I hate Duane Reade

I frequent Duane Reade often, as it's only three blocks away and is the closest place to buy random stuff. The grocery store is way farther away, the deli costs twice as much.

Duane Reade knows this.

And that is why they sit back and allow the lines to grow to rock concert length before calling up the second cashier. This is why there is a lot of missing stock -- you will never, ever, find black tights here -- ever. And this is why the pharmacy is the way it is.

They know you'll take what you can get, when everything else is far away.

And now for the pharmacy. The pharmacy at Duane Reade is like that crazy off-balanced co-worker who a therapist would tell you should be accepted "as they are" because they are unlikely to ever change, despite the mass destruction their behavior causes.

What pisses me off the most is, watching old, barely able to stand men and women wait for an hour to get a prescription that costs double or triple what they can afford -- and what the medicine is actually worth. And to watch people who are clearly sick, not feeling well, and possibly about to collapse as they struggle to stand for this long amount of time.

Get it together DR. That's just not cool.

As someone young and healthy, who simply gets pissed off having to wait that long, I can only imagine how much that sucks for people who are very old, sick, and have fevers or other problems they desperately need medicine for.

For two days in a row I tried to drop off a prescription. Line of ten people. Line does not move. Leave. Return at time less likely to have a line -- still a line of 10 people that does not move.

So I suck it up and in my 30, 40, 45 minutes of waiting, I have much time to contemplate the failures of Duane Reade, the failures of our health care system and our society as things stand at this moment.

First it's a 20s-something black kid waiting for his prescription, and there is of course something wrong with it. Many people in the back need to be consulted. Things need to be slowly looked up on the computer, pill bottles need to be slowly examined and more quiet, slow discussions ensue. He is told to wait longer -- which is their answer for all problems. When he finally gets to pay, it's $100. "$100!!?" he says. "Yes. $100." He does have insurance. They don't know why it's $100. He reluctantly pays.

Is it a mistake with Duane Reade (DR as I will refer to it from now on), or with the doctor who prescribed it? Or with the insurance company? In any event, $100 is just too much.

Next, an older white woman whose doctor did not call in the prescription. She looks like she's about to cry.

Now a very old hispanic man, hunched over, maybe 80-years-old. Something is also "wrong" with his prescription. Then he has to pay much more than he expected. I don't speak Spanish, but something about it being Medicare instead of Medicade. Oh well then, that explains making him pay a huge chunk. No problem with that.

Every single person has something wrong with their prescription, it isn't in the system right, etc. It seems every other person also has to pay some huge amount.

I'm starting to wonder if the hanging "finished" prescriptions behind them are just for show, like those empty Christmas presents in mall store displays.

This is a pharmacy. I'm sure they have some concept for how this is suppose to work -- don't they have some system for processing these prescriptions? Every new customer is greeted with a feeling that they've never done this before.

What is the main pharmacist guy doing? Everyone else seems to be rearranging empty baskets or staring at a computer screen but not actually doing anything.

The guy stocking the shelves next to the pharmacy is making sort of a disaster out of it, with tags and random products everywhere. Empty spaces where stock hasn't been re-ordered. I wonder if this is how the medicine is kept behind the pharmacy wall, and possibly why it seems every prescription is lost.

It just makes me sad to see not only sick people, but old frail people, all hunched over and breathing their last year of breath, spending those last few minutes they have before they are bed ridden, waiting in line at DR. It shouldn't take more than 2 to 5 minutes at the DR pharmacy. Not an hour. That's an hour of their life they are never getting back, and not all of them have that much life left.

Thanks a lot Duane Reade.

Dreads -- I don't have them.

so I ask the salon if the stylist can cut wavy/curly hair. They say "do you have dreads? No? Well then it should be OK." Note to self: never go to this salon if I get dreads. 

But really, how is wavy hair and dreads the same thing? 

I could be wrong, but if you have dreads, I don't think you really need a trim. Are you really worried about split ends at that point??

iguana?

Punk guy on the street (sort of a goth I guess) was carrying an iguana. I couldn't tell if it was alive or a stuffed toy.

My ballet flat got stuck in a grate and I actually hopped and lost my shoe. Strangely, it didn't at all bother me to hop back and put my missing shoe back on. I suppose there are just more important things to think about instead of looking stupid.

I had a creamsicle smoothe. yeah. it was good!!

I'm starting to not mind hipsters. However, fake hipsters bother me more. Real hipsters have come to a point where a flannel is just a "shirt." And those elf booty things are "shoes." And not combing your hair is "styled hair." Okay, I can see that. But fake hipsters have this air about them that just pisses me off. I saw this girl today carefully angling her cigarette up to give herself extra "flair" and she was wearing this huge flannel, those black 80s sunglasses, some huge belt, elf booty looking things but w/ heels, and god knows what else. It's like she studied every hipster stylebook that morning and wore it all at once, complete with the practiced cigarette move. Ick. I think I actually rolled my eyes.

I've revised my list of personal/professional goals for like the billionth time this month. I guess that is a drawback to my personality type and career. It gets a bit annoying being so obsessed w/ improvement, but eh, whatever. I guess my slothlike tendencies balance it all out.

I painted a picture of a unicorn, because I remember having a dream once that I considered as ridiculous as unicorns and rainbows. So I painted a unicorn. And also a rainbow. And I hung them up on my wall to remind me of that.

funny things!

So there I am on the subway. Going to therapy!!! I am a true NYer now. LOL. I'm seriously loooving it though. I should have gone long ago. It's like having cold ice water poured all over you and then you're like "ahhh" and suddenly everything makes more sense. Or, it's like opening and downing a refreshing softdrink in a commercial in the 80's.

So I'm on the subway holding onto a pole in the center part. There are about four other people also holding on, so our hands are all in the center like we're spokes on a wheel. There is quite an ettitquete here in NYC where you try to NOT touch strangers hands as that's weird. So you try to give people an inch or two of hand space away from yours, rigth? right.

This quite cute guy on the other side of the pole is NOT holding onto the pole, but doing the "I'm too cool to hold on" thing and pressing a closed fist against the pole. I mean, those who have been raised on the subways can sometimes do amazing acts of balance, but that is kinda stretching it. He he also looking completely behind him at something on the wall.

Just then the subway car jumps (so we all jerk to the side as is normal). His hand instinctively grabs onto the pole, except with his head completely behind him, he can't tell where he's grabbing -- and he instead grabs right onto my wrist!! Yes, he grabs my wrist hard! My wrist was actually red. So I'm like "woah!" and he (suddenly looking mortified) avoids eye contact, not so much as a "oh, I'm sorry! sheepish look." he continues to look at his shoes, after moving his hand from my wrist back to the pole. The little high school girl next to me is totally laughing into her chest. He gets off at the next stop, and I had a feeling it wasn't his stop yet :)

This was some feat because he actually reached all the way arrooound the pole, so he grabbed behind it and grabbed my wrist. It was truly odd -- it would have been hard to do that if you were watching, much less w/ your head behind you.

Note to subway passengers: please don't grab random stranger's wrists. Hold onto the poles instead.

