2009

it was a good year. it was an incredibly busy year. i lost 35 pounds, we moved into a new apartment and neighborhood, i got a new job, and somehow forgot to write in here. for that, i am sorry (if anyone is still out there.) no resolutions here, but do know that i hope to capture a few more of my outings in the coming year on this blog.

let 2010 begin. i'm ready for you, new decade.

some incongruity

you know what's funny? a monk (a franciscan monk, in full-on vestments) with a brooklyn accent. a tough guy of the cloth.

the last picture show

i will admit to loving mom and pop businesses, little home-grown stores or organizations operated out of crazy spaces, with a shoestring budget and plenty of charm. new york has plenty of those, seems to nurture their odd independent businesses, although my favorites are the movie theaters.

when we lived in park slope, we could easily stroll down to the pavillion, and often did to catch a new release on their old screens. the theaters were aging and somewhat ill-tended, but it was such a neighborly audience that i loved going to see movies in that place. there's a big fancy multiplex on court that is maybe 10 minutes away, and it was perfect for "up" and "harry potter" this summer, but my favorite movie theater in the nabe is cobble hill cinemas, just a few minutes in the other direction. they run special deals on thursday nights, though their regular tickets are still much cheaper than the fancy screens down the street, and they sell delicious popcorn, and they have painted film scenes on the walls (which is both funny and terrifying, when you come face to face with a four-foot-tall crazy-jack-nicholson-in-the-shining picture) and old movie posters, and signs on the stairs saying "only 20 more to go!" ("i counted 19" said s, last weekend when we went to see "inglourious basterds"), and comfy seats (though not such great speakers) and they play a mix of wide-release and indie films, and i just love it.

probably secretly (or not-so-secretly and maybe i'm just totally clueless) they're owned by someone more incorporated than my next door neighbors, but it still feels like a local spot, the kind that seem to be holding out better in new york than anywhere else, the kind that help to make this city so unique.

hey soph

today in my new cool work nabe (described perfectly by a reviewer as "on the transitional frontier between proletarian chinatown and posh soho") as i was headed out in the late afternoon for some much-need warm caffeine, i spotted sofia coppola walking towards me. she is distinctive looking, and yet also fairly normal in appearance at the same time. (i was on the phone with s and told him about my sighting, and he said "i wouldn't have recognized her." but he doesn't love marc jacobs or "the virgin suicides" as much as some people i know, so that makes sense to me.) anyways, i was overwhelmed by a desire to say hello to her.

i'm sure we're all glad that i did not.

home sweet home

we moved into a new apartment a little while ago. did i mention that we moved? i must have. it was a big process (i've written about the hunt before), and we ended up finding something nearly-perfect (it's always nearly)--nicely sized and in great shape in a cute building plus a balcony with just barely-there views of governor's island. there are so many things i love about our new apartment, but the biggest thing is that it makes me feel like i have finally arrived in the new york life i always planned to live. it's funny, isn't it, how little it takes to make us feel like we're living the life we dreamed about? for me, it is our stairs. we have these real, honest-to-goodness brownstone-brooklyn stairs leading up to our double front doors, and every time i walk up them i think "ah yes, i live in new york, in an apartment i picked out and pay for, that i furnished and keep clean and love in the morning when the sunlight comes in perfectly from across the water."

the inside makes me happy, too. from the staircase in our little brownstone, i can hear our neighbors listening to music and washing dishes and laughing at the tv. i love our communal domesticity. one of my most favorite things about new york is getting to live in an apartment building. i much prefer shared spaces, even small ones. as a child, i hated living in a house, it made me too nervous; the unexplained sounds in daylight and dark, too many doors and locks to keep track of safely, the silent little-town nights outside my window, the space between neighbors too far to walk comfortably without shoes. (i used to tell myself i would only live in a big house some day if i got really famous and could hire people to hang out in my house all the time.)

this place we live in, that we picked out--it’s what i always thought new york life would be. i admit to being inspired by a vague pastiche of old tv shows where everyone knew their comic-relief neighbors (tv new york of the 80s and even 90s, before everyone got rich enough to live in fancy lofts by themselves.) i wanted the cramped spaces and the lived in rooms, the real life that says "this city is mine, i made it so." it was never a glossy new york that i craved, but a familiar one. i’m not one for stilettos and taxis and fancy drinks (at least not very often)—i wanted (and i got) bagels and coffee from the same little place every saturday morning, a favorite bar for date night drinks, good friends who will meet me at our spot.

