Growth

I’ve been rather jumbled lately. My writing has dissipated to an almost nothing, a hint of a whisper in the back of my mind. Actually, it’s more of a constant run-on sentence of analysis, dream, and guilt which refuses to focus into a cohesive line. So instead of writing my musings and airing my thoughts in the public forum, I have been reduced to running about the world like a typical New Yorker in the full bloom of unrealized life. I am busy, busy, busy. . . too busy to contemplate writing an essay on life or experience. (The fact that I have a very understanding partner doesn’t necessarily help the literary agenda; I often just share my thoughts verbally with him, feel understood, and leave it at that. Sorry ghost-audience.)

So what is this? Well, I got taken down by a militant sinus infection, and so I’ve been stuck at home, in bed, for two days. I’m starting to go a bit crazy after twenty-seven billion episodes of Murder She Wrote. I’ve started yelling aloud, “AHA! I knew it was her!!” even when D is working in the next room. I’ve tried contemplating the sixteen separate projects that each need individual attention, but it’s no use. I don’t want to do the busy work today (even if it’s great busy work that I love. . . like learning a Schumann or Beach cycle).

Instead I went for a tiny walk so that I could remember what it is to be alive in this city, and my head began to buzz with background chatter come full center. The never-ending theoretical debate of what it would take to heal our collective soul, why I still sometimes contemplate running in front of a passing bus, what my mother thinks about decisions that have long since been made, and a recent conversation with someone who used to be a close friend.

I had rather expected said conversation to be short, awkward, and informative. It really wasn’t any of these, but something more. . . human? I retreated to old self-patterns, quick to apologize, reticent to outwardly blame (though I’m sure the indirect blame read clearly). I fell back to a strong pattern of humanity-shame, a trait that has in many ways defined my early twenties; a trait I have been actively rejecting in my late twenties (That’s right! I’m twenty-six, thank you very much).

Humanity –shame is the product of a perverted thinking whereby I intentionally reject the parts of myself that are unpleasant, imperfect, or embarrassing. When I pretend that I haven’t just had a petty thought about another person, it is because of my humanity-shame. The same when I hide my disappointment from another to save hir feelings. Also when I take all possible blame for an incident that clearly involves two or more people. It’s the result of an effort I made to become a better person than I was in my late teens, combined with a really old tendency to avoid/mend all conflicts.

Basically, I noticed that it was no longer serving me on my current journey. Humanity-shame blocks my ability to truly connect to others on a human to human basis, because it seeks to uproot my own nature as a person. How can I truly empathize if I’m pretending to be an uber-robot? How can I give my partner my truest, my best self and love if I continually attempt to hide the unflattering parts of myself? If I’m never honest when he disappoints me? The truth is that I cannot be the person I want to be as an idyllic robot; I must be fully human to be a good person. Flaws and all.

It is my hope that this journey toward greater human-ness will define these next few years before giving way to another practical journey. I believe I once wrote, on this very blog, about wishing to be utterly perfect- greatest of patience, humble, giving. . . never needing anything. I see now the idealism of my earlier thoughts, and I love that part of myself, but I also recognize that it is folly to attempt to quash all of one’s humanity. My impatience, my greediness for all the lambie gummies in the Gummy Bag, my petty thoughts about others and their dramas, and my persistent need for attention cannot be suppressed into non-existence. These things must be experienced, accepted, and lived through in order to learn how to live beyond them.

It does not, as I may have previously believed, make me bad to have faults, to be a messy emotionalist, or to have needs. It seems to be one of the ironic truths of life that I cannot truly move past my shortcomings without first truly accepting them. It may sound cliché, but it’s all I’ve got for now.

Lists and Updates.

List of Things I Need to Get:

• Mason Jars for Food Items, such as Rice, Lentils, Quinoa, Sugar
• French Press, so that I can quit making coffee with a saucepan, strainer, and paper towel
• Tea Kettle, so that I can make hot water in something other than a saucepan
  
• Nutritional Yeast
• Laundry Detergent
• Bookshelves
• Air Mattress
• Couch-like object
• Laptop-Television Converter

Things I Did Today:

• Sleep in
• Go on a Date Walking through Central Park
• Eat Sushi with Pickle Squash (mmmm)
• Scrub for 2 hours in the Kitchen
• Discover my Debit Card has Mysterious Charges
• Not my Laundry
• Look for an Affordable Air Mattress

I really feel as though I'm settling in to New York. I'm starting to get a feeling for where the good grocery stores are, how long it takes to get places, and which lines to take on the subway. Yesterday I worked for the first time since moving, which was moste excellente, especially considering how poor I am.

I was working for a lady on Staten Island. I placed an ad on Craigslist looking for nanny work, and what I found instead was work as a Personal Care Assistant. Basically, I accompanied Carolyn all day, drove her van, and ensured that her wheelchair was securely fastened when it needed to be. She also went to Manhattan School of Music (many years ago) so we had much to discuss, which made the day all the more pleasant.

I will continue to work for Carolyn on an irregular basis (including this saturday, when I will drive in Manhattan for the first time!), and it will most likely in the future also involve her children. I'm so incredibly grateful for pleasant income. Truly.

It's time to get ready for bed, as I have a meeting with the registrar in the morning to finalize my schedule!

I'm very excited.

Weekend Events

I thought I'd share about my weekend, seeing as I had been feeling quite melancholy/pensive/gloomy about New York during much of my last week.

