Friday, May 31, 2013

May-be I need to clone myself?

I  know I've been so busy this month, that it's almost hard to remember what all I've done. So, I've had to drag out my now-bulging scheduler with its receipts, ticket stubs, programs, and notes to just document it all. (And take this all in mind after this week's posts, and you see that I will be resting/scheduling better for the rest of the summer.)

May was abnormally busy, which is saying something for this year.

~ It started out one Friday night early in May with two vocal recitals, back to back, by two of the graduating  sopranos who have been my work study students, one for almost four years. If you know me at all, you know how I feel about opera, so this was an evening of love for those young women. It was a LOT of singing ... in many languages.

~ The next day it was off to the City for dinner and a show with Poopeh. The show always ends up secondary for us, even though it is the purpose for the gathering, and we try to find a quiet restaurant to sit and catch up. We happened upon an out-of-the-way Irish pub in mid-town that was blessedly quiet around 5:00 p.m. on Derby Day and we got a very quiet table in the back. Thanks Maggie's Place, for being quiet and not touristy. We needed the time to catch up before the critically acclaimed, yet very dark, tour-de-force production of Macbeth featuring Alan Cumming in about 90% of the roles. The Scottish Play is a heavy production in general, but with one person playing all the roles, set in an asylum ... whoa. It was heavy. Thanks to Poopeh for the tickets. I never would have gone on my own if she hadn't insisted. (I have good friends. Seats in 1st row, center mezz. at the show where you do not dare speak its name in the theatre.)

 ~ The next Monday after work, there was an open dress rehearsal of the Drama Division's Third Year Class presenting Twelfth Night up in the Stephanie P. McClelland Drama Theater. After the intensity of Macbeth on Saturday, a comedy was a good palate cleanser. There were some lovely moments in the production, and some stronger performances than other. It was set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans during the 1800s and actually worked better than you might think.

~ The next day after work, completing my slew of three plays in four days, was the Drama Division's Third Year Class doing Hamlet in the Drama Theater. I'm glad there was a comedy between the two tragedies. In these Shakespeare productions, the actors that had main roles in one play perform minor roles in the other play, so I got to see a different side of the actors and their range. The student playing Hamlet was quite good. I happened to be on a subway one night that he was on, and I overrode my usual reticence to just tell him how much I enjoyed his Hamlet. By their third year in the program, even the staff can start to tell who of the 20 or so in the class is going to "make a name" for themselves. I bet he's one of them. Sadly though, something was still rotten in the state of Denmark and everyone died.

~ Left abnormally early for me at least once ... at 5:30 ... due to the need to do copious amount of laundry. That was the night I got reacquainted with Grace. But I did manage to get my five loads of laundry done despite all the college kids in the building avoiding studying for finals and trying to do theirs! (These many weeks later, Grace has left .. but I am sure is lurking around to trip me up late and leave her mark.)

~ Rented a Zipcar to meander back to Manhattanville to see Marion. To combat the slightly musty/smokey smell I got in my ZipCar, I left behind the smell of MickeyDee's fries. You are welcome next Zipper. (read: when you have a car, you go to a drive thru for fries. Though they were meh...);

~ Spent time with Casey and her Ms. Addie, showing her the sights of the Big J and some of the Upper West Side. (More on that later - maybe on Casey's blog - as it's Addie's tale to tell, not mine);

~ Attended the Senior Dance Showcase at the Big J, featuring the graduating seniors of the Dance Division in solo pieces, duets, and a rousing final number ala Bob Fosse's Chicago. I'm getting jaded and/or I don't know dance as well as I know music and drama, but only about three of those student solos really stood out to me.

~ Worked at the Big J's 2013 Commencement seeing the next generation 'leave the nest.' For me that meant, caffeine, carbs, constricting clothes and allergy medication. But I also, truthfully can now say, I was "this close" to a famous Oscar winner, though again, I'm getting to be a jaded New Yorker. You do your thing and don't make a fuss. It's not the time or place ... but ... "no matter what occurs .... I will find you....*"  DEEP DREAMY SIGH ... it was pretty cool to be there.

~ Spent the rainy holiday weekend lazying about, getting sleep, and hanging with friends. No schedule. No plans. No agenda. No deadlines. At some points, no makeup.

