NOTE: I need to elaborate on these - especially since a bunch of em are tongue-in-cheek. For now, though, this is who I am, condensed.
The second I put down this list, I started getting bothered by some of the things I put on it. I guess that just goes to show how transitory life and people are.
1) People who don't like me.
2) Not getting my way.
3) Unsavory opinions of me.
4) Being stood up and/or being kept waiting.
5) My parents.
6) My body.
7) Being 23 and without a degree.
8) The "failed relationships" that I've had - both romantic and platonic.
9) Being swamped with bills, bills, and more bills.
10) My selective memory.
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Top 10 Things That Irk Me
NOTE: These are things I'm proud to say I can extrapolate from life. I wanna elaborate on some of these points, but here they are in all their first draft beauty.
1) Beating around the bush. Last night, I went to someone's house and hung around uncomfortably, trying to make good with my social graces. A couple of people kept on making references to things they'd only know by reading this blog, and maybe I'm being paranoid or I completely miss the point of blogging - but all I kept thinking was, "My instincts say that they're alluding to my blog, but I feel no need to cross the boundary between cyber reality and physical reality. If they have something to say/ask, they'll do it, and that's when I'll answer them."
I stand by my decision, but I wish they'd have either kept their thoughts to themselves or they'd have fully aired out their quandaries. I mean, seriously, I'm not the kind of chick who gets all upset if you call her out on shit. Just say the damn thing already and have some common friggin' courtesy! Don't bring voice to something if you don't have enough voice to have your statements heard.
2) Unnecessary(?) Violence. When I decided to redo my blog profile, I almost added one of my favorite quotes. It's something that someone - me? Carrie? Samantha? Charlotte? - came up with during one of our many drinking binges back in the day. It goes something like: "I'm a pacifist till you fuck with me; then I'll kick your ass."
I have friends who would waste no time in calling me a hypocrite, or say that such a statement is unfathomable and offensive in some way. (That's just how I roll: some of my people are politically-correct hippies.) But is it true? Yes. Most certainly.
So how does this work?
I am the sweetest person you'll ever meet - and in many ways, one of the "cutest" as Rob, Drummer Boy and Past Tense can attest. I am very much an advocate of postponing and/or eradicating all sorts of bodily and emotional injury. I will admit that violence, in all of its forms, serves little use outside of throwing around one's weight, and that that sort of politicking ain't for the day-to-day of habit and circumstance.
But get on my shit list and I will see red every time your name is mentioned. I will very likely put on the vaseline, the rings and/or the brass knuckles and beat you within a millimeter of your life if you so much as glance at me the wrong way. I will tell people that your kid is an ugly retard who's better off an orphan than remaining in your stead. I will not hesitate to cut you. I... well, you get the idea.
I'm not an overly sensitive person. In fact, if you tell me straight to my face your less-than stellar opinion of me and cite specific examples of why the earth and its inhabitants are better off without me, I won't be fazed. I have no shame and there are very few ways to coax an honest-to-goodness reaction from me. The fact that you're on my shit list, therefore, means that you've done something utterly disrespectful. Maybe you threatened my life or you insulted someone in my fam. Maybe you tried to play me for an idiot or were so ignorant as to let your bloated ego fall in my way. Either way, I'll very respectfully tell you to get the fuck out of my face. What happens after that? Well, either way, you asked for it.
3) Intentionally Rude and/or Disrespectful People. (Especially anyone under the age of 20.) The first time my brother really liked a girl, he was in high school; the girl he liked was also in high school. Now, I love my baby brother more than life itself, and I've kept him under my wing in the hope that he'd learn from my mistakes. More to the point: I was a high school student once, and more importantly, I was a high school girl. The worst kind of high school girl. I played guys for fools. Used and abused hearts. Toyed with emotions. Wielded my sexual prowess with utter disregard for humanity. Yada yada yada...
Inevitably, this girl that my dear brother fell for -
I bet you thought I was gonna say that she was just as bad as I was.
Unlikely! Not many bitches-in-the-making can reach the level of bitchdom that I'd conquered by the tender age of 14. I'm happy to announce that the girl my brother fell for was your run-of-the-mill, let's-see-what-I-can-get-away-with teenage girl. She stood him up, deliberately hurt his feelings with uncouth words, and relegated him to her circle of platonic male friends while teasing his libido.
Instead of hating on her, though, I related to her. I told my kid brother to chalk this girl's actions to those of a kid being a kid, and I reminded him that there are many lessons that he (and I) still had to learn. As someone who'd been on the flip side of where he found himself, I said that he should take advantage of my hindsight and accept that youth & ignorance are like peanut butter & jelly.
This is my typical standpoint on foolish actions. When people - especially young people - are rude and/or disrespectful toward me, I assume that they're just too young and/or ignorant to know what they're doing.
But being deliberately direspectful and rude is something altogether different. This assumes that a person knows that their actions are wrong. Furthermore, it assumes that these people know the extent of the damage they are about to cause and that they mean to cause this harm. Such people are not to be tolerated. They are the shady-ass tricks and dicks that attempt to get one over on people. They are the degenerates with low self esteem that hope to raise their sorry stations in life by stepping all over you. They are the enemy, and they irk me to no end.
4) Ignorance. n. The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.
In my mind, there are two kinds of ignorance: passive and aggressive. Passive ignorance is a state that everyone is in. Examples of passive ignorance include every time that you're in a conversation with someone and they say something about the world that they need to explain to you. It's not your fault that you didn't know that very particular and specific viewpoint or factoid; it's just something that you never came across.
I'm aware of my passive ignorance every time I go to Nuyorican on Saturdays. Joe, Amy and Roland, who are old enough to be my hippie commune parents, will wax on about a topic I very blatantly know nothing about. I assume the role of student, soaking up all the information surrounding me - which woul be fine if not for the fact that I tend to forget my own knowledge when I'm put in this position.
I fit so comfortably into the role of student that while in it, I no longer acknowledge my teaching abilities. Sure, there's a bunch that I've already learned and experienced, but faced with the daunting and impressive body of knowledge accumulated by one of my would-be parents, I feel empty. The four hours spent on the internet the morning before, collecting information about whatever abtuse and/or abstract idea caught my fancy, no longer mean anything. I might as well be mute.
(NOTE: I'm now learning to melt out of my voyeuristic role of student-sponge, so that I can join in the give-and-take and not just observe the goings-on of amazing people. YAY! me)
But passive ignorance isn't what really gets my goat. That distinction is given to aggressive ignorance.
Aggressive ignorance is the kind of thing that scared people actively participate in. Every time someone deliberately passes up an opportunity to learn - that's aggressive ignorance. Every time someone decides they don't want to hear something, know something, experience something, feel something - that's aggressive ignorance. People who are aggressively ignorant are paralyzed by the fear of possibly having to change their way of life. They hide behind excuses like "I'm stuck in my ways" or "_____ can't possibly have anything I can gain from" or "What's the use in knowing that?"
Aggressive ignorance is closely linked to "conservatism." If someone refuses to be emboldened to a situation, odds are that they're too close-minded to consider perspectives that are not their own. Their comfort zone extends only to the space that is within their immediate reach, and they do not want to learn or experience.
Aggressively ignorant people are those who refuse to challenge their way of thinking or actively expand their minds. They are militant, dogmatic and often dangerous. Very often, they are the cause of (unnecessary) violence.
5) Not Knowing. As much as I enjoy the ride that is Life, sometimes I'd like to be able to fast forward a couple of paragraphs, read up on how a chapter ends, and sit back with the comfort of knowing what's going to happen. The not knowing is sometimes too much for me to bare.
This is so because I believe in two contentions:
a) Every moment is saturated with unlimited possibilities.
b) Free will.
No matter how much I experience, I always feel like a blank slate. Nothing is etched on me, nothing has been imprinted on me, nothing has changed me so much that I feel like something else. For a time, I experienced whatever was in my way because I wanted to be changed, I wanted to become something. I assumed that I had been born an amorphous blob of potential and that there was a process I'd have to undergo before becoming defined.
But the more I do, the more I feel like I'm coming back home to a place I left before really knowing it. It's like I was born fully formed but not fully developed. I was a constellation of stars from the beginning; it's up to life to connect the dots and tell me what I am.
But the spaces between the stars, the distances between the dots, are all kinds of blankness in which anything can happen. Like plot points of a story, there are infinite ways to connect these two subjects. There are infinite roads which lead from one thought to the next. And the way in which one decides to connect the dots seems so definite and binding. The choice is mine to do as I wish, to be as I want to be, and yet in making that decision I am making a conscious and specific impact on my life and the world at large. The wave of activity which is created by my actions and my personality will ripple unceasingly and I will have to live with the ramifications of my actions forever.
Thankfully, free will includes the possibility of acting differently, of negating as much as possible previous actions and personalities, of change. One must take into account, however, the fact that "change" is a process and not a step. Changes - especially dramatic ones - take time to happen. This is why I feel the need to look ahead and see what I end up doing with my life.
6) Never-Ending Arguments. I ended #5 on the screen, but in my head it keeps on going. If I looked into the future and saw something I didn't want to see, wouldn't I change it? Couldn't I change it? And for that matter, couldn't I form the future right now? Isn't that what I'm doing? With every key stroke, every phone call I take which interrupts my brain flow and causes me to impress my personality directly on someone else's personality, every purchase I make: aren't I changing the outcome of my life? So what's the use of knowing the future? What's the use of #5?
I can go on and on like this ad nauseum. It's a blessing and a curse, and in a very telling and self-fulfilling way I've been working up to the point where this is possible. But every action and every thought is a declaration of an idea, and the more one acts or thinks in this way, the more creedence they're lending to whatever they're doing. Simple thoughts and actions become viewpoints, opinions, credos; they are enmeshed into what we stand for, and therefore become weighty and important. Of course, the more important an idea is, the more it becomes a "statement," and the bigger the statement, the easier the target. This point - the one at which a statement becomes a target - is when the statement stops being a simple declaration and starts being an argument.
Argument. n. a statement, reason, or fact for or against a point.
Every lifestyle hence becomes an argument for certain things and against other things. The lives we lead become direct indicators of who we are as abstract ideas, influence, and thought processes.