On the way back, I went to starbucks. Then I bought shoes. The most amazing shoes ever! Those little boot-like things with high-heels stuck on the bottoms that just go to your ankle. They're so much more comfy than heels and I can wear them all through fall and winter if I spray them (one is suede). The other has two big bows on the heels made out of the same dark gray material (that reminds me of a suit jacket). yay.

Mystery (meat)

NYC is such a mysterious place...with unanswered questions like "why does my apartment smell like meat?"

My brain runs through a process in a situation like this.

1. Is there meat around?

Answer: No meat has been in my apartment for several days. 

2. Could there be remnants of old meat...somewhere?

Answer: There's no trash to be taken out. No meat to be found.

3. Do I smell like meat?

Answer: No.

Yet, it suddenly smells like hamburger. So, my brain continues to question...

4. Could the meat smell be from the neighbors?

Answer: Possibly. I've smelled other odors before, usually smoke. But if I can now smell their meat, that would really piss me off. I would need to then begin to cook often just to get back at them.

5. Could the meat smell be from outside?

Answer: Possibly. There is the familar sound of people chatting far away somewhere, in one of those little gardens I can see from my window, but cannot see from the street. If I were to walk downstairs all such gardens would be inaccessible. "Secret gardens." But yes, it is possible meat odors could be rising from the secret gardens three stories below me, into my window. In which case, that would SUCK if I can smell their hamburgers.

In conclusion, I cannot locate the origin of these meat odors, and can't do anything about it. Thankfully, I'm not a vegetarian. But this really icky version of meat smell is making me consider it.

Out of soymilk?

This coffee shop just ran out of soymilk...that is like McDonalds running out of french fries. How in the world do they stay in business with that kind of lack of planning? Sheeesh...

In addition, I'm pretty sure this petite guy I went on an awkward date with some time ago (who was also quite clearly gay) is sitting one seat over. I'm not sure if he recognized me. I'd texted that we should be friends to which he didn't reply. Everyone looks the same in this city though so I really can't tell if it's him and also kinda don't care.

No title

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYlAwvz8uwc

This is such a great video. I liked it as a kid. Now I see it's all about bee-ing yourself :D

So now for some more rambly thoughts. Interesting how one day you can wake up and

just let go of everything. And then what's left over, that's what you actually are. The rest is 

just dressing. Like salad dressing. You are the salad, or something like that. Who knows :)

I think that's part of what I'm suppose to do. Is help people wash off all the salad dressing

and then be like...hmm...I'm a pretty snazzy salad. And whoever doesn't like this salad, and

would prefer a piece of steak, they can go to h***. :)

I dunno. I got my change in a deli and the guy went to put the 50 cents in my hand and it was gone!

lol, he actually did a magic trick. And it actually made me crack up laughing. Such a simple

thing, but I really was like "oh my! Where did the quarters go!?" like I was 5 years old or something.

Usually I think tricks like that are lame, but he did it as if he'd given me my change, so it was

unexpected. I guess funny things usually are unexpected, which is why knock-knock jokes suck.

Thoughts

I think random things sometimes. 

1) Cold Cut

I heard someone say "cold cut!" to someone else on the street. I wondered, is that a nick name? If so, is it an endearing thing, some inside joke that shows their deep connection as it's progressed over the years? A relationship that has deepened from the days of "bacon bits" to now be even more meaningful with this new nick name? Or is it the last straw before a fight?Pushing a button on someone who has maybe eaten one could cut too many. Or was someone just giving instructions on what type of meat to buy? And why is it that "ice cube" is a cool rapper name, and "cold cut" Is not? "Cut" is a cool word -- like being buff but without the bulk. "Cold" is a fairly cool word as well. But together? "Cold cut." Not a rapper name. Most foods and condiments found in the fridge/freezer aren't either -- yeah, I've thought about it. 

2)

I wonder how many years I will have spent polishing my finger nails by the time I'm dead. Will it have been worth it? Probably.

3)

The "laughing cow" cheese wheel is delicious. Not healthy. Is the cow laughing at you? 

4) I keep dropping things that are difficult to pick up. First, a salad (covered in dressing). Then, a piece of squishy laughing cow cheese. Next, a jellyfish (possibly). 

5) I like that in NYC you can see exactly how many people in your neighborhood are night owls by just looking out your window. It makes you feel better when you stay up too late eating squishy pieces of cheese.

6) I had a dream and woke up and wrote down, "Dating isn't a fish fry to catch them and -- just take what you can eat." Um..hmm...insightful dream. I'm craving fish 'n chips now.

7) Sometimes I can instantly tell the personality type of annoying strangers. And then I analyze why I dislike them, while their friends actually do like them. It's all so subjective. I sometimes wish their friends would see the light and agree w/ me, even though that makes no sense.

8) I found what I think must not be a quarter, in w/ my quarters. I couldn't read the characters of course, but the asian man wearing a hat leads me to believe it's from somewhere far away. Interesting how that got slipped in to the circulation. Not related...but did you know there is some concern over Canadian Spy Coins? And this doesn't appear to be an Onion article...http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16572783/

The gladiator sandles are back...

It's been sunny the last two days. The gladiator sandles, the little dress, the flowy long dresses to the ground, the big sunglasses, the little dogs, the sun reflecting off everything, the people sitting at brunch -- I'm glad it's sunny now. 

For a while I was stuck in winter and sort of resented the sun threatening to come out, but now I've changed my mind. Blue skies and sun are pretty for a change.

I had to buy some Kmart stuff, like a shower curtain liner. I overheard two guys shopping together -- first though was they were a gay couple as we were in the cutesy bathroom accessories aisle. Then I hear them talking.

I wish I could do it justice, but it was basically discussion like they were either in a hardware store or making a complicated large purchase, or possibly trading stocks -- but they were two straight guys buying a shower curtain liner. 

"clear...clear...clear -- wait!" 

"What?"

"I just found a white one!"

"Jackpot!"

"Hold on -- what is this..."

"Ahhh...look at that."

"Tons of white ones!"

"Hold onto your hat, this one's opaque..."

"Look, look...I just found ten more opaque..."

"You have an option -- you can combine this with...that!"

"Yeah I see where you're going with that..."

"Double...yeah double layered."

"Ducky print...right here."

"Interesting."

"Maybe upgrade to this sea creature scene. Make it more, uh, festive."

"Yeah. swirly print there."

"What is this?"

"Seems to be a beach scene."

"Two beach scenes. This one has a sea turtle."

"hmm..."

And so on. Completely deadpan and serious. I've never heard anyone take such a purchase so seriously. 

sometimes I hate the subway...

The weekends and the subway are often a bad combination...lots of places to go, and trains running slowly, and a variety of interesting and puzzling last-minute changes, not always posted or announced. I check the MTA web site for closures, and still...

So I need to get to the UWS, a place a rarely go. My map shows that the D,B and AC go there. The B doesn't run on weekends. So D, or A or C. I should be able to transfer to any of these from the F. Good stuff.

First, in the F station there are huge hand-written signs over all the turnstyles that the F downtown to brooklyn does NOT stop here....so good luck getting to Brooklyn. I go uptown to W4 and the C train isn't running (it's suppose to be, but there is a closure). The C is the "local" one that stops on every stop -- and I need a local stop to get to 72nd street. So the C is out.

