Wired and Tangled

Things I am thinking about today, especially those things that annoy me (and some that don't).

1. Wires. Why does my wireless keyboard have wires? Why does the UBS hub I bought take up both of my original USB hubs? Why are things so stupid?

2. Doing work I don't want to do that actually pays, which in turn takes away from the work I want do to that will pay down the line. Isn't this the National Freelancers' Motto or something?

3. Not getting anything done on the weekends. Blurgh.

4. At least it's nice outside.

5. M-E-T-S LET'S GO METS!

6. Laundry.

7. People don't stew and mull over things for long periods of time. If they want something, they let you know. If they don't, silence is your answer. This applies to so many areas of my life--from both ends. It's unfortunate, but it's true.

8. The Simpson's new credits last night with all the references to the movie (which I saw twice) was AWESOME. It's gotta be on YouTube. Go check it out.

Gah! I haven't posted in a week. I have a good excuse: I had to travel to work. Yeah, they didn't have the internet where I was. Umm. Really. There's no internet in Denver, didn't you know?
So, since anyone who was checking this with any regularity is probably gone, I can talk about anything without worry. Right?
As I think I said, I feel like I'm pretty late to the internet-as-community party. Never was much for the message boards. But now I'm finding myself commenting on some of my friends' blogs and stuff and sometimes my friends answer back. And I'm finding that I check for those replies OBSESSIVELY. I'm a frequent blog checker anyway (yeah, yeah RSS feeds, I know. But they take all the fun out of it), but the lure of seeing if anyone saw my funny rejoinder in the comments is irresistible. Dude. I really need to stop. I have frickin' work to do.
But it all goes back to that whole "Is there anybody in there?" feeling the internet gives me. Can't you hear the hollow knocking on your monitor? That's me. I know there are thousands of people out there that I know and could know, but don't know about yet. It's overwhelming knowing there's so much out there. The vastness gives me this weird kind of claustrophobia, the same feeling I get swimming in the deep end of a pool. There are too many angles of attack, too many places to watch. Still, I venture out, trying to make connections. More hollow knocking.
Don't think I've lost the irony that I'm talking about this on a blog. No, I got that part, too. If you know what I should do about it, speak up.

Two Chairs, No Waiting

C'mon in. Sit down. Rest a spell. You can hang out in my quiet corner of the internet while I'm away for a few days. Can you water the plants? Help yourself to anything in the fridge.

Re: Photo: Houston and Lafayette. Manhattan, June, 2007.

Choas and Clutter

I think I like to clutter my life with a thousand different things so I can have the satisfaction of uncluttering them and getting things done in a way that's still done, but may not be the way I'd have done 'em if I only had one thing (or two, let's be honest) to do. Because I can always say, "I had SO much to do that day." Do you do this too? Is this one of those things that everyone does but doesn't talk about?

I think I know why I do this, but I don't want to say it out loud. Everyone does that, too, right?

Sunrise, Sunset

What are we going to do when summer's really over? How do we do this every year?

I'm ready for the light coats and leaves of fall; I await that eagerly. But I'm not ready for layers and gloves and cold faces. Snow. Not being outside as much. I get a little stir crazy in the winter, just hungry for sky. In the summer, I feel guilty when I'm not outside on a nice day. I actually like heat and humidity, so my idea of a nice day in the summer is slightly different than the average joanne. I'm just not ready for a New York winter again.

It makes me finally realize the lure of being a snow bird. Having lived in Florida, but not South Florida, I've only had limited exposure to those who follow the sun. As you might have noticed, I'm resistant to change, so the thought of having two homes and two sets of stuff and two ideas of home seems 1. wasteful and 2. a big pain in the ass. Ok, so maybe a house on the beach would be nice, but I wouldn't want to pack up and live there for a while. What about missing all your friends and the guy at the deli and dealing with your magazine subscriptions? Not for me.

But not dealing with the impending snow? That might be nice.

What's that you say? Leave New York City? Not a chance.

Re: Photo: Broadway, downtown Manhattan. June, 2007.

