I was going to go to bed, but this one, indelible thought is keeping me from resting my weary eyes and dreaming once again about the Jonas Brothers (I really did dream about them, and yes it was weird). I NEED TO WRITE MORE.
Last night, sitting at a bar in Brooklyn, a friend and I had a conversation that accelerated my otherwise slow, painful spiral into oblivion. For months I have been allowing myself to become content in this state of blinding apathy, allowing it to take hold of my entire self and render me a senseless imbecile. I mean, I'm happy (I really am happy, it totally comes off as some fleeting, empty statement), but I don't feel fulfilled. I feel like I'm wasting away. Never have I felt so...lame. I don't know how to describe it. Devoid of intensity, passion, substance... lame. A walking shell. A rock, dense, contributing nothing of value. It's like I've forgotten that I actually have opinions and ideas. I need to get out of this funk. I was thinking about writing some essays or something. I haven't done that since college. I always felt so accomplished after completing an essay.
I dedicate this song to the love of my life: Writing. It's always been you.(Though, I think this song is really about Jesus... eh, oh well).
"Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you..."
I'm out.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Wind and Water and Weird
Apparently a tornado touched the hipster-stained streets of Brooklyn yesterday, and instead of rallying a large, rowdy group of people armed with cameras and iphones to chase after it, I was sleeping. I had no idea that swirling torrent of wind and rats (instead of cows) was tearing through the streets as I was startled into consciousness, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. All I knew was that my bed was not going to withstand the windy weather. Through my window I could hear the wind screaming obscenities as it crashed into everything in its path with violent intensity. What I heard it saying was, "Your loft bed from ikea is giving me a f&^cking headache. I'm gonna have to tear that sh&t down." And instead of scrambling out of it to safer grounds, I stayed up there. It was like I wanted the bed to break. I wanted to be in it if it fell to pieces and wrecked my entire room. It was a weird feeling. I'm a weird kid.
I may write more later...
Aaaand here it is...
So, if you didn't see it. I actually wrote "right more later..." instead of "write..." I've been finding myself making more and more mistakes like that which are not only embarrassing because of my love of words and my degree in freaking literature, but because I absolutely hate it when other people make those mistakes. It drives me nuts, and now I can't be mad because I AM one of those people- devoid of proper mechanics and grammar, turning my back on the literary tradition, desecrating an art. I should be shot... just in the foot, though.
I've been listening to a lot of Bob Marley lately because... well, I like him. He has so many awesome songs that are not mainstream that he sings- duh. Also, I know I'm not the only one who gets annoyed/uncomfortable when people sing "Redemption Song" at the top of their lungs at bars. That is not a freakin karaoke jam, people. It's just not.
That's the stuff. yeah.
I'm out.
I may write more later...
Aaaand here it is...
So, if you didn't see it. I actually wrote "right more later..." instead of "write..." I've been finding myself making more and more mistakes like that which are not only embarrassing because of my love of words and my degree in freaking literature, but because I absolutely hate it when other people make those mistakes. It drives me nuts, and now I can't be mad because I AM one of those people- devoid of proper mechanics and grammar, turning my back on the literary tradition, desecrating an art. I should be shot... just in the foot, though.
I've been listening to a lot of Bob Marley lately because... well, I like him. He has so many awesome songs that are not mainstream that he sings- duh. Also, I know I'm not the only one who gets annoyed/uncomfortable when people sing "Redemption Song" at the top of their lungs at bars. That is not a freakin karaoke jam, people. It's just not.
That's the stuff. yeah.
I'm out.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
I Have To...
I have to dedicate at least one blog post to the insanity I encounter everyday at work. Without trying to sound like that angry sales associate archetype I will attempt to relay the endless frustrations I experience everyday... Hey, maybe this single entry will start an unprecedented revolution of retail etiquette. HA!
Let's start from the beginning of the customer's experience...
Walking through the doors. It just astounds me that people have this strange aloofness when walking into the store, "Do you work here?" they ask, after I greet them, welcoming them to the establishment, after the walkie around my waste goes off alerting a department there's a "call on line one" for said department. Staring in bewilderment, unable to comprehend such a ridiculous question I used to be taken aback when I heard it. Now? Now I just say flatly, yes, I work here, using everything within me not to emphasize this you're-an-idiot tone in every word. Sometimes I want to answer, No, I just enjoy standing at the front of this particular store, smiling, and saying "hello" to strangers. Or say, "Heavens no, I just haven't taken my medication. I assume I am imagining all of you," and then spin around in circles repeatedly, laughing hysterically.
