the wind-down

there's something comforting about the fact that my day has its expected bell-curve.

the lull in the morning, where I forget to brew coffee and have the un-win-able fight with my smoke detector, annoying my other roommates whilst I attempt to perfect my toasted english muffin.

packing my lunch, packing onto the express train.

reading on line at the 43rd st/bway starbucks for a triple grande skim capp I won't drink.

the hobbit-sized "bell man" who brings 'round his cart and his surprisingly delicious coffee at 11.

a mug of soup in my soup mug.

projects and projects at work -- I get to do the important stuff, yknow.

packing my purse, packing onto the express train.

cooking dinner
(tonight? chicken vindaloo),
making plans,
recreational reading,
wine, laughter,
all of the above.

repeat.repeat.repeat.

for all the intensity I feel as I approach "the future," the daily rise and wind-down is lovely and predictable.

happiness is morning and evening, daytime and nighttime too.

sometimes everything just seems like it's fallen into place, like those last missing pieces from a jigsaw puzzle have surrendered themselves to a searching hand under a couch. they just fit, and you ask yourself why it took you so long to finish sitting around and look for what you wanted.

the day off

I'm blaming the dizzying clumsiness and general feeling of lack of grace that dominated this hectic monday-come-tuesday (note - since the show must go on while the office is dark, monday is usually a bit of catch-up...imagine the results of a three-day weekend) on the very odd yoga class I took last night. I decided that my 'floating' (?) holiday should be spent with laundry, brunch, tea (lots), watching fat people-themed reality television with my roommate, and a slow flow evening class where I would stresslessly perfect my locust pose and enter the truncated work week with energy and focus.

FALSE.

for whatever reason, this instructor decided it was in the entire class's best interest to not only talk for the whole hour, but to ramble on about being in your mind no being in your body no in your mind in the present not the past but the future.

confusion, anxiety, and the needless, endless length of warrior one/two combo led to child pose retreat for many. including me. I have never left a yoga class feeling like I needed to go to a yoga class.

I didn't think anything of this until I was awoken at six am by my own expletive screams, jerking my left hand away from my steaming hot radiator, which had been turned on during the course of the brisk fall night. the rest of the day was filled with oatmeal-microwave-explosions, tripping over nothing at all, running into people that are at least one head shorter than me (not at all uncommon) and burning and re-burning my tongue on my spiteful, spiteful vegetable soup at lunchtime.

it may sound silly to blame my off day on a yoga class, but I maintain that if that class had been less "organic" (as he put it -- I say it was rife with inappropriately timed jokes) my day would have been more like slow flow and less like no flow. or stop and go.

finishing the scene

"I think many of us have an interrupted scene in our lives that we long to return to and finish. This unfinished scene is the sweet spot in our biographies, the place where we could break through the wall of normal miserable narrative to the heroic story we were too faint-hearted to continue. One must always be ready. The scene flashes by at unexpected moments. Quick, live!" - John Patrick Shanley

I quit my personal assistant job last week. what's the point of having a job that doesn't fit if you took it purely out of financial responsibility and you're not making enough money to be financially responsible? that's right that doesn't make any sense.

I start working at a broadway producer's office as an intern next monday. doing something I love and am actually good at.

hello world, I am back.

past meet present

last night, I spent the evening immersed in my parent's past life.

I love thinking about people's past lives. on my wbar radio show "stunt casting" last fall, caroline and I would ask ten questions to our guest, and my favorite question was always about his or her "past life," the person that you used to be that may or may not be radically different from the person you are now but who crafted the person you are today. hearing about people's past lives can be hilarious, shocking, impressive, all of the above.

for example, I spent my high school career going to church twice a week for bible study and captaining the girl's water polo team. that person is unrecognizable to the friends and acquaintances who know me as a producer and theater kid.

so when I was invited to dinner with three of my parent's oldest and dearest friends, I couldn't bear to refuse the chance to glimpse into the cool period of their youth where monday nights meant singing drunkenly around a steinway, rehearsing for a cabaret that would never be performed. remembering your parents used to be people who weren't defined by their relationship to you makes them more likable. not that we don't love our parents (maybe not just out of obligation), but I love that they used to be people who lived for nights out and music and new york like I do.

as austin put it, "the apple clearly never even fell off the tree."

weapon of massive consumption

I completely sympathize with jordy's packing plight, as I have been mocked ceaselessly and mercilessly by piles of crap (my crap) for the past week. it sits there innocently, silently asking "how do you plan to manage me? cradle me in your tired tired arms? *gasp* ultimately UNPACK me?" to which I will respond, "silly boxes. you will sit packed for at least three weeks until I have furniture and have gathered enough courage to face you again."

in other, happier, non-misery related news, my parents have decided to get another golden. meet mack:


I am sure there will be more apartment news in the near, hopefully less-cluttered future.

adventures in eating: chinese in flushing, queens

I have never been a picky eater. for those closest to me (in the figurative and literal sense of the word), I am quite vocal about the fact that for (the majority of) my whole life, there have only been two foods that I absolutelypositivelywillnot eat - 1) mayonnaise 2) mushrooms.

recently, I've decided that these specific aversions are childish and must be changed. if I am to sign onto my new lease on adult life, I must let go of these culinary boundaries and embrace the frontiers of adventurous eating. which I did today.

the dining editors of iny and I took a trip to flushing queens to cover some of the cheaper eats beat for next year's guide. I am all about chinese food -- there wasn't nearly enough of the good stuff in los angeles, and one of my favorite city restaurants happens to be congee village (...a chinese restaurant on allen/delancey, if you hadn't gleaned from the casual direction in which I was headed). the journey was a long, 7-train rollercoaster ride, but as I exited the main st. subway station, I found myself out of nyc and halfway across the world. never have I felt so far away from home while maintaining a visual of the manhattan skyline.

a feast of oxtail noodle soup, dumplings, stuffed buns, lamb burgers, cold vegetable noodles, trotters (that's right folks -- pigs feet), tripe, spicy sausage, egg custard, creamyflaky pastry, shaved ice later and approximately $13/person later, I patted my back and a full belly for confronting the unusual and unconventional with an open mind and open mouth.

I still don't really like mayonnaise -- I won't order it willingly, but won't fuss like a tiny, gagging baby if it's around. mushrooms remain another story. no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to enjoy them like most other, self-respecting grown-ups do. no foodie is perfect. not that I could even begin to label myself as such. after spending the past few weeks in the office with some true foodies, I see that I have more than a long way to go. but I am prepared to eat my way there.