Boating

The word "boating" is kinda pretentious. Well, I went boating. My friend's, friend's friend has a sailboat. So there we were at the marina, handing our big tote bags to strangers who hauled them on-board before helping us over the gap onto the wobbly rocking boat.

Then it was a blur of males with penny loafers and white pants were everywhere. Saw some sweaters, some polos, and it occured to me -- oh, that's why JCrew catalogs look like that. ooooh. hmmmm.

Some shirts with anchors on them, some blue and white stripped shirts. Um...hmmm. "Muffy, dahling, we must find the ice bucket for this champagne." Okay, so no one said that. and not everyone was wearing white. But champagne was in attendance.

I'd never been on a sail boat before. When it rocks, sometimes it feels like you're about to slip over the side, which is pretty scary. You can only see your feet, and the water.

Where there's smoke...

The sign that reads "chilling" was hanging outside my door as I talked on the phone Sunday evening(yeah, I have twitter-style signs that inform my roomates of my activities).

Someone buzzes. I answer, but they say nothing. They buzz again. Still nothing. I go back to talking on the phone.

Then I hear the stairwell door burst open and a voice yells, "The building's on fire! Get out! Fire on the second floor!" Then the voice fades and I hear him run back to the stairwell.

Within about two heartbeats I've decided my best bet is to follow his advice, as I'm picturing flames billowing up from below. I decide to use the few seconds that I would normally use to think over the situation, to instead get the hell out. I'm not risking giving the flames any chance to grow larger.

I scurry down the three flights, which force you into the basement and then one flight up back to the first floor and run out. Once outside, I notice I'm holding my cell phone and purse and wearing shoes, so all is well.

There are about 15 people all standing on the street, one boy in a bathrobe. Neighbors from the apartments next door sticking their heads out the window and yelling down questions about what the heck is going on. This is um, amusing? I'm not sure what to think.

There is definitely smoke billowing up from the second floor balcony. I cross the street, just in case anything explodes, and as I stand against a fence, three firetrucks and an ambulance pull up.

A guy hops out and runs to the fire hydrant. Before I can wonder what he's about to do, water is pouring into the street after he's twirled that stick thing around a few times.

Everyone's attention on the ground is focused on the smoke-covered second floor balcony. Then we can see something behind the smoke? What is it? It's a guy in a black shirt.

The guy on the second floor saunters out casually and stands in the smoke. He looks out, confused, as about 20 or 30 of us stare at him from the ground, and 3 firetrucks and am ambulance, all staring at this guy, who -- it is now obvious -- is grilling on a BBQ. Some girl behind him starts to come out and then retreats back.

Meanwhile, ax-holding fire fighters have already rushed into the building and within seconds the dumb-founded guy is surrounded with firehelmets and axes as they search for fire. Nope, it's just a grill. This must be the most embarassing date this guy has ever planned. "Hey baby, come over and I'll grill you a steak," turns into...well, her hiding in the other room as the fireman trudge through (all speculation).

The hydrant's lid is put back on. The grill fire put out. All the dissapointed firemen slowly start to put their axes and supplies back onto the truck.

I decide I might as well go over to the bank, as I just told someone on craigslist I'm going to walk over and get an air conditioner. So I pass by the 3 still-waiting firetrucks, but it's dark so I can't tell if any are cute.

I get the money and walk about 3.5 blocks to a strangers apartment, go in and there's an asian guy and 60+ pound AC. He offers to help lug it back to my place, thank God, as there is absolutely no way I'm getting it home otherwise. With both of us carrying it, he has to take 2 breaks on the way to rest. He's a bit dainty -- super nice guy though -- and I end up being the one to have to walk backwards. We pass about 3 super cute restaurants where people are dining outside and watch us, amused, as we lug this enormous air conditioner through the East Village at 10pm. Only in New York. The thing is also dripping water like crazy.

About a block from my apartment, he asks to stop again. He insists we put it down so he can rest. I now notice that my left hand is covered in blood. I'm more annoyed than anything, because I don't think it's a very big cut at all, feels about like a paper cut. The guy is freaked out and I insist I'm okay and it's just all the blood rushing to it from the weight of the AC on my hand.

So we get to the apartment, manage to get it inside and in the elevator. Once inside, he doesn't help put it in the window, as he has clearly had enough. I thank him a lot, and after seeing the entire bottom of the AC is covered in blood, he asks to wash his hands. I consider telling him I'm not HIV positive or anything, but feel that it would just make him more uncomfortable. So he leaves. I should have taken a picture of my hand because it looked so ridiculous, yet felt fine. I had black grease stuff smeared over (as if I'd worked on a car, which I never have), covered in a layer of blood (as if I had been in a fight, which has also not happened).

When I washed it off it was just three tiny scratches, but they were right on my finger, so I think all the pressure from the AC made it bleed a lot. It doesn't even hurt now, so it's totally fine. So the AC will sit on my floor until I either find someone to help me lift and install it, or until I grow hulk-like strength. Either way.

leaves on trees

The whole scene looked clearer as the air was so crisp, but not quite cold. It looked so familiar, the block by the park. The subway stairs. No longer like an airport, now it was home.