One question that I have gotten almost everyday since I've started working in NY has been "Is there a bathroom in here?" NOOO. NOOOO. NOOO, there is no bathroom in the store, and don't give me that look of disgust when I answer your silly question. This isn't an effing Macy's. Does freaking Forever 21 have a bathroom? Noooooooo. How about the Gap? Nooooooooo. Hm, maybe American Apparel? HELL NOOOOO. So, why the hell would this place be any different?! Get a grip people.
STOP LEAVING GARBAGE IN STRANGE PLACES. JUST ASK FOR A TRASH CAN. Rogue cups of Starbuck's coffee, candy wrappers, balled up gum, empty soda cans, full soda cans, potato chip bags, Pinkberry cups, you would think you were at a gd amusement park. So many cups of coffee have been spilled all over the floor, turning into a sticky, smelly brown mess. Yes, it was necessary to give you that visual. Throw it away before you get here! Or throw it away into the garbage can that's right outside! Or ask someone who works here where to put it.*
*note I was going to interject a lewd, unnecessary joke here, but thought better of it... kind of.
The most infuriating place, I'm convinced, in ALL OF RETAIL, is the fitting room. The most despised place in the store, where no one ever wants to go. People rudely yelling for sizes, and getting pissed if there are no more- truly believing, in their hearts, that we have vindictively planned to not have their size because, obviously, our entire lives revolve around them and their wardrobe. Mindlessly/carelessly tossing their clothes at you without saying a word, people shuffle into a room and slam the door. They don't think you're a human being, no just a clothing receptacle. A giant key that will get them into a room where they can stare at themselves for several minutes, looking over each inch of themselves, relishing in their "beauty." Or they're wrapping themselves in an insecurity blanket and redirecting their self-loathing tendencies onto others in the nastiest, most unkind way.
SO many people come in giggling about not knowing how many items they have, thinking it's a fun game to play while there are 15 other people waiting behind them to get into a fitting room and they have decided to pick up, oh 387945034030450 things and be completely entangled in them, like some kind of horror movie monster. And with a smile on my face, I try to make conversation so as not to completely go off the deep-end and honestly ask why they think it's alright to walk into a fitting room with 50489509485792734 items and not buy 1 thing.
Coming in with their parents wining selfishly about a skirt they really want, the spoiled preteens, tweens, teens, whateverTF they're called are TERRIBLE. All I can hear when they come in is a dull, continuous buzzing that fills my entire body until I start shaking and sweating knowing the harsh reality that these kids are about to spend a rent check's worth of money on one outing at one store. It's painful, really haha. I can probably write a book on the numerous amounts of things that remind me of class discrepancies or stratification.
The language barrier is also a story within itself. Pantomiming stupidly to foreigners, "No, you cannot bring those shoes into the fitting room with you. Yes, I know you want to keep them to try on. No, I will not put them back. They will be here in this basket." After a few brutal minutes, the dramatic act is over, and stupidity is immediately replaced with "What the hell was I just doing?"
Oh and this is merely the tip of the iceberg folks. There is much, much more where that came from. MUCH MORE. SO MUCH MORE IT'LL MAKE YOUR HEAD SPIN. I KNOW MY HEAD'S SPINNING.
And now to end with a song I have had in my head ALL DAY!
LOVE IT.
I'm out.
Let's start from the beginning of the customer's experience...
Walking through the doors. It just astounds me that people have this strange aloofness when walking into the store, "Do you work here?" they ask, after I greet them, welcoming them to the establishment, after the walkie around my waste goes off alerting a department there's a "call on line one" for said department. Staring in bewilderment, unable to comprehend such a ridiculous question I used to be taken aback when I heard it. Now? Now I just say flatly, yes, I work here, using everything within me not to emphasize this you're-an-idiot tone in every word. Sometimes I want to answer, No, I just enjoy standing at the front of this particular store, smiling, and saying "hello" to strangers. Or say, "Heavens no, I just haven't taken my medication. I assume I am imagining all of you," and then spin around in circles repeatedly, laughing hysterically.
