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12/10/2003
if only we could blame BOB, or perhaps the one-armed man. or the log.
writ at 12/10/2003 1:50:26 pm by shivery
they say that when the student is ready, the teacher appears. then it's just a question of figuring out just what the aim of the lesson plan is.
for a few minutes, i wasn't certain which one was the teacher, and which was the student, or what i was supposed to be learning, and i'll confess i found that perplexing.
but i think i've figured it out.
and so for the first time in many weeks, i can honestly say that i'm not angry anymore.
at least, not at you.
maybe a little bit at myself.
writ at 12/10/2003 1:45:47 pm by shivery
12/9/2003
the mistletoe mafia strikes again!
writ at 12/9/2003 9:14:14 am by shivery
12/7/2003
the troika took a field trip today, braving the unbelievably frosty elements to make a pilgimage to the grey dog to satisfy some of our more sartorial cravings. en route, we passed through washington square park, deep in the heart of nyu territory. and as i do every time i pass through the area, i wondered what i would do if i ran into him.
whenever i imagine that first random encounter, my mind's eye always paints us on 7th ave, deep in the heart of tribe territory, my home turf where i am both queen and warrior. usually in front of the radio repair shop across from naidre's (still working on that one). in that situation i like to think that i would be able to play it off beautifully, i would not allow my baser emotions to get the better of me but instead greet him calmly and actually extend the hand of friendship that we spoke of, that i want so badly to present. clearly, my internal set painter is pretty certain that that particular outcome is more likely assured if i am where i feel safe, in my neighborhood.
which, incidentally, is now his neighborhood as well. seven blocks and counting. i often wonder if it ever strikes him that he has signed his soul to a tribe blast radius for the next year.
but, of course, i entertain the notion of what i would do if we made our reacquaintance in his territory, the surrounding blocks of the hallowed halls of our city's most venerated institution. would i feel exposed? would i feel guilty, as though i had violated some sacred trust by wending my way into the fabric of his day-to-day? would i even be able to speak to him, or would i have to just run away and pray he never saw me? would i feel as though i were trespassing? i thought about this a lot as we slipped and slid our way across the park.
and then my inner pragmatist piped up and reminded me: i had full access rights to this neighborhood before i met him. i had just as much right to be there as he, and i wield just as much power within that radius as i ever had; perhaps more, as each day the simple fact of my continued existence makes me more self possessed and aware. should i chance to meet him there, we will be on equal footing. if we're both lucky, we'll actually make our first awkward steps towards that friendship we promised one another as we made the distance between us official. i certainly hope so.
to paraphrase, my inner pragmatist tried to remind me that among civilized people, territorial disputes should be utterly unnecessary, no matter how jarring the break.
but, should that thought not take root, i take solace in the fact that i was here first. so really the whole damn city is my territory, if you want to play by the playground rules. and while that will never truly give me the upper hand in the inevitable encounter, while it gives me no more right to prowl the streets than he, i can always find strength in the knowledge that, no matter what the whims of another or our personal comfort zones, i belong here. everywhere i want to be. i should never feel like an alien in my own city. neither of us should.
and to be perfectly honest, i wouldn't want the upper hand in that situation, anyway; if we're really going to be friends, we have to be equals first.
writ at 12/7/2003 11:40:12 pm by shivery
it's
very
cold.
writ at 12/7/2003 8:48:53 pm by shivery
12/6/2003
let the holiday season begin!
t-minus three hours until the official start of the mistletoe mafia's winter soiree. it's been snowing for nigh on 36 hours, and the streets of new york are still in that marvelous and short-lived state of pristine beauty--the snow has yet to be reduced to the dingy slush that typically marks the holiday season out here. of course, the peace it brings to the streets, the hush, is deceptive; as we learned earlier today, the snow is a harsh, harsh mistress! close your eyes a moment and picture, your three intrepid heroines, bundled up and braving the snow, the harsh ice crystals in the eyes and the biting wind throwing us into oncoming traffic, all in the name of holiday festivity. there was nog to be procured and we were going to let nothing stand in our way!
and now, the fairy lights are glowing softly, my apartment has been scrubbed and bleached and swept within an inch of its life. the mistletoe-substitute is being strategically placed (ask us later), and the final preparations being made. shortly, the preening will begin, and we will transform ourselves from the no-nonsense ladies of infinite competence (we cook, we clean, we kick your ass) to dangerous and delightful sirens of the evening (don't fret, there will be photos). trust us, it will be a typically fabulous troika production; if our guests let a little thing like twelve inches of snow keep them from our doorstep, much regret all around, n'est-ce pas?
the troika gives good party. and don't you forget it.
