Goodbye, Blue Brooklyn

Some moments last forever
but some flare out with love, love, love
- the mountain goats

this is the view of my normal (as of last week) commute home to Brooklyn on the C train. I'll take a video of the new commute at some point, but it involves only walking, trees, and some incredibly well dressed New Yorkers. After staying away for a couple years in the comfort of Boerum Hill, I'm a West Village resident again.

I'm really going to miss this place.

Lesson #53: Just because you move to a new place or neighborhood doesn't mean it's really goodbye. As my move back to Manhattan attests, I could one day call Brooklyn home again. I've literally gone from living in Brooklyn to Manhattan to Brooklyn to Manhattan again, as of yesterday. It seems I just can't make up my mind, but the great thing is you don't really ever have to.

For now, I'm going to enjoy my Subway-less commute, wonderful addition of a roommate, and lots of new posh, upscale memories to be had (well, probably just new).

say cheese!

(credit to the New Yorker)

"Your life leaves laugh lines, your love leaves bright bruises."

- the Hold Steady

I'm generally a pretty smiley person. I like to laugh and, well, smiling's my favorite.

When I was in high school, a boy I liked once complimented me on my smile by noting it's resemblance to Aerosmith's Stephen Tyler's jagged laugh lines. That was over 10 years ago, and I've grown to love my "imperfections," especially those that I've gained through smiling and being joyful.

However, it seems that this puts me squarely in the minority (and I suppose I should revisit this post in, say, 10 or 15 years).

I read somewhere that women tend to focus on the details, where men focus on the whole picture in terms of what each finds attractive. Maybe that's why some of the obsession with wrinkles and anti-aging has taken off so much, and not a day goes by that I don't see a woman that has poured more money into her face than most people spend on a house.

The thought of not being able to express my emotions fully, and non-verbally, is akin to having a nightmare where no one can hear you yelling and you're stuck in the same place, unable to move.

Lesson #52: I know this seems fairly ridiculous for a 27 year to say, but own your imperfections and the process of aging, even if it's relatively early on in the process. Lots of people have the money and time to "fix" theirs, but when does one draw the line? Beauty is in our imperfections, I truly believe. I suppose being a slave to surgery is an imperfection of sorts. Instead of giving in to the urge to change ourselves, I wish we'd keep it natural and all take a deep breath, smile without thinking about our wrinkles, and pop a Xanax.