The B, and C are now out. So it's down to the D or the A. Now the question -- are the D and A local or express? I need local.

I ask a couple people and they say the D is local. I thought I remembered it being express, but on the weekends the trains can do anything they want, so I take their word for it. And the D skips from 59th street all the way up to 125th Street. Harlem. Terrific. Stuck in Harlem. I now need to wait for something going downtown that stops at 72nd street -- not the D. Not the  B, or the C. 

The A is all that is left. The A is actually running locally today -- woo hoo. Which means that I now get to stop at every stop, slowly from 125th street back down to 72nd....116, 103, 96, 86, 81.....wasting more time. Finally, I get to 72nd.

The I try to go home. Should be easy enough -- take the A, which is running on the C track (local), back downtown to west 4, where I transferred, and get the F. I'm still not sure if the F will drop me off at the 2nd ave stop (remember those signs from when I left?) But if nothing else, the stop before isn't far and I can get off there.

I go and wait for the F. They announce the F is running on the A track going downtown. So the say to go upstairs (so, basically don't wait for the F at the sign that says "F" but go upstairs to where a different train stops and wait there). So I go upstairs. Now, does this mean I actually take the "A" train and the train will know to take me to the F stops? The A pulls up and a few people ask me this and I'm not sure. Just then, the F pulls up behind us on the other track, so we all take that. Great! The F is here and it can take me the one stop home.

Once on the train they announce the F will not stop in Manhattan at all. Instead, it will take us several stops into Brooklyn, where we can then get out, cross the platform by going up and down the stairs, and wait for an F going to Manhattan. So here I go maybe 30 more mintutes, or more, all the way into brooklyn, wait for a train going back, just to go the equivalent of one stop. It took me about an hour and 10 minutes to get from the upper west side at 72nd street, back to houston and second ave. Something that really shouldn't take more than 30 mintues, 40 at the most with transferring...the way there took about an hour and 40 minutes total, including my trip to Harlem.

Sometimes, I hate the subway.

A shooting on my block and the ER (not related)

I haven't blogged in a bit, as nothing has been "blog-worthy."

This week had some interesting things.

1) I thought I had a heart attack, but luckily didn't. For a few hours I was half-asleep and aware my heart was pounding,  chest was tight and then my right hand went numb. Gotta say that freaked me out. I figured it was nothing and got up and walked around. Then the numbness started creeping up my arm.

I freak out and call my mom, who gives me the phone number to a nurse line. They tell me to call 911 or go to the ER, which I tell them I don't want to do. I say it isn't that bad. They say there is no way to tell, and of course I can wait until morning, but of course heart attacks in women can have very mild symptoms (the same symptoms I have). I'd also started taking a common medication recently that has numb hand/leg as a symptom of many bad things. I call my doctor and she says the same thing. 

I debate, I walk around my studio, I weight the pros/cons of catching a cab to an ER (I hate hospitals and had never even been in an ER before). I decide it's best to not risk dying alone in my tiny studio, go outside at 4:30am and catch a cab to the local hospital (they don't have "urgent care" here in NYC like they do in AZ). I figure, they'll listen to my heart really quick and send me back home.

So they have me fill something out and immediately go back, leaving behind 4 or 5 half-asleep people sitting in the waiting room. They listen to my heart (like I expected). I eagerly wait for them to say "yeah, nothing! Go home."

Instead, they prick my finger, diabetes-style for a blood sugar test. They throw a gown at me and slide a hospital bracel around my wrist. They show me to my ER-style room (looks just like on TV w/ that curtain around it). I'm deer-in-headlights confused why I haven't been sent home yet, and why is everyone being so nice to me? I'd prefer some NYC rudeness to confirm I am OK!

So I'm half-laying on this stretcher type thing in my little "room," not wanting to fully put my legs up on it as that would make me look all patient-like, when I'm not even sure if I have anything wrong. My heart is still pounding though and hand still numb. It's nice to know if I were to die, someone here would notice and give my parents a call. Not true of the studio, where I might rot for a week or so. 

I finally get tired and lie on it fully. Various doctors and nurses and some random crazy guy come by and shake my hand. They send the crazy guy back to his "room." He comes back and I point towards his room and say "you should go back now."

They take me to do various tests, an EKG where they hook up those sticky things to your chest, a urine test, an Xray (I'm trying to figure out how that could help?). 

I wait for three hours in the little room, and at this point start to worry. Why didn't they just listen to my heart and send me home? I'm thinking that screw it, whatever they need to do is fine. I wonder what they even do for a heart attack anyway? Surgery or something? I wouldn't really mind. I mean, I'd probably live and if not, I gave it my best shot.

This is strange to be in the ER in NYC, I think. I was never into all of those doctor TV shows like ER. I'm just not very interested in medical things.

I'm kind of self conscious on this stretcher things w/ all these people walking by "working." I then realize that I am their "work," which is really odd. 

Finally they get the tests back the first one is fine. I say "So it's nothing?"

"I wouldn't say nothing, but it's not a heart attack," says the very nice doctor who is so calming he could probably tell me I am going to die in four hours and I'd be just fine with it. He is so calming it is almost making me nervous. I can tell he's an INFp personality type. They're good at that sort of thing.

Various other people come by and it's decided that I can go home and this was some weird fluke thing they can't explain. They say to come back if it happens again. I start wondering how much this has cost, which kinda freaks me out. Guess I'll get the bill in the mail. Still, it was worth confirming that I wasn't dying or anything.

I now think I may have gotten really dehydrated, as I've read that can have similar symptoms.

So I stumble into the now bright light of 7:30 am in the rush hour walkers with my hair sticking out and it's raining a bit. I walk home as there are no cabs anywhere, leaving a voicemail to my parents that apparently I'm just fine.

2) Shooting

So I come home today around 6ish, arms full of bags, really needing to pee as the starbucks line was just too long, lugging my heavy laptop. I see a bunch of cop cars. A crowd of people standing behind yellow police tape blocking off my entire block. I ask cops questions and they say I may be able to get to my apartment in a few minutes. I go to the front of the crowd, as the policeman said to ask the other guy, and then realize everyone else is waiting to go onto our block too. He then lowers the tape, as the crowd rushes. The tape gets caught on some older lady's shopping back and my ankle for a second. 

"Rush, rush, always rushing," says the cop in a Queens accent, as if he is any different.

We are allowed to only walk down one side of the street (not the side I live on). There are cops stationed every few feet down the entire block, just standing there and looking somewhat scary). 

I get to my apmt and nicely ask a couple of cops if I can go in and they say sure. Very nice of them. So I go in. There is a guy right behind me climbing the stairs a bit too fast which scares me for a second as they haven't yet found the shooter, but luckily he goes into his own apmt.

I hear a girl behind me on her cell saying "honey, I had to have a police escort let me into our apmt! yeah, can you believe that?"

The strange thing was that I was completely not bothered by this, not afraid of the "shooter" and instead wanted to get into my apmt the same way I would want to say, make sure I get my order taken at starbucks before the weird guy behind me pushes in line. It should have bothered me. But despite my block being fabulous (my section of my block is listed in those NYC "city walks" guides), it is safe but there are always thug-like people and teens standing around, and I'm sure somebody was just showing off. I don't think anyone was hit. Luckily though, I wasn't home at the time, as it was specifically on my side of the block that it happened. 