One question that I have gotten almost everyday since I've started working in NY has been "Is there a bathroom in here?" NOOO. NOOOO. NOOO, there is no bathroom in the store, and don't give me that look of disgust when I answer your silly question. This isn't an effing Macy's. Does freaking Forever 21 have a bathroom? Noooooooo. How about the Gap? Nooooooooo. Hm, maybe American Apparel? HELL NOOOOO. So, why the hell would this place be any different?! Get a grip people.
STOP LEAVING GARBAGE IN STRANGE PLACES. JUST ASK FOR A TRASH CAN. Rogue cups of Starbuck's coffee, candy wrappers, balled up gum, empty soda cans, full soda cans, potato chip bags, Pinkberry cups, you would think you were at a gd amusement park. So many cups of coffee have been spilled all over the floor, turning into a sticky, smelly brown mess. Yes, it was necessary to give you that visual. Throw it away before you get here! Or throw it away into the garbage can that's right outside! Or ask someone who works here where to put it.*
*note I was going to interject a lewd, unnecessary joke here, but thought better of it... kind of.
The most infuriating place, I'm convinced, in ALL OF RETAIL, is the fitting room. The most despised place in the store, where no one ever wants to go. People rudely yelling for sizes, and getting pissed if there are no more- truly believing, in their hearts, that we have vindictively planned to not have their size because, obviously, our entire lives revolve around them and their wardrobe. Mindlessly/carelessly tossing their clothes at you without saying a word, people shuffle into a room and slam the door. They don't think you're a human being, no just a clothing receptacle. A giant key that will get them into a room where they can stare at themselves for several minutes, looking over each inch of themselves, relishing in their "beauty." Or they're wrapping themselves in an insecurity blanket and redirecting their self-loathing tendencies onto others in the nastiest, most unkind way.
SO many people come in giggling about not knowing how many items they have, thinking it's a fun game to play while there are 15 other people waiting behind them to get into a fitting room and they have decided to pick up, oh 387945034030450 things and be completely entangled in them, like some kind of horror movie monster. And with a smile on my face, I try to make conversation so as not to completely go off the deep-end and honestly ask why they think it's alright to walk into a fitting room with 50489509485792734 items and not buy 1 thing.
Coming in with their parents wining selfishly about a skirt they really want, the spoiled preteens, tweens, teens, whateverTF they're called are TERRIBLE. All I can hear when they come in is a dull, continuous buzzing that fills my entire body until I start shaking and sweating knowing the harsh reality that these kids are about to spend a rent check's worth of money on one outing at one store. It's painful, really haha. I can probably write a book on the numerous amounts of things that remind me of class discrepancies or stratification.
The language barrier is also a story within itself. Pantomiming stupidly to foreigners, "No, you cannot bring those shoes into the fitting room with you. Yes, I know you want to keep them to try on. No, I will not put them back. They will be here in this basket." After a few brutal minutes, the dramatic act is over, and stupidity is immediately replaced with "What the hell was I just doing?"
Oh and this is merely the tip of the iceberg folks. There is much, much more where that came from. MUCH MORE. SO MUCH MORE IT'LL MAKE YOUR HEAD SPIN. I KNOW MY HEAD'S SPINNING.
And now to end with a song I have had in my head ALL DAY!
LOVE IT.
I'm out.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
LITERARY DEATH
I was seriously contemplating dedicating an entire entry to the recent events in which my purse was greedily, excuse me, psychotically ripped away from my tender possession. Wow. It sounds like I was mugged. I wasn't. It was taken out of my friend's apartment. It's a long story (which is why I was gonna blog about it ha). This is an experience I swear I have about every 6-8 months. Something terrible MUST happen to me within that time frame or else the world will end- no, really, I'm convinced my perpetual misfortune is what keeps this earth spinning peacefully on its axis. YOU'RE WELCOME.
--SIDE NOTE--
I typed in "earth off axis" for google images and this came up
-compliments of momontherocks.com
--SIDE NOTE END--
I will refrain from writing about "the unfortunate event" as I do not want to -ahem- "blow up anyone's spot." But to the guy who felt the need to take things that didn't belong to him: F--- YOU. Yes, F--- YOU. I usually never use such colorful language in my blog, but your actions stir up emotions within me that cannot possibly be contained. Also, I hope something unimaginably terrible happens to you. A permanent splinter between your toes perhaps, or many tiny paper cuts between your fingers and on your FACE! I would describe more horrible, graphic scenarios, but just in case karma does exist I don't want to get too crazy and get hit by a car or something- OH WAIT.
Anyway...
