Seven Years

11 09 2008

Since my blog is largely about New York City, I thought it was important that I write something on the seven-year anniversary of September 11th.  I’m not sure what else I could share except the vivid memory of where I was at the moment it happened.  New Jersey.  8th grade Social Studies.  Class had just started and the principal came on the loudspeaker to announce that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center.  Initially, I thought it was some sort of cruel joke – because, planes crashing into building didn’t make sense, right?  Right?  The teacher turned the TV on to the news and the rest of my memories of the day was just that – news.  And the same haunting images flashing on the screen for the next couple days.  And the people falling.  I remember crying that night while sitting with my dad.

Anyway, I’m running late for class and don’t have time to proofread what I just spewed onto the (web)page, agh.   Where were you on that morning?





Nina & Max Do NYC

29 08 2008

Max and I spent the past couple days venturing through the various NYC boroughs and exploring their tourist attractions (though in a laid-back, New Yorker way, of course). Among our sightseeing activities: we roamed South Street Seaport, walked both ways across the Brooklyn Bridge, sat by the East River at the Williamsburg Reclamation Site, rode the Staten Island Ferry, drank coffee in Battery Park, and ate Nathan’s hot dogs at Coney Island. So if that list doesn’t justify my lack of recent posts, I don’t know what will – except maybe the fact that I didn’t want to see my photo project bumped down from the top two posts?

And now for a series of touristy pictures, courtesy of Max and his iPhone:

view of the BK Bridge from South Street Seaport

view of the BK Bridge from South Street Seaport

We were standing on the pier by the Ice Cream Factory, looking at the BK Bridge waterfall.

We were standing on the pier by the Ice Cream Factory, looking at the BK Bridge waterfall.

As I was typing this post, I realized that the majority of these locations offer amazing views of Manhattan. That is, they’re known for their phenomenal panoramic views of the NYC expanse. I absolutely love the views because they provide a slightly-outside-of-NYC perspective through which I can appreciate both the huge size of the population and the small sized of the actual island. Maybe that’s why some of these places are so popular? What does it mean to overlook/watch the city and its bright lights and skyscrapers from a distance?

View from the Reclamation Site on N.9th & Kent - one of my fave places in Williamsburg

View from the Reclamation Site on N.9th & Kent - one of my fave places in Williamsburg

On the Staten Island Ferry, my hair blowing in the wind, ha.

On the Staten Island Ferry, my hair sexily blowing in the wind, ha.

My first time at a real beach this summer - took long enough.

My first time at a real beach this summer - took long enough.

Pretty picture...too bad the place is pretty grimey.

Pretty picture...too bad the island is pretty grimey.





This Is My Party Face

14 07 2008

Pretty self-explanatory post. These pictures are all from the Opening Ceremony party this past week. They were taken by my close friend, Josh, and can be further lurked on his new photoblog – Josh’Shots.





NYC Drip-Drizzle

9 07 2008

You know it’s summer in New York City when you’re walking down the street with your friends and you think it’s starting to rain when, in actuality, it’s just the air conditioners drip…drip…dripping from the buildings above. Seriously, every single day I feel countless water drops landing on my hair, arms, lips (ew), and in my eye (ugh).

The only news article I could find on this specific (and annoying) problem is here. The bad news: “air conditioning experts” say there’s no stopping the dripping. The good news: “The water is completely clean. You could drink it. It’s simply moisture that was in the air. You sort of taste it anyway, every time you breath in.”

Hm, given that NYC air isn’t the cleanest (I mean, big city = air/noise/light pollution), I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “completely clean,” let alone suggest you stand on the sidewalk with your face to the sky and your mouth wide open, awkwardly singing “If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops, oh what a rain it would be…”

And now for a Barney sing-a-long:





“The Whole World, Very Little”

4 07 2008

This past Tuesday, I got out of work several hours early because Josh Spear, one of the Undercurrent partners, was in a photoshoot for an ad campaign. With lighting equipment and photographers blocking any access to my desk and computer, I got to leave (somewhat blinded by flashes) around 2 pm. At a loss for what to do with my free time (because I’ve had very little this summer), I did what any good NYU student would do – I wandered back to campus and made a stop at the Gallatin student lounge before settling on a bench in Washington Square Park to people-watch.

At one point, a young woman with a European accent (in her 20s, I assume) approached me and asked if I lived in NYC. I answered that yes, I do, to which she asked if I would be willing to discuss my experiences in the city. For her research. She sat down next to me on the bench and began asking me questions – Do I love living here? What are New Yorkers like? Do I consider NYC the City of Freedom? In the process of answering these questions, I asked her own opinions of the city. I found out she was from Vienna, Austria and had been in the city for about two months, talking to people of all different ages, races, and classes – but always asking about NYC. She described her own love for the city in an enamored and giddy way. It’s, as she said, “the whole world, very little.” With such diversity, it has a “special energy” unlike any other city in the world (even Paris, she admitted, is “snobbish”). Thinking about it now, I believe New York City has so much to offer because it is, in fact, “the whole world, very little.” She also asked if I considered New Yorkers to be “respectful” of others. Due to its diversity and in comparison to other cities in the world, I think New York is more accepting of the individual. This is not to say that there is no discrimination (because there definitely is), but I think that NYC provides more opportunities for everyone – to pursue careers, find their community, just explore.

New York City possesses the charm and opportunity it does because of the people who inhabit it. I used to imagine NYC to be a person I was in a relationship with (sorry, Max) whom I sometimes hated, usually loved, and sometimes stressed me out to the point of plunging myself back into minor depression. Maybe I don’t love NYC as a person, but rather NYC as all of its different people. Before she left, she asked for my name and contact information, so I finally asked her name and what her research was for. Her name was Iva (it’s Slavic, pronounced Eva) and the research was for a book she was going to write in German. I realized after she left that I failed to mention my own blog about NYC.

(cue pseudo-relevant picture of a children’s book)





Pick-me-ups

2 07 2008

By “pick-me-up,” I don’t mean coffee or any activity that will lift my mood. Rather, I quite literally mean people who try to pick me up with their potpourri of sleazy come-ons. In lieu of writing a substantial entry tonight, I’ll leave you with some of the more memorable catcalls I’ve gotten today.

Dumbest: “Pussy, pussy” – as Josh said…way to just state what you see in front of you. i.e. Yes, I’m a girl.

Most Polite: “You’re the prettiest young lady ever.” – EVER.

Most Awkward: (from across the subway platform) “Sweetheart! You’re beautiful! Here’s my number…” – yet another instance of Awkward Subway Moment #3

Disclaimer: I neither respond to nor acknowledge the creepsters because I’m sure everything they say actually translates into inappropriately-expressed appreciation for my short shirt-dress and my nicer-than-usual legs (thanks to my heels and constant walking around/seating people as a hostess at Sea).

Anyway, here’s a picture of how I did NOT respond to these people, though it is a picture of what I was wearing tonight. I guess if you were to physically pick me up and I was pretending to fly, I might look like this?

Sam\'s roof

(By the way, happy July! Everyone play “July, July!” by The Decemberists. Tomorrow, expect a post about my 2-hour experience on a bench in Washington Square Park.)





NYC is a drug (+ Jersey Girl, the movie)

27 06 2008

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.





Old Places, New Memories

21 06 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)





Awkward Subway Moments

20 06 2008

Gothamist pic of crowded subway, taken by Nick Whitaker

(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!





Never talk to strangers?

20 06 2008

laundromat

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.