A lot can happen in a week I'd guess. I guess I'm slightly afraid to leave as it may be hard to come back to my apmt later, but I have to go meet a friend...

The snowglobe

So just before she leaves NYC, he gives her this beautiful snow globe. He smirks as she glows and laughs, practically shrieking with joy as she can now remember their amazing time in the city together, before they both go off to countries on the other sides of the globe. She beams as she holds the small snow globe, and after a dramatic embrace, he is gone, possibly forever? Or will they somehow meet again despite her being a poor sweatshop working and him returning to a country far away. 

But at least she will always have this beautiful snow globe of the city, to remind them of that flurry that picked up while they were walking down 5th Avenue. Soon she will be working in the sweatshops again, her hands going numb, her eyes blurred from endless days. Yes, after having won this trip from a candy bar wrapper, it will be back to the drugged out neighborhood and the thugs and the sign that hangs on her apartment "please don't rob us, they already took everything. But with this memento in her hand, reminding her of the joy she once had, she may just get by, even without running water, she may be able to have the force of will to simply endure another day. 

She walks up to airport security, they look at her with hesitation. 

"Ma'am, You can't take on snowglobes."

Her face falls.

"What? How? I..."

"Do you have documentation for that snowglobe?"

"Documen..tation? uh?"

"Nevermind, even WITH documentation, we simply cannot allow you to take a snowglobe onto the flight."

"But it's just a little one..." she says, holding up the tiny snowglobe with a NYC flurry. 

"Size doesn't matter," the worker says firmly, holding out his hand to take the globe.

"No!" she cries, tears streaming from her face, thoughts of enduring the rest of her life without this one bright spot. 

"Give me the globe. It does not matter how much, or how little, liquid is contained inside."

And it is back to the sweatshops for her, her gray, cold, difficult life alone, with not even a memento to keep her heart warm. 

And he throws the snowglobe into a pile. Happy Holidays. 

The End.

So I wrote that after reading this when checking the airport carry-on requirements. 

"Snow globes and like decorations regardless of size or amount of liquid inside, even with documentation." TSA website

And...they give you "documentation" when you purchase a snow globe? Apparently there have been many snow globe issues here. 

moment

the headlights hit the sidewalk 

as trash and leaves 

are caught in a burst of wind 

it's the moment 

that exact second 

things change 

seasons

outlooks

everything 

the lights turn off 

he walks away 

thunder hits the ground and 

the bartender looks up

the sky turns white 

with lightning against 

lower east side buildings

let's all go home, right? 

he says from behind the bar 

I look out the window

drinking coffee faster

rain draws lines down the sky 

and windows 

people on the sidewalk sprint

someone parallel parks 

a dog's fur is soaked 

I check my bag 

umbrella? yes 

sigh with relief

three cabs honk 

for no apparent reason

I look at the glass

and remember when it was shattered

fixed so fast

thunder shakes the sky

and then it's done

people stroll slowly

I love the changing of the seasons

not sure why

I actually wrote this a while ago, but...

 I remember when I first moved here, every tall building held so much promise. it all sparkled with purity, or so I thought. Now they are just buildings, that contain things, good and bad -- and I have seen the bad. Sometimes I feel NYC has bitch slapped me and it still stings occasionally. Yet, even with the glossy coating gone, I realize I don't love the brick and steel, but I love the potential that it contains, the feeling that hangs in the air that somehow, dreams can come true.

I've had too much caffeine

blurring past

won't let me back

in

when I wrap this new paper

all around

a gift

and here we go

won't look back

no

a tree stretches out roots

grabbing soil like it should

strong grip

like ancient things flowing

right through

my bloodstream

and all the strength of ancestors

brings us to this point

this hesitation

survival

is easy when you live

blue sky swirling

white clouds mix 

easy as lying down

it begins

now

feet sink into grass

into soil like a seed

standing

waiting to grow

always somewhat unpredictable

yet as certain as the seasons

impossible to contain

like the rain

a choice to yell

or hush intentions behind a whisper

to get up 

and leave

or stand still

like plaster

behind tall things

hiding

and I wasn't so sure before

but now I feel the light of morning

sun pierces my eyes

I'm cutting away uneven ties

and tides will bring in

everything they should

and standing back

waiting to see everything

the next day promises to 

bring

vibrant, strong shimmering things

and maybe this won't be

so hard 

after all

even the longest fall

is just a moment before

the wave rises 

again

I will never be a hipster...

It's hard to pinpoint what makes a hipster. Is it the striped shirt? the fedora? The facebook pictures complete with sneers, pretending to bite into friend's heads and nerd glasses? Is it those long sweaters with the "v" necks? Those leather elf shoe mockassin things. Or is it something else?

I have no idea. Maybe it's that attitude that says I'm so unique, I'm such an individual that I am pretentious because I'm trying to pretend to not be pretentious. The person who finds Urban Outfitters to be "artistic" and they probably wear hoodies. 

OK a guy walked in carrying a guitar, sans case. wearing nerd glasses. He talks to a guy in a fedora. A girl who looks exactly like Daria with shorter hair is looking uptight. A black and white plaid flannel shirt is hung on the hook in the corner. The barista guy is high, or just stupid, and wearing a Bob Marley type hat. Now they are both trying to play guitar. A girl just walked in with frizzy hair, that she probably intentionally styled that way, and she hops around snapping and dancing and she looks high, or looks like she's the type to have been high for such a long time that she her self-consciousness portion of her brain has been fried and she now dances whenever she feels like it. 

I guess I don't really belong here, as despite wearing a lot of black, I'm just not hipster. Still, better here than most places on earth. At least it's dark in here with candles and I can sort of sink into the back of the seat which is good. 

I know for a fact that no matter what I wear, I will never look like a hipster. I think it's because I refuse to wear more than one trendy item at a item as it sorta makes me sick. I'm just to old to pretend to want to look like a hippy, and I guess that is what a hipster is. Someone who is old enough to know better than to still be wearing this crap. When you're 35, why the heck are you wearing chuck taylors anyway? And aviators? I mean, come on. But I guess NYC is the land of the peter pans, and I'm not saying I'm not one of them. But I still would never combine so many trends at one time while insisting I am a unique individual who just happens to look exactly like every other hipster in the village. 

A guy just asked if the wireless here is any good. "yes, it's free" I said. I wanted to say it's much better than this guitar lesson we're listening to, but kept my mouth shut. 

It's warm tonight, maybe 55. Which with humidity is lovely and not cold at all.

More random items...quite rambly

My sister had a baby! She is beautiful. My mom flew out from AZ to help her before and after she had her. She is very pretty and has blue eyes and brown hair. Then my mom flew to NYC to visit me while my sister and her husband took care of the baby during his 1-week off from work.

I had a fun time with my mom, who stayed w/ me in the little studio. Luckily we get along well, as it is a verrry small space. We had a nice time and I wanted to show her the sorts of things I actually do, as she had already done most touristy things anyway. So we got Indian food on 6th street (which is where Little India is and they have about 20 places), went to a couple of my favorite coffee places, and got some Thai food, etc.