~ and THEN, finally, to complete our quartet of Shakespeare for the month, attended a screening at the Film Society of Lincoln Center of the new movie version of Much Ado about Nothing directed by Joss Whedon .. and attended by JOSS WHEDON. (I've been a Whedon fan since I skipped out of a film class I was auditing post my B.A./pre-grad school to go home and watch the first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So take that, Avengers Johnny-come-lately-band-wagonners!)

Oh boy howdy ... was that fun! The people next to me were friends with the moderator and I got to hear how nervous he was about it. The audience was strangely subdued (I thought) for a Whedon crowd, but comported themselves well during the Q&A. Not surprisingly there were many, many, many questions about his other work (Buffy, Firefly, the Avengers films), and then FINALLY a question about actual film techniques and camera work. I say FINALLY, because it was the Film Society after all, not a con. Anyway ... can you tell I'm trying to be all cool and collected about this? I'm not... it was Joss FREAKIN' Whedon!

And, the movie ... I'm going again. A few times. Aside from the fun of seeing my Whedonverse actors, and maybe Nathan's name originator, the acting, directing, and some of the camera work was really excellent. Given I took about 3 semesters of Shakespeare on Film, I need to watch again. I can tell you, if you ever saw the version with Keanu Reeves, it will totally get rid of that memory - no offense to Sir Kenneth Branagh and Ms. Emma Thompson.

~ Had way to many work meetings, interviews, and end of the year parties, including:

- the end of the year/meet the new VP margarita meet-up at a bar (skipped);

- a potluck in honor of the graduating work study students. (organized) Why is it that everyone wants to eat at the potluck, but no one wants to tell you what, if anything, they are bringing to the potluck? Or help clean up from the potluck? Just wondering.;

- the year-end staff meeting, and then the year-end staff party. (attended) There is a joke at School about the state of things being reflected in the appearance of, and quality of, shrimp at the twice-yearly parties. Given the shrimp bar, and ginormous offering of guacamole and salsa, things were okay this year.

Which indirectly brings us back to Hamlet. After the staff meeting, I went upstairs to grab my stuff. Behind the closed office doors, I thought I heard something weird for that hour of the night. I thought there was an intruder, or crazy person, until I started to realize there was a pattern to the ramblings, especially when I heard "neither a borrower or lender be" and "to thine own self be true." Turns out, the actor playing Polonius was pacing up and down the halls reciting his big speech to Laertes. 

~ Farewell lunches for colleagues like Ms. R--- who is leaving the Big J after a few years to pursue other opportunities. (attended, sadly).

Leading to the necessity of days off for:
~ food poisoning;
~ grocery restocking and retail therapy;
~ travel;
~ recuperating from sending an email to VP that had my stomach in knots, but one that had to be sent, because I needed stand up for myself and articulate my work needs. Since the new VP is starting to assess our working conditions, so I thought I better speak up for myself/my space. THUS ...

~ regrouping.

Also good for stress relief? Go to your work Mailroom. Get sheet of bubble wrap. Walk around popping it. It's good for you. But not good for coworkers. (EVIL LAUGHTER!)

Good grief.

When do Summer Fridays start?  Because I need a break! Really Really Really need a Long QUIET BREAK!

I am not a social butterfly. I'm NOT. Really. Actually, I'm the complete opposite of one.

So if anyone wants to send me lilacs or  lavender roses so I can alight upon them and rest a bit, I won't mind.
 See the smiley face? Do you?

*“Stay alive, no matter what occurs! I will find you. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you. I will find you!”

James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Surviving as an Introvert in New York City

Recently I had the wonderful occasion to watch a bright, inquisitive, brave little 8 year-old as part of her first visit to NY.

I say brave because the City is hard on introverts -- which, it turns out, we both are -- as is meeting new people. I don’t know who was more nervous about this visit, the 8 year-old or the forty-something. (Probably me, I had longer to think about it.) I’ve gotten better about meeting new people, but man … this City – can really just take it out of you if you have to deal with it on a daily basis. Given that, most of our “activities” in the City actually involved just hanging out at my office for a few hours for some “downtime.” Honestly, it was for both of our benefits.

My little friend has the advantage of the adults around her already knowing about and reading the book by Susan Cain about introverts. I wish that this had been around when I was her age. It would have helped “my” adults and me so much over the years. Instead, I had to find my own ways to navigate the various situations I found myself in, and learn how to deal with the people in my life. It has made me think about some of my various family members, about three generation’s worth, and be better able to understand some of their personality traits a little better. It definitely will affect how I interact with some of my nieces and nephews – my little friend’s contemporaries.