Due to the contending nature of these statements, people - especially confident people - rub other people the wrong way. We go around living, being literal personifications of arguments, and we come into contact with people who are the literal personifications of opposing arguments - some of whom are so haughty and arrogant that we are personally affronted by their existences.
This is normal. We aren't supposed to be all the same; nor are we supposed to come to the same conclusions about this great mystery called Life. The reactions that are caused by the meeting of unlike minds is quite understandable as well; we are animals and as such become confused and aggravated when pressed with something we don't understand.
So now that we've come to the well-learned conclusion that it's fine to be different and to be perplexed by each other, the question must be raised: what's the point of asking all of these "eternal questions," anyway?
I mean, is the existence of an eternal question - "What is the meaning of life?", "What is love?", "Is truth attainable?", et al. - just a validation of skepticism? Or is it an excuse to be aggressively ignorant? Is there a point to asking questions that seem to have no humanly-obtainable answers?
I want answers. I want truth. I want knowledge. You can see how Cartesian circles and their ilke irk me.
7) Fakeness. The other night, I hung out with people that I have little in common with. Put us on paper and you'll see that our day-to-day routines and the bare bones of our personalities barely overlap - but we attended college together, and I felt the need to act social.
Now, I understand that social interaction demands a suspension of blatant hostility and polarizing opinions - at least, between folks who hardly know each other - but there is a level of fakeness that I find intolerable. It's that smile-in-your-face-lie-through-your-teeth fakeness. You know the kind. Layla Liar says something excrutiatingly suspect, and you know in your bones that she's attempting to fit a pre-conceived notion of what she thinks you want to hear. She's mired in insecurity and doesn't want to take the chance of your personalities not meshing. She "knows" very well that she isn't the kind of person you'd like to associate with - most likely because of pre-conceived opposing viewpoints - or maybe she is going through a transitional phase and doesn't know who she is.
I get that you don't know me and you're basing your actions on experiences of yesteryear, but can we not do this cocktail party song and dance? How about you say something completely out of context that reveals something about yourself, and I'll say something comletely out of context that reveals something about myself. We won't criticize each other off the bat, but instead revel in the experience of meeting someone new. Maybe we'll commiserate about the practice of meeting people at parties, or we'll learn about each others' sordid sides. Maybe our conversation will be macabre and we'll talk about devils and dangers and death. Maybe we'll realize we are too different to really like each other.
But at least we won't be bored witlessly. At least we'll have seen life through the eyes of a person we'd probably never get to know. At least we'll have something more than polite talk about the weather.
It's one thing to show off a facet of yourself which fits in better with a crowd; it's something entirely different to act like something you're not. Have some self-respect and be yourself.
8) The need to impress people. It just doesn't make sense to me. I mean, seriously, what is the point?
9) Poverty. No one should go through it.
10) Government. I don't even know where to start. Is it the American government that I have a problem with, or the abstract idea of "government"? Off the top of my head, I'd say both - and it's not just those two entities within the idea of "government" that irk me. It's the ostentatious superiority complex present in any body which assumes to know how I should live.
Hmm... Maybe it's not government that I have a problem with, but authority? Or maybe it's both? I need to marinate more in this topic.
1) Beating around the bush. Last night, I went to someone's house and hung around uncomfortably, trying to make good with my social graces. A couple of people kept on making references to things they'd only know by reading this blog, and maybe I'm being paranoid or I completely miss the point of blogging - but all I kept thinking was, "My instincts say that they're alluding to my blog, but I feel no need to cross the boundary between cyber reality and physical reality. If they have something to say/ask, they'll do it, and that's when I'll answer them."
I stand by my decision, but I wish they'd have either kept their thoughts to themselves or they'd have fully aired out their quandaries. I mean, seriously, I'm not the kind of chick who gets all upset if you call her out on shit. Just say the damn thing already and have some common friggin' courtesy! Don't bring voice to something if you don't have enough voice to have your statements heard.
2) Unnecessary(?) Violence. When I decided to redo my blog profile, I almost added one of my favorite quotes. It's something that someone - me? Carrie? Samantha? Charlotte? - came up with during one of our many drinking binges back in the day. It goes something like: "I'm a pacifist till you fuck with me; then I'll kick your ass."
I have friends who would waste no time in calling me a hypocrite, or say that such a statement is unfathomable and offensive in some way. (That's just how I roll: some of my people are politically-correct hippies.) But is it true? Yes. Most certainly.
So how does this work?
I am the sweetest person you'll ever meet - and in many ways, one of the "cutest" as Rob, Drummer Boy and Past Tense can attest. I am very much an advocate of postponing and/or eradicating all sorts of bodily and emotional injury. I will admit that violence, in all of its forms, serves little use outside of throwing around one's weight, and that that sort of politicking ain't for the day-to-day of habit and circumstance.
But get on my shit list and I will see red every time your name is mentioned. I will very likely put on the vaseline, the rings and/or the brass knuckles and beat you within a millimeter of your life if you so much as glance at me the wrong way. I will tell people that your kid is an ugly retard who's better off an orphan than remaining in your stead. I will not hesitate to cut you. I... well, you get the idea.
I'm not an overly sensitive person. In fact, if you tell me straight to my face your less-than stellar opinion of me and cite specific examples of why the earth and its inhabitants are better off without me, I won't be fazed. I have no shame and there are very few ways to coax an honest-to-goodness reaction from me. The fact that you're on my shit list, therefore, means that you've done something utterly disrespectful. Maybe you threatened my life or you insulted someone in my fam. Maybe you tried to play me for an idiot or were so ignorant as to let your bloated ego fall in my way. Either way, I'll very respectfully tell you to get the fuck out of my face. What happens after that? Well, either way, you asked for it.
3) Intentionally Rude and/or Disrespectful People. (Especially anyone under the age of 20.) The first time my brother really liked a girl, he was in high school; the girl he liked was also in high school. Now, I love my baby brother more than life itself, and I've kept him under my wing in the hope that he'd learn from my mistakes. More to the point: I was a high school student once, and more importantly, I was a high school girl. The worst kind of high school girl. I played guys for fools. Used and abused hearts. Toyed with emotions. Wielded my sexual prowess with utter disregard for humanity. Yada yada yada...
Inevitably, this girl that my dear brother fell for -
I bet you thought I was gonna say that she was just as bad as I was.
Unlikely! Not many bitches-in-the-making can reach the level of bitchdom that I'd conquered by the tender age of 14. I'm happy to announce that the girl my brother fell for was your run-of-the-mill, let's-see-what-I-can-get-away-with teenage girl. She stood him up, deliberately hurt his feelings with uncouth words, and relegated him to her circle of platonic male friends while teasing his libido.
Instead of hating on her, though, I related to her. I told my kid brother to chalk this girl's actions to those of a kid being a kid, and I reminded him that there are many lessons that he (and I) still had to learn. As someone who'd been on the flip side of where he found himself, I said that he should take advantage of my hindsight and accept that youth & ignorance are like peanut butter & jelly.
This is my typical standpoint on foolish actions. When people - especially young people - are rude and/or disrespectful toward me, I assume that they're just too young and/or ignorant to know what they're doing.
But being deliberately direspectful and rude is something altogether different. This assumes that a person knows that their actions are wrong. Furthermore, it assumes that these people know the extent of the damage they are about to cause and that they mean to cause this harm. Such people are not to be tolerated. They are the shady-ass tricks and dicks that attempt to get one over on people. They are the degenerates with low self esteem that hope to raise their sorry stations in life by stepping all over you. They are the enemy, and they irk me to no end.
4) Ignorance. n. The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.
In my mind, there are two kinds of ignorance: passive and aggressive. Passive ignorance is a state that everyone is in. Examples of passive ignorance include every time that you're in a conversation with someone and they say something about the world that they need to explain to you. It's not your fault that you didn't know that very particular and specific viewpoint or factoid; it's just something that you never came across.
I'm aware of my passive ignorance every time I go to Nuyorican on Saturdays. Joe, Amy and Roland, who are old enough to be my hippie commune parents, will wax on about a topic I very blatantly know nothing about. I assume the role of student, soaking up all the information surrounding me - which woul be fine if not for the fact that I tend to forget my own knowledge when I'm put in this position.
I fit so comfortably into the role of student that while in it, I no longer acknowledge my teaching abilities. Sure, there's a bunch that I've already learned and experienced, but faced with the daunting and impressive body of knowledge accumulated by one of my would-be parents, I feel empty. The four hours spent on the internet the morning before, collecting information about whatever abtuse and/or abstract idea caught my fancy, no longer mean anything. I might as well be mute.
(NOTE: I'm now learning to melt out of my voyeuristic role of student-sponge, so that I can join in the give-and-take and not just observe the goings-on of amazing people. YAY! me)
But passive ignorance isn't what really gets my goat. That distinction is given to aggressive ignorance.
Aggressive ignorance is the kind of thing that scared people actively participate in. Every time someone deliberately passes up an opportunity to learn - that's aggressive ignorance. Every time someone decides they don't want to hear something, know something, experience something, feel something - that's aggressive ignorance. People who are aggressively ignorant are paralyzed by the fear of possibly having to change their way of life. They hide behind excuses like "I'm stuck in my ways" or "_____ can't possibly have anything I can gain from" or "What's the use in knowing that?"
Aggressive ignorance is closely linked to "conservatism." If someone refuses to be emboldened to a situation, odds are that they're too close-minded to consider perspectives that are not their own. Their comfort zone extends only to the space that is within their immediate reach, and they do not want to learn or experience.
Aggressively ignorant people are those who refuse to challenge their way of thinking or actively expand their minds. They are militant, dogmatic and often dangerous. Very often, they are the cause of (unnecessary) violence.
5) Not Knowing. As much as I enjoy the ride that is Life, sometimes I'd like to be able to fast forward a couple of paragraphs, read up on how a chapter ends, and sit back with the comfort of knowing what's going to happen. The not knowing is sometimes too much for me to bare.
This is so because I believe in two contentions:
a) Every moment is saturated with unlimited possibilities.
b) Free will.
No matter how much I experience, I always feel like a blank slate. Nothing is etched on me, nothing has been imprinted on me, nothing has changed me so much that I feel like something else. For a time, I experienced whatever was in my way because I wanted to be changed, I wanted to become something. I assumed that I had been born an amorphous blob of potential and that there was a process I'd have to undergo before becoming defined.