We also saw The Phantom of The Opera. I really liked the music and the effects. My only problem was that Christine's character was so outdated. I'm not sure if it is how it is written, or how she played it, but there was this overly weak seeming "oh no!!! I'm going to faint!" thing about the character that sort of bothered me. It made me wonder why we can't update these plays. I mean, especially My Fair Lady. But I guess it just makes me thankful that we don't have to run around fainting and sobbing and saying neutral polite things all the time. Overall it was great! I really liked the Phantom.

Avenue Q, which I've wanted to see for a while, was great. Just about all of the topics were true to life, so it wasn't so much laugh out loud funny as it was "yup, true." I really liked it though. There was a drunk older woman next to me who kept laughing and saying things so loudly that everyone else kept turning around. She flung her coat onto me a couple of times, and I pushed it back and then she looked at me. There were a couple of girls (sitting on the other side of my mom, so they were fairly far away from the drunk woman) and they kept complaining about her also. We all hoped she'd just leave, but she was about 5 minutes late after intermission. Still, I think it was one of my favorite plays and was fun to see it with my mom.

We also went to Central Park to see the snow and wandered Columbus Circle for a while, and did a lot of wandering in the Lower East Side, East Village and West Village. We also wandered around Union Square, and I even took her to 7A for a late dinner after a show (I think we were the only non-hipsters there :)

I attempted to cook a couple of times, which was kind of fun/funny as the place is so small. I don't usually "cook" for myself and instead just eat random food items. But it was a fun challenge, having only one pan, so there is a lot of putting things in other containers, or trying to use the oven, etc.

So it was nice seeing her.

What else...oh my jacket lost a button. That was too bad.

I told more people about my bastard book. I usually don't like to share a lot of the things I do -- and you should all be glad for that, as I have mountains of some pretty hideous bad poetry -- but I guess I figured this one was too potentially helpful to other people (and there are so many bastards out there). I felt the same way about posting all of that info on players. I wrote it for my own amusement, but then it seemed useful to others as well. Better to learn from other people's mistakes I figure.

I've been thinking a lot about the economy. The economy was bad in Dec '02 when I graduated college. Then it seemed to improve slightly, but not much. About three years ago it was pretty good (I actually got a job in NYC then, but didn't take it), and right after that it seemed to nose-dive -- this is all based on my responses to my job applications over the years, and also how well/bad my writing business did.

Anyway, ever since I graduated, I've been very careful to not focus on the bad economy. I really believed that mindset could overcome competition. It also doesn't help to harp on factors you can't control. And with that attitude, I remember getting all kinds of hard-to-get interviews, one being a grant writing interview where the receptionist said "congratulations" as she held up two reams of paper to show me the resumes that didn't get through. And I was only in my early 20's then. But now, I'm now becoming lured into the economy and its problems. Even worse, is the negativity that is convincing everyone to give up. Maybe this is the effect of getting older? Letting doomsday stuff override your idealism? Both are just outlook choices of course, neither really better than the other.

This blog, Sad Guys on Trading Floors, is sort of fascinating. And sad, of course.

But I do see the effects. I hear about people applying for ten jobs a day and not getting interviews for $12 an hour jobs (who are not recent grads). I had one guy tell me that a LOT of his banker friends were forced to leave the city when they were laid off. It makes me wonder where they all fled to. Kansas? I think it's the common fear of most New Yorkers to be forced to move to Kansas.

I overhear a lot of people on cell phones saying they are out looking for work. I don't see "help wanted" signs in windows anymore. But they say that even in the Great Depression, it wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. There is always opportunity, even if not directly, I guess it's a chance to put things in a bigger context, and perhaps learn some important lessons. It is a good reminder that none of us are in control and that is the whole point -- everything has the potential to end at any moment, and that's why we need to appreciate it. Maybe things have been a bit too sunny for too long, and this is a wake-up call. A dark cloud to remind us all to enjoy our suntans while they last. To put things in perspective, ask ourselves how happy we really are, and question what things it takes to make us happy.

I wonder sometimes if I wouldn't be happier in a tent somewhere. We really don't need very much. I think the quality of our relationships is really what matters most.

I'm also curious if the bad economy will lead more people to consider starting businesses. They say they putting all of your eggs in one basket -- a basket that could be stomped on at any moment of "downsizing" is a bad idea. Starting several businesses that you enjoy could be better, except that not all people enjoy doing that. Different personality types like different types of situations, some value security and stability more than the risk of starting something new. It's hard for me to remember not everyone likes risk. So...

Maybe we need a new job structure that diversified work the way a stock portfolio does. Selling your time to one large company that perhaps is a better version of a temp agency -- so you could actually be open to doing several job functions if you wanted, you'd get insurance, and you wouldn't really need to be laid off, as you'd be working for several different types of companies during your day. Maybe employees could even go to the same office every day, with the same computer, but their tasks would be sent through project managers from a whole bunch of companies. Of course, there could be privacy/competition issues. Or maybe that wouldn't be as much of a problem as it'd seem.

Or employees could even just log into something, where there would be task lists posted in all kinds of areas, and each task would have a certain number of points or whatever. They'd check off all the items they did that day (which may end up being for 5, 6 different companies) and completing let's say 10 points would be "enough" work to get their paycheck and benefits. Sort of like freelance, but without the risk to employees, in that they wouldn't need to find their own clients. Plus, employers would be paying directly for work product, instead of wading through office politics to see who is actually performing vs. promoting themselves.

I dunno, it's late and I'm rambling. But there just has to be a better way.

Turf

In other news, NYC wants to ban turf. Yeah, turf. That stuff you play sports on. In general, it means even more competition for fields, and it's already fairly nuts trying to find anywhere for recreation in Manhattan.

It's not a huge deal to me, as I'm undecided if I'm going to bother getting another soccer permit. I sort of just fell into organizing this, since I hadn't played soccer since I was about 12, and started out barely even remembering what a corner kick was.

It's been more work than I realized organizing a soccer group and it has been a pretty cold winter, with one game as low as 9 degrees...But I guess they want to ban the turf because 2 out of 10 fields may contain more lead than they should -- definitely a problem, especially for young kids. But for adults? No one really touches the turf (and in the winter w/ all of the clothing we're wearing, even a fall wouldn't bring you in much contact w/ the green stuff).

For a lot of soccer leagues and organizations (and many other sports as well), it's a big bummer.

###

The "garden theory"

OK, wow, I'm suprised I haven't forced my "garden theory" on all of my friends already! So to answer you guys, I will explain my "garden theory." :)

Now for the Garden Theory...

So, we all have a garden. The garden as it is now probably has plants, some of them planted, but most of them weeds that the wind blew in as seeds long ago. But hey, the ground is covered. It doesn't look so bad. So what's the problem?

The problem is, all of the weeds are thriving, as weeds do. The selfish weeds steal the sunlight from the natural plants that are suppose to be there, shading them and causing them to wither and die. As the weeds thrive and multiply, all potential for better plants slowly dies out. But the gardener thinks, "At least it's green. I'll keep it as it is."

Soon, the garden is so covered in weeds that any seedling that is planted has no chance. If the wind luckily carries in a perfect seed of what would have otherwise been a gorgeous plant -- a plant that should exist here -- it has no chance to grow. It dies.

