(Mom at Thai temple, looking adorable)
I spontaneously decided to come home for the weekend. I haven’t been back since mid-May, which is a long time considering I’m an only child and home is so close. NYC was getting to be too stressful – as it usually does after a while – and I needed a short break (no threat of withdrawal) to detox in New Jersey.
+Update:
Since I’m in NJ, there is little else to do but watch TV. Or, rather, I have plenty of other productive things I should be doing, but since I have no TV to watch in NYC, this is my only opportunity to do so. Ironically, Jersey Girl is on right now (yes, as in the movie starring Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler that came out circa Bennifer, v. 1). And yes, I’m still watching the movie despite the fact that I’ve seen it before and that the acting isn’t all too great. Plotline = Ollie Trinke (Ben Affleck), a Jersey-born media publicist who used to work in NYC, raises his daughter after his wife (J.Lo!) dies at childbirth. They live with the grandfather in Jersey (good old “Pop” is actually played by the late George Carlin), though Ollie struggles between pursuing his old life in NYC and staying in NJ. Not that I’m in the same situation at all, but it’s interesting to see different perspectives on the NJ-NYC relationship.
Despite my many attempts to post throughout orientation week, I could neither find the time nor remain conscious enough to write coherently. Orientation ended yesterday and I’m currently back at my internship, exhausted (still) from the past week of nonstop 8am-2am work days. The sleep-deprivation was worth it, though. Things went smoothly, the Orientation Leaders all bonded, and the freshmen orientees successfully registered for courses in an important step toward adjusting to college. Some highlights…
Training involved a good amount of arts & crafts work – painting and coloring welcome signs, making our own shirts, incorporating Disney tunes into our skit/musical, dancing spontaneously, etc. Once training was over, we went to the American Museum of Natural History. We watched a space show in the Museum’s Hayden Planetarium before roaming some dinosaur exhibits. Between reminiscing about my favorite childhood dinosaur (brontosaurus, for the record), rediscovering my former dreams of becoming an astronomist and/or geologist, and shamelessly acting like every fossil-animal I walked past, I became increasingly aware of my silly-happy-childishness. In many ways, orientation training reinforced my belief that I’m actually just a child at heart. [Granted, my birthday is on Leap Year Day (i.e. February 29) and I'm technically only five years old.] I wrote in my first blog post that NYC fosters independence and responsibility. And it’s true, I feel more like an adult with every day I spend here. It’s just nice to remember that there are plenty of ways to return to childhood. NYC = an urban playground?
On Tuesday night, we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge both ways (which I’d actually never done before – surprising, I know). Our destination: Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, where the group bought ice cream and enjoyed the waterfront view together. There were leg-stretches and icebreaker games involved, haha. The whole trip was so beautiful and peaceful, especially on the trek back to Manhattan. It’s something I plan to do on a regular basis from now on. Maybe it’s a tourist-y hobby, but I believe many New Yorkers (like myself) originally came here from elsewhere; that is, we enjoy tourist sites because they remind us of the compelling charm and intense excitement that attracted us to the city in the first place.
When Orientation was over, I felt a bit lost – I could hardly imagine living in Brooklyn again and returning to life as it was a week ago. Let’s just say I was sufficiently, err, disoriented.
(Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, from NYMag, photo by Robert K. Chin)
What a relevant gem from LOLcats. LOLNYC is not to be confused with LOLSAM or LOLtube (both = great blogs by some of my good friends).
New York City is expensive. It’s a fact that seems less LOL-worthy everyday. I mean, after being exposed to NYC’s prices and rent, your view on money is never quite the same. Discuss.