But the more I do, the more I feel like I'm coming back home to a place I left before really knowing it. It's like I was born fully formed but not fully developed. I was a constellation of stars from the beginning; it's up to life to connect the dots and tell me what I am.
But the spaces between the stars, the distances between the dots, are all kinds of blankness in which anything can happen. Like plot points of a story, there are infinite ways to connect these two subjects. There are infinite roads which lead from one thought to the next. And the way in which one decides to connect the dots seems so definite and binding. The choice is mine to do as I wish, to be as I want to be, and yet in making that decision I am making a conscious and specific impact on my life and the world at large. The wave of activity which is created by my actions and my personality will ripple unceasingly and I will have to live with the ramifications of my actions forever.
Thankfully, free will includes the possibility of acting differently, of negating as much as possible previous actions and personalities, of change. One must take into account, however, the fact that "change" is a process and not a step. Changes - especially dramatic ones - take time to happen. This is why I feel the need to look ahead and see what I end up doing with my life.
6) Never-Ending Arguments. I ended #5 on the screen, but in my head it keeps on going. If I looked into the future and saw something I didn't want to see, wouldn't I change it? Couldn't I change it? And for that matter, couldn't I form the future right now? Isn't that what I'm doing? With every key stroke, every phone call I take which interrupts my brain flow and causes me to impress my personality directly on someone else's personality, every purchase I make: aren't I changing the outcome of my life? So what's the use of knowing the future? What's the use of #5?
I can go on and on like this ad nauseum. It's a blessing and a curse, and in a very telling and self-fulfilling way I've been working up to the point where this is possible. But every action and every thought is a declaration of an idea, and the more one acts or thinks in this way, the more creedence they're lending to whatever they're doing. Simple thoughts and actions become viewpoints, opinions, credos; they are enmeshed into what we stand for, and therefore become weighty and important. Of course, the more important an idea is, the more it becomes a "statement," and the bigger the statement, the easier the target. This point - the one at which a statement becomes a target - is when the statement stops being a simple declaration and starts being an argument.
Argument. n. a statement, reason, or fact for or against a point.
Every lifestyle hence becomes an argument for certain things and against other things. The lives we lead become direct indicators of who we are as abstract ideas, influence, and thought processes.
Due to the contending nature of these statements, people - especially confident people - rub other people the wrong way. We go around living, being literal personifications of arguments, and we come into contact with people who are the literal personifications of opposing arguments - some of whom are so haughty and arrogant that we are personally affronted by their existences.
This is normal. We aren't supposed to be all the same; nor are we supposed to come to the same conclusions about this great mystery called Life. The reactions that are caused by the meeting of unlike minds is quite understandable as well; we are animals and as such become confused and aggravated when pressed with something we don't understand.
So now that we've come to the well-learned conclusion that it's fine to be different and to be perplexed by each other, the question must be raised: what's the point of asking all of these "eternal questions," anyway?
I mean, is the existence of an eternal question - "What is the meaning of life?", "What is love?", "Is truth attainable?", et al. - just a validation of skepticism? Or is it an excuse to be aggressively ignorant? Is there a point to asking questions that seem to have no humanly-obtainable answers?
I want answers. I want truth. I want knowledge. You can see how Cartesian circles and their ilke irk me.
7) Fakeness. The other night, I hung out with people that I have little in common with. Put us on paper and you'll see that our day-to-day routines and the bare bones of our personalities barely overlap - but we attended college together, and I felt the need to act social.
Now, I understand that social interaction demands a suspension of blatant hostility and polarizing opinions - at least, between folks who hardly know each other - but there is a level of fakeness that I find intolerable. It's that smile-in-your-face-lie-through-your-teeth fakeness. You know the kind. Layla Liar says something excrutiatingly suspect, and you know in your bones that she's attempting to fit a pre-conceived notion of what she thinks you want to hear. She's mired in insecurity and doesn't want to take the chance of your personalities not meshing. She "knows" very well that she isn't the kind of person you'd like to associate with - most likely because of pre-conceived opposing viewpoints - or maybe she is going through a transitional phase and doesn't know who she is.
I get that you don't know me and you're basing your actions on experiences of yesteryear, but can we not do this cocktail party song and dance? How about you say something completely out of context that reveals something about yourself, and I'll say something comletely out of context that reveals something about myself. We won't criticize each other off the bat, but instead revel in the experience of meeting someone new. Maybe we'll commiserate about the practice of meeting people at parties, or we'll learn about each others' sordid sides. Maybe our conversation will be macabre and we'll talk about devils and dangers and death. Maybe we'll realize we are too different to really like each other.
But at least we won't be bored witlessly. At least we'll have seen life through the eyes of a person we'd probably never get to know. At least we'll have something more than polite talk about the weather.
It's one thing to show off a facet of yourself which fits in better with a crowd; it's something entirely different to act like something you're not. Have some self-respect and be yourself.
8) The need to impress people. It just doesn't make sense to me. I mean, seriously, what is the point?
9) Poverty. No one should go through it.
10) Government. I don't even know where to start. Is it the American government that I have a problem with, or the abstract idea of "government"? Off the top of my head, I'd say both - and it's not just those two entities within the idea of "government" that irk me. It's the ostentatious superiority complex present in any body which assumes to know how I should live.
Hmm... Maybe it's not government that I have a problem with, but authority? Or maybe it's both? I need to marinate more in this topic.
Top 10 Places to Buy Awesome & Affordable Fashions
I was talking to my homegirl, Poetic Justice, last night, and the conversation quickly turned to matters of fashion and personal finance.
See, we're broke. I mean, DEAD BROKE. Working in the non-profit world helps us sleep at night, but definitely doesn't pay the bills as much as we'd like.
All the same, we're fashionistas. Poetic Justice looks like a model - long, slim torso, legs for miles, waist about the circumference of a sapling - and likes to dress like one. I am just discovering the side of me that likes to talk about Coco Chanel and Anna Sui after successfully sewing on a shirt sleeve or stitching silk into the hem of a skirt.
Admittedly, we both shop the sales. But there are also some other details about our style which set us apart from the average woman: We keep an eye on trends, but only take into our wardrobe what we like. We know what flatters our bodies and what will weigh on our financial consciousness. We are creative in how we see ourselves and how we view fashion.
Most of all, though, we know that the line between fashion victim and fashion maven is like the latest fifteen-year old Brazilian model who has never seen - much less worn - 5-inch stilettos: thin and wobbly. The trends of today are the fads that we balk at tomorrow, and vice verce. I say, wear what you like, work what you've got, and to hell with anyone who doesn't get it.
1) Urban Outfitters (.com) There was a time when I refused to shop at Urban Outfitters. They're too expensive, their styles are the regurgitated fashion choices of high school emo hipsters whose school gates are bombarded with fashion-photogs-cum-style-stealers, and they're obnoxious. (I've never understood why people expect me to pay $100+ on a shirt that looks distressed when I can go over to Salvation Army and by a genuinely distressed shirt for less than $10!)
But one day, after having shopped the post-holiday sales with my mom, I decided to go online and see what I was missing. The website called to me like a siren - especially the link that reads "sales."
Dresses, shirts, shoes, the works - they're designer brands and used to be $80, $90, $100, whatever! Now that they're on the web, they're at bargain bin prices, baby. Shop till your fingers drop!
2) Beacon's Closet My good friend, who I'll call "The Man," is one of the only guys I'll deem worthy as a shopping partner. We'll say "hmmm..." and cock our eyebrows at the same shirts, roll eyes at the same jackets, suck our teeth at sequins on men's suede jackets. And he never holds back from telling me when something looks like a train wreck on me.
Still, we disagree on the fundamental foundation of my fashion world: Second-hand shopping. I haven't brought up the topic since the last time it was brought up (circa 1999), but I trust that his view on wearing duds that used to be owned by other studs is still the same: Negative on that, Cowboy.
Maybe he'd change his mind if I brought him over to Beacon's Closet. I've only ever perused the Park Slope locale, and I've been one of those sorry people whose clothes they deem unworthy for buy-back, but hey: Where else can I get a pair of pristine Christian Louboutins for $40? Can't go wrong there!
3) Buffalo Exchange Let me say now and forever that Buffalo Exchange is the bomb diggity. They're not as pretentious and highfalutin' as Beacon's Closet. Oh, no: they're funkier. It's not all about the designer's names here; instead it's all about style. Your style. Personal style.
If Beacon's Closet is where I go when I wanna purchase a designer dud on the cheap, then Buffalo Exchange is where I go when I wanna make an outfit that no one else will have - something that positively wreaks of ME and no other person.
Recently, I went over to their store in the Burg o' Billy and found the cutest cream-colored cotton jersey dress which will be integrated seamlessly into my wardrobe, later picked apart, and recycled into something else that'll be re-integrated seamlessly into my wardrobe. It was $9. I wore it during my errands yesterday with Mom and there were so many heads turnin, you coulda sworn I was on the set of The Exorcist. That's the kind of yumminess you find at Buffalo Exchange.
4) New Designer's Bazaar Okay, so it's been a while since I've been here. Four or five years, to be exact. But the first few times I was there: WHoo-EE! Lemme take it back, y'all:
It was August 2004 (I believe), and Tall Afro, Militant Lesbian, and I were walking through Little Italy after having participated in the Marcus Garvey Parade in Brooklyn. These were the beginning of my non-profit days, and I had spent the day registering voters along the parade route and singing Bob Marley at the top of my lungs (while kicking it to a yummy student from Queens College - amongst others). Our trio was joined by Monkey Comic, who was weening himself off of the nonprofit scene.
So there we were: walking. Now, I can't tell you where we were walking, except to say that we were somewhere near the Broadway-Lafayette stop of the F. But anyway, yeah: we're walking and getting hungry, and out of the corner or my eye I spy a funky little enclave bursting with clothing and apparel. Much to the chagrin of Monkey Comic and Tall Afro, Militant Lesbian and I went in.
Awwweeesssooommme clothes, y'all. Most of em were either refugees from some high-end niche of a store or newly-designed pieces of art whose makers were on the premises, hawking their wares.
Sneaker-heads would love this place, since it had kicks from waaayyy back in the day, in really good condition. Petite princesses would love this place cuz there was a lingerie designer whose hand-crafted bras and panties were easy on the eyes and the wallet (though, sadly, there weren't any undies for the more curvaceous mujeres, like myself). And clothes: I haven't seen this kind of craftsmanship anywhere but the annual Fashion Expo.