So, what the gardener must do, is pull up every single weed. This means the ground will be bare. It will be ugly. It will be a vast, empty, brown vacant lot. People passing by all the other lovely gardens will come to this one and say "oh what a hideous, empty void of a garden this is!" And it will be.

But this ugly void of empty brown space, though so flat and boring and ugly, is now a rich place for something new to grow. The ground will now have space to host a place for little seedlings, both to be planted, and to be carried in from the wind. Finally, beautiful things can take root!

And when weeds grow, the gardener does not use them for easy ground cover (as they grow faster than the slow-to-bloom beautiful plants), but instead pulls them immediately.

Now the garden flourishes and the most beautiful flowers in the world bloom here -- even more beautiful than the half-weeds/half-flower average gardens down the street. Now everyone comes here to see this magnificent garden. It is nothing but gorgeous flowers, with some remaining space for even more good, nice things to grow.

Without the weed's competition, the flowers finally have the resources they need to flourish. But to get there, was a time of a blank, barren brown empty field. A vacant lot. But that must be endured before the garden will bloom.

So, when a person makes it know they are a weed, remove them from your life. If a situation is a weed, end it. The temporary discomfort will be replaced by a lifetime of blooms.

The end!

Now, to relate this to dating specifically. What I see most single people doing right now is this:

What most single people doing...

1. Using "fill in" people -- Most single people don't enjoy being single. Can't blame 'em. Society is more of less set up for groups of more than one. So, instead of writhing in agony of not having a main squeeze, the single person will latch onto the closest person/people possible -- this person is not a great match or even a good one. Using this "stand is" is a short-term fix for that lack of a fabulous dinner date, brunch partner and Saturday night club hopper. However, there is a problem here.

Why is this a problem?

• Spending time with the "fill in" person reduces the time available to find "the right one"
• Having needs met by the "fill in" reduces the motivation to go out there and find "the right one"
• The "fill in" prevents pain, that annoying pain of "oh my god I don't have what I want in my life" -- which is a very useful pain that is incredibly motivating for self-improvement and finding what you need
• "Fill ins" are not your perfect match, and as such, will make you feel like an idiot, or less attractive because they don't value you enough -- if they did, you'd be a great match, not a "fill in" match.
  
• "Fill in" relationships are often not exclusive, as both sides are seeking something better
• "Fill in" situations tend to end badly, which can be very stressful and result in bad emotions on both sides which can take a long time to heal from -- and you need to be fully healed to find your compatible match.
  

2. Types of "fill ins" -- For girls, they will often get a 1/2 way interested guy(s) who will gladly join them for said activities, but there is no long-term potential for a wide-variety of reasons that she clearly knows, yet chooses to ignore.

Guys will have a girl(s) around they will text here and there. They don't find each other terribly boring, but not exactly interesting either. It is pretty clear that even if there is friendship or some interest there, it's just not going to work out -- and one or both people are aware of this.

There may be a non-exclusive relationship, a group of 5-6 "fill in" people that the girl/guy chooses from, or an exclusive one with clues that one or both people are sort of wasting time.

There is a "buy now, pay later" situation here, with instant gratification now, and later -- wow, that was dumb. I didn't even like that person all that much.

People use "fill ins" because temporarily, they provide:

• An ego boost -- hey, they at least want to go on a date with me. I must be pretty cool.
• A way to waste time -- check out how jam packed my day planner is! I am rad.
  
• A way to fit in -- sure, I can bring a +1 to the party...let me just flip through my phone list and decide who is the lucky guy/girl from my top ten list!
• A way to seem normal -- yes mom or dad, I have a date tonight, because I'm a successful individual!
• Loneliness prevention -- there's no time to be lonely with five people to schedule into a seven day week!
• Easy -- no need to go to bars/clubs to meet people. I have several in the cue! Who shall I randomly text tonight?

But, as I said before, these stand in people are weeds, because they are not what is meant to be in your life. So they need to be plucked out for the weeds they are, so there is then space for something nice to grow!

New thoughts on dating...Players!

As many of you know, I've come to various conclusions about dating over the years, only to decide my conclusions were wrong. Some of you may remember my "garden" theory. Well, now I have a new one. It's specifically about players. I'm writing about the psychology behind players as a general FYI to all of my single friends -- guys and girl friends.

Why are there so many players in NYC?

New York City attracts the most motivated, ambitious people in the country, and/or world. The problem is, their ambition often extends beyond work life, into their personal lives. They will work very, very hard with one thing in mind -- misleading you. This isn't even about anything "physical." It's about weird power games that make the player feel powerful and popular -- despite not being either (in reality.)

This is not a guy only thing. Girls can be equally socially "ambitious." This is more about manipulation and goal-setting than anything else.

Why do they do it?

Often, and sadly, these "players" have been hurt, badly. In their past former lives, they have often even been nice, decent people. Wounded at the core, and not strong enough to heal yet, they strike out in revenge, or for ego gratification, they become players. Why? This allows them to get what a very weak person is starving for:

1) get a constant ego boost -- dates will tell you what you're longing to hear!
2) avoid spending time alone -- fear of reflecting on their life and feeling awful
3) avoid potential rejection -- that could occur from having any real feelings for others (they are currently too weak to handle real rejection)
4) false feeling of "power" or being "in control" -- having a spreadsheet w/ dates on it makes them feel like god calling the shots AND keeps it removed from their heart and their surprisingly sensitive ego
5) getting affection -- the player desperately needs affection and love (as they are a weak pit of despair inside) but they can't risk actually mutually exchanging to get this the normal way. So they lie and essentially steal love and affection without giving any of their own. EXAMPLE: This would be like someone who went to pot lucks all day and ate everyone else's food without bringing anything and lying about it, "oh, I uh, brought the pie." How cool is that? That's how cool players are.

Players, upon reading the above example, will think it sounds like a cool idea. Like Wedding Crashers but for pot lucks. Soon they will be showing up at your office trying to see what's in the break room. This is only one step away from stealing people's lunches. Very impressive. *swoon*

Are players decent human beings?

No. If they were, they could just be themselves and still have the hunnies flock -- but they can't be themselves and they know it. Their only option is to lie. If they were themselves, no one would date them. This is why they create their "personas." Their real personalities are kind of sad. Or sometimes whiny, dry, and selfish -- sort of like that kid demanding candy in the grocery store. No one wants to be around that kid.

Being a player gives them all the surface level ego-stroking they need to convince themselves they are still a decent human being. Meanwhile the over-booking that happens while dating several people at once prevents those pesky hours of free time from occurring -- that is the time when a normal person would ponder questions like "hmm, I feel guilty, perhaps because I no longer have a soul -- how can I remedy this?"

With no time to waste reflecting on how to improve their life or integrity, or doing the hard emotional work required to be brave and face life, they instead focus on easy-to-understand end goals. It also prevents them from having time to worry about the purpose of their life, or facing their huge amounts of shame for amounting to not very much (despite often being financially "successful").