I am posting at this abominable hour because I have been thinking about how much I have been neglecting my dream of becoming an astoundingly brilliant woman writer like Mary Higgins Clark or Nora Roberts. I hope you caught that seething sarcasm (and that awesome alliteration). Seriously though, I feel like my old roommate was right. He had a great point about "getting lost in the city" and would always tell me, don't let the thrill of the city get in the way of your dream. GAH!!! I HAVE. I swore to myself that after I moved here from NoVA I would honestly look for writing jobs or for something involving creativity and intellectual stimulation, but I haven't. Instead I have been wrapped up in, well, other things. Things that aren't necessarily bad, but not conducive to what it is I came here to do. I came here to write, and though I love blogging I never meant for this to be the primary platform for my writing. It's been a realization I have been slowly, shamefully coming to for quite some time. Though, recently I have been writing more, like I promised myself I would, I have not been trying to continue growing as a writer/person. No museums, no galleries, no shows, no NOTHING, at least, I haven't been to any for a while. I mean I went to a really nice restaurant during Restaurant Week which was amazing, but that's only because one of my friends asked me to go with her! I was suppose to go to a show I REALLY WANTED TO GO TO on Sunday (FREAKING CHROMEO) but due to extenuating circumstances that was out of the question. I haven't gone off on my own to do anything fun... BOOOOOO BAD, CHRIS! Sigh.
This is the most self-centered post EVER. Apologies. I know people are itching for me to post an entire entry about my problems and hear all about meeeeeee BLAH BLAH BLAH... I think I'm done.
I mean, I can't be the only person who feels this way! I JUST CAN'T BE!!
Sigh. I'm feeling so disgustingly emo haha. Alright. I should probably go to bed...
Don't walk the plank like I did
You will be dispensed with
When you've become inconvenient
I'm out.
--SIDE NOTE--
I typed in "earth off axis" for google images and this came up
--SIDE NOTE END--
I will refrain from writing about "the unfortunate event" as I do not want to -ahem- "blow up anyone's spot." But to the guy who felt the need to take things that didn't belong to him: F--- YOU. Yes, F--- YOU. I usually never use such colorful language in my blog, but your actions stir up emotions within me that cannot possibly be contained. Also, I hope something unimaginably terrible happens to you. A permanent splinter between your toes perhaps, or many tiny paper cuts between your fingers and on your FACE! I would describe more horrible, graphic scenarios, but just in case karma does exist I don't want to get too crazy and get hit by a car or something- OH WAIT.
Anyway...
I am posting at this abominable hour because I have been thinking about how much I have been neglecting my dream of becoming an astoundingly brilliant woman writer like Mary Higgins Clark or Nora Roberts. I hope you caught that seething sarcasm (and that awesome alliteration). Seriously though, I feel like my old roommate was right. He had a great point about "getting lost in the city" and would always tell me, don't let the thrill of the city get in the way of your dream. GAH!!! I HAVE. I swore to myself that after I moved here from NoVA I would honestly look for writing jobs or for something involving creativity and intellectual stimulation, but I haven't. Instead I have been wrapped up in, well, other things. Things that aren't necessarily bad, but not conducive to what it is I came here to do. I came here to write, and though I love blogging I never meant for this to be the primary platform for my writing. It's been a realization I have been slowly, shamefully coming to for quite some time. Though, recently I have been writing more, like I promised myself I would, I have not been trying to continue growing as a writer/person. No museums, no galleries, no shows, no NOTHING, at least, I haven't been to any for a while. I mean I went to a really nice restaurant during Restaurant Week which was amazing, but that's only because one of my friends asked me to go with her! I was suppose to go to a show I REALLY WANTED TO GO TO on Sunday (FREAKING CHROMEO) but due to extenuating circumstances that was out of the question. I haven't gone off on my own to do anything fun... BOOOOOO BAD, CHRIS! Sigh.
This is the most self-centered post EVER. Apologies. I know people are itching for me to post an entire entry about my problems and hear all about meeeeeee BLAH BLAH BLAH... I think I'm done.
I mean, I can't be the only person who feels this way! I JUST CAN'T BE!!
Sigh. I'm feeling so disgustingly emo haha. Alright. I should probably go to bed...
