Time for a little Spring/Summer moment of gratitude, I think. The past couple weeks have been fairly stellar - lots of new things happening and I can stand to be outside for longer than 15 minutes at a time. That alone is reason enough to give thanks to the universe.
1. The M15 Bus.
Yes, I realize I've lived in the same apartment, with the same public transportation options, for 2 years. Of course, as I am about to leave said apartment, I discover the true joy of the M15 Select Bus, which runs up First Avenue. Now that it's consistently beautiful outside, I never want to take the subway, which served as a shelter (albeit a dirty one, more often than not reeking of something I couldn't and didn't want to identify) from the cold in the winter.
Anyway, I want to see the trees, sun, and the wonders of the East River on my commute home. Not the dank, barely lit confines of the R train. So, thanks, M15 bus - for at least another week. Then, it's on to the M4.
2. Emily Giffin.
I'm the first to admit that I'm a complete and utter snob when it comes to books. If a book is widely commercially popular (The Kite Runner, Water for Elephants, The DaVinci Code), I will not read it. I'm not proud. It's just the way I am. This sentiment is times two for the shudder-inducing literary genre known as "chick lit." Books like "Sex and the City" and "Bridget Jones's Diary" were awesome and groundbreaking, but spawned a new generation of books that ultimately did a huge disservice to women writers and readers, in my opinion (insert Barnard joke here).
Anyway, my point - all of these sentiments kept me far, far away from Emily Giffin - writer of Something Borrowed, Something Blue, etc. However, people kept recommending them to me, saying the books were actually smart. Yes, they were fun, somewhat superficial reads, but not the kind of disconnected fluff found in typical "chick lit." So, after reading several offerings of straight literary fiction (Swamplandia!, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Both Ways is the Only Way I Want It), I decided to take the plunge. I wanted something fun, a little mindless, and compulsively readable. Which is exactly what I got. These books have kind of taken over my life. They're like candy. Candy that kept me up until 2 am last night.
3. My Mom.
Because she is a wizard of interior decoration and has helped turn my miniscule new apartment into something not just livable, but adorable. Plus, she's driving all my new furniture to the city and helping me move in. And she just sent me cute shoes in the mail. Thanks, Mom!
4. Memorial Day Weekend.
No explanation needed.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Poem/Procrastination
I'm working on a few different posts right now, but between working, packing, cleaning, traveling to and from New Jersey, and editing my brother's History essay, they have all been mercilessly shoved to the back burner. So, in an effort to not let the blog go dark, I am going to share this poem that was shared with me about a month or so ago by my delightful friend and fellow bibliophile Erin.
It's entitled "Late Poem" and the epigraph is from Nabokov (one of my favorite Russians, of whom there are many), specifically Ada, or Ardor. The poem is by Cynthia Zarin. I wasn't familiar with her before reading this, but have since become seriously enamored with her poetry.
It's entitled "Late Poem" and the epigraph is from Nabokov (one of my favorite Russians, of whom there are many), specifically Ada, or Ardor. The poem is by Cynthia Zarin. I wasn't familiar with her before reading this, but have since become seriously enamored with her poetry.
Late Poem
" . . . a matter of changing a slide in a magic lantern."
I wish we were Indians and ate foie gras
and drove a gas-guzzler
and never wore seat belts
I'd have a baby, yours, cette fois,
and I'd smoke Parliaments
and we'd drink our way through the winter
in spring the baby would laugh at the moon
who is her father and her mother who is his pool
and we'd walk backwards and forwards
in lizard-skin cowboy boots
and read Gilgamesh and Tintin aloud
I'd wear only leather or feathers
plucked from endangered birds and silk
from exploited silkworms
we'd read The Economist
it would be before and after the internet
I'd send you letters by carrier pigeons
who would only fly from one window
to another in our drafty, gigantic house
with twenty-three uninsulated windows
and the dog would be always be
off his leash and always
find his way home as we will one day
and we'd feed small children
peanut butter and coffee in their milk
and I'd keep my hand glued under your belt
even while driving and cooking
and no one would have our number
except I would have yours where I've kept it
carved on the sole of my stiletto
which I would always wear when we walked
in the frozen and dusty wood
and we would keep warm by bickering
and falling into bed perpetually and
entirely unsafely as all the best things are
—your skin and my breath on it.