Players are lonely

Players at heart are cowardly, and spend most of their time and money covering up this fact. If they were braver, they wouldn't care so much what others think -- i.e. arm candy, nice cars, expensive clothing, bragging to friends, etc. Confident people don't have to fake it: they just are great as they are and that's that. Just like extremely rich people often wear sweat pants, because they can. Who do they need to impress? Players need. Winners don't need.

Players are constantly faking it -- and they KNOW it, which is really pretty pathetic. Their dates help them maintain their self-lies and illusions -- but they also know they can never be themselves with their dates (or anyone)...and this is the really sad part. Surrounded by beautiful people, they are lonely, because no one actually knows them.

They are fully aware that if they were honest, they would be LEFT in the dust. And that is the sign of someone who truly has not a speck of confidence -- true confidence is putting it all out there, taking a risk, and letting the chips fall where they may. Not pretending to be James Bond to cover up for the fact that you may get rejected, or hurt, or have someone tell you they don't like you -- that's hard stuff to face for the player. Inside, the players is weak. It's actually pretty sad from their end.

The goals of the (guy or girl) player are to:

1) get the person to do something they normally wouldn't -- such as be interested in the "player"
2) Use the person as entertainment (the time spent together is amusing/they are a challenge like a video game)
3) to keep the person as a "back-up" and include them in a list of I don't know, 5, 10 other people who range from being very interested, to slightly, to I hate you -- doesn't matter, they stay on the list so long as they are willing to text back.
4) to keep their social calendar as booked as possible because they are afraid to be alone (time alone means they may have to think about who/what they've become - smiling dates are an easy distraction to help them continue their lie of a life and avoid the truth about themselves.
5) to keep the person around as long as possible, because to be rejected is very hard for such a weak person (and players are at their core, weak and insecure -- otherwise they wouldn't need games and could tell people straight up what the situation was and risk rejection). Honesty is hard if you're too weak to handle it.

How to spot the players

It is not so easy to spot the players, as they have updated their little game playing manuals. The typical signs are out the window.

In their place are newer and more elaborate rules that insecure players use to prevent being revealed. The old games I knew of back in Phoenix gone. sort of like how Skinny Jeans hit NYC about 2 years before AZ. I'm still trying to catch up...

The old ways to spot a player:
-buying you too much/gifts/praise too early on
-big promises too early on
-agreeing with everything you say
-hot and cold games (to keep you interested)
-online dating advice guys get such as being "cocky funny" i.e. "I love your dress! My mom has the same one!" Or "your shoes are ugly. I'm just joking!" designed to throw the girl off and forget she's suppose to be sizing the guy up.
-calling way too often to appear interested (when they really aren't)
-not calling often (to see if you will call)
-asking questions about what you like and then telling you everything you want to hear
-lying (and getting their lies confused)
-getting too "personal" too quickly and pretending to care
-asking what kind of jewelry you like/what kind of steak, etc.
-saying they'll take you on trips
-appearing too good to be true/perfect
-being overly impressed with everything about you
-not calling/seeing you during a "time-slot" i.e., certain days/weekends only
-the player having a perfect expensive wardrobe
-possibly having a sports car/other clear status symbols

The new ways to spot a player:
-you can't

Why spotting the player is now impossible

Let's explain why. You can't spot a player in Manhattan because they are that good. And by "good" I mean "insecure." Insecure people are terrified of being "found out" to be the losers they actually are. This is why they buy a lot of Armani. Shiny stuff is distracting.

In addition to this fear insecurity comes practice. Due to deep emotional problems, any players have been in practice for as many as 5, 10, 20 or more years -- in that amount of time it's easy to master anything -- golf, Japanese, emotional manipulation.

The new players vs. the old players? It's the difference between the old school easy-to-spot used car salesperson vs. the new "Enron cook the books" types. The former is tricky, the latter is a trick.

Being a player means you are manipulating someone -- lying to them. Leading them down one path, only to change direction. This means the fewer rules the better. The more fluid the approach, the better.

The game here is not for a simple conquest...

as it was in the past -- in Manhattan those are a dime a dozen. Many a ditzy bar girl is waiting at the club/bar and doesn't at all mind going home w/ the guy -- so to a player (who likes challenges) that has gotten boring.

They'd rather take a kind, decent human being and mess with them. It's only fun for them if they really deceive and hurt the person -- then they've won. They've then succeeded in taking love without giving any -- and this makes them feel powerful.

This is sort of like trying to get Mother Teresa involved in a drug dealing scheme, just to see if you can. And then see how long she's willing to be involved -- this is where the players weird sense of "power" comes from. It's sick. But it's common, very common in this city.

You may have heard the theory that criminals get a huge rush of power by taking a gun and putting it to someone's head and robbing them, because it gets someone to pay attention to them. I think it's a similar sort of motivation that players have.

They flash money, lies, attention, looks -- whatever gets someone's attention. I think they get addicted to that rush. Because logically, it's a losing game for them (in terms of money, time, and what they walk away with, i.e., nothing -- for female or male players). These games can go on for months and months, sometimes years. There is no long-term financial or emotional gain to be had. It's the "junk food" of relationships.

Can we categorize players?

No. I've seen players come in all sizes, shapes, races, backgrounds and industries. They usually make a good amount of money (because dating 5 or 6 women and impressing them w/ nice food and drinks is pricey -- or for women, buying all of that make-up, personal trainers and nice outfits), but not always. Some will even attempt to manipulate the date into buying them stuff (also a challenge!). Often, they are fashionable, but often, not. Some prefer to look average so you don't see the player-ish-ness coming. It blindsights you that way.

Will players take you somewhere snazzy?

They won't always take you for dinner and drinks somewhere snazzy also (though a lot will). Some will even meet you during the DAY when you have your guard down (as a circulating email forward instructed guys to do -- it was the Guy's NYC Guide to Getting Laid -- or something to that effect). The only trick here is to do what she expects a future boyfriend to do, whatever that means to HER -- and once he figures that out he'll do that. It's all about faking and pretending everything, so there don't need to be rules at all. They have one goal -- to get you interested when they really don't care either way. And they go to great lengths to attain this goal. The sort of lengths you would assume a someone who actually was interested would go to. But nope. These new players are in it for the game only.

It's like their ambition, intelligence and drive isn't properly being used up enough at work, so they carry this into the rest of their life, trying to create some sort of weird "master plan" of their dating life, with variables and algorithms and predictions of what they should say to whom and who they should blow off, and who they should text -- it's all very calculated, down to every word, syllable and nuance -- in the end, it's a complete waste of time (for the player too).

The players methods...

Players will study and use any information they find on the internet, tips from friends, and they'll often even ask their dates which techniques work best on them. They'll for instance make a joke about guys who use lame pick up lines and then eagerly wait to see if she'll spill the "lame" onces she's heard -- so he can run home and add them to his list of "what not to say."

Though I could spill a whole list of things they do, they mostly get the other person to be thrown off guard, take control of the situation and then tell the person what they want to hear. This can be done obviously or with subtext and implication.

The only way to tell you are being played is if you find yourself asking yourself "could they be a player?" If that has EVER crossed your mind -- they are. Dump them. Next.