and an apartment, small and charming and surrounded by other people living out their new york dreams.

commuter coincidence

i like to say that new york is the biggest little small town in the country. i feel like people stick to their neighborhoods and social spheres, so that even in this city of however many millions, you tend to run into the same people.

yesterday morning i saw the same girl on my morning commute in to work and on my evening commute home. (a funny coincidence because i was running a little late to work, and had left a little later in the evening.) i noticed her in the morning because i liked her dress (unusual color and draping, looked comfortable but chic), so then when i saw her on the stairs of the court street station as i was coming home, i thought "oh, there's that dress again!"

comedy/drama

we've had lots of lovely visitors this summer, which always means getting to be tourists in our own city. it also usually means getting to see at least one broadway show, and this summer i was lucky enough to see three!

the s family came to stay (in our teeny-beany bk apartment) for a week-ish in july, and it was a lot of fun. they touristed by day while i worked, and then i'd take them to dinner or a show in the evenings. through tdf, i got us tickets to mary stuart, which was absolutely phenomenal. we expected it to be a bit dry (it is a history play, after all), but the story and writing were extremely engaging, and the action moved along quite well. the cast did a fantastic job, which helped as well. it is (unfortunately) rare that a show has one, let alone two, strong dramatic roles for women, and both actresses blew me away in their parts. harriet walter as elizabeth takes on an icon and humanizes her, letting her vulnerability show through her icy reserve at key moments in the play. janet mcteer is a powerhouse as mary--it was impossible to take your eyes off her onstage, and her vocal and physical life held such power and passion. it was a really powerful night at the theater, and i felt very lucky to get to see such wonderful women at work.

s' mother is a big american idol fan, so when she saw that constatine maroulis was performing in rock of ages, she decided she wanted to go for her birthday. i always love a good campy musical--and am an unabashed 80s hair metal fan--so i was happy to tag along with the family to the show. it was a surprising amount of fun. the music is loud and goofy and it was hard not to sing and dance in my seat. the cast was clearly having a great time as well--especially franz, who (among other things) just wants to make chocolate, and lonny, the over-the-top narrator. constantin has a surprisingly strong voice, which certainly helped sell the show. all in all, i had a lot of fun, and was happy to get to go.

we rounded our summer of shows out with the norman conquests at circle in the square (the show sadly has now closed.) it was my first time at an alan ayckbourn play, and i enjoyed myself immensely. i don't often laugh out loud at plays, but it was incredibly funny, and the cast (imported from london and the old vic) was really very talented. it's part of a trilogy--you can see one or all, in any order--and centers around a family house in england and the crazy family that's descended upon each other for the weekend. s and i meant to see the other plays, but we ran out of time, which is too bad. it was really a wonderful revival, and i'd love to see more.

the land of lost souls

this is not post about a magical part of new york, but about an important part nonetheless. my book club has been reading "the land of the lost souls" by cadillac man, a homeless writer who's lived on the streets for years and chronicled his life and loves and those he's lost. his original article about life on the outside ran in esquire back in 2005, and much of it is expounded upon in the book. it's a difficult read. the things he describes are not pretty at best; awful and heart-breaking at worst. it's not always a nice depiction of our city, but at the same time there are a lot of bright moments of human interaction. he has a love affair with a young woman that he saves from an attack; there are friends that he can count on from all walks of life; diner owners and kindly waitresses offer extra cups of coffee or food to go.

it's a hard read but worth it. it opened my eyes to the people that i often don't see. i think that most people have a hard time interacting with the homeless in this city. it makes me sad to see people so down and my heart goes out to them, but it's difficult to know what a donation is actually going to. cadillac man is honest--most of the money that people beg for goes to alcohol or drugs; those who don't use and are homeless by choice often prefer to work (by canning or doing odd jobs) to pay for their small living expenses. and many people are dangerous, to fellow homeless and to "outsiders" as he calls those of us fortunate enough to go home at night. this is a tough city to survive in no matter what your means, but the world cadillac lives in is rougher than any i think i could imagine. it just made me feel very blessed that i came to this city with a job and a home and a support system, and that i am able to make a living and keep myself comfortable. in these economic times (how sick are we all of this phrase?) it's a good reminder: i have a roof over my head and food on my table, and i am very lucky indeed.

stand clear, if you please

today i was on the 1 train, and i had a particularly genteel conductor, who said, as we waited at penn station:

"step in please, don't be tentative. step in please, we're ready to proceed."

if only every commute was so pleasant.

independence days

bonjour! c'est bastille . . . day. (jour du bastille? je ne sais pas--my high school french is starting to fail me.)

today is bastille day, the celebration of french independence (post-marie antoinette, right? my high school history is starting to fail me.) there is a little french community here in cobble hill, so on bastille day a few neighborhood restaurants get together to put on festivities. i met up with aa and her boyfriend p on smith street, for sausages (p), ice cream sandwiches (aa) and iced tea (me.) in spite of the heat, it was surprisingly crowded, as people ate and drank and played petanque in the streets. it was such a fun little celebration and i enjoyed hearing random passersby speaking french. i love how new york cultural events bring out people of that nationality; as i mentioned to p, if i lived in paris and they threw a 4th of july paty, i'd totally go. there's something so universal about the need to spend special occasions with people who share your traditions.

speaking of the 4th, we had a really great experience this year. we hadn't made plans to leave town, as s's family was headed into town for vacation last sunday. this turned out in our favor, as his boss invited us to watch the fireworks--over the hudson this year--from their offices on the 11th floor of the film center, on 9th avenue. after a day of chores, visiting with family, and board games and dinner on the balcony, it ended up being the perfect way to spend the evening. low key, but a perfect vantage point and comfy chairs, and without the pressure of the crowds usually associated with big city events. as we toasted with champagne and one of the adults softly sang the star-spangled banner, i felt very patriotic indeed.

it's (finally) sunny in new york city

we've been experiencing some major june gloom here in our fair city. rainy forecasts for days on end, with a peek at some sun, and then back to rain again. wash, rinse, repeat. it's hard to get motivated to leave the house when it's raining all the time. i think all of new york is feeling a bit down--people have been going about their business easily enough, but the city really comes alive in the summertime, and we've needed some sun to shake us out of some winter doldrums that were particularly bad this year.

one of the best things about summer is eating outside, so i've been especially missing sidewalk dining. last night, we ate dinner at the totally delicious pacifico, and sat outside on the patio. the weather had been threatening a storm all night, but we lucked out, and without rain, it was the perfect temperature for al fresco dining. i like pacifico for the range of non-red-meat choices beyond just rice and beans (i've had everything seafood on the menu, and think the grilled salmon is best), and s gets the same fajitas every time--the man can't get enough of their pineapple salsa! i do think the service isn't great, but the margaritas more than make up for it, so no complaints from us.

today, finally, it's gorgeous. we've got the back door thrown open, and i can see clouds hovering over governor's island. s and i are nesting, still putting everything together in the new place, but the plan today is to run our errands in the sunshine.

stone cold (silver) fox

as i was walking to a performance from work the other day, doing the new yorker mental-map thing (this street, or that? if i go here i hit this, if i go this way, i get to here), when my thoughts were interrupted by the very attractive mr. anderson cooper walking towards me. he was on some sort of pda, and was shorter than i pictured (you know, all the times i pictured anderson cooper walking towards me), and was extremely hot. like, involuntarily smile to yourself hot.

mk had meant to walk with me (we were headed to a work event), but had been held up in the office. when we met back up later, i told her she was going to wish she had been with me. of course, then she could not think of who anderson cooper is (thus somewhat dampening my brag), but i plan to remedy that problem soon.

so sorry.

i'm sorry, magical new york. i've totally failed you. one whole month without posts...

i have a few excuses. we've been out of town (family things), and we moved again, and have been trying to save money, and blah blah blah. the truth is, things haven't been magical enough recently to make me want to write anything down. so i have a june resolution: find one thing each week (bonus points for more!) to write about. bear with me, and we'll get through this together. if you're even still there.

on loving new york

…quite simply, i was in love with new york. i do not mean “love” in any colloquial way, i mean that i was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again. i remember walking across sixty-second street one twilight that first spring, or the second spring, they were all alike for a while. i was late to meet someone but i stopped at lexington avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that i had come out out of the west and reached the mirage. i could taste the peach and feel the soft air blowing from a subway grating on my legs and i could smell lilac and garbage and expensive perfume and i knew that it would cost something sooner or later—because i did not belong there, did not come from there—but when you are twenty-two or twenty-three, you figure that later you will have a high emotional balance, and be able to pay whatever it costs. i still believed in possibilities then, still had the sense, so peculiar to new york, that something extraordinary would happen any minute, any day, any month.
--joan didion

i grew up loving a new york that i had created out of movies and photographs and my grandparents’ stories about dancing at fordham parties, and when i finally moved here at 17 (a baby age!) it was too different from what i had needed it to be. so i came back older, maybe wiser, at 22 (still a baby age! such babies we were, we are), and grew to love a new new york, both better and harder than the one i had created, but so much more satisfying for it.