Forgive me for going completely "Barnard" on this one, but I think it encapsulates so perfectly what femininity is, without being flowery or overdone. It's romantic and sexy and real, all at once. Very interesting to juxtapose with the fact that I saw Bridesmaids yesterday.
Hopefully this will fend off my guilt at not writing anything original in the past month. My brain will produce something usable soon, I promise.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Business Time
As much as I wish it were, this post is not a musing on the Flight of the Conchords masterpiece, "Business Time." Although, if you'd like a little bit of that in your life (and when wouldn't you?), you can click here.
The real point of this post focuses on the 40+ hours we all spend at work each week. I'm currently in the middle of a very smart book given to me on Easter - Women, Work and the Art of Savoir Faire by Mirielle Guiliano, of French Women Don't Get Fat fame. Before this book, I only thought of this woman as author of a book that prescribes a two-week regimen of nothing but leek soup to drop pounds quickly. I love leeks, but, gross.
However, as I quickly learned, she is kind of a rock star. She was brought in to run Veuve Clicquot's US operations back in the 80s and took the champagne brand from owning 1% of the US sparkling wine market to 25%. Plus, I love a strong woman who can write refreshingly about both working hard and relishing the finer things in life (like a bottle of Veuve, an affordable luxury).
Anyway, one the favorite little tips I've come across thus far is the SWOT test, which stands for
For those of us who have (somewhat) recently graduated from college, the "new normal", at least as I've found it, has been life without a predetermined or even clear next step, the way there is when you're in school or any type of program working towards a clear goal. When the goals are things like happiness and fulfillment, the steps to get there can seem murky or easy to miss.
I've been giving these kinds of things a lot of thought recently. One of the things that became so clear to me in Paris, talking to all the different sorts of people we met, is that there are so many different and diverse paths to leading full, satisfying, interesting, happy lives. There's no right answer for how to live - kind of wonderful and overwhelming at the same time, right?
Ok, I'm going to finish ranting and clean some more. Sigh. Look forward to a Spring Cleaning update soon - complete with embarassing "before" photos and hopefully less embarassing "after" ones. Xo.
The real point of this post focuses on the 40+ hours we all spend at work each week. I'm currently in the middle of a very smart book given to me on Easter - Women, Work and the Art of Savoir Faire by Mirielle Guiliano, of French Women Don't Get Fat fame. Before this book, I only thought of this woman as author of a book that prescribes a two-week regimen of nothing but leek soup to drop pounds quickly. I love leeks, but, gross.
However, as I quickly learned, she is kind of a rock star. She was brought in to run Veuve Clicquot's US operations back in the 80s and took the champagne brand from owning 1% of the US sparkling wine market to 25%. Plus, I love a strong woman who can write refreshingly about both working hard and relishing the finer things in life (like a bottle of Veuve, an affordable luxury).
Anyway, one the favorite little tips I've come across thus far is the SWOT test, which stands for
- Strengths
- Weaknesses
- Opportunities
- Threats
For those of us who have (somewhat) recently graduated from college, the "new normal", at least as I've found it, has been life without a predetermined or even clear next step, the way there is when you're in school or any type of program working towards a clear goal. When the goals are things like happiness and fulfillment, the steps to get there can seem murky or easy to miss.
I've been giving these kinds of things a lot of thought recently. One of the things that became so clear to me in Paris, talking to all the different sorts of people we met, is that there are so many different and diverse paths to leading full, satisfying, interesting, happy lives. There's no right answer for how to live - kind of wonderful and overwhelming at the same time, right?
Ok, I'm going to finish ranting and clean some more. Sigh. Look forward to a Spring Cleaning update soon - complete with embarassing "before" photos and hopefully less embarassing "after" ones. Xo.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Moving on (Farther) Up
Hi friends,
Since Paris (which, especially upon reading this article, I am dying to return to. I think I'll just read Ines de la Fressange's book instead - more economical), I have been very lax about the blog (apologies), but there has been a lot going on.
Perhaps most importantly, I've signed a lease on my first solo apartment! I am so excited!
