Trust jam

A couple years ago, I went on a lovely trip to Copenhagen.

One highlight of the trip was taking a train and walking past houses en route to Louisiana, the art museum (see photo above for the scenic landscape). While walking, we came across a beautiful home with an inviting, open mailbox. The mailbox contained several jars of homemade jam, painstakingly crafted and labeled. There was also note explaining how the jam was made, a price, and a jar to place money in if one wanted to make a purchase. At first, I couldn't believe how quaint it felt. There had to be hundreds of visitors walking by each day. I assumed they got ripped off on the daily and felt sorry for them, like someone should teach them common sense and how to run a business.

Later in the trip, we sat out for beers at an outdoor bar in the square. It was starting to get cold, and one of the employees walked over to a stack of blankets that were brought outside. He didn't bolt up the extras or bring them inside for safe-keeping, but left them out. Patrons grabbed blankets as they needed then returned them afterwards. No one took any, as far as I could tell.

Once I was expecting to see it, I was primed for seeing it all around; there were small examples of trust and kindness everywhere I looked. When I got back to NYC, I stopped looking for it and allowed my expectations to shift downward. While the per capita Trust Jam in NYC is lower than places like Copenhagen (in my humble and only semi-informed opinion), it still exists. But if you don't allow yourself to see it, you'll continue thinking that New Yorkers are, on the whole, jerks and only in it for themselves.

Lesson #66: Each of us has the ability to impart Trust Jam on those around us. When asked for directions, I can answer with a nod and be on my way, or I can give directions with a smile and a "have a nice day." When I see someone injured on the street, I can walk away to ensure my safety or I can wait until the assailant moves on and go back to see if I can help (true and recent story; though I reallllly wanted to walk away, I didn't - the poor 20 year old kid had blood coming out of his mouth after getting punched twice by a random dude asking him for money. Maybe if I was a large man I might take the chance to try to break up a fight but I know my stature isn't exactly imposing). After all, Trust Jam is not just the people who don't screw you over, but the people who take a chance on being kind in the first place.

New rat city

You know it's time for a vacation when you and your yoga instructor swap horror stories about the rat invasions in the east village, then instead of departing with a solemn "Namaste," you wish her a merry and rat-free day.

And with that, we're off to sunshine, hikes, nature, and animals that aren't rats. I love this city, but damn it feels good to leave.

Lesson #65: there's nothing funnier than watching someone waiting for brunch at Prune spot a rat scurrying inches away from an omelet. One thing I've learned is that there are no dainty mice on the east side, only the hardiest of rats. Maybe they're slowing down the gentrification of the east village? Nah, it'd take rats in someone's omelet to do that.

Us v. them

It's not just a fantastic song. It's more of a philosophy of which I'm becoming acutely aware. For the first few years living in NYC, I embraced the anonymity and loved feeling like one in so many millions. I don't know exactly what's changed; maybe I've grown softer with age, maybe it's because I'm marrying the coolest dude and it turns me into a sap when I think about it, and maybe it's just more exhausting to put up walls than just be a person. Being lonely amongst millions is tough work. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying feeling a little more connected to NYC, the neighborhood, and most importantly the people in it.

I've learned first hand that you can choose either end of the anonymous v. warmth spectrum, find somewhere in between, or waver between them. There's a coldness to people here (and anywhere) if you're looking for it, or a warmth if you're willing to try a little harder. Either way is fine, but I've talked a lot less about leaving New York now that I'm further on the warmer side of the equation. My happiness still ebbs and flows, so I don't think this has much to do with it, but I'm a little more comfortable with it and worry less about happiness itself, which tends to make me the slightest bit happier. Besides, a man much more eloquent and absurd than I once said, "You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life." (Camus)

Lesson #64: open yourself up a little and find the warmth in others, or at least recognize when you're ignoring it. Oh, and happy holidays :)

To Roosevelt Island...and beyond

Where does the time go?!

I suppose every journal, diary, and other blog I've written in has had a dark period, so it's only fitting that I have one here too.

You might think that in the last 10 months, I've become so much of a New Yorker that I don't need to outline all the mistakes I've made because there have been so damn few. You would be mistaken. Today alone, for example, I spilled half a water bottle on myself while talking with a teammate, almost impaled someone with my umbrella getting off the subway, and used a pen to put my hair up because I forgot a hair tie, getting ink on my scalp in several spots.

All of that goes to say, I still feel like pretty much the same painfully (and happily) midwestern girl that moved here almost 5 years ago. And while the mistakes I've made have decreased in number, slightly, I'm still navigating what feels like a new world many days.

