that Ms. Matera had passed away. The church naturally gathered for a memorial service, which Ms. Matera's sister naturally attended.

Choir member 1: Did you know Alison had a sister?
Choir member 2: No, I did not. Why?
Choir member 1: That girl looks just like Alison!
Choir member 2: Wow! You are right. Let's go talk to her.
Choir member 1: Yes, let's.
Choir member 2: Hello, Alison.
Ms. Matera: Hi, Susan - I mean, hello fellow mourner. I am Alison's sister, Malison.
Choir member 1: Malison, do you know the phone number for the local sheriff's office?
Ms. Matera: Why yes, it is 847-5878.
Choir member 2: We are sorry for your loss (raises both hands in fists, extends index and middle fingers, bending them two times, creating a shape remarkably similar to quotation marks), Malison.

Later that evening, the sheriff arrives at Alison's apartment and knocks on the door.

Alison: Hello, officer. How can I help you?
Sheriff: Really? You answered the door?
Alison: Oh. Right.

So, while I don't want to deter you from dating death-fakers per se, maybe avoid those who go undisguised to their own funeral. Something to think about.

Dating Tip: Do Date People Who Fight the Law and the Law Loses

This story also comes from the UK. Balance.

21-year-old Dale Lyle drives a 14-year-old Honda Civic. One day he opens a piece of mail from the Crown Prosecution Service: a ticket for speeding, 98 miles per hour. After checking the immediate vicinity for hidden cameras and/or Howie Mandel, he decided to let the authorities know that he, um, drives a 1995 Honda Civic, which can't even go 98 mph. What do the authorities do? Make Dale prove it. What does Dale do? He proves it. He hires driving expert to drive his car, a driving expert who can get the Honda to reach a maximum speed of only 85 mph. Dale wins.

Dale now plans to sue the CPS for his expenses.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Lying Lifeguards or Confessional Killers

Or any kind of liar or killer, really. This dating tip could also fall under the "posting incriminating photos on the Internet" tip, a tip that cannot be repeated enough.

Today's warnings come from jolly old England. Despite his sweet tats and penchant for surfing, deny your urges for Joe Olroy of Paignton, Devon. You may be impressed as well by his lifesaving abilities and his knack for cheating the system, but, really, don't be. Joey O, who the Department of Work and Pensions believed to be afflicted with various debilitating ailments, posted current photos of himself surfing and boating on his Facebook. In fact, if it is a valid Facebook account, the photo of him boating is his profile picture.

Speaking of Facebook, pay attention to your date's status updates, and maybe be a little worried if it states "i feel like killing some1." The a-hole I quote is Leon Craig Ramsden, who allegedly stabbed a man to death a few hours after his helpful update. Tributes to Paul Gilligan, the murdered man, can be found here. Even if Ramsden is not convicted, I wouldn't recommend dating someone who feels like killing someone and lets everyone on Facebook know.

You're welcome.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Drama Queens

The girl or boy kind.

If being with you does not make your date happier, don't date him or her. If you're entire relationship is based on drama, don't date him or her.

Don't try to make your SO - significant other - feel better, because it won't work; this person is happy only when he or she is miserable. And absolutely do not create drama just to keep the relationship together, especially if that drama involves a previous relationship. (And if that's the case, you probably shouldn't have got together in the first place.)

To demonstrate, here is another Scrubs video, along with a gift idea from MAD TV.

Dating Tip: Do Date Persons in a Bromance or Homance

(Sorry - I couldn't find another word for girl crushes, and it rhymes.)

If you're straight and have found yourself dating a man or woman who is in a straight relationship with someone of the same sex, put this in the "pros" column of your pros and cons list. You will sometimes be a little jealous of the time they spend together and of their inside jokes, but you'll get over it, mostly because the inside jokes aren't funny. The bro or ho loves your significant other in a way you never will, or, should I say, in a way you will never have to. Think about it: Do you really want to see that movie? Do you really know or care what they are talking about? Did you really want to go to that thing? Of course not. This other relationship provides your boyfriend or girlfriend the attention he or she needs while you can pay attention to yourself.