My weekend was pretty fantastic, actually. Friday night my housemate, Doug, came home from Michigan. In case I haven't already explained, Doug is from my hometown. With him came Amber, a very lovable canine who shares our apartment. There was a dramatic thunderstorm that night, which kept me from sleeping. I stayed up until around 6 am, surfing the internet and listening to rain. *yawns* Saturday I had a required piano placement exam, which completely embarrassed me and emphasized the fact that it has been 10 years since I studied instead of the fact that I studied for 10 years.

The MOST EXCITING THING that happened during the day on Saturday, though, was that I got my. . .



. . .



(wait for it)



. . .

Library Card!!

I was standing amidst the cd collection stacks in the library on Broadway at 113th, and I got so excited that I actually had a little pinch whenever I breathed. I think that this may have been the turning moment for me in New York.

I love the library so much. It's a deep, supreme sort of love. Besides that fact that I get to take things home and use them for free, which is awesome, the very concept of the library is absolutely radical. Libraries provide free knowledge to the public. Access to any available knowledge- Completely free, without regards to class, creed, orientation, gender, age, ability, etc. Libraries are funded by the state for the betterment of the people. God, I love the library. I'm so excited about the library at this moment that I can't even construct a clear description of why I love the library so much, on an ideological level. Therefore, I'll leave it at that.

At any rate, I got my library card and proceeded to borrow some cds and movies (I'm in the middle of a book already). Movies: Bollywood/Hollywood, La Chinoise, Talk to Me, and Persuasion (which happens to be one of my favorite Austens). I immediately watched 'Persuasion', which I of course loved. I then set out for Brooklyn for dinner, wine, and a movie with my friend Candace.

I brought two bottles of Recession Wine, Candace bought Vegetarian Chinese Take-Out, and we sat on the floor of her new apartment, watching 'Talk to Me' with frequent breaks for cards or talking or more wine. We ultimately stayed up until around 4 am listening to music and discussing everything from our moves (Candace is a friend from the Bay Area, who also just moved to NY) to romantic entanglements to Jay-Z.

In the morning, I trekked back to Manhattan, which I must say is quite a trek. At least to the upper west side. Getting from my apartment to Candace's was similar to the commute I was used to in SF when traveling from SF to Oakland. Saturday night my timing was awesome, and it took about 55 minutes, but Sunday morning, it took much closer to 90. I had intended to visit ABC No Rio on the Lower East Side to join in Food Not Bombs, but after showering, getting ready, and running to the Subway, I discovered that I had left my Metrocard in my jeans pocket. I was to meet friends by 3, so I decided to wait until next weekend to try FNB.

At 3 my friends Richard and Hilding came by in their trusty Volvo and picked me up for an afternoon at the beach. We drove out to Fort Tilden and Breezy Point, a drive that took maybe an hour? It was amazing, as these places are part of NYC, but they are so remote and so removed that one feels as though one is far, far away, in some beach resort town. We picnicked on the beach, H & R went swimming, I dipped my feet in (surprisingly warm!), and then we headed back to the city.

We ended up driving all the way through Brooklyn instead of taking the Highway, which was very scenic, in terms of orientating oneself to a new area. Brooklyn is so unbelievably huge. When we got back to Manhattan, R & H invited me over for dinner at their apartment.

Richard cooked a delicious Swiss pie sort of concoction- filo dough filled with Cheese, Cheese, Heavy Whipping Cream, and Egg. Mmmmmmm. . . And we had a salad and a few beers, after which we proceeded to discuss such things as whether prostitution ought to be legalized, what the purpose of its illegality is, victimization, the difference between homosexual prostitution and heterosexual prostitution in personal opinion, rape and its definition, a possible re-framing of consent as seeking active consent and its implications on the legal definition of rape (much of this within the confines of the Swedish legal system), and of course, our respective summer vacations.

I had a brilliant time, and left to go home around 11.30. At this point, I saw the M4 pass a block and a half away. I ought to have run after it, but I stupidly assumed there would be another one in due time.

After 50 minutes of waiting on Madison at 64th, I gave up, and began an alternate and tedious route. I took the following: M66 to the 6; the 6 to the M96; the M96 crosstown. I then walked 10 blocks home. Grrrrr. . . it was after 1 AM by the time I reached my apartment. *grumblegrumble*

Which brings me to one final rant. As I was walking home last night, I felt generally safe. It was late, but I knew where I was, the neighborhoods I was in were all relatively safe, and I was awake and aware of my surroundings. That being said, I was quite pissed off by a group of young men in my neighborhood. On Columbus, about 5 blocks from my apartment, I noticed three guys standing on the sidewalk, hanging out. I actually prepared myself in case they decided to have a friendly little chat with a single woman walking home at 1 in the morning. (I'm learning that every time I pass a man, especially a group of men, on the street, I must brace myself. It is incredibly irritating, and I'm sure I'll blog about this some other time)

Sure enough, I pass by and one of the guys steps out and says,

"Hey there, Big Girl-"

"Fuck you."

Now, I have never responded to someone I don't know in such a manner. However, the rules of this world definitely imply, and he ought to know, that he has no right to talk to a single female walking down the street at that time of night. I'm in self-preservation mode. I'm going to tell him to fuck off.

"I see you've got your determined walk"

"Yep"

It felt damn good to respond with a bit of fire, I have to say. Damn Empowering.

I made it home, finished some computer things, and went to sleep. This place is beginning to feel like home.


Currently Reading: Male and Female