Ever since arriving here years ago, I'd heard of a mystical island in the city, only accessible by tram (at least on weekends, when the godforsaken F train is rerouted). Having grown up with Cedar Point (and it's lesser, closer alternative, Michigan's Adventure), there's little more I loved than roller coasters. So I figured that getting to Roosevelt Island by tram would be pretty much like riding the Top Thrill Dragster, or at least the Raptor.

Turns out it was a little less turbulent and fun than a roller coaster, but the view was stunning and an altogether new experience. Here's my dad and I taking in the view on the tram (and a short video of it here):

(I only wish my parents would visit more often and ride trams with me)

Which leads me to...

Lesson #63 in moving to a big city: take note of all the places you'd like to see, and then see them. Stop making excuses about it and waiting for the right time. The number of people I know that haven't walked the boardwalk at Coney Island, checked out the view from the Brooklyn Promenade, or even set foot in Queens (you know it's a part of NYC, right?) is high, and I've fallen victim too. If several people have told you how cool something is, go see it and quickly. You never know when a great spot will close down and you'll never get the chance to see it in all it's glory.

I just still haven't been told anything compelling to do on Staten Island. I'm really open to visiting, and not just because it's the poor mans booze cruise, which is also kind of cool. Please, someone tell me what to do there.

Cleanliness next to Godliness, seat 12E

As I sat on the runway yesterday, I realized that it was 4 years exactly since I sat on a similar runway, awaiting life in NYC after moving from Michigan. (I have some deep, poignant thoughts on the past 4 years, but for a later time).

My clothing, however, was decidedly more frumpy this time than the last. After traveling in Colombia for 10 days, I had worn everything already, so I wore the least wrinkly of the bunch.

Not a big deal. But it also would have taken 30 seconds to pack an extra clean shirt and would've made the journey a bit more enjoyable. There's also something really nice about realizing you've thought ahead and want to make your future self more comfortable (also the reason I feel nice about putting $$ into my 401k).

Lesson #62: If you can, save a clean shirt, socks, & underwear to wear on a return trip home. Pack them in a separate compartment so you don't even remember you have and accidentally wear them prematurely, if that's what it takes. You will appreciate traveling with the small luxury of wearing something fresh, and others around you will as well. The other option is just to do laundry on your trip. I will spare you an explanation of how fashion-conscious New Yorkers are, but it is nice after being away several days to at least manage to at least wear a clean outfit (even if a giant backpack offsets anything cool looking about it).

And whether or not it's fashionable, I take this seriously: "I base most of my fashion sense on what doesn't itch."  -Gilda Radner.

hammock dreams about colombia, not clean clothes.

look ma, no makeup!

“The most beautiful makeup of a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy.”
― Yves Saint-Laurent

In trying to think less about my appearance, I actually feel quite vain writing a post on my own makeup habits.

But here goes.

This past Monday, I didn't wear makeup to work for the first time in a long time, maybe ever (as an adult at least). Sure, I have plenty of weekends and vacations where nothing touches my face, other than SPF 30, but the thought of going to work without at least a touch of makeup seemed beyond strange.

Logistically, I saved minutes in the morning, rubbed my eyes as often as I pleased without worrying about smearing anything, and let my hair get as wavy as it wanted. I kept feeling like I was forgetting something all morning, though, and it helped me realize just how ingrained my morning routine was.

But most importantly, it felt really good. A little vulnerable but also clearer, somehow. By Tuesday, I was kind of relieved to put on a little concealer + mascara (+ bronzer and blush, if you must know), but it was nice knowing that none of it that necessary. I also feel kind of embarrassed by how much I worried about it for the first couple hours - what, is someone going to point out the blemish on my chin or my unadorned lashes?!*

Lesson #61: people care a lot less about how you look than you probably expect. But ultimately, it's what you think that matters anyway - so if you want to wear makeup, do it! if you want to try a day without it, do it! if you never want to wear it, don't! just don't expect anyone to notice and/or care.

Which hopefully isn't the case for this post. But, being true to this lesson, I don't think it would bother me either way.

And for proof, here is a photo. I also feel silly even posting this but now I'm officially part of #MakeupFreeMondays, at least this once.

here I am, smirking at the fact that I would write about this and also post a photo of it.