I think I'll walk around next Monday and look for this place. I'll put the address up here if I find it.
5) Target Say it with me: "Tar-jay." Yeah, dude, it's French. And what?
Say what you want about big business, but when you're strapped for cash and time, you can get practically anything at Target. This means, of course, that you can find that really cute little black dress that you've been looking for. But the downside is that Sheila, Latisha, and Diana down the street's probably got it, too.
The up (or down?) side of Target these days is that so many designers have mass-produced lines in its aisles. Vera Wang, Isaac Mizrahi, even Steve Madden knock-offs... This spurs the debate over what role fashion has in the life of the layman, and how important it is in the long run - but hey. Ain't nothin' but a thang when you rock the look you're wearing. Who cares who else is rocking it, too? No one else rocks it like you. (MUSIC.)
6) Aqueduct Flea Market Maybe I'm extolling the virtues of this place because I live so damn close to it, but there's nothing more I'd rather do on a lazy, unproductive summer Sunday than peruse its loud, hot lanes of merch.
Most of the stuff its got is either really old or really ubiquitous, but that doesn't mean that it ain't good. I've bought purses and clutches here on the cheap, and whatever un-chic things you say about them are tempered by their lack of availability anywhere else. Now and again, too, you get to meet entrepreneurs-in-the-making who sell their stuff on the cheap cuz all they really wanna do is see someone wearing their fashion.
The fondest memory I have of this place happened when I was seven years old. My mom and I were walking home and decided to go through the Flea Market since it was on our way. Unfortunately, it was closing up and all of the vendors were packing their merch. I can still remember the sound of my mom's voice as she was complaining that she spent two dollars' admission just to see everything carted off.
But lo and behold: There! In that empty space! Where the old white couple from Long Island usually sell fashion jewelry! It's littered with the stuff that probably fell off their counter! And next to it, where that Asian guy usually sells hair accessories: there are headbands, clips and accessories strewn on the cement!
It was a wonderland of freebies!
I wonder if that's still the case today...
7) Salvation Army My bosslady, Amy, talks about her hippie days, when the best-dressed people wore their grandparents' gear. We agree that thrift stores and second-hand shops are truly the way to go when it comes to finding diamonds-in-the-rough (to lift a phrase from Aladdin).
But the name "Salvation Army" still hits a couple of nerves. People hear it and they automatically ask: Don't only poor people "shop" there? Aren't the clothes dirty? Used? Ugly?
I'm here to dispel the stigmas.
With the rate of inflation and the oncoming recession looming on the horizon, we're all working or middle class. That isn't to say that the proud amongst us wouldn't/shouldn't shun the practice of buying things second-hand, but that there should be no bravado when it comes to class. The clothes are inspected before being put on the counter, and they're clean. Sure, they're used, but they're not used up. And ugly? Have you seen the clothes some brands try to pass off as fashion? In a lot of ways and for a lot of reasons, you're less likely to find something completely offensive to your palate at Salvation Army.
8) Liberty Ave/Jamaica Ave I don't know if people in other cities/states refer to places simply as "The Ave," but here in New York, all of us say it. In Queens, the phrase refers to either Liberty or Jamaica.
When I say, "Liberty Ave," what I mean is the stretch of road in Little Guyana, Queens, that roughly extends from Woodhaven till about 130th Street. There are some goldmines in there, including a few shoe stores that have adorable heels, sexy pumps, and everything in between - and not at the exorbitant prices of name brand shoes. (I'm talking less than $40 for a pair of killer heels!) Also, there are a few clothing stores that I swear by, like Knockout.
Knockout is located on the NE corner of Liberty Avenue and Lefferts Boulevard and it's the go-to spot for cheap threads that look more expensive. Think Strawberry's, but cheaper. Back in my JHS days, I would spend $100 here and leave the store with an entire new wardrobe. Of course, now $100 gets me only half a new wardrobe, but it's in the neighborhood, easy on the pocket book, and always has a few great deals.
Jamaica Ave is an obnoxiously loud and busy part of Queens. There's always bumper-to-bumper traffic (which used to be alleviated with the ubiquitous Dollar Vans), and hordes of people shopping in every season and at practically any time, day or night. That said, the experience can be intimidating. You don't get to be zen about things. You can't take your time shuffling about, relaxing. But what you do get is a look at the discount side of 'hood fashion.
You know what I'm talking about: Roca Wear, Baby Phat, Sean John, et al. Marketing folks call it "urban fashion," but it boils down to brown skin tones. Way before rappers, producers, and their wives thought it was cool to sell back to the streets what everyone was already wearing, Jamaica Ave was where you could find the hoodie that LL Cool J rocked in his latest music video - and it remains that way today. That curve-hugging cut-out dress in the window for 15 bucks? In a couple of months, a sweatshop in the Philippines is gonna be recreating it with classier fabrics and stamping Jennifer Lopez's logo on the label.
Get it now, while it's not hot.
9) Flatbush Ave Flatbush, my adopted Ave, how I love thee!
In every borough is a goldmine (or three!) of inexpensive fashion. It takes a good eye to weed through the "blah!" and come up with a "yeah!," but when it happens, the clouds part and a ray of light beams straight at you as angels sing and violins play... Or, at least, that's my experience.
The first time I really paid attention to the burgeoning fashion scene on Flatbush was three years ago, when I joined a bunch of people in walking from Brooklyn College to Manhattan. We walked down Flatbush, and every now and again we stopped at a second-hand furniture store with some gorgeous (and affordable!) antiques, or at a clothing store that had vintage shirts. I couldn't stop oohing and aahing at all the great merch that I'd never noticed before. It was like rummaging through my grandmother's attic - that is, if my grandmother had an attic, she had kept fashions from the 30s and 40s, and she was fashion-forward during WWII.
Closer to Brooklyn College, though, is Canal Jeans & Co. Okay, so technically this isn't on Flatbush, and it might even deserve its own number - but it's close enough to that intersection of Nostrand and Flatbush lovingly called "the Junction," and I wanna stick to my claim of "Top 10 Places to Buy Awesome & Affordable Clothes." The title just doesn't work if you replace the number 10 with the number 11.
There isn't enough praise in the world for Canal Jeans & Co.! Not only does it sell gently-worn second-hand ensembles, but it also has a great assortment of cheap furniture and household necessities, like kitchen ware. Also, it's quiet enough that you don't have to deal with lots of people blocking your way in aisles and rudely bumping into you with their carts.
10) ASIAN STEALS: Main Street & Canal Street An Asian woman can get away with wearing ANYTHING. Maybe it's because so many of the fashionista Asians are tall and slender (or short and slender, LOL), but somehow we just make everything work. Rainbow tights, distressed jean skirt, and a wifebeater? Sure! Black knee-high stockings, purple gaucho pans, and a green T-shirt? Why not? Put it on an Asian woman and watch it work!
I've embraced my Asian-ness of late and I fully relish the Fact of Life that is the perfection of the Asian-woman-fashion-maven; I'm making choices in fashion that I never would've had the balls to make before. With that in mind, let me introduce you to Main Street, Flushing (Queens), and its big brother, Canal Street, Manhattan.
Walking down Main Street (near its intersection with Kissena), or anywhere near the Queens Korean-Town, there are a plethora of shops that cater to the stick-skinny who want to look like they've just walked off a Japanese runway. Sometimes, there are even amazing wardrobe finds tucked away in the back of a grocery store!
But what if you've got some meat on your bones? Canal Street's where it's at. Not only are knock-offs of celebrity fashion choices - and all the one-dollar finds imaginable - to be found on this stretch of street that runs through Tribeca, Chinatown and SoHo, but so are regular-sized versions of the gorgeous Asian gear found in Flushing.
See, we're broke. I mean, DEAD BROKE. Working in the non-profit world helps us sleep at night, but definitely doesn't pay the bills as much as we'd like.
All the same, we're fashionistas. Poetic Justice looks like a model - long, slim torso, legs for miles, waist about the circumference of a sapling - and likes to dress like one. I am just discovering the side of me that likes to talk about Coco Chanel and Anna Sui after successfully sewing on a shirt sleeve or stitching silk into the hem of a skirt.
Admittedly, we both shop the sales. But there are also some other details about our style which set us apart from the average woman: We keep an eye on trends, but only take into our wardrobe what we like. We know what flatters our bodies and what will weigh on our financial consciousness. We are creative in how we see ourselves and how we view fashion.
Most of all, though, we know that the line between fashion victim and fashion maven is like the latest fifteen-year old Brazilian model who has never seen - much less worn - 5-inch stilettos: thin and wobbly. The trends of today are the fads that we balk at tomorrow, and vice verce. I say, wear what you like, work what you've got, and to hell with anyone who doesn't get it.
1) Urban Outfitters (.com) There was a time when I refused to shop at Urban Outfitters. They're too expensive, their styles are the regurgitated fashion choices of high school emo hipsters whose school gates are bombarded with fashion-photogs-cum-style-stealers, and they're obnoxious. (I've never understood why people expect me to pay $100+ on a shirt that looks distressed when I can go over to Salvation Army and by a genuinely distressed shirt for less than $10!)
But one day, after having shopped the post-holiday sales with my mom, I decided to go online and see what I was missing. The website called to me like a siren - especially the link that reads "sales."
Dresses, shirts, shoes, the works - they're designer brands and used to be $80, $90, $100, whatever! Now that they're on the web, they're at bargain bin prices, baby. Shop till your fingers drop!
2) Beacon's Closet My good friend, who I'll call "The Man," is one of the only guys I'll deem worthy as a shopping partner. We'll say "hmmm..." and cock our eyebrows at the same shirts, roll eyes at the same jackets, suck our teeth at sequins on men's suede jackets. And he never holds back from telling me when something looks like a train wreck on me.
Still, we disagree on the fundamental foundation of my fashion world: Second-hand shopping. I haven't brought up the topic since the last time it was brought up (circa 1999), but I trust that his view on wearing duds that used to be owned by other studs is still the same: Negative on that, Cowboy.