I was thinking about how to explain to her how I cope in the City – if it came up. It’s hard to articulate. It’s even hard to explain to my friends and family why sometimes, I just have to hole up in my Attic, lock the door, and not talk to, or emerge from my space for a day, or days, at a time. (It’s even harder to explain to your employers about your need to work in semi-isolation, to be undisturbed, or to try and have at least 1 or 2 days a week when you would just love to not have a freaking meeting already … Or why you end up doing more work from 5-8 p.m. when the office is “closed” and everyone is gone. It’s a good thing our sick days don’t require doctor’s notes. Mental health days are not made-up. They are real necessities for some of us.)

Commuting into, and/or living in, Manhattan is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, you can be camouflaged and absorbed into anonymity. You can go to movies by yourself, eat at a bar or counter by yourself, and take advantage of the many offerings the City has to the extent you desire – by yourself. On the other hand, from the sheer volume of noise generated by automatic announcements on the mass transit system, to the incursion into personal space in the commute, to the forced social interactions in the workplace, not to mention the sensory overload of, well -- everything -- it gets to be … a bit draining.

So I’ve learned how to deal over the years and have built up a tolerance – to a degree. I’m more aware of my triggers and am getting better about articulating what I need from, and at, work, and have learned coping mechanisms, including mediation and visualization techniques. Like visualizing my own personal shield bubble.

Imagine it’s like this. Imagine you are at the center of an all-encompassing bubble. Depending on the situation, the bubble is either extended or constricted around you. Even if you are crowded on the subway, with people up in your space, YOU know the shield bubble wall is there between you and the person in your space. It is keeping you safe. The people “bounce” off it – the bumps and jostling doesn’t actually touch YOU. (Even if you do get accidentally punched in the chest.) Everything is not quite “there” as much. The noise and the glare and the people can’t hurt you – as much. [In the physical world, manifestations of your shield could include your ear buds, sunglasses, and large messenger bags. Sometimes you have to wear the ear buds and sunglasses in your office too. But then you add Do Not Disturb signs.]

It may be an illusion, but the illusion is needed to function. We introverts all do what we need to do to function in this world.

But the reality is … that each interaction starts to erode our ability to function. Our coping mechanisms get weaker when we are out and about too much. We need quiet time, in our own environments. Imagine the shield is powered down and recharging – like your phone needs to. Sometimes that recharging means shutting the rest of the world out, closing a door, turning off a phone, shutting out distractions, and just being by yourself. Sometimes that recharging means going to another “happy place” with a change of scenery, etc. (like me and a beach.) There’s nothing “wrong” with us – it’s just how we operate. The recharge could only be an hour or two, overnight, or a weekend, or even longer. It is going to depend on how you operate and/or how eroded your coping mechanisms might be.

New York City is probably one of the most extroverted places on earth, aside from a theme park … and it would seem to be counter-intuitive that introverts are able to manage here. But, we can and we are. In our own ways.

It can be hard to be a daughter of an extrovert, but sometimes mothers know what their daughters will need to learn. My mother also first introduced me to New York sometime after I was 8. She, too, pushed me to explore new places, introduced me to new people, and gave me the tools to start building up my coping mechanisms for the world.

But it’s still hard. And I’m still learning. From lots of people and by trial and error.

I’m just glad, in this case, I could be a slightly less extroverted Auntie Mame for my little friend.

Hopefully I didn’t scare or scar her too much.

Now, if you will excuse me, all this self-presentation is making me need to go off-line and reboot my protection shields.



Over and out.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Back to School, Returning for a Retirement Party

As if this time of year isn't busy enough as it is, about a month ago I got an e-mail from the alma mater that they were have a celebration in honor of 15 retiring professors, including my beloved English professor Dr. Marion Perret.

The list also included a few other familiar names, so I reached out to some of the girls to see who could quickly come to town to join me at the 'Ville. It seemed especially important to try and get up to the school, since we all missed the party solely in honor of Dr. Perret that was held last year. Even though it would have been a blast to have a mini reunion, it was just impossible to get travel, teaching, soccer, softball, orchestra rehearsal, and, in some cases, real estate showings, schedules to coordinate, so I had to go up and "represent" the classes of 1993 and 1994 by myself. (Ouch, the math hurts.)