George Carlin has died of heart failure at the age of 71. My main memory of him is his role as “Mr. Conductor,” the magical, miniature-sized conductor, in one of my favorite childhood shows – Shining Time Station (think Thomas the Tank Engine and characters dancing in a jukebox). Yes, I know he’s remembered most for his great political and taboo stand-up. (Not to compare the two comedians/actors, but I experienced similar shock when I found out that Bob Saget, wholesome “Danny Tanner” from Full House, had a knack for dirty standup.) But Carlin’s passing, like that of “Mr. Rogers,” helps me appreciate and be grateful for the role he played in my childhood. I was originally going to post about my childhood-reminiscent experiences from today, but as this is timely news and I haven’t yet had time to write everything, it feels more appropriate to dedicate this post to George Carlin.
( George Carlin, 1937-2008 )
This week is NYU Gallatin‘s Summer Orientation. As an Orientation Leader, I’m living in my old freshman dorm until Thursday. Flashback, much? My room is a single this time around – a far cry from my low-cost triple freshman year (I lived on the top bunk), and an even farther cry from the loft apartment in Brooklyn which I’m sharing for the summer with 4 close friends (partially pictured below – think the REAL RealWorld Williamsburg). Anyway, I had to turn on my music to kill the silence here and to muffle the creaky/creepy noise coming from what I imagine to be a huge machine/generator somewhere outside my window.
It’s strange to think that two years ago I lived just one floor above where I am now. It still smells the same (in a reassuring way), if that makes any sense. I neither smell the same nor am I the same person. I guess this post has turned into an expression of nostalgia. I mean, it’s the kind of nostalgia I feel when I walk around campus or other areas I know well – the content kind. It’s the sense of familiarity that stems from my countless memories and experiences of a certain place/park/store/building.
I’m suddenly so exhausted from today’s twelve hours of training that I literally can’t keep my eyes open. If I keep writing, I’ll more than likely type something as I’m losing consciousness (which, as I’ve learned several times, reveals awkward things about my subconscious). As Orientation goes on, I’m sure I’ll have more to say – that is, if I’m not even more drained of energy and deprived of sleep. For now, though, I will be crawling into my bed of standard-issue, dingy white sheets. Hot.
(photo taken by Don Xavier Polistico, roommate/bestfriend)
(photo from Gothamist, taken by Nick Whitaker)
In order from least to most awkward. Read and cringe in recognition.
10. When people announce to the entire subway car why they need money.
( “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt, but…” )
This is ranked least awkward because it is more of a moment in which I’m torn between feeling bad for the person and questioning whether or not they’re being truthful. Many times the person begging does not get any acknowledgment, let alone any money. Makes me remember the power of diffusion of responsibility and conformity.
9. When everyone in the subway car stares.
(At you.)
Why? Because you lost balance and fell directly into the lap of the middle-aged creepster behind you. Or, because you got caught between the car doors as they were closing, proceeded to struggle and fight to get into the car, and then had to resume composure. Or, because you were standing on the subway platform waiting for the car doors to open, staring at the people who were waiting to get out of the train.
8. When you try to ignore everyone else.
(Which do you stare at – floor or advertisement?)
Subway riders are pros at avoiding eye contact and ignoring each other’s existence. So when it comes to making awkward eye contact, the question is always whether to look at the floor, the subway map (which is awkward for the people sitting there), or the advertisements above everyone’s heads. I once saw an ad (for some alcohol, I forget which) that said “Because it’s more polite than reading your neighbor’s book.” That’s another option, of course – reading over someone’s shoulder. I guess the best solution to this would be to bring your own reading material.
7. When you overhear a conversation.
Out of context, anything can be misinterpreted (and thus, humorous or stupid or both). People’s subway conversations are no exception. I mean, obviously, everyone wants to know about your late-night sexcapades and significant other woes.
6. When the lights go out in the subway car.
Everytime this happens, I half expect a person who’s afraid of the dark to flip out. It never happens, probably because NO ONE talks (or makes any noise) when the lights go out.
5. When you’re forced to get up-close-and-personal with everyone else.
You have no choice. You’ve somehow squeezed onto the subway car during rush hour and have now found yourself wedged under the arm of a guy with horrible B.O. and up against the crotch of a balding businessman. Downside: Strangers in NYC are never supposed to get this close. Ever. Upside: You don’t have to hold onto anything because it’s so packed that you can’t fall (see Moment #9)
4. When you fall asleep…
And wake up to someone staring at you. It happens. It is creepy. Just fall back asleep and pretend you didn’t see. (That’s what I did.)