Don't walk the plank like I did
You will be dispensed with
When you've become inconvenient
I'm out.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
My Girls
Again I have to write about my weekend because I left out a few VERY IMPORTANT details. One, Thorgy Thor and two, Jade. Thorgy has really been expanding her repertoire and has been performing like a fiend these last few weeks all around Brooklyn. Wherever she goes she has a huge following of friends and fans who are astounded by her performances time and time again. It's so exciting to go to her show, having no idea what she'll perform and wondering how the hell these ideas manifested. Her orginiality and stage presence without fail will put a smile on your face.
I'm so excited for Jade because she seems to be spreading her wings beyond the bounds of Westchester and joining a bigger scene that's more fitting to her personality. People are already enamored by her and her ability to keep the audience captivated with every step she takes.
This past weekend I saw Thorgy Thor and Jade perform a few times at two different places- Bar 4 and Sugarland. They know how to put on a SHOW. Once I get clips from Thorgy Thor's solo performance I will most definitely put it up, but for now you'll have to enjoy this encore performance he did Sat. night at Bar 4 with Oscar (another starlet):
And here's Jade! Also at bar 4
Thorgy Thor and JADE
They'll both be performing the second Sunday of September at Sugarland! Save the date!
Yeah, I pulled THAT out. So early 2000s, right?! ha
I'm out.
I'm so excited for Jade because she seems to be spreading her wings beyond the bounds of Westchester and joining a bigger scene that's more fitting to her personality. People are already enamored by her and her ability to keep the audience captivated with every step she takes.
This past weekend I saw Thorgy Thor and Jade perform a few times at two different places- Bar 4 and Sugarland. They know how to put on a SHOW. Once I get clips from Thorgy Thor's solo performance I will most definitely put it up, but for now you'll have to enjoy this encore performance he did Sat. night at Bar 4 with Oscar (another starlet):
And here's Jade! Also at bar 4
Thorgy Thor and JADE
They'll both be performing the second Sunday of September at Sugarland! Save the date!
Yeah, I pulled THAT out. So early 2000s, right?! ha
I'm out.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
To Regret Or Not To Regret? That Is The Question.
I've learned over the years that regrets are as useful as a credit card in a bodega. Soooo I regret nothing. However, I do wonder what the hell goes through my head sometimes when I find myself in wildly inappropriate situations. Then, I succumb to the idea of fate and escape any blame for my actions. haha that's terrible. I've actually never done that, but it sounds like a good idea. hmmmm... Anyway, the week just started and so far so good. I had an excellent weekend with some even more excellent people and learned some things about myself in the process. Yay! Self-discovery can be fun... orrr grossly depressing. My discovery? I am a lover of honesty and forwardness. That's pretty self-explanatory, yes? Gooooood. I'm sure I'm not the only one who doesn't like to be involved in cloudy, misguided events that lead to confusion and ultimately a nauseating realization.
So as not to fall completely into a downtrodden abyss, hating all of humanity and its stupidity, I am going to do some more- gasp- reading and -gasp- writing. I realize I haven't done that for me in a while. The writing, not the reading.
I'm reading a book by Sartre right now called, funnily enough, Nausea, and I think I picked it up at the perfect time in my life. I mean, I was suppose to read it in college... buuuuut.... anyway. Sigh. I didn't okay?! I didn't read it! I dunno how I passed that class, with a B no less! But I did (pats self on back). haha
So this week I will not be going out at all, but staying in my dark room staring at the bright screen of my computer. The light washing over my morose expression as I jot down my ambivalent feelings about life, pressing my memory for words I have been suppressing, avidly digging around my subconscious for serenity. My fingers moving across the keyboard with a fury that is reminiscent of the feelings violently swirling around in my head, without reason or direction. Crying intermittently, tears seeping into my computer, where mechanics meet organics. Ignoring concerned inquiries from friends and family wondering where I've been for days, I will continue to create a shadow of myself through words that only I can see and understand...
JUST KIDDING!!!
I'm actually going to the PIT tomorrow with a bunch of people to see Oscar perform. I can't imagine locking myself in a room like that. I'm no Emily Dickinson (on a variety of levels- she is gawd), I like people. But I will make time to write for myself more often this week, just not at the expense of my sanity. Sometimes though, it is nice to just be alone, relish in solitude. I have absolutely NOTHING against that. There have been times I have found myself cradling my computer rocking back and forth cursing the mercilessness of the world. I mean who hasn't? Right... right... right...right...
Oh boy.
I'm out.
So as not to fall completely into a downtrodden abyss, hating all of humanity and its stupidity, I am going to do some more- gasp- reading and -gasp- writing. I realize I haven't done that for me in a while. The writing, not the reading.