but my new york, the one i invented and the one i inhabit, is filled with this sense of possibility. it’s what keeps me here, on my toes, looking around the corner for the next magical opportunity.

sorry.

i took a bit of a hiatus. not for any good reason. just because i've been busy with life and stuff. (you know, life and stuff.)

here are the things i should have written about:

my parents came to visit. we went to museums and the ucb theater to see some improv and theater for a new audience to see some othello. we ate delicious food at otto and mexican radio and it was great to show them around town again.

our dear friend t came to visit. he and i walked over the brooklyn bridge and ate vegan cupcakes and went out for a friend's birthday on the lower east side. we took him to the city reliquary and the ucb theater to see some better improv, and it was grand.

a high school friend of mine came to visit new york, and we saw each other for the first time in a few years. we walked her and her boyf around park slope and took them to a record release party and out in williamsburg and she feel in love with bk.

we decided to move so we've been looking at apartments again (it's the most wonderful time of the year!)

it keeps pretending to be spring


and then it decides to be winter.


i promise to have more to say in the coming weeks.

modern art like whoa

my parents were in town this past weekend for work (my mom for a conference, my dad for a meeting) and to hang out with me. we had a great time (enough for multiple entries, lucky you), and spent much of the weekend in museums.

i like to say that i was raised in museums. my father worked at the virgina museum when i was born, and they used to sell a post card of our little family: mama, papa and baby me looking at artwork. my parents taught me to look at art with a critical eye, to appreciate the beauty and power of a work, to consider the context of time and tastes, to form my own opinions of what is worthwhile. going to MOMA with my father is different than going with anyone else; he has a love, a reverence for the works of modern masters that is inspiring. he will pause to consider a piece for minutes at a time, letting the colors and forms move through him, sharing his new perspectives. i don't race through the galleries, but i think i often move too fast to experience the pieces in the way that he does. it was so much fun to explore the MOMA's permanent collection with him, to take each piece at a time and truly consider it fully.

on sunday we savored the fair weather (come back, sunshine!) as we walked up to the whitney. i am embarrassed to admit that we hadn't yet been to the whitney, especially considering it is on the us map (not for lack of trying! when we went last summer it was packed, with a line down the block and then some.) somehow i missed the eggleston and calder shows, which i regret completely. but i am glad that we were able to go this weekend. the whitney is sort of a bite-size museum, enough to fill a few hours, but not so large that you miss out on anything if you've got less than a day. (or a week--i'm looking at you, met museum.) we started from the top and worked our way down, first through the permanent collection which is heavy on the edward hopper, though still enjoyable--i do love me some claes oldenburg. their two major exhibits were "synthetic", which explored both synthetic materials and subject matter, and "site", devoted to the impact of place and process on works of art. there was an excellent video installation called "electric earth" in the site-specific exhibit which tracked a protagonist in-tune with the world and its sounds as he moved (and danced) through a desolate urban landscape. the artist had arranged multiple video screens through the space, so that the viewer progressed with the character through the world, always able to hear (and often able to see) what had come before and what was yet to come. we spent the most time in that installation, overwhelmed with images and sounds.

they were finishing the new jenny holzer exhibit, and i hope to make it back to see her installation. "protect protect" runs march 12 through may 31, and is billed as her most comprehensive exhibit in 15 years. as a fan of both art and words, i am always interested in jenny holzer's works, for their cryptic, insightful quality and modern-age presentation. i think the whitney is definitely worth a visit, and i hope to get back soon.

a "marquis" name

it's been too long, i know. but i'm starting march off right!

tonight mk and i were walking to the train after work talking about our day, when i had to interrupt. "mk!" i hissed. "it's geoffrey rush!"(i sincerely hope he didn't hear--i'm usually not a gawker.) and there he was, walking down broadway right next to us.

he was a bit of a power walker too, and we ended up about half a block behind him all the way to columbus circle, which was actually pretty cool--in his wake, he left people turning to their companions going "that was geoffrey rush! the actor! the oscar nominee!" it was so great to watch everyone's faces as they walked past him and turned in recognition and awed respect. not a bad way to end the day.