Maybe he'd change his mind if I brought him over to Beacon's Closet. I've only ever perused the Park Slope locale, and I've been one of those sorry people whose clothes they deem unworthy for buy-back, but hey: Where else can I get a pair of pristine Christian Louboutins for $40? Can't go wrong there!
3) Buffalo Exchange Let me say now and forever that Buffalo Exchange is the bomb diggity. They're not as pretentious and highfalutin' as Beacon's Closet. Oh, no: they're funkier. It's not all about the designer's names here; instead it's all about style. Your style. Personal style.
If Beacon's Closet is where I go when I wanna purchase a designer dud on the cheap, then Buffalo Exchange is where I go when I wanna make an outfit that no one else will have - something that positively wreaks of ME and no other person.
Recently, I went over to their store in the Burg o' Billy and found the cutest cream-colored cotton jersey dress which will be integrated seamlessly into my wardrobe, later picked apart, and recycled into something else that'll be re-integrated seamlessly into my wardrobe. It was $9. I wore it during my errands yesterday with Mom and there were so many heads turnin, you coulda sworn I was on the set of The Exorcist. That's the kind of yumminess you find at Buffalo Exchange.
4) New Designer's Bazaar Okay, so it's been a while since I've been here. Four or five years, to be exact. But the first few times I was there: WHoo-EE! Lemme take it back, y'all:
It was August 2004 (I believe), and Tall Afro, Militant Lesbian, and I were walking through Little Italy after having participated in the Marcus Garvey Parade in Brooklyn. These were the beginning of my non-profit days, and I had spent the day registering voters along the parade route and singing Bob Marley at the top of my lungs (while kicking it to a yummy student from Queens College - amongst others). Our trio was joined by Monkey Comic, who was weening himself off of the nonprofit scene.
So there we were: walking. Now, I can't tell you where we were walking, except to say that we were somewhere near the Broadway-Lafayette stop of the F. But anyway, yeah: we're walking and getting hungry, and out of the corner or my eye I spy a funky little enclave bursting with clothing and apparel. Much to the chagrin of Monkey Comic and Tall Afro, Militant Lesbian and I went in.
Awwweeesssooommme clothes, y'all. Most of em were either refugees from some high-end niche of a store or newly-designed pieces of art whose makers were on the premises, hawking their wares.
Sneaker-heads would love this place, since it had kicks from waaayyy back in the day, in really good condition. Petite princesses would love this place cuz there was a lingerie designer whose hand-crafted bras and panties were easy on the eyes and the wallet (though, sadly, there weren't any undies for the more curvaceous mujeres, like myself). And clothes: I haven't seen this kind of craftsmanship anywhere but the annual Fashion Expo.
I think I'll walk around next Monday and look for this place. I'll put the address up here if I find it.
5) Target Say it with me: "Tar-jay." Yeah, dude, it's French. And what?
Say what you want about big business, but when you're strapped for cash and time, you can get practically anything at Target. This means, of course, that you can find that really cute little black dress that you've been looking for. But the downside is that Sheila, Latisha, and Diana down the street's probably got it, too.
The up (or down?) side of Target these days is that so many designers have mass-produced lines in its aisles. Vera Wang, Isaac Mizrahi, even Steve Madden knock-offs... This spurs the debate over what role fashion has in the life of the layman, and how important it is in the long run - but hey. Ain't nothin' but a thang when you rock the look you're wearing. Who cares who else is rocking it, too? No one else rocks it like you. (MUSIC.)
6) Aqueduct Flea Market Maybe I'm extolling the virtues of this place because I live so damn close to it, but there's nothing more I'd rather do on a lazy, unproductive summer Sunday than peruse its loud, hot lanes of merch.
Most of the stuff its got is either really old or really ubiquitous, but that doesn't mean that it ain't good. I've bought purses and clutches here on the cheap, and whatever un-chic things you say about them are tempered by their lack of availability anywhere else. Now and again, too, you get to meet entrepreneurs-in-the-making who sell their stuff on the cheap cuz all they really wanna do is see someone wearing their fashion.
The fondest memory I have of this place happened when I was seven years old. My mom and I were walking home and decided to go through the Flea Market since it was on our way. Unfortunately, it was closing up and all of the vendors were packing their merch. I can still remember the sound of my mom's voice as she was complaining that she spent two dollars' admission just to see everything carted off.
But lo and behold: There! In that empty space! Where the old white couple from Long Island usually sell fashion jewelry! It's littered with the stuff that probably fell off their counter! And next to it, where that Asian guy usually sells hair accessories: there are headbands, clips and accessories strewn on the cement!
It was a wonderland of freebies!
I wonder if that's still the case today...
7) Salvation Army My bosslady, Amy, talks about her hippie days, when the best-dressed people wore their grandparents' gear. We agree that thrift stores and second-hand shops are truly the way to go when it comes to finding diamonds-in-the-rough (to lift a phrase from Aladdin).
But the name "Salvation Army" still hits a couple of nerves. People hear it and they automatically ask: Don't only poor people "shop" there? Aren't the clothes dirty? Used? Ugly?
I'm here to dispel the stigmas.
With the rate of inflation and the oncoming recession looming on the horizon, we're all working or middle class. That isn't to say that the proud amongst us wouldn't/shouldn't shun the practice of buying things second-hand, but that there should be no bravado when it comes to class. The clothes are inspected before being put on the counter, and they're clean. Sure, they're used, but they're not used up. And ugly? Have you seen the clothes some brands try to pass off as fashion? In a lot of ways and for a lot of reasons, you're less likely to find something completely offensive to your palate at Salvation Army.
8) Liberty Ave/Jamaica Ave I don't know if people in other cities/states refer to places simply as "The Ave," but here in New York, all of us say it. In Queens, the phrase refers to either Liberty or Jamaica.
When I say, "Liberty Ave," what I mean is the stretch of road in Little Guyana, Queens, that roughly extends from Woodhaven till about 130th Street. There are some goldmines in there, including a few shoe stores that have adorable heels, sexy pumps, and everything in between - and not at the exorbitant prices of name brand shoes. (I'm talking less than $40 for a pair of killer heels!) Also, there are a few clothing stores that I swear by, like Knockout.
Knockout is located on the NE corner of Liberty Avenue and Lefferts Boulevard and it's the go-to spot for cheap threads that look more expensive. Think Strawberry's, but cheaper. Back in my JHS days, I would spend $100 here and leave the store with an entire new wardrobe. Of course, now $100 gets me only half a new wardrobe, but it's in the neighborhood, easy on the pocket book, and always has a few great deals.
Jamaica Ave is an obnoxiously loud and busy part of Queens. There's always bumper-to-bumper traffic (which used to be alleviated with the ubiquitous Dollar Vans), and hordes of people shopping in every season and at practically any time, day or night. That said, the experience can be intimidating. You don't get to be zen about things. You can't take your time shuffling about, relaxing. But what you do get is a look at the discount side of 'hood fashion.
You know what I'm talking about: Roca Wear, Baby Phat, Sean John, et al. Marketing folks call it "urban fashion," but it boils down to brown skin tones. Way before rappers, producers, and their wives thought it was cool to sell back to the streets what everyone was already wearing, Jamaica Ave was where you could find the hoodie that LL Cool J rocked in his latest music video - and it remains that way today. That curve-hugging cut-out dress in the window for 15 bucks? In a couple of months, a sweatshop in the Philippines is gonna be recreating it with classier fabrics and stamping Jennifer Lopez's logo on the label.
Get it now, while it's not hot.
9) Flatbush Ave Flatbush, my adopted Ave, how I love thee!
In every borough is a goldmine (or three!) of inexpensive fashion. It takes a good eye to weed through the "blah!" and come up with a "yeah!," but when it happens, the clouds part and a ray of light beams straight at you as angels sing and violins play... Or, at least, that's my experience.
The first time I really paid attention to the burgeoning fashion scene on Flatbush was three years ago, when I joined a bunch of people in walking from Brooklyn College to Manhattan. We walked down Flatbush, and every now and again we stopped at a second-hand furniture store with some gorgeous (and affordable!) antiques, or at a clothing store that had vintage shirts. I couldn't stop oohing and aahing at all the great merch that I'd never noticed before. It was like rummaging through my grandmother's attic - that is, if my grandmother had an attic, she had kept fashions from the 30s and 40s, and she was fashion-forward during WWII.
Closer to Brooklyn College, though, is Canal Jeans & Co. Okay, so technically this isn't on Flatbush, and it might even deserve its own number - but it's close enough to that intersection of Nostrand and Flatbush lovingly called "the Junction," and I wanna stick to my claim of "Top 10 Places to Buy Awesome & Affordable Clothes." The title just doesn't work if you replace the number 10 with the number 11.
There isn't enough praise in the world for Canal Jeans & Co.! Not only does it sell gently-worn second-hand ensembles, but it also has a great assortment of cheap furniture and household necessities, like kitchen ware. Also, it's quiet enough that you don't have to deal with lots of people blocking your way in aisles and rudely bumping into you with their carts.
10) ASIAN STEALS: Main Street & Canal Street An Asian woman can get away with wearing ANYTHING. Maybe it's because so many of the fashionista Asians are tall and slender (or short and slender, LOL), but somehow we just make everything work. Rainbow tights, distressed jean skirt, and a wifebeater? Sure! Black knee-high stockings, purple gaucho pans, and a green T-shirt? Why not? Put it on an Asian woman and watch it work!
I've embraced my Asian-ness of late and I fully relish the Fact of Life that is the perfection of the Asian-woman-fashion-maven; I'm making choices in fashion that I never would've had the balls to make before. With that in mind, let me introduce you to Main Street, Flushing (Queens), and its big brother, Canal Street, Manhattan.
Walking down Main Street (near its intersection with Kissena), or anywhere near the Queens Korean-Town, there are a plethora of shops that cater to the stick-skinny who want to look like they've just walked off a Japanese runway. Sometimes, there are even amazing wardrobe finds tucked away in the back of a grocery store!
But what if you've got some meat on your bones? Canal Street's where it's at. Not only are knock-offs of celebrity fashion choices - and all the one-dollar finds imaginable - to be found on this stretch of street that runs through Tribeca, Chinatown and SoHo, but so are regular-sized versions of the gorgeous Asian gear found in Flushing.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Love Me Like I Wanna Be Loved
- Know me before you decide to lavish me with your attention, admiration or adoration. I appreciate the gesture(s) and I'm flattered, but unless you know me - and I mean REALLY KNOW ME - I will believe that your affections are misplaced and/or invalid. Either you want something from me (sex, money, etc.) or you're an asshole who wants to get close to me in order to make my life a living hell (because misery LOVES company) or something of that negative ilke. Good, smart people don't go around "loving" people randomly.