This entire experience has been a complete whirlwind, so I will attempt to break it down for you. My roommate, who is an intellectual badass, is leaving New York when our lease is up August 1 to attend the University of Chicago. This, coupled with the fact that I've been wanting to summon up the courage to find my own place, led me to start trolling the internet for inexpensive studio apartments. This mostly consisted of absentminded searches on Craigslist and other no-fee rental websites, but, since I didn't see myself moving for another two or three months, I wasn't starting to freak out yet.
As you may have guessed, that did not last long. A week ago, I checked CitiHabitats, just for kicks, since they usually don't have much in the price range I was looking for. And then, it happened. I found the most adorable, excellently located little enclave of a pre-war apartment with street-facing windows, ten foot ceilings, and a bathroom that wasn't in the hallway outside. Open House today from 6-6:30? Don't mind if I do.
So, in the half hour window I had between leaving work and going to babysit, I went to the apartment and found that it was not, in fact, too good to be true. It sounds strange, but even in the five or ten minutes I spent in this admittedly little space, I could tell that if I didn't jump on it I was going to be very sorry.
Long story short, after much agonizing, much appreciated parental support (both fiscal and emotional), and filling out an endless amount of forms, I signed the lease. I move in June 1, and could not be happier (aside from the nagging stress of finding a sublet for my current room). It sounds ridiculous, but I really feel that this new living situation might change my life in less than obvious ways. We shall see.
I'm showing the apartment to my mother (real estate wizard and interior decorator extraordinaire, thank god) next week, so maybe I'll take some photos of my new little home.
Now, it's back to work. XO
PS. On a completely different and somber note, I've been looking at the photos taken by the two photographers killed in Libya yesterday. The New York Times photo blog has some really excellent collections. Also, this article on the aftermath of their deaths is unvarnished and truly moving. I've been so caught up with my own issues lately, which seem pretty insignificant in comparison to this kind of senseless loss. It's so important and hard to try to keep things in perspective.
Since Paris (which, especially upon reading this article, I am dying to return to. I think I'll just read Ines de la Fressange's book instead - more economical), I have been very lax about the blog (apologies), but there has been a lot going on.
Perhaps most importantly, I've signed a lease on my first solo apartment! I am so excited!
This entire experience has been a complete whirlwind, so I will attempt to break it down for you. My roommate, who is an intellectual badass, is leaving New York when our lease is up August 1 to attend the University of Chicago. This, coupled with the fact that I've been wanting to summon up the courage to find my own place, led me to start trolling the internet for inexpensive studio apartments. This mostly consisted of absentminded searches on Craigslist and other no-fee rental websites, but, since I didn't see myself moving for another two or three months, I wasn't starting to freak out yet.
As you may have guessed, that did not last long. A week ago, I checked CitiHabitats, just for kicks, since they usually don't have much in the price range I was looking for. And then, it happened. I found the most adorable, excellently located little enclave of a pre-war apartment with street-facing windows, ten foot ceilings, and a bathroom that wasn't in the hallway outside. Open House today from 6-6:30? Don't mind if I do.
So, in the half hour window I had between leaving work and going to babysit, I went to the apartment and found that it was not, in fact, too good to be true. It sounds strange, but even in the five or ten minutes I spent in this admittedly little space, I could tell that if I didn't jump on it I was going to be very sorry.
Long story short, after much agonizing, much appreciated parental support (both fiscal and emotional), and filling out an endless amount of forms, I signed the lease. I move in June 1, and could not be happier (aside from the nagging stress of finding a sublet for my current room). It sounds ridiculous, but I really feel that this new living situation might change my life in less than obvious ways. We shall see.
I'm showing the apartment to my mother (real estate wizard and interior decorator extraordinaire, thank god) next week, so maybe I'll take some photos of my new little home.
Now, it's back to work. XO
PS. On a completely different and somber note, I've been looking at the photos taken by the two photographers killed in Libya yesterday. The New York Times photo blog has some really excellent collections. Also, this article on the aftermath of their deaths is unvarnished and truly moving. I've been so caught up with my own issues lately, which seem pretty insignificant in comparison to this kind of senseless loss. It's so important and hard to try to keep things in perspective.
Friday, April 8, 2011
6 Things I've Learned From My Recent Voyage
1. Pigeons are rats with wings, and should never be fed by humans. That being said, I should probably stop audibly shrieking when one comes within 5 feet of me.