“i left the east coast and everything it stands for. i’m living in a place where no one ever asks what college i went to, never mind my SAT scores. i didn’t consciously want to reinvent myself, but i liked the opportunity to start over, sans the burden of the preconceptions of those i went to school with. i haven’t struck it rich and famous. and now i’m wavering, the economic chaos impacting my ability to have hope. but when i’m driving in my car and the right record comes pouring out of the speakers, i feel confident, i believe i can make it.”
— bob lefsetz (via lefsetz.com/wordpress)

we talked about this issue of what i called “east coast snobbery” about colleges at my book club last night, much to the chagrin of the girls in my book club who went to a snobby east coast college. (they’re not snobs, but their school could reasonably be called that.) i do think it’s a uniquely east coast question; when we first moved to oregon, my mother remarked that unlike back east, no one ever asked what school she had gone to when they first met her. (i myself went to a state school, and i thought it was great. i learned more than i thought i needed to know and i made some lifetime friends. that’s really all that should make it a “good” school.)

i moved to the east coast to consciously reinvent myself; i grew up in a sleepy college town that no one ever left, and i didn’t want that. i came to new york, or at least to my idea of what new york is, wanting to make a new me, a stronger, smarter, more fulfilled me. and i’ll agree with lefsetz, the economic situation (especially in new york) has me wavering between hopeful and hopeless sometimes. winter in new york is all about survival, and this winter has been particularly tough. but spring is right around the corner, and there is no better time to be in new york, when the city airs itself out and gets back to the business of being fully alive. i can’t wait to throw open the windows again.

rebus

s gave me an excellent present for christmas: membership to moma for the year. this past weekend we decided to take advantage of this and headed over to the museum for the afternoon.

their big show right now is "marlene dumas: measuring your own grave" (through february 16--a valentines date perhaps?) our review was mixed. her brushy, ethereal technique works well in paintings of the deceased--i pictured their souls hanging around, waiting to see what happens next. but massive canvases of little girls hanging from nooses are not really my thing; i had not seen a large-scale presentation of her work, and what can be powerful in small doses is somewhat overwhelming in total. the most interesting thing is a room of quick sketches called "models" (i believe they are studies of all of the people who stopped by the model for her over a period of a few years.) they are revealing in their simplicity, the faces distilled to piercing eyes or strong noses, everything else rendered unimportant. in an interesting twist, amongst the pictures of women of all shapes, sizes and ethnicities, there is a portrait of a snake. i think that all of her work has a sense of the dark, almost brutal, parts of life, and this room is a distillation of that philosophy.

pipilotti rist has transformed the atrium into "pour your body out" (this just closed), a large-scale multimedia installation that encouraged visitors to take their shoes off and dive into her world of sounds and sights. while the explanation invited adults to make new friends, no one around me wanted to talk about rist's swim through a menstrual ocean (why not, new friends?!), and s was too shy to sit on the iris couch with me. he was concerned about the sound in the space--it was too open, too noisy to achieve the cocoon effect rist seemed to be going for, and perhaps the experience would've meant more in a more intimate space. but i love taking my shoes off in museums, so i considered it a minor success.

our favorite show, however, was "artist's choice: vik muniz, rebus" (through february 23.) to steal from the description, a rebus is a combination of unrelated visual and linguistic elements which create a larger deductive meaning, and muniz has raided the museum's collection to put together a startlingly engaging little exhibition. each piece is taken out of context (no title, no artist), so that the focus is solely on the piece and its relation to those that precede and follow it. i enjoyed the pieces in a way that i usually do not--instead of connecting to an overarching theme, each piece is examined for its own meaning and merit, and is connected to the other pieces in new ways. "do these relate because of imagery, or material, or meaning, or is simply enough that you are here to look at this piece?" the exhibition asks. we found ourselves making new connections between pieces, enjoying them on a purely experiential level. (my only complaint: the exhibit is too short. i wanted everything we saw to be this engaging.) i think it's worth it to go to see this exhibition alone.

garlic and sapphires

i've been trying to eat like ruth reichl recently. my book club last read "garlic and sapphires: a critic's life in disguise" about her tenure as the chief restuarant critic for the new york times in the 1990s, and the thing that struck me most about her writing was the way she described experiencing food. each bite was a search to taste each distinct flavor, to search out the components to understand the whole. her relationship to food is complex and pleasurable, as much about the science of the cook as the artistry of the chef. so when i say i've been trying to eat like ruth reichl, i don't mean that i've been heading out to le cirque in a bright red wig, i mean i've been trying to deepen my understanding of what i choose to taste.