I took a personal day so I didn't have to rush around quite so much (ha! though I did), and figured out the whole ZipCar rental thing (which I now LOVE!) and did some much needed grocery and retail stocking up. (Grocery shopping is SO much easier when you have a vehicle.) Somehow I forgot the one important detail of my timeline - leaving enough time to back, find a parking space, change, and then get on the highway on a Friday night, during rush hour, but I still managed to get to the College on time to see it at dusk.

What you can't see from my iTouch photos (the regular camera wouldn't fit in my clutch with everything else), is the true beauty of the place at dusk. You can't see the red-tailed hawk perched up on the cross on the chapel, or see the glow off all the maple trees, or the glimmer on the quad in front of Reid Hall aka The Castle.

You would think I wouldn't have forgotten the impressiveness of the East Room, but I had. It was crowded with friends, alumni, professors, family, and tables with photos and remembrance books. Thank goodness for name tags, but I was still easily identified by some good professors regardless of the passage of time. Aside from some slight physical differences (grey hair, stooping, stockiness, "laughlines") we all pretty much look the same. (Though some aging English professors should probably have gotten rid of the pony tails BEFORE the 1990s, I'm just saying, and now it's 2013? Yikes.)

After the brief cocktail party, I wandered a bit through the building before Security shooed us out. I ran up to the second floor to look out the balcony over the East Room, walked down the hall to where the Castle and the additions came together,
and realized, as I ran my hand down this bannister on the left, that this was the sensation, and these were some of the stairs and halls, that feature in some of my dreams. 20 years later, I can still feel those polished wooden bannisters under my palms. That's so strange, right?

I took some other photos to send to the girls. Like the one above on the right, of the pathway back to the dorms from near the cafeteria. Some of those trees were saplings, or not there, when we were there. This building below didn't exist when we were there.

Once upon a time, when I was a work-study student in Development, I had the privilege of exploring the offices at the top of this Castle. And not offices that looked out the three windows at the top you can see, but also the secret office tucked until the ramparts. If you look closely, you can see the two windows that were in the locked, almost forgotten office of one of the prior owners of the Castle. Those were fun years. I'm trying to pay it forward, even now.
 Good night alma mater. 
Thank you and farewell to the 15 faculty members with over 500+ years of service who have retired.
 Wishing for wisteria

And finally, the most important reason for the trip back in time ... to find, hug, and get the updated contacts for Dr. Marion Perret. What a lady.

l: Part of the slide show at the reception. r: Kari and Dr. P with the knight in shining armor, St. George that we found for Dr. P and polished up as a gift for her when we graduated in 1994.

Hey Kari, Dr. P still has St. George with her. Isn't that sweet? But please, no comments about the quality of this photo. You are lucky there is one at all. The things I do for friends.

Thanks for everything Dr. P. There are almost no words.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

May-be life will eventually slow down?

I keep thinking that eventually life would May-be slow down ... but no.

Last week was the last week of the academic year at the Big J, capped off by Commencement on Friday in Alice Tully Hall. What you can't see in this blurry photo from the balcony is the dignitaries that included Daniel Day-Lewis* (as himself) and my favorite work-study student. It's weird to think that almost 20 years ago there was a Development officer at my graduation being wistful that HER work-study student (me) was graduating after four years.
20 years ago that Development Officer didn't have wi-fi to entertain her during the loooooooonnnnng ceremony, or digital cameras to capture the action. She probably would have wanted to pay money, though, too, to bribe the organist to slip in a phrase or two from Phantom of the Opera into the recessional.

It was a happily sad day. I had to take the floral decorations from the fancy schmazy lunch home as a consolation. The hydrangeas promptly died the next day. What does that mean?
The whole week was sweet, somewhat spicy from the stress of getting everything done, but totally nuts.

I wouldn't be lying if I said that this was dinner one night, after 10 p.m. As was this fried egg sandwich. I've been told that meals after 9 at night that aren't a mid-night snack, are called the 22:00 breakfasts. That's just too late to be eating any kind of dinner. But that's what last week was.

After a busy week of work, late trains, rains, projects, and deadlines, this ad for Maine tourism really caught my eye.

Sounds about right, "write now."