*a couple weeks ago, during a leisurely breakfast on vacation, I unknowingly dropped a large gob of grape jelly on my collar bone. The woman sitting next to me pointed it out. Her friend added, "Oh, I saw that but decided not to say anything. I thought it was a birth mark."

luck o' the west village

Tonight, while I picked up groceries on my walk back from work and started noticing how much snow was coming down. Then I heard the faintest sound of Irish bagpipes...

Though my fingers were near frost-bitten, I had to turn the corner and continue towards the music, as if entranced. (maybe the Pied Piper was Irish after all?)

lesson # 60: let your neighborhood surprise you! and by all means, when you hear beautiful traditional bagpipes, stop for a moment and listen.

kickin' habits

Given today is Lent, and the new year started just a few weeks ago (okay, 6 to be exact), I'm thinking a lot about habits and the ones that I'd like to add to my life, as well as those I could probably do without.

Two years ago for Lent I gave up nail biting, and I'm still going strong today. I may not have the most manicured hands in town, but I'm proud to have a little white on the ends. I feel good every time I polish them, remembering how many years and times I thought I was a nail biter for life. I have also mostly stopped touching my mouth and lips when nervous, and both of these habits being broken has resulted in an unexpected side effect: getting sick less frequently. The flu shot and getting more obsessive about hand sanitizer has also helped.

This year, I want to add something. I will meditate daily and try to remove stressors from my life. Starting with Lent, 40 days, but hopefully continuing.

You know what's a big stressor to me, but one that I haven't been able to break? Running late. So so often. It doesn't always bother me, but when it does, it can feel soul crushing and anxiety provoking to say the least. But I learned a small trick to help with at least the traveling part of it, thanks to @seancarlson.

Lesson #59: The worst thing about running late and trying to catch a train is to have insufficient funds on your metro card. You hear the train swooshing past as you curse yourself for your lack of foresight, walk out of line and then defeatedly over to the card kiosk to add funds (hopefully using hand sanitizer afterwards, because even though you missed the train, you don't want to ruin your next week getting ill). What's the alternative? Refilling your metro card as you leave the train station, once you've already gotten to your destination. Even if you're in a rush, it is so much easier to refill your card (when low) as you exit the station than it is as you enter.

The nice thing about this tip is that it takes exactly the same amount of time and requires just a second of proactive thinking to potentially save you a few minutes (as well as stress).

Oh, and happy new year!

the witching hours

I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.
- Vincent Van Gogh

I can't help but reflect on hurricane Sandy this evening, 12/12/12 benefit concert blasting on another tab and my mind exploring the destruction. I feel lucky to have gone through it unscathed and to see how much the community and world is pitching in. That being said, there's so much still to do and it seems that recovery has only just begun. It's all incredibly sobering.

The one thing that still haunts me a bit during the week after Sandy was the power outage in the village and the resulting absolute darkness at night. We were without power Monday-Saturday (like pretty much everyone within a couple mile radius), but we made do by traveling around the city, backpacks full of books, laptops, changes of clothes in case we could shower. The days were interesting, but the nights were just unreal. Seeing total darkness in one of the busiest parts of the city. Dashing across busy streets, sans streets lights or stop lights, hoping the scurrying taxis saw us and cared enough to swerve. Hearing the sounds of voices without faces, and the lone band that congregated to play a few songs in the street.

The energy, though...it didn't leave the village for a second. It's hard to even think about how many people lost so much, but I'm so happy that the spirit of the city seems stronger than ever. My hope is that it only continues and that we all donate/give back what we can to those affected by this disaster.

lesson #58 in moving here: you can never be too grateful.

But speaking of starry nights, look what I got to see a few weeks after the hurricane - this Van Gogh has been in my bedroom at home for probably 10 years and it's currently at the MoMA. Since you still couldn't see the stars from my neighborhood during the power outage because the rest of the city still shone so brightly. Van Gogh's starry depiction will have to do!

Birds of paradise

I've wanted to have a pet bird for a while. Before moving to NYC, I seriously considered adopting one and teaching it to talk/keep me company after getting back from work. I could just bring it with me to my new home, right? Sadly, I came to the realization that even getting a bird is a commitment I wasn't yet ready to make.

Three years later, I'm still sure I made the right choice. But why the hell didn't I buy these bird decals for my wall earlier?!

(updated view, courtesy of Sean and Hurricane Sandy's loss of power)

Lesson #57: you can have it all, even if it's a fake version of it. I don't have 5 birds as pets, but I am reminded daily of how awesome they are on my wall, but without the constantly chirping/screeching reminders. If you can't commit to having a pet, I feel your pain, but don't let it stop you from pretending.