So in the gaps between the leaves on the midnight trees, I felt a glittering intention fly down and fall on my forehead. What will be? I haven’t a clue.

I carried my laptop to the bookstore at union square, read about marketing, wondered about my dreams over a hot chocolate and espresso brownie, as strangers stalked tables and I thought about empires, collapsing and building like ocean waves rising and falling.

Caffeine always makes my mind dream bigger, and I imagined myself speaking foreign languages, hanging bold artworks, and tango-ing with someone dark-haired and mysterious. The Italian country side, sunlight hitting tan shoulders, mixed up with dreams I’ve already been fortunate enough to live. Walking streets with tan trench coats surrounding me in New York rain. Boys with ties under long wool coats saying hello, or saying goodbye, I was glad just to watch it all unfold.

I’m so glad to be here. Still. For better or for worse.

hair dye

I saw three amazing hair cuts today, two bright pink, one red.

One girl had jet black hair with sideswept bangs dyed bright red, against porcelain white skin. It looked so cool. Not goth, or punk, just pretty. Her hair was black, but not unnaturally so and wavy. And her bangs were bright and perfectly matched her red jacket. It looked so cool!

Then another girl had bubble gum pink hair that was cut into a fairly conservative long layered bob. And a girl with olive skin was also rocking the pink hair.

Is this a spring thing? This is the first of the hair dye I've seen. I expected to see this sort of thing a lot more in NYC, but maybe they dye it dull colors for winter?

I saw the Easter Bunny the other day and he was walking along close to Union Square in a huge mob of drone-like weekenders all looking sterotypically New York, like one of those b-roll shots on the news. And in the middle of the heads bobbing up and down as they walk crowd, is the bunny. It made me laugh out loud, and hard as I tried to brush it off, I kept laughing for a bit too long.

Then on the F train is this strange guy wearing shorts and carrying a sports bag. He's talking very loudly and asking a girl for directions to a field. She tells him to get off at 2nd Avenue, and then he starts talking about his day, and the football game and what not, as the blonde introverted girl mostly stares off into space. Then she leaves, he gets up and starts pacing around. This turns into him humming along to his music, and then he is flat out singing -- loudly -- and I think, playing air guitar a bit (as if he has forgotten he is on a train, not in his bedroom surrounded by KISS posters). Some girls walk by trying not to giggle. This is just not standard subway behavior.

Then he walks over close to one of the doors (which is a normal thing people do when anticipating a stop), except he then starts to sway and then breaks out into this sort of dance step (kind of a box step), while singing to himself. I'm trying so hard to not laugh, as are the other subway people, as we look seriously at the floor and pretend no one else is there (as is the usual ettiquette). Then I look up for a second and there is this black woman with tatoos and we notice eachothers tight-lipped smile and both break out laughing. She gives me a look like "this guy is nuts!" It's unusual to see any emotion on the subway, so it was strange.

random stuff

Yesterday was sunny and beautiful. I had coffee and eggs at Sugar cafe on Houston. They open up the entire side of the cafe, which are glass doors that they slide back, so my left arm got tan :)

I went to salsa lesson close to Times Square. I forgot how many tourists are around there. I realized it's not the amount of people in NYC that is annoying, but when they are tourists, it's the equivalent of an entire highway full of people who have only driven on surface streets. Everyones like "merging? What's that? And I think I'll stop right here on the ramp to get out my map." This is how the tourists walk.

In the East Village, or most other parts of the city it is not a problem, because there is almost always room to pass.

The lesson was good, because I really never picked up very much styling or shines and it's an area I want to improve.

I went to my second pick-up soccer game last weekend, but this one ended up being WAY more advanced than the first one. There was only one other girl and she was the organizer and seemed to have professional player tendencies.

There were several over 6'4" World Cup looking guys who moved so quickly it was like a blur, and I'm like, um...I swear I was better at this when I was 10!

Within ten minutes of playing, I got knocked down dangerously close to a mud puddle. I managed to run/fall just past the puddle, where I then rolled (and I didn't even know I knew how to roll). My left arm got a big scrape, but luckily wasn't deep. So needless to say, I did not score 5 goals at that game :) I mostly stared in awe at how quickly the other players could move. How is that possible?

I must have looked ridiculous trying to take the ball from them, as I was always a second too late sticking out my leg, before they dribbled past me, lol. Just imagine a World Cup player, versus me, and you'll get the idea.

I also went to PS1, which is a museum in, well, I think I was in Queens, and it is a part of Moma. It was on feminism. There were some interesting exhibits in there. But I kinda like The Met and Moma better.

I signed up for a much more "beginner" soccer group, so we'll see how that one goes...I've gotten knocked down a total of 3 times from the two "beginner/intermediate games" i.e. pro players that somehow think they are "intermediate." They must be comparing themselves to Beckham or something. Maybe this is like the "fat" supermodels who still weigh 80 pounds? That would be much worse for someone who felt fat, to show up for a group and have ten "fat" supermodels sitting there. Anyway, tangent.