(don't worry, we'll save you some nog.)
writ at 12/6/2003 5:17:37 pm by shivery
12/4/2003
shivery's guide to new york #5: 7th avenue books
 it seems that i have an expensive habit (beyond the smokin' and the boozin' and the whorin'): books. in a world where i spend a minimum of two hours a day in passive transit, books have become a necessity. like many new yorkers, i devour a minimum of one book a week. now, given that literature has become exorbitantly expensive, the habit adds up ($15 a week x 52 weeks=more money than i want to think about in the christmas season), thereby putting a bit of a damper on the whims of this underpaid young professional. given that i'm not going to stop reading on the subway, i am essentially left with two options: ransack my friends' prodigious lending libraries or go used. still being essentially a cheapskate, i try and stick with the former option as much as i can. but, sometimes i covet a volume that i can't source in the library network. and when that happens, i go to 7th ave. books. located (appropriately) at 300 7th avenue in the heart of park slope, 7th ave books is housed in what used to be a video store; the mystery paperbacks live where the pornos used to go. it's a veritable treasure trove of secondhand wonders--well-preserved books from private collections, reviewer's copies, discounted first-run books and more. it's inexpensive (i have yet to see a paperback clock in at more than $7, and most are $5 or less), friendly and full of esoterica you won't find anywhere else. two blocks from the F, i recommend it highly to any impoverished commuter who doesn't look forward to opening a vein for barnes and noble. check back often--they're constantly getting in new shipments of fabulosity. be sure to check out... the "just in" trolleys; the pantheon of brooklyn-themed literature near the till; the bulletin board behind the door; its sister store, 7th ave kids, just down the block; the new releases shelf, in case you JUST CAN"T WAIT for the used paperback to touch down. writ at 12/4/2003 11:34:04 am by shivery
scenes from purgatory's bathroom
my long-misplaced boss of infinite evil (she of the maternity leave) is returning next week to sit in on our 'weekly meeting,' so that she might prepare herself to give an accurate assessment of our job performance in the last three months. while she's been on maternity leave. suffice it to say, while we are all sharpening our claws and preparing ourselves to reveal to her in the most tactful way possible exactly where she can stick her annual reviews, we are also secretly dashing about in a mad frenzy so that we might satisfy her more arbitrary whims, the ones we've been assiduously ignoring in her absence in favor of projects that are actually relevant. because, naturally, the arbitrary ones are going to be the ones she rails on us about. they always are. thus, the flavor of my day is going to be heavily perfumed with a detailed trawl through our company websites, finding places to put more pictures and pull quotes. for the sake of having more pictures. not because we have such glorious points that they require the thousand-word thunderbolt of an image to appropriately convey their gravity, but because the brass said -- and i quote -- "we want more pictures. all that text is boring." all that text is boring. all that text is boring.while i'm not disputing that fact, i still feel rather emasculated (so to speak) that my job of late has been reduced to finding holes where i can paste irrelevant pictures because my employers have grown bored with their own product. well, that and writing about swaziland. but mostly cutting and pasting. in other, news the troika is once again complete! after a month-long eternity, the glorious kate is back among us! WOO-HA! writ at 12/4/2003 10:04:08 am by shivery
12/3/2003
my stepmother always used to tease me that i appeared to be getting younger as i got older; the first few times she said this to me, it made me crazy. "i'm not getting immature in my old age," i would say. "i am a mature and poised human being." of course, after a while, my retort started to make me dissolve into paroxysms of laughter, because it's utterly absurd, and she was absolutely right.
when i was a child, i was so blindingly serious about everything. i'm not sure if it's because i'm the youngest daughter, or a child of a divorce or what, but until...well...a couple of years ago, i really had something to prove, though for the life of me i can't imagine what it was. everything was a question of accomplishing the task at hand, and doing it better than anyone else. get the best grades, speak at graduation, get the roles in the local theater, get into the best college, be the best best best! it was all very strange, because it was never my parents pushing me; it was just my own pathological desire to live up to my own absurdly high expectations.