Instead of a speech from the School president, "Dr." Day-Lewis read this poem to the graduates. If you need to know, Daniel Day-Lewis as Dr. Day-Lewis (Hon. Doctor of Fine Arts) is just as impressive as Daniel Day-Lewis as anyone else. 


If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
Source: Poetry (April 2000).

All these "quality" photos via iTouch.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Maternal Musings from Mary: May 20, 1975

From time to time we're flashing back to some of Grandmary's additions to my baby book. These sheets were just stuffed to the back of the book for years and years. I've sorted them into order, and put them in archival sleeves to preserve them in their physical state. They are also preserved here for all to see. Not the different formatting and different fonts. Most especially, check out Grandmary's handwriting. That's super fun to see.

The reason we get an entry so relatively soon after the January 1975 addition, is because my track record of being a klutz is starting to leave evidence all over my face - marking me for years to come.
May 20, 1975

I’d better add this or I doubt I’ll remember it when I write again. It has been a non spring, but on the pretty days [Nettie] won’t go outside. One Saturday, she was riding with her daddy on the motorcycle and got a bug up her nose. Now, she is afraid of bugs and being outside. [AN: And wouldn’t you be, if a bug flew up your nose? YECH!] Our first real fear to conquer. She still tells us no and won’t listen. Who says the threes are calm years?

And I must not forget her stitches. On January 28, I was bathing Jed and she came into show me something and ran out, as she had been told not to do—run in the house. She tripped, and I heard a crash. She started to cry, which was unusual, so I asked her what was wrong. She only kept crying, so I jerked Jed out of the tub, wrapped him a towel, and rushed into the family room to see what was the matter. There she was sitting by the big chair with blood all over her face. I put Jed in his crib, grabbed a towel and wiped off the blood to assess the damage. Immediately, I could tell that she needed stitches, so I called Max to come home take her up to the hospital, since it was about 8:30 [a.m.] and the doctor would not be in until 9:00 or later. I held her to keep her talking because I was frightened too and did not know how hard the blow had been. She got about 8 stitches, but the scar is looking fine now and in time will not be noticeable at all. She still runs in the house, though. [AN: It was the 1970s. Plastic surgery in the ER didn’t crop up until the 1990s. It took about 30 years, but you can barely notice the scar dissecting my eyebrow unless you know where to look.]

And finally, on March 11 she got her last molar, but not before a cold and throwing up. At least she has all her teeth now, and two sets of stitches.

AN Notes: Two sets?! Oh yes. The 1970s were the era when all kinds of accidents happened that caused later regulations. Say, like the seat belts in the shopping cart carriages? The story goes that I stood up in a metal grocery store shopping cart and it tipped over, causing a scar on the underside of my chin. I don’t remember this happening, unlike the above mentioned trip to the ER. THAT trip I remember, unlike most of the B.C. (before Connecticut 1980 move) years. Unless you are looking up at my chin, you can’t see the scar. You probably CAN see the other scar on my chin, caused by messing around with Jed and a metal vacuum cleaner when we were teenagers. Moral of that story? Don’t mess around with your brother and a metal vacuum cleaner and then try to hide the accident and lie to your parents, or you’ll have the physical scars to show for it for the rest of your life. Some people carry all their scars on the inside. I have battle wounds on the outside, as well as in an archival box to exhume later.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Dreaming Out Loud - Holding out my hand to see

Image from here
Maybe there is something in this Dreaming Out Loud idea. I was just dreaming of the seashore, and then my friend, my darling friend Christine, persuaded me that I needed an overnight trip to the shore.

A trip where we saw gulls, pipers, osprey, heron, geese, sparrows, shellers, Scouts, snappers, diggers, duffers, dudes, and so much sun, sea, surf, sky, sand, shells, rocks, wrecks, and more. Marvels like an incredible strand of trees bedecked in shells, and a series of old tree stumps weathered by wind and surf into modern art, and so many many shells - some we left, others we brought home as souvenirs of an excellent adventure.

Thank you Christine!