2. No texting or phone usage of any kind for 12 days is both liberating and a little bizarre, like wearing shoes without socks.
3. There is now boxed wine for sale in Paris. I found this deeply unsettling, as if someone was playing a decidedly unfunny prank on me. Come on, you guys, knock it off.
4. Independent bookstores are the best, no matter where in the world you are.
5. Despite what the British man pouring it tells you, apple brandy is not delicious and should be avoided at all costs.
6. Ripped jeans, even intentionally ripped jeans, are not acceptable while in Paris, ever. People will taunt you.
2. No texting or phone usage of any kind for 12 days is both liberating and a little bizarre, like wearing shoes without socks.
3. There is now boxed wine for sale in Paris. I found this deeply unsettling, as if someone was playing a decidedly unfunny prank on me. Come on, you guys, knock it off.
4. Independent bookstores are the best, no matter where in the world you are.
5. Despite what the British man pouring it tells you, apple brandy is not delicious and should be avoided at all costs.
6. Ripped jeans, even intentionally ripped jeans, are not acceptable while in Paris, ever. People will taunt you.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Back in the USA
Is it weird that, while typing the title of this post, I got "Back in the USSR" stuck in my head? I'm thinking the jet lag has spread to my brain. Yikes.
Anyway, I have arrived, safe and sound, back in New York. My head is still swimming with the events of the last 12 days. It was definitely a completely new experience for me, in a city I know well, which is interesting in a lot of ways. As I mentioned briefly before, we approached speaking French very differently this time around. When we were students, going out in the city and speaking French with Parisians often seems like a sort of test or gauge of how well you're assimilating, how much you're learning, etc. Though it shouldn't be, it can get stressful. During this visit, we just sort of went for it, speaking the language without getting too hung up on grammar, noun and adjective agreement. And, probably unsurprisingly, it wasn't badly received. People actually told us we spoke well (this might have something to do with being a pair of 23 year old girls, but I choose to believe it's our grasp of the French language). Either way, it felt great - like I could at least keep up socially and I actually understood a lot of the conversations I found myself in. Also, being a bit older than I was while studying in Paris, the kinds of people I ended up speaking to were different, more mature (mostly), and had more interesting paths and life stories to tell.
I'm now chronicling all these people in little portraits before they leave my mind - it's a fun way to extend the trip, at least mentally, for a little while longer.
Speaking of portraits, all of my posts from Paris have now been made a little brighter with photos! I've also added some of me and Maeve below, and, if you'd like to look at all the pictures I took in one place, you can click here.
It's bittersweet, but I'm glad to be back on home soil (and to have a cell phone I can use again). I'm convinced - travel is the best gift you can give yourself.
Xo.
Anyway, I have arrived, safe and sound, back in New York. My head is still swimming with the events of the last 12 days. It was definitely a completely new experience for me, in a city I know well, which is interesting in a lot of ways. As I mentioned briefly before, we approached speaking French very differently this time around. When we were students, going out in the city and speaking French with Parisians often seems like a sort of test or gauge of how well you're assimilating, how much you're learning, etc. Though it shouldn't be, it can get stressful. During this visit, we just sort of went for it, speaking the language without getting too hung up on grammar, noun and adjective agreement. And, probably unsurprisingly, it wasn't badly received. People actually told us we spoke well (this might have something to do with being a pair of 23 year old girls, but I choose to believe it's our grasp of the French language). Either way, it felt great - like I could at least keep up socially and I actually understood a lot of the conversations I found myself in. Also, being a bit older than I was while studying in Paris, the kinds of people I ended up speaking to were different, more mature (mostly), and had more interesting paths and life stories to tell.
I'm now chronicling all these people in little portraits before they leave my mind - it's a fun way to extend the trip, at least mentally, for a little while longer.
Speaking of portraits, all of my posts from Paris have now been made a little brighter with photos! I've also added some of me and Maeve below, and, if you'd like to look at all the pictures I took in one place, you can click here.
It's bittersweet, but I'm glad to be back on home soil (and to have a cell phone I can use again). I'm convinced - travel is the best gift you can give yourself.