- Don't make conclusions about me. I don't care if we've been in each others' lives for a day or twenty years. Unless you and I are on some real cool level - I'm talkin, I can be myself around you, you can be yourself around me, there's no pretense in our relationship, and we've talked in the past month and half - then you don't know me mayn! Stop acting like you do. Ya know that cutesy frazzled thing I do when I'm telling a story? That's because I'm excited and/or embarassed and/or scared - not because I'm lying! WTF do I have to lie about, anyway?! Do you really think I'm so retarded that I need to lie to make a point? Do you just think that low of me? If we're supposed to be chill, why don't you call me out on my shit if that's what you think is going on? Get your head on straight before you draw conclusions and color me in a bad light. How you gonna say we're homies if you don't even know that I'm a good, honest person?!
- Okay, so we don't agree on everything. I don't expect that it's common for that to happen anyway. But really: give me a reason to call you my fam. Say somthing really intelligent sometimes - something to make me really give you credit. Don't ooh and aah over every latest thing in the stores. Don't be a drone to commercialism. You had a chance to go to a really prestigious school, study under known academic names, make something of yourself - and you decided that you didn't wanna learn anything. You just bowed down to the almighty dollar, the ease of fakery in order to make money, the crutches of enabling friends. I'm not hating on you, but I don't think we have a shred of anything in common besides the purely animalistic and/or biological. Is it really possible to love something - like, really love something - that you can't understand, and don't even really like?
- I watch you make your choices, steal my eyes away from your horrible decisions, offer you support even though I know that you can't really achieve all that you say you want to achieve with your life. I get it. Life's hard. I bitch and moan about that, too. But really: why are you so quick to stick with the same old stuff? How can you constantly make dreams and not do a damn thing about them? Why do you not make something of yourself? What are you so afraid of?
- It takes more than a while to realize the full weight of a person's character, the real depth of their soul, the real meaning of their actions. When you've spent a lifetime evaluating the people nearest and dearest to you and come to the conclusion that they don't know you at all, they don't know how to make you feel loved, they don't know what you're about - and they're incapable/unwanting of taking on the challenge that is You: what are you supposed to do? Are you supposed to just cut them off and chalk it up to time and circumstance? Do you just "move on" without giving them notice, until one day you all turn around and realize that undoubtedly you are strangers?
- I read a lot and I like to drop info during conversations. Could you maybe read a little bit, so that when I talk to you I don't feel like I'm rehashing the same stuff over and over again? Let's talk about childrearing in France, safaris in Kenya, basketweaving in Brazil. Let's teach each other different cultures, different arguments about the theory of Life, different ways to address our parents. Let's work on ourselves and each other so that we can help each other be the best versions of ourselves imaginable. Couldn't we? Shouldn't we?
- Why do you insist on reading so much into things? Why do you insist on manipulating every situation? Why do you feel the need to cultivate your lying skills? Don't you realize that the need to control every outcome is just a sign that your self-esteem is severely impaired? It's one thing to work hard, express yourself thoroughly, diligently do what you have to do: but to play mind games? Power games? Status games? What's the point of all that? What's the point of You?
- Thank goodness you realized upon meeting me that I'm a work-in-progress. It's impossible to limit my transitions from who I am today to who I am tomorrow, and you respect that and you respect me. For that, I will always be grateful.
- You listen to me. I mean REALLY listen to me. You and I think in the same breaths and catch the hinge of worry on the first awkward stutter of a hard consonant. We read the same feelings between the lines of phrases uttered and shoulders shrugged. The same language flows between our pens and papers and our legs and our eyes. When you speak, I hear the ocean calling me to the place where I belong, to the people that I have been, to the successes I have yet to achieve. Everything good and pure is in your sexy strut, in your confidence, in your humble gestures of relaxation.
- I love that you speak in tongues, riddling me with thoughts that have been dropped on you like smart bombs. Awkward silences seem possible on paper, but in person we make meaningful somethings out of substantial understandings. Musings and "mistakes" are not judged, are not heckled, are not predetermined right or wrong, good or bad, or nonsense. We are running in parallel paths, neither of us sure what awaits at the end, both of us thankful for the company and assured of each others' presence. I respect you immensely.
- You take me for me. You see only what's there and how great I can become. You assist me in being the best version of myself possible. You challenge my mind, engage my soul, and adore my body; and I feel likewise about you. The person that you are heightens and emphasizes the person that I am; the contours of our personalities mesh like silk. It's too bad I haven't known you... yet.
- Don't make conclusions about me. I don't care if we've been in each others' lives for a day or twenty years. Unless you and I are on some real cool level - I'm talkin, I can be myself around you, you can be yourself around me, there's no pretense in our relationship, and we've talked in the past month and half - then you don't know me mayn! Stop acting like you do. Ya know that cutesy frazzled thing I do when I'm telling a story? That's because I'm excited and/or embarassed and/or scared - not because I'm lying! WTF do I have to lie about, anyway?! Do you really think I'm so retarded that I need to lie to make a point? Do you just think that low of me? If we're supposed to be chill, why don't you call me out on my shit if that's what you think is going on? Get your head on straight before you draw conclusions and color me in a bad light. How you gonna say we're homies if you don't even know that I'm a good, honest person?!
- Okay, so we don't agree on everything. I don't expect that it's common for that to happen anyway. But really: give me a reason to call you my fam. Say somthing really intelligent sometimes - something to make me really give you credit. Don't ooh and aah over every latest thing in the stores. Don't be a drone to commercialism. You had a chance to go to a really prestigious school, study under known academic names, make something of yourself - and you decided that you didn't wanna learn anything. You just bowed down to the almighty dollar, the ease of fakery in order to make money, the crutches of enabling friends. I'm not hating on you, but I don't think we have a shred of anything in common besides the purely animalistic and/or biological. Is it really possible to love something - like, really love something - that you can't understand, and don't even really like?
- I watch you make your choices, steal my eyes away from your horrible decisions, offer you support even though I know that you can't really achieve all that you say you want to achieve with your life. I get it. Life's hard. I bitch and moan about that, too. But really: why are you so quick to stick with the same old stuff? How can you constantly make dreams and not do a damn thing about them? Why do you not make something of yourself? What are you so afraid of?
- It takes more than a while to realize the full weight of a person's character, the real depth of their soul, the real meaning of their actions. When you've spent a lifetime evaluating the people nearest and dearest to you and come to the conclusion that they don't know you at all, they don't know how to make you feel loved, they don't know what you're about - and they're incapable/unwanting of taking on the challenge that is You: what are you supposed to do? Are you supposed to just cut them off and chalk it up to time and circumstance? Do you just "move on" without giving them notice, until one day you all turn around and realize that undoubtedly you are strangers?
- I read a lot and I like to drop info during conversations. Could you maybe read a little bit, so that when I talk to you I don't feel like I'm rehashing the same stuff over and over again? Let's talk about childrearing in France, safaris in Kenya, basketweaving in Brazil. Let's teach each other different cultures, different arguments about the theory of Life, different ways to address our parents. Let's work on ourselves and each other so that we can help each other be the best versions of ourselves imaginable. Couldn't we? Shouldn't we?
- Why do you insist on reading so much into things? Why do you insist on manipulating every situation? Why do you feel the need to cultivate your lying skills? Don't you realize that the need to control every outcome is just a sign that your self-esteem is severely impaired? It's one thing to work hard, express yourself thoroughly, diligently do what you have to do: but to play mind games? Power games? Status games? What's the point of all that? What's the point of You?
- Thank goodness you realized upon meeting me that I'm a work-in-progress. It's impossible to limit my transitions from who I am today to who I am tomorrow, and you respect that and you respect me. For that, I will always be grateful.
- You listen to me. I mean REALLY listen to me. You and I think in the same breaths and catch the hinge of worry on the first awkward stutter of a hard consonant. We read the same feelings between the lines of phrases uttered and shoulders shrugged. The same language flows between our pens and papers and our legs and our eyes. When you speak, I hear the ocean calling me to the place where I belong, to the people that I have been, to the successes I have yet to achieve. Everything good and pure is in your sexy strut, in your confidence, in your humble gestures of relaxation.
- I love that you speak in tongues, riddling me with thoughts that have been dropped on you like smart bombs. Awkward silences seem possible on paper, but in person we make meaningful somethings out of substantial understandings. Musings and "mistakes" are not judged, are not heckled, are not predetermined right or wrong, good or bad, or nonsense. We are running in parallel paths, neither of us sure what awaits at the end, both of us thankful for the company and assured of each others' presence. I respect you immensely.
- You take me for me. You see only what's there and how great I can become. You assist me in being the best version of myself possible. You challenge my mind, engage my soul, and adore my body; and I feel likewise about you. The person that you are heightens and emphasizes the person that I am; the contours of our personalities mesh like silk. It's too bad I haven't known you... yet.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Things I Haven't Quite Gotten Around to Acquiring
NOTE: I keep on crossing stuff off this list.
1) iPod - I've had two: the first one got its wiring all fucked up after my dog decided to pee on it while it was charging; the second one was lost. I seriously have NO CLUE where it went. Last I remember, it was in my car. Next thing I know, it's gone.
Rob's promised to buy me one. First, it was supposed to be my birthday present, then my bon voyage present, then our anniversary present, then my Christmas present. Now it's my Valentine's Day present. I guess I'll cross it off the list when I get it...
2) My Own Place - Lately, I've been having crazy issues with my folks. It's gotten to the point that they just sound plain asinine (LOL, inside joke) about their drama. And don't get me wrong: I'm usually the first person to enable their bad habits. I'll console them and awkwardly remain silent after they've blatantly dismissed my advice. I'll chalk up their actions to ignorance, and therefore find the strength to fix their problems. I'll give them the money to pay their bills, miss class to wipe their tears, put my life on hold to chauffeur them around.
But no more.