as such, i found myself having trouble relating to my peer group. in high school, i was lucky, because i had an extraordinary group of friends who just accepted my insanity, even loved me for it. then i got to college, where i was looked upon as an alien being. i didn't drink. i didn't do many drugs. after a while, i didn't eat. i didn't have indiscriminate sex. as far as the other students were concerned, i had no business being there in their world. and so i became even more serious. i got internships. i threw myself into my work. i traveled abroad and started dating a man ten years my senior. i dedicated my life to getting through college and settled into the next leg of my life, the next defined target.
and then i got there. and i realized i'd run out of finite targets. the track i'd been on had suddenly stopped. the life i'd catapulted into was a wide playing field with no top and no real rules.
so, once i'd gotten over the shock, i decided to start having fun. 'fun,' of course, being a relative term as viewed through the eyes of someone who didn't know much about the actual meaning of the word. the 'fun' started with dumping the older boyfriend and falling rapturously in love with someone who could not have cared less. whizz-bang.
but then i figured it out, this 'fun' thing. i got friends, i got my music thing going, i got a life. i started eating for the first time in about three years. i started drinking (socially. i did not become an alcoholic, thanks). i started engaging in normal social activities. i started doing the things that i should have been doing in college--forging friendships, having fun, living my life. all the things i'd been far too serious to do.
and what did it get me? some broken hearts. a few extra pounds. some stunning headaches. a pack of friends i'd lie down in traffic for. a loud, ringing, melodic laugh that i'd never known i possessed. a certain amount of peace with my appearance (particularly the belly). some sleepless nights and some wonderful stories.
all that is hardly befitting a properly serious and studious young lady. so i decided to become less serious about certain things. i still smoke a lot. and i do worry more about my finances. and my health. but i'm not afraid of my life anymore. i don't feel a need to spend two and a half hours at the gym every day. i don't need to punish myself for being interested in frivolity, or being more interested in my social life than in my job, or being myself. i don't need to be smarter, or better than everyone around me anymore. i don't have to date men in a different age bracket so that i can prove i'm an adult.
i just have to be me.
and interestingly, it turns out that i'm kind of fun to be around when i'm just being me. actual, silly, goofy, loyal, ridiculous, crazy, sensitive, non-absurdly-serious me.
writ at 12/3/2003 4:40:21 pm by shivery
everyone's your friend in new york city.
before i moved to new york city, i was under the indelible impression that it was a huge, faceless place, where the sea of faces constantly changed like the water in the river and all were doomed to fade into obscurity and eventual consumption by the legendary subway rats, or possibly the mole people. i was utterly convinced that i was doomed to be lonely in the great faceless metropolis.
tragic, tragic lies, kids.
for those of you who have a fascination with new york but are laboring under the same mistaken impression i have detailed above, let me tell you a little secret: if you want new york to roll over and expose its underbelly to you, you have to stop thinking about it as one giant, seething entity, when what it really is is a collection of microcommunities, gathered round the warmth of a world-famous name. life in new york is all about neighborhoods. because neighborhoods are far friendlier than cities. cities want to eat you; neighborhoods want you to have a beer and put your feet up.
the neighborhoods in new york each have their own distinct flavor; people flock to them because they want to find the other people in the city who will understand them. they want to forge a community with like-minded people, so they don't feel so alone in this wide, wide jungle. the hipsters go to williamsburg (along with my derision). the beautiful people go to soho. the bohemians and the rock stars go to the village. the muscle boys go to chelsea. once people figure out where to go to find echoes of themselves walking the streets, they're halfway to feeling comfortable in this city's skin; once they have a destination, it's only a matter of time before they insinuate themselves, and eventually feel comfortable as a part of a part of the city.
in my neighborhood, i see the same people on the subway on a regular basis. i see the same guy with frizzy red hair every time i go to the tea lounge. i am recognized by the bartenders at all my favorite haunts and my optometrist will pop out of his shop when i walk by to say hi. many of my friends live within walking distance, and the guys in the bodega downstairs always tell me it's been too long since i've been by. the teenagers working the till at the local polish grocery have a special scowl reserved just for me. in a nameless, faceless city, i have carved myself a life that i am an actual participant in, as opposed to an observer. i am that redheaded girl on the subway. i'm the one who is always wearing that stupid scarf. i'm the girl who always orders the spicy tuna. i like knowing that i'm someone's vague reference point, as many others are mine, that i am an interactive member of my community. of my city.
and that's how we all do it. that's how we survive; we plant a flag in one small part of the metropolis, and that's what allows us to hang on to the rest of the city for the wild, wild ride.
go find your neighborhood and claim it.
writ at 12/3/2003 10:22:54 am by shivery
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