Xo.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Days 9 & 10 - Fin
Sigh. We have to leave tomorrow. Can't believe it. I'm obviously so sad to go, but it's been an amazing trip, very different from the time I spent here three years ago, in the best of ways.
To recap: Yesterday was very chill, as it was Sunday and no one in France really does anything except go to church and eat on Sundays. We basically walked from one end of the Left Bank to the other - from where we are in the 5th to where we used to be in the 7th, back to our old haunt, Au Chien Qui Fume. We walked up this beautiful street, rue du Cherche Midi, and it was so empty I swear you could a pin drop (I hate cliches, but it's true). It was cloudy and cold, a huge switch from our glorious Saturday, but I actually think Paris might look best when skies are grey and it's raining a bit. We essentially set up camp there for a few hours - reading, writing, laughing about all of our adventures, and then retraced our steps back into the 6th.
Maeve wanted to check out the Delacroix museum, tucked away behind the St Germain church (next to the tourist trap of Cafes de Flore and des Deux Magots). Not only was it open, but ended up being free on Sundays. It was such a nice little detour. Plus, Delacroix? Kind of a fox. You learn something new every day. Last night we spent some time in with treats from the boulangerie and watching French television, which is hilarious and sometimes a little frightening in it's craziness. We were delighted to find American Beauty, dubbed in French, and Suddenly Last Summer (part of an Elizabeth Taylor marathon).
Today was a lot of wandering, soaking up as much of the city as possible. We walked to the Ile St Louis in the morning and got into conversation with a man who had just arrived in Paris from Libya, where he monitored human rights violations. I don't I've ever seen someone so shellshocked. He said it felt like being in Oz, which definitely made sense. We walked over to the right bank, back to some favorite spots in the Marais, and then, when it got really cold, we hopped on the Metro back to the 5th. We spent the rest of the late afternoon in the outdoor cafe at the Mosque, with our tea and hookah and aggressive pigeons (I ended up kicking and swatting at them beyond what was normal or appropriate). We just packed (sob), and tonight we'll have a little picnic while we glorify in front of the Eiffel Tower. I can't wait to see it sparkle up close!
Can't believe I have to return to my real life tomorrow. As always, Paris has been magnifique.
Xo.
To recap: Yesterday was very chill, as it was Sunday and no one in France really does anything except go to church and eat on Sundays. We basically walked from one end of the Left Bank to the other - from where we are in the 5th to where we used to be in the 7th, back to our old haunt, Au Chien Qui Fume. We walked up this beautiful street, rue du Cherche Midi, and it was so empty I swear you could a pin drop (I hate cliches, but it's true). It was cloudy and cold, a huge switch from our glorious Saturday, but I actually think Paris might look best when skies are grey and it's raining a bit. We essentially set up camp there for a few hours - reading, writing, laughing about all of our adventures, and then retraced our steps back into the 6th.
Maeve wanted to check out the Delacroix museum, tucked away behind the St Germain church (next to the tourist trap of Cafes de Flore and des Deux Magots). Not only was it open, but ended up being free on Sundays. It was such a nice little detour. Plus, Delacroix? Kind of a fox. You learn something new every day. Last night we spent some time in with treats from the boulangerie and watching French television, which is hilarious and sometimes a little frightening in it's craziness. We were delighted to find American Beauty, dubbed in French, and Suddenly Last Summer (part of an Elizabeth Taylor marathon).
Today was a lot of wandering, soaking up as much of the city as possible. We walked to the Ile St Louis in the morning and got into conversation with a man who had just arrived in Paris from Libya, where he monitored human rights violations. I don't I've ever seen someone so shellshocked. He said it felt like being in Oz, which definitely made sense. We walked over to the right bank, back to some favorite spots in the Marais, and then, when it got really cold, we hopped on the Metro back to the 5th. We spent the rest of the late afternoon in the outdoor cafe at the Mosque, with our tea and hookah and aggressive pigeons (I ended up kicking and swatting at them beyond what was normal or appropriate). We just packed (sob), and tonight we'll have a little picnic while we glorify in front of the Eiffel Tower. I can't wait to see it sparkle up close!
Can't believe I have to return to my real life tomorrow. As always, Paris has been magnifique.
Xo.
Location:Rue de la Clef,Paris,France
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