Subtlety is Hard to Spell

I've been drinking a lot of seltzer lately. Just plain seltzer, maybe a little lemon. I used to hate it, when I didn't know the difference between it and tonic water, which is gross, but water with bubbles didn't appeal to me back then. I was a dedicated Coke drinker. Where I come from it is completely acceptable to have Coke (or a coke, i.e. a soda of any variety) in the morning instead of coffee. I fully support this practice. Really, what's the difference? Sugar+caffeine=awake.

Maybe I just need a lift from the bubbles in my seltzer.

Tonight I'm going to the International Center of Photography to see the Stephen Shore Exhibit before it hits the road (ha ha). There's something so quiet and calming about his photography that at once sooths and surprises me. There's the one on the ICP website with the full billboard of a mountain scene right where you'd expect the real mountains to be. It blows my mind how powerful subtlety can be. I want to be like that in everything I do, every minute of the day, but I don't have the patience or reserve.

The photo also reminds me of some lyrics to a John Mayer song which I refuse to be ashamed I like. Actually, I refuse to be ashamed that I like John Mayer a lot. A lot a lot.

But subtly, of course.

Re: Photo: Union Square Greenmarket, June, 2007.

What are you looking at?

Whenever I come back from the South, where I consider my self "from," I have to remember to get back into New York Mode. There's the walking faster, remembering there are subways instead of cars, stairs and crossing streets, and being so close to a million people without looking at them. I have to remember to let my Southern accent fade, which feels so good to use when I'm down there, like sweet, round grapes in my mouth. I like my Southern accent. If my friends didn't piss and moan every time it crept back in I'd taulk like that awl the tiiime.

Lately, the nerve endings have been a little closer to the skin and I've found this easier to welcome back. Watch where you're going. Walk faster. Have your Metrocard out. Don't stand so close to me. Yesterday on my evening walk, I almost got run down by a cyclist riding on the sidewalk on State Street. Was I wearing my iPod? Yes, though I still heard him coming. I didn't look up until he'd already hopped off to stop, inches from my shins. I looked him in the eye and he returned my annoyed scoff with a "Yeah, I'm sorry. Whatever." I wanted to say"Don't ride on the sidewalk, jackass." and he wanted to say "You and your damn iPods." We were ready to spar. And I would have said something, too, if he'd hit me. I would have screamed and dropped my bag on the sidewalk and berated him for irresponsible bike riding, in front of a police station no less. Said he's the reason NYDOT doesn't take bikes seriously in the City and why so many people get run over by garbage trucks on Houston Street. Maybe an officer would have come out of the station, jangling his cuffs. The cyclist would have held up his palms and told me off, too, but I wouldn't have heard him from my screaming and gesticulating.

Yeah, that's what New York feels like right now. Maybe it's because we're all tired of the heat and ready for Fall. Maybe it's just me. Maybe cyclists are really dicks. Maybe I need to move back down South.

Re: Photo: Near the Armory on 15th St. Park Slope, Brooklyn. September, 2007.

Feels Like the First Time

In my industry, August is a little on the slow side. Everyone's boss is in the Hamptons and everyone else (hopefully) gets caught up. Whether or not that happens, September feels like going back to school. No more early quittin' time on Friday. No more long lunches. Back to real work.

I loved going back to school. New notebooks and shoes and seeing everyone you forgot about over the summer. Where I grew up, back to school meant a good bit more of summer weather, even though I wore those new sweaters and jeans the first week anyway. That's what you do to new clothes, temperature be damned.

But I have to say, as I've gotten older, and school became work, the lure of new notebooks (which I still buy) has lost its luster. Of course it has. Work does not equal school. Sometimes it's a whole lot better. Sometimes I'd rather be in English Lit.

My sister sent me a box of odds and ends once, and included therein was the above action figure--a duplicate in her son's collection. I used to run screaming from the room when the Incredible Hulk came on TV, much to my sister and brother's amusement. I don't even remember why, but he scared the crap out of me. But he's on my desk now, a little plastic reminder of the stuff I'm not afraid of anymore. Cheesy, I know. But sometimes things like that work. I might need it right now.

Re: Photo. Sometime in 2007 in Brooklyn.