with that in mind, i closed my eyes with each new bite at centro vinoteca, where aa, mk and i went to celebrate restaurant week. we started with piccolini, and i appreciated the brightness of the lemon aioli on my shrimp and chickpea fritter and the richness of the truffled deviled egg. the creaminess of sunchokes contrasted nicely with the texture of the chanterelles and walnuts in aa's soup, and i am sure mk enjoyed her upscale blt bruschettas. but it was the entree that really taught me to taste like a critic. kabocha squash ravioli in brown butter with walnuts and vincotto tastes at once familiar (ah, squash ravioli, you think to yourself, i know this one) and unusual (oh perhaps i was too hasty, you realize), the vincotto and brown butter lending a thick sweetness, the walnuts adding a crunch. kabocha squash has some of the richness of butternut, but a more unusual finish. i know i looked silly, sitting there with my eyes closed, exploring each new taste, but it was worth it. (the desserts are skip-able. my chocolate cake was nothing to blog about. my dirty martini, however, was spot on.) i look forward to going back to centro vinoteca, to taste new tastes again. thank you, ruth reichl.

yes we did.

did we inaugurate my president today?



why yes, yes we did. and i am proud to be an american.

doldrums

not gonna lie, s and i have been doing some serious conversating about our future in new york. we're having a crisis of faith, if you will. job, apartment, family; it's hard to see where all of it fits here in this city, where we fit in this city. there are so many things i love (you get to read about all of them), and then there are some things that i do not love (and those i usually keep to myself.) anyways, my lovely friend jay, who has an excellent way with words, has put all of this into an extremely eloquent post, winter. the truth is, she's right: new york is an easy city to love, and a hard city to love, and it so rarely loves you back. but when it does, it is so worth it. keep walking, lady, i'm on my own path too.

you will know him

overheard in the office.

tall, thin german man with ponytail: if you see ziggy--you will know him; fat guy, always wears a hat, even when he sleeps--if you see ziggy, tell him i said hi. we used to work together in munich.

don't you kind of wish you knew a german musician named ziggy, sleeping in a hat in munich?

when you talk music

one of the nice things about working in a music-related industry is that i get to go to a lot of free concerts. (don't get excited, i'm not talking about fancy famous rock bands, i mean jazz and musical theater and classical. although if that's your thing, please get excited.) one of my very good friends works with the american classical orchestra, and she offered us tickets to "levin & mozart", an evening featuring robert levin on pianoforte. i went tonight with aa, and yes, the mozart was great, and beethoven's pastorale symphony no. 6 was really fantastic.

but the absolute best thing was levin's improvisation. he asked audience members to write out two measures during intermission, and then he picked four to play and improvise with (in the style of mozart.) he then explored this incredible piece created from almost nothing. when the improvisation exercise was first described, i pictured a kind of halting exercise, him just goofing around. you know how people talk about music as another language? i'd never really understood that until tonight. he played music with the same ease that i tell a story or make conversation, picking up on patterns and themes, exploring tangents while remaining true to the original point. it was amazing to hear someone play such beautiful, complicated music off the top of his head. (and yes, i recognize that this is what jazz is, and i understand that as a language, but classical music has such strict connotations that i had never experienced this before.)

i am thankful i was able to go.

(the title is a reference to one of my most favorite podcasts from this american life. give it a listen, it's really great.)

209 reasons

in this new year, i am trying to enjoy where i am and what i am doing, instead of focusing on "the instead". a resolution, you say? sort of. rather than resolve, i decided to make a list of changes i want to accomplish in this new year, and work from there. i've already got some good plans in the works.

anyways, an important thing to me is to appreciate new york while i live here. and to appreciate brooklyn, because it is becoming my home, and i am starting to grow a lil bk pride. in my blog stumbling, i discovered a new site i like very much, even if i can't say their name aloud in polite company. (like, at work or in front of my parents.) they compiled a list of 209 reasons why brooklyn is so damn badass, and i think it is great. there are already a lot of things on there i know and appreciate, and a few things that i am like "ooh, gotta look into that!" so, read, enjoy, move to my nabe and let's get a bagel.

welcome 2009, you delightful creature. i've got big plans for you.