I'm reading a book by Sartre right now called, funnily enough, Nausea, and I think I picked it up at the perfect time in my life. I mean, I was suppose to read it in college... buuuuut.... anyway. Sigh. I didn't okay?! I didn't read it! I dunno how I passed that class, with a B no less! But I did (pats self on back). haha
So this week I will not be going out at all, but staying in my dark room staring at the bright screen of my computer. The light washing over my morose expression as I jot down my ambivalent feelings about life, pressing my memory for words I have been suppressing, avidly digging around my subconscious for serenity. My fingers moving across the keyboard with a fury that is reminiscent of the feelings violently swirling around in my head, without reason or direction. Crying intermittently, tears seeping into my computer, where mechanics meet organics. Ignoring concerned inquiries from friends and family wondering where I've been for days, I will continue to create a shadow of myself through words that only I can see and understand...
JUST KIDDING!!!
I'm actually going to the PIT tomorrow with a bunch of people to see Oscar perform. I can't imagine locking myself in a room like that. I'm no Emily Dickinson (on a variety of levels- she is gawd), I like people. But I will make time to write for myself more often this week, just not at the expense of my sanity. Sometimes though, it is nice to just be alone, relish in solitude. I have absolutely NOTHING against that. There have been times I have found myself cradling my computer rocking back and forth cursing the mercilessness of the world. I mean who hasn't? Right... right... right...right...
Oh boy.
I'm out.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Brooklyn I love you but you're bringing me down- nah not really.
Eeeeek! I have no idea what to write about but really want to update. Isn't that weird? Don't answer that.
Hmmmmmm...
Let's talk about the amount of noise that emanates from the streets into my window and the constant complaints I get from friends and family when I'm on the phone and have to pause because a train is riding past my window.
I live on a pretty busy street and the people in my neighborhood don't feel inhibited by courtesy or early morning hours. No, the people in my neighborhood relish in their ability to scream at the top of their lungs and play loud music at all hours, truly exercising individual freedoms, regardless of when and where. My neighborhood defies the boring suburbian lifestyle and laughs in the face of "quiet hours" and curfews. More than a few times I have seen 14-year-olds walking the streets after I get out of work at oh 2 in the morning- ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I've also seen mothers totting around their toddlers at the same hour. The poor kids are usually falling asleep, heads bobbing every which way, wondering why the hell their in a stroller and not in bed.
I love my neighborhood, though. Everything about it, including the obnoxious guys who stand on the corner and yell the N-word every 5 seconds, the ice cream truck guy who sits outside of my window at 9 in the morning blasting the most irritating renditions of children songs, even the train that runs outside my window every 15 minutes. I love it all. Brooklyn is the bees knees.
Yes, I live that close to the tracks. It's actually quite quaint. In a chaotic, wildly noisy way.
(not so) Random musing: I need to have a house warming party soon...
Also! Devin and I are going to be collaborating on a whole new blog! I'm super excited about it. CAN'T WAIT.
I'm out.
Hmmmmmm...
Let's talk about the amount of noise that emanates from the streets into my window and the constant complaints I get from friends and family when I'm on the phone and have to pause because a train is riding past my window.
I live on a pretty busy street and the people in my neighborhood don't feel inhibited by courtesy or early morning hours. No, the people in my neighborhood relish in their ability to scream at the top of their lungs and play loud music at all hours, truly exercising individual freedoms, regardless of when and where. My neighborhood defies the boring suburbian lifestyle and laughs in the face of "quiet hours" and curfews. More than a few times I have seen 14-year-olds walking the streets after I get out of work at oh 2 in the morning- ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I've also seen mothers totting around their toddlers at the same hour. The poor kids are usually falling asleep, heads bobbing every which way, wondering why the hell their in a stroller and not in bed.
I love my neighborhood, though. Everything about it, including the obnoxious guys who stand on the corner and yell the N-word every 5 seconds, the ice cream truck guy who sits outside of my window at 9 in the morning blasting the most irritating renditions of children songs, even the train that runs outside my window every 15 minutes. I love it all. Brooklyn is the bees knees.
Yes, I live that close to the tracks. It's actually quite quaint. In a chaotic, wildly noisy way.
(not so) Random musing: I need to have a house warming party soon...
Also! Devin and I are going to be collaborating on a whole new blog! I'm super excited about it. CAN'T WAIT.
I'm out.
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