3. When you are blatantly hit on.
This happens as well – I can attest to it. I was just standing there fuming as these 2 men stared nonstop and proceeded to comment continuously about me. I bit my lip as I thought of all the different ways I could tell them off. I didn’t actually do it.
2. When you can’t run away from creepy people trying to talk to you.
You’re ignoring everyone, as usual. Until someone weird decides to make awkward conversation with you. You cannot run away. Luckily, I once took the wrong train and was able to get off at the next stop, before Mr. Crazy could tell me more about what he knew about my cell phone plan.
1. When you can’t run away from acquaintances/ex’s.
This is the worst. Seriously. You run into someone whom you only know vaguely – or worse, someone you dated/hooked up with/don’t talk to/counted on never seeing again. You can’t ignore them but you have nothing to say to them. So you try to make smalltalk while simultaneously looking around the subway car for some kind of help. There’s no way out of this one until one of your stops comes up.
If you think I ranked incorrectly or missed anything, please comment. Happy subway riding, kids!
I’m sitting in the laundromat (yes, it’s my 3rd time in a laundromat, ever) two blocks away from my apartment and there are 10 minutes left on my dryer. Of course, I meant to start writing this post the minute I put my clothes in the washing machine but I was caught up in anxiety over finally having this blog out there. In public.
Most aspects of life in NYC are public, though. I’m realizing more and more how many strangers I encounter in NYC everyday. On the streets, in the parks, while taking mass transportation. I mean, it makes sense, right? Little island. Millions of people living on top of each other. Yet for the most part, New Yorkers commit to remaining strangers – even though they might pass the same exact people everyday on the way to work, or see the same people rolling by with their dirty laundry carts at the laundromat. A man just walked by me asking if I get wireless here, to whom I answered yes, I’m actually pirating some from an unprotected network. He laughed and walked off and that was the extent of our interaction. Now he’s singing “La Cucaracha” to his two little girls while folding laundry. I find it interesting – the glimpses we can get of people’s lives when we pay attention in public and stop feigning complete indifference and mysterious unconcern.
Though I’ve lived in New York City for about two years now, I have only just begun to feel comfortable as “a New Yorker.” Of course, the slow adjustment may be attributed to my incredibly bad sense of direction and my anxiety-inducing fear of getting lost (coupled with the fact that I surround myself with people who know their way around so well that I usually just play follow-the-leader). Nevertheless, NYC seems to cultivate independence sooner or later, in that if you can’t find your way around alone, you will never leave your room (I learned this the hard way, of course). I feel like several things have recently helped build up my sense of independence – that is, my sense of being a New Yorker. Holding down different jobs – interning and becoming social-media-savvy at Undercurrent, hostessing at Sea. Having a boyfriend with a penchant for eating out at a hip, new restaurant every other day (thus taking me all over NYC with him in search of the perfect burger). Living in my first real apartment (i.e. not a dorm) for the summer in Brooklyn. Paying for said apartment. Understanding that the N train runs local on weekends but will otherwise take you to Canal St. instead of Prince St on weekdays. I guess this blog will be my attempt to talk about those experiences while getting myself to write on a regular basis. Bear with me while I get used to the blogosphere. Now to leave you with a picture that suggests I am the complete opposite of an independent New Yorker.
(my parents and I acting tourist-y earlier this year)
I just got a job as Junior Emerging Media Manager at JWT, after graduating from NYU Gallatin with an individualized major in Internet/new media studies and a minor in Anthropology (read my rationale). On any given day, you can find me talking about Twitter (follow me! read my "tweory" project); galavanting around downtown Manhattan with friends; adjusting to real adult life; or lounging in my West Village apartment.
You can find a list of my online profiles here, or you can contact me at nina.yiamsamatha [at] gmail.com.