I know I usually  Dream Out Loud earlier in the month, but when a dream is coming true, you stop and appreciate it before thinking of what else you might be dreaming. It seems rude to have a hand out asking for the next thing before you finish savouring the last. 
Photo via here
Which brings us to this month's Dream, which may seem peculiar. I have a dream to pop into a palmist or a tarot reader's establishment, with enough cash to pay so it can be anonymous, without notice, and see the kind of reading I might get from someone who does not know me, or have a way to do prior research via the Internets. 
Photo via here
While I believe that we make our own destiny, and I know that nature, nurture, our ancestors, and our own free will help us forge our paths, a little guidance can't hurt. I am probably a little more open-minded than some, having read a lot of fantasy and science fiction, and studied other cultures and religions, so I know that many consider that there may not be "one true way." I may not believe in reincarnation for myself, but I know that the spirit world is closer than we think. That's why I will NOT, however, play with a Ouija board, or invoke anything negative to enter my space via a seance, or even go to a psychic or a medium.

A little palm reading though? Or a little "card-flipping"? Those can be open to interpretation, and if you are careful not to reveal too much in advance, or via face/body language ... could be fun.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

~ Hamlet, William Shakespeare

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Wreck it Wednesday: Wreck This Journal Updates

 From the Preface: 
Warning: During the process of this book you will get dirty. You may find yourself covered in paint, or any other number of foreign substances. You will get wet. You may be asked to do things you question. You may grieve for the perfect state that you found the book in. You may begin to see creative destruction everywhere. You may begin to live more recklessly.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Spring has sprung - and is Leaf-ing me behind

Despite the advertising, it would still take more than an hour here to change my mood. 
Happy hour? Ha! It's time for:
Sometimes life is sweet, sometimes life is the pits.

Flowers and herbs as far as the eye can see. 
It was a Farmers Market Thursday in the concrete jungle. 
 I am full of impatiens for the spring.
Just pretend that this is as sage as I am.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you turn away from seeing me
and go,
gently, without a word, I shall send you away.
From Mount Yak in Yongbyon,
I shall gather an armful and scatter them on your way.
Step after step away
on those flowers placed
before you, press deep, step lightly, and go
When you turn away from seeing me
and go,
thought I die, no, not a single tear shall fall.

from Korean poet Kim Sowol’s classic collection, Azaleas, translated by David R. McCann

all photos via the iTouch

Monday, May 13, 2013

Scenes from the Road, er - I mean, Rails

As I've saying, this year has been busy - but this last few weeks has also been super busy. I have been trying to remember to snap photos to illustrate the weird and random - but ...

As this ad says, it's almost too hard to choose between photos, activities, and necessities ...
(i.e., blog, eat, work, sleep, blog, or sleep ...)

So, in now particular order, here's some of the weirdness that has been the last month or so, when my life was going "off the rails."

This is a bad photo of the gentleman with his leather shoes, handbag, and jacket, the jaunty socks under his high-water khakis, the fancy fringed scarf tucked into this shirt -- TOPPED OFF BY A BOWLER!
This little commuter has matching fuchsia accessories. She often also carries the cutest little kitty cat handbags. She is as allergic to commuting in the morning as the rest of us are.
L: I want to go to London and get my own very special Harrod's handbag. I would be perfect for lunch and the library, and everything. I WANT!
R: "Do anything you want to, but ... Honey ... Don't you step on my blue suede shoes." THEN GET THEM OUT OF THE AISLE.
 Which brings us to other annoying passenger issues....

Talking and Trashing:
I don't know which is worse, listening to this dude on the left for more than 30 minutes, or watching/listening/smelling this guy on the right's breakfast for the entire commute. PLEASE shut up and don't eat your entire smelly porridge-y breakfast on the train.
L: I thought Activa was supposed to give you energy? So you should have enough energy to clean up after yourself.
R: Someone forgot to take away their take away on the subway.

The other night, I forced myself to leave the building at 5:30 so I could catch the 6:05 and go home and do the laundry. But because I hadn't caught the 6:05 in almost 2 years, the train wasn't at its "usual" track. I had to race across the lower level and was trying to run up the escalator. I, of course, took a nasty, gnarly, spill up the escalator and it chewed up my shin and left me with a goose egg on my knee I have named "Grace." For me, the light at the end of the tunnel is the train arriving to take me home.

I have been able to enjoy my spring via the train platforms and windows.

Finding Beauty in Nature:

Spring sure looks/looked pretty ... Maybe I need to get out of the building and tin can and enjoy it more?


I don't usually stand in the shelter on the train platform, but last week I did -- only to discover that Brooklyn's influence is creeping into Westchester.

Sigh. I want to go back to the beach.

all photos via the iTouch