For more details on the player's mindset, here is an interesting blog written by what looks to be a self-admitting player: http://eve-101.com/the-inadvertent-misogynist-confessions-of-a-serial-dater/

Players will choose some words to look spontaneous or absent-minded, so you assume they are "human." Sometimes they'll even show up unshaven in casual clothes, to make it look like they're letting their guard down. They'll also do and say nearly the identical things that a potential boyfriend would -- except in this case, every nuance is a carefully constructed lie.

To them, it's a game and nothing more. And if they let you know that, the challenge would be killed for them. It's more fun to hunt in the wild I guess, versus kill a cow in line at a meat factory.

What is the end result?

For the player, the end result is a bunch of people texting them everyday. This makes them feel special and popular. They don't realize that most of these people are also players, who are simultaneously texting their entire address book at once also.

This dating posse allows them to have back-up options if any plans fall through because GOD FORBID they spend a night alone! How would anyone do THAT? Does this remind you of Jerry Maguire? It should. At their core, players are lonely and sad, which is why they want to feel POPULAR! And SPECIAL! But in a way in which they don't actually have to get ATTACHED!

The other end result is they get that rush of a challenge that one gets hunting, or gambling, or sitting in front of a video game all day -- this makes them feel cool. Because what is cooler than a a gamer? *swoon* That's why all the chicks gather at the video game section at the electronic stores.

For everyone else, it results in WHAT THE HELL?

Can players change?

Yes, if they wanted to. But it takes a lot of guts to be honest and be yourself. Players don't have guts.

Tips for those Trying to NOT Play the Game:

1) Does the body language match what is being said -- this can be hard to tell, but if he says "I'm having the time of my life" but his arms are crossed...um, maybe he's lying. Liars get lazy and think you're too stupid to notice, so watch out for this. The strange thing to me, is that they will put in sooo much time when they probably are not having fun, just for the sake of "the game."

2) Your intuition -- take a few days off from dating the person. Ask yourself "what is the truth about this person?" If you're open and honest with yourself, you'll get an answer that comes deep from within yourself, that surpasses logic -- the truth is always there. You probably won't be able to list the reasons why it's true (because anything can be argued for or against, and the old/new player guides make it too complicated to size this up). But some tiny part of you will be able to realize it. If you ask yourself for the truth, it will hit you on the head. Then, replace their name in your cell phone to "do not pick up #7."

3) Does he seem annoyed? If he/she is a player and you're having a great time (since you really like the person they are pretending to be), you'll probably want to hang out even LONGER! and do more fun stuff. The player will go along with your 6-7 hour date, but will eventually get tired and start to regret that they spent so much time/money on you when they are clearly going home alone. At this point their body langauge will seem tense, annoyed, anxious, BUT they will insist they are having "the greatest time!"

4) Does it bother him if you won't commit to an opinion? Players enjoy telling you what you want to hear. So if they don't have a clear idea what your opinions are, they can't cater to them. I've noticed when I've been extremely neutral on a topic, I've gotten a somewhat frustrated response from players. How can they impress me with their knowledge of X if they don't know that I like X?

5) Move to a tiny town or the Midwest -- go somewhere where values (of any kind) are still popular.

Good luck!

With all that said, the question remains...

Are players cool?

Yes, the old definition of a player, was slightly cool in that they did have lots of people interested in them. However, the new player is essentially playing a James Bond video game. Not in the arcade, but with online gaming friends, as they don't have any real ones.

And as they are slinking around a corner to shoot someone with Bond music playing -- their mother calls and says "Aww sweetie you look just like James Bond! Did you get the toe socks I sent?" and he beams and says "Yeah and guess how many points I got! A LOT! And I'm wearing the toe socks now! I love the stripes! And don't worry I'll remember to wear my sweater later...do you know that I'm drinking Tang too. I love Tang!"

That's about as far as the coolness factor of the new player actually extends...but you somehow won't know that, with all of the smoke, mirrors, lies, manipulation and other shenanigans that constitute being a NYC player.

Yes, this is how cool the player actually is, underneath the Armani. As cool as a Tang-drinking, striped toe-sock wearing person, sitting on the floor and playing Bond with his online friends. Um, *cringe*. This is why players will go to great lengths to mislead you.

Once the truth hits you though, it's extremely easy to move on -- even for a non-player.

No soup necessary

It's been raining. A lot. I'm pretty sure it's been raining for about 24 hours straight. It makes me sleepy. I don't mind it though.

I'm at my favorite coffee shop again because my evil Time Warner internet is out hours beyond the "scheduled outage." So what does that make this? A "TW needs to get a freakin' watch outage?" I think so. I think if their service people got watches also, it would help installations happen on time, not five or six hours beyond the scheduled time.

Wouldn't that be nice if you could show up for your job that way? "Well, I'm scheduled to be in at 8am...but look at that. Here I am at 6pm on the dot."

Okay, so things are looking up. I just purchased the "big oreo" which is wonderful in every way.

This makes up for the fact that the guy next to me's earphones are playing in speaker w/o him realizing and I really dislike Blues Traveller. I also dislike how he bumped into my table about 5 times trying to get by.

I am amused by the guy in a long coat who sauntered in out of the nighttime rain to request, get this...bread. He asked only for some plain bread. The guy seemed to think it was normal enough.

"It might be a bit stale," he said.

"No problem."

I stood in line behind him for my oreo and he said "pardon me" as he stepped backwards (though he didn't actually hit into me at all). He must have assumed he'd violated my 2-foot space radius.
He reminded me a lot of Edward Cullen, both in looks and behavoir, which as any 16-year-old girl knows, is a very good thing. I think he may be some sort of bread vampire. Who roams the city looking for sources of bread, stale or otherwise. No soup necessary. Unfortunately, bread vamp got it "to go."

Xmas and NYE!

So this will be short as I'm sleepy.

1 XMas:

I got stuck in NYC for Xmas because my flight got cancelled (along with everyone else's on the 22nd in the bad weather). I called about five minutes later and all the flights were booked until the 26th! I decided just to go home for about 3 days anyway.

It was great to see all the people I could fit in for the short stay and really made me appreciate home, family, etc. Also got some Mexican food and hiked in Tucson with my parents (and I drove their big truck for the first time -- for some reason trucks scared me as I'd never driven one). It all felt very Arizona. I even wore my casual PHX and Tucson clothes (I seem to have a huge number of extra clothing that I bought before moving). It felt like shopping, but yet everything fit. I forgot even buying a lot of the things.

Had a wonderful little late Xmas with my parents and my dad made an amazing meal for us and my aunt and uncle. He also made Caldo de Queso soup (delicious) as well as pasta.

1, NYE

Then I luckily was able to fly back without problems, even though the weather wasn't great. I made it back the night before NYE.

So last night I went to a lounge where a friend was having a private party. It was great fun and I really, really appreciate the friends I've finally made here. Was a great way to ring in '09 and we all decided this year will be the best!

Today I had an enormous hang over and discovered a few things.

1, my boots had sparkles -- must have been confetti that stuck to spilled drinks on my shoes.

2. I had a huge headache PLUS a big bump on my head -- I most likely hit my head getting out of a cab, but I don't remember. Possibly due to the bump? jk. Probably more likely the tequila shots.

3. I had called and texted a variety of people -- I then responded to my own texts, not realizing I had written it myself. Interesting.

I guess all pretty typical NYE sorts of things!