Recently I found out that the mortgage on our house hasn't been paid in three months - even though I've been giving money for it. Somewhere between handing my folks the cash and/or check, and needing to actually pay the mortgage, said money disappeared. Repeatedly. The reasons I've been given are cryptic at best and straight-up lies at worst.
That's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the drama in my house, and seriously, I've had it. What's the use of sticking around to help out when no one wants to listen to my advice? I need to find a job and bounce.
3)Contemporary Ghetto/Slang Vernaculary - I swear I used to have this. I swear. You can ask my friends from back in the day. Ask my brother. My ghetto twang was straight hood. My vocabulary reflected my genuine immersion in minority culture.
And then somewhere along the line, I stopped hanging out on the regular with people who parroted the slang back to me, and I lost the familiar street cadence and contemporary vocabulary. My quick wit at street words were lost due to a lack of use. I stopped using the N word - a bomb I used to drop all the time, and that I wish to never drop again.
Recently, I've started hanging out with Dallas, Ariane & Yvonne (DAY) all the time and I've realized how much I miss that fast-talking, crazy ebonics side of me. I think I'll look for her. She's fun.
4)Full and Utter Appreciation for My BFFs - Those of you who have kept up with my blog know that I don't usually have stellar words to use for my close friends. Maybe it's a defense mechanism or simply because I'm a bitch, but I find fault in DAY ALL THE TIME.
If I went through all the reasons behind this, this entry would be the size of War & Peace, so I'll just say this: I am sooooooo very fortunate to have such amazing and wonderful women as best friends. They fuck with me even after I've repeatedly shown my stupid, ignorant, hard-to-please sides, and for that I love them eternally.
5) The Love of High Heels & Other Uncomfortable Fashion Choices - You know those patent leather and/or leather five or six inch stilletto boots - usually black - that street walkers are often seen in? Yeah, that's right: "hooker boots."
Well, I'm certain that I helped usher them into the fashion lexicon. I swear. I was twelve years old and rocking them ALL THE TIME. Don't ask me why no one laughed at me or told me they were inappropriate. I was a shoe whore who rocked whatever showed off my gams best.
When it came to clothes, I was always a diva-in-training, looking fly in whatever I found on sale - even if the pants cut off my circulation or the shirt made it hard for me to breathe.
Those days are over. I'm just way too comfortable in my self to purposely make myself uncomfortable. What's the use? I know I'm fly.
6) Sufficient Academic Education - I want to learn everything. I want to be able to talk about physics, nature, writing, political systems in Iceland, drug epidemics within the nomads of the Sahara, the latest archaeological finds in Peru. Everything. This is probably why I read so much.
But there's something to be said for being in a formal setting, conversing with peers, establishing active communication with people who are the leaders in their field, practicing real-world applications of theories. Those are things that are guided and nurtured by the academic world, and I crave them. I want them. I don't think I'll ever get enough of them.
In the meantime, my rigorous exercises of internet perusal will suffice.
7) A Mature Sense of Duty* - I put an asterisk on this because I feel like I might actually have acquired this in the past couple of weeks. I don't think it's one of those things that someone automatically knows they have. I think you kind of ease into discipline and realize that you have set for yourself a code by which to live.
That's how I am.
I know now without a doubt that I have integrity and real character. I know that I'm a good person with real plans and responsibilities. I know that I want to fulfill something with my life, and that it is my duty to do so...
Hmm... Maybe I should just straight-up cross this one out?
8) The Ability to "Be With Someone Else" - Sunday morning, on the train with Dallas, Ariane and Danielle. Dallas and Danielle are sleeping. Ariane and I are talking about relationships. This is a very common thing for people to speak on, sure. But I see things in very black and white when it comes to being with a person for the long haul, and this always makes me the minority within our foursome. My way of figuring out if someone's "It" for me is as follows: Do I know that I wanna make a life with you? No? MmKBye. Done.
It sounds childish putting it this way, but I honestly believe that there is someone out there who either encompasses what I'm looking for in a mate, or who is so close to it that I can't help but fall for them. I've been with guys who are really close to my ideal, and that just furthers my idea that my romantic notions are worthwhile and accurate.
Ariane and I were talking about her inability to want to settle down with her fiance, and when the conversation turned to me I said simply, "It's no use for me to find The One right now. I'm just not ready." And that's the truth: I still have a lot of work to do on myself, and I know I can't Be With Someone if I don't know how to Be Myself first. There's no rush on this. I'm actually having a lot of fun making/acquiring my sense of self.
9) Realist-Mentality Pessimism - This is another thing that I'm grateful I haven't acquired. I'm the hopeful romantic who will ride the train for two hours to "teach" young minds without getting paid. I'm the chick who will wait for the right person before making plans to settle down. I'm the perceptive idealist who will stand in a train station at two a.m., listening to the guitar player break down song after song after song with a smile on his face then give him my last two dollars because Fuck it, he's got talent and a dream and I appreciate that.
10)A Right/Quick Brain/Tongue - This kind of goes with #4. I noticed lately that I had become so much of a voyeur that I wasn't able to formulate any verbal response in a timely fashion. Sure, words would get articulated into ink when I got home, but at the moment things were happening, I was so immersed in watching it all go down that I didn't get to add to it.
I used to be really quick with statements, and realized that I hurt a lot of feelings by being brash and bold. I took it upon myself to slow down my thinking process in order to disable my mean streak, and now that I have more control over myself and my actions I want to recapture the ability to speak on things in an accurate, observant, and smart way at the moment it occurs.
11) Steady Writing Gigs That Make Me Proud - I used to have them, but most of them were of the sexual variety of writing. Don't get me wrong. That's awesome and I appreciate being given sex toy after sex toy in order to write articles on them. But geez. Talk about lack of diversity?! I want to show off my multi-faceted personality and expertise through steady writing gigs.
12) A Passport Full of Stamps - As proof that I'm a well-seasoned traveler.
13) Intermediate Knowledge of Computers, Electronics, Plumbing & Cars, AKA The Traditional-Contemporary Male Skill Set - I have this burning desire to be self-sufficient. My folks instilled it in me. (Ironic since they're anything but self-sufficient, but whatever.) I want to be able to be a real Jane-of-all-trades, and that includes having expertise in areas that are traditionally designated for men and boys.
When my folks conceive of being self-sufficient, it's in a very introverted, anti-social and selfish kind of way. They would rather not have to communicate with others. They would rather be cut off from the world than have to deal with conflicting opinions.
I'm of another variety of self-sufficient: I want to be able to do everything on my own, but not by myself. I recognize the inherent value of people and cultures and differences. I want to be able to apply my knowledge, assert my intelligence and worth as a human being, and learn all I can from people while doing so.
14)A Sense of Purpose - Last night, on the subway platform, a rush of euphoria came over me. The past four days have been intense. I know what I'm about and what I want to achieve. I just have to make it there. This makes life good even when it's bad.
15) External Hard Drive andMemory Card - Because, damnit, I wanna join the rest of my generation in keeping hard copy evidence of the world that I live in via cultural landmarks of the media and photographic variety.
1) iPod - I've had two: the first one got its wiring all fucked up after my dog decided to pee on it while it was charging; the second one was lost. I seriously have NO CLUE where it went. Last I remember, it was in my car. Next thing I know, it's gone.
Rob's promised to buy me one. First, it was supposed to be my birthday present, then my bon voyage present, then our anniversary present, then my Christmas present. Now it's my Valentine's Day present. I guess I'll cross it off the list when I get it...
2) My Own Place - Lately, I've been having crazy issues with my folks. It's gotten to the point that they just sound plain asinine (LOL, inside joke) about their drama. And don't get me wrong: I'm usually the first person to enable their bad habits. I'll console them and awkwardly remain silent after they've blatantly dismissed my advice. I'll chalk up their actions to ignorance, and therefore find the strength to fix their problems. I'll give them the money to pay their bills, miss class to wipe their tears, put my life on hold to chauffeur them around.
But no more.
Recently I found out that the mortgage on our house hasn't been paid in three months - even though I've been giving money for it. Somewhere between handing my folks the cash and/or check, and needing to actually pay the mortgage, said money disappeared. Repeatedly. The reasons I've been given are cryptic at best and straight-up lies at worst.
That's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the drama in my house, and seriously, I've had it. What's the use of sticking around to help out when no one wants to listen to my advice? I need to find a job and bounce.
3)
And then somewhere along the line, I stopped hanging out on the regular with people who parroted the slang back to me, and I lost the familiar street cadence and contemporary vocabulary. My quick wit at street words were lost due to a lack of use. I stopped using the N word - a bomb I used to drop all the time, and that I wish to never drop again.
Recently, I've started hanging out with Dallas, Ariane & Yvonne (DAY) all the time and I've realized how much I miss that fast-talking, crazy ebonics side of me. I think I'll look for her. She's fun.
4)
If I went through all the reasons behind this, this entry would be the size of War & Peace, so I'll just say this: I am sooooooo very fortunate to have such amazing and wonderful women as best friends. They fuck with me even after I've repeatedly shown my stupid, ignorant, hard-to-please sides, and for that I love them eternally.
5) The Love of High Heels & Other Uncomfortable Fashion Choices - You know those patent leather and/or leather five or six inch stilletto boots - usually black - that street walkers are often seen in? Yeah, that's right: "hooker boots."
Well, I'm certain that I helped usher them into the fashion lexicon. I swear. I was twelve years old and rocking them ALL THE TIME. Don't ask me why no one laughed at me or told me they were inappropriate. I was a shoe whore who rocked whatever showed off my gams best.
When it came to clothes, I was always a diva-in-training, looking fly in whatever I found on sale - even if the pants cut off my circulation or the shirt made it hard for me to breathe.
Those days are over. I'm just way too comfortable in my self to purposely make myself uncomfortable. What's the use? I know I'm fly.
6) Sufficient Academic Education - I want to learn everything. I want to be able to talk about physics, nature, writing, political systems in Iceland, drug epidemics within the nomads of the Sahara, the latest archaeological finds in Peru. Everything. This is probably why I read so much.
But there's something to be said for being in a formal setting, conversing with peers, establishing active communication with people who are the leaders in their field, practicing real-world applications of theories. Those are things that are guided and nurtured by the academic world, and I crave them. I want them. I don't think I'll ever get enough of them.
In the meantime, my rigorous exercises of internet perusal will suffice.
7) A Mature Sense of Duty* - I put an asterisk on this because I feel like I might actually have acquired this in the past couple of weeks. I don't think it's one of those things that someone automatically knows they have. I think you kind of ease into discipline and realize that you have set for yourself a code by which to live.
That's how I am.
I know now without a doubt that I have integrity and real character. I know that I'm a good person with real plans and responsibilities. I know that I want to fulfill something with my life, and that it is my duty to do so...
Hmm... Maybe I should just straight-up cross this one out?
8) The Ability to "Be With Someone Else" - Sunday morning, on the train with Dallas, Ariane and Danielle. Dallas and Danielle are sleeping. Ariane and I are talking about relationships. This is a very common thing for people to speak on, sure. But I see things in very black and white when it comes to being with a person for the long haul, and this always makes me the minority within our foursome. My way of figuring out if someone's "It" for me is as follows: Do I know that I wanna make a life with you? No? MmKBye. Done.
It sounds childish putting it this way, but I honestly believe that there is someone out there who either encompasses what I'm looking for in a mate, or who is so close to it that I can't help but fall for them. I've been with guys who are really close to my ideal, and that just furthers my idea that my romantic notions are worthwhile and accurate.
Ariane and I were talking about her inability to want to settle down with her fiance, and when the conversation turned to me I said simply, "It's no use for me to find The One right now. I'm just not ready." And that's the truth: I still have a lot of work to do on myself, and I know I can't Be With Someone if I don't know how to Be Myself first. There's no rush on this. I'm actually having a lot of fun making/acquiring my sense of self.
9) Realist-Mentality Pessimism - This is another thing that I'm grateful I haven't acquired. I'm the hopeful romantic who will ride the train for two hours to "teach" young minds without getting paid. I'm the chick who will wait for the right person before making plans to settle down. I'm the perceptive idealist who will stand in a train station at two a.m., listening to the guitar player break down song after song after song with a smile on his face then give him my last two dollars because Fuck it, he's got talent and a dream and I appreciate that.
10)
I used to be really quick with statements, and realized that I hurt a lot of feelings by being brash and bold. I took it upon myself to slow down my thinking process in order to disable my mean streak, and now that I have more control over myself and my actions I want to recapture the ability to speak on things in an accurate, observant, and smart way at the moment it occurs.
11) Steady Writing Gigs That Make Me Proud - I used to have them, but most of them were of the sexual variety of writing. Don't get me wrong. That's awesome and I appreciate being given sex toy after sex toy in order to write articles on them. But geez. Talk about lack of diversity?! I want to show off my multi-faceted personality and expertise through steady writing gigs.
12) A Passport Full of Stamps - As proof that I'm a well-seasoned traveler.
13) Intermediate Knowledge of Computers, Electronics, Plumbing & Cars, AKA The Traditional-Contemporary Male Skill Set - I have this burning desire to be self-sufficient. My folks instilled it in me. (Ironic since they're anything but self-sufficient, but whatever.) I want to be able to be a real Jane-of-all-trades, and that includes having expertise in areas that are traditionally designated for men and boys.
When my folks conceive of being self-sufficient, it's in a very introverted, anti-social and selfish kind of way. They would rather not have to communicate with others. They would rather be cut off from the world than have to deal with conflicting opinions.
I'm of another variety of self-sufficient: I want to be able to do everything on my own, but not by myself. I recognize the inherent value of people and cultures and differences. I want to be able to apply my knowledge, assert my intelligence and worth as a human being, and learn all I can from people while doing so.
14)
15) External Hard Drive and
Monday, January 28, 2008
I'm turning into a bona fide hippie!
Change. It comes in many different variations. For some, it's putting on new underwear and brushing off last night's plaque. For others, it's shaving off hair, retiring panties, and adopting an exotic accent, a la Britney Spears.
For me, change consists of trying out different perspectives on life and how best to go about living it. I submit to you three options that I've been considering:
1) Freeganism. According to its website, the definition of a freegan is as follows :"Freegans are people who employ alternative strategies for living based on limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed. "
What does this really mean? Freegans are philanthropic freeloaders. They spend as little money as possible, recycle the hell out of everything, and are generally very creative in how to have a good time. (See: Dumpster Diving for an example of all three.)
Even Oprah's getting in on this, and with the country's economy the way it is, it's no wonder! I was gonna partake in a meeting at Columbia University tonight, but instead I'm dealing with phone calls from lawyers in Asia. Go figure.
2) Pescatarianism. I've officially been a Pescatarian for... um... I think, four days - and already I feel so much better. Friends have asked if it's a stepping stone to vegetarianism or veganism - and no, it's most definitely not.
About a week ago, my dad went to Burger King. I asked for a chicken sandwich, and when dear old dad came home he realized he'd forgotten to buy mom a sandwich (or, most likely, he thought he didn't have to spend money on her because she was sleeping). Any which way, I ended up giving my chicken sandwich to my mom, and dad and I split a triple whopper. I ate maybe two bites and felt completely disgusted with myself - which is strange, cuz I'm Filipino and we pretty much eat any kind of meat, even when it's deep fried in lard.
The next day, I went over to Rob's house and his cousin, Mat was watching Fast Food Nation. I watched a snippet of the part where they kill the cow - and I decided right there that I was changing my diet.
Four days later, I have crazy amounts of energy all day and night, my skin looks better, and I'm forced to recall my past culinary prowess.
3) Couch Surfing. This is what it says on the website: "CouchSurfing seeks to internationally network people and places, create educational exchanges, raise collective consciousness, spread tolerance, and facilitate cultural understanding.
"As a community we strive to do our individual and collective parts to make the world a better place, and we believe that the surfing of couches is a means to accomplish this goal. CouchSurfing isn't about the furniture- it's not just about finding free accommodations around the world- it's about participating in creating a better world. We strive to make a better world by opening our homes, our hearts, and our lives. We open our minds and welcome the knowledge that cultural exchange makes available. We create deep and meaningful connections that cross oceans, continents and cultures. CouchSurfing wants to change not only the way we travel, but how we relate to the world!"
For me, change consists of trying out different perspectives on life and how best to go about living it. I submit to you three options that I've been considering:
1) Freeganism. According to its website, the definition of a freegan is as follows :"Freegans are people who employ alternative strategies for living based on limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed. "
What does this really mean? Freegans are philanthropic freeloaders. They spend as little money as possible, recycle the hell out of everything, and are generally very creative in how to have a good time. (See: Dumpster Diving for an example of all three.)
Even Oprah's getting in on this, and with the country's economy the way it is, it's no wonder! I was gonna partake in a meeting at Columbia University tonight, but instead I'm dealing with phone calls from lawyers in Asia. Go figure.
2) Pescatarianism. I've officially been a Pescatarian for... um... I think, four days - and already I feel so much better. Friends have asked if it's a stepping stone to vegetarianism or veganism - and no, it's most definitely not.
About a week ago, my dad went to Burger King. I asked for a chicken sandwich, and when dear old dad came home he realized he'd forgotten to buy mom a sandwich (or, most likely, he thought he didn't have to spend money on her because she was sleeping). Any which way, I ended up giving my chicken sandwich to my mom, and dad and I split a triple whopper. I ate maybe two bites and felt completely disgusted with myself - which is strange, cuz I'm Filipino and we pretty much eat any kind of meat, even when it's deep fried in lard.
The next day, I went over to Rob's house and his cousin, Mat was watching Fast Food Nation. I watched a snippet of the part where they kill the cow - and I decided right there that I was changing my diet.
Four days later, I have crazy amounts of energy all day and night, my skin looks better, and I'm forced to recall my past culinary prowess.
YUM!
3) Couch Surfing. This is what it says on the website: "CouchSurfing seeks to internationally network people and places, create educational exchanges, raise collective consciousness, spread tolerance, and facilitate cultural understanding.
"As a community we strive to do our individual and collective parts to make the world a better place, and we believe that the surfing of couches is a means to accomplish this goal. CouchSurfing isn't about the furniture- it's not just about finding free accommodations around the world- it's about participating in creating a better world. We strive to make a better world by opening our homes, our hearts, and our lives. We open our minds and welcome the knowledge that cultural exchange makes available. We create deep and meaningful connections that cross oceans, continents and cultures. CouchSurfing wants to change not only the way we travel, but how we relate to the world!"
The basic idea is it's a collective of people who hang out with strangers and get to know each other in person. Think Facebook or MySpace, only there's a good chance these strangers will give you a tour of their town/city and take you to the "real" side of the place.
I've been meaning to join this community for a while, but only now have I gotten the courage to do so. I think maybe the idea of living in southeast asia has made me realize how valuable traveling really is.
I've been meaning to join this community for a while, but only now have I gotten the courage to do so. I think maybe the idea of living in southeast asia has made me realize how valuable traveling really is.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Questions After a Post-Mortem
Now that I'm officially and undoubtedly single, I find myself in a precarious and uncomfortable position. The past four and a half years have been consumed by relationships of the "serious" variety, and I've forgotten what it's like to not be in a serious relationship.
There are many out there who would scoff at my statement - "How about that guy you made out with at my party?" "Remember that fling you had over Spring break?" "Are you saying that sex doesn't count if it only lasted four minutes?" - but it's true. Sure, there were one-night stands, casual dates, non-sexual-but-ultimately-illuminating encounters in between the "serious relationships" - but those haven't rendered me seemingly inexperienced at being single. At this moment, I feel alien to the world of dating.
I submit to you a list of questions/situations that I find myself wondering when I'm idle. Send help immediately!
1) Men keep telling me that they haven't gotten some in a while. Is this a casual way of slipping in the fact that they want sex? Do they think it will endear me to their "cause"? Are they simply obnoxious and/or lying in an attempt get some?
2) I've gotten some strange requests for sex in the past couple of weeks: "I want you to be the last person I sleep with before I become celibate." "My girlfriend says I can have sex with one person one time with no repercussions, and I want that person to be you." "I can't stop thinking about that one time at that concert when we were going at it, and I wanna do it again." "I've been in a relationship with my girlfriend for four years and I can't emotionally commit to her - I think I have to get you out of my system before I can do it." "I've always thought you were out of my league, but I know you'll be so far ahead of me by the time you get back to New York that I need to make my move now, before you don't know who I am." "I want to lose my virginity to you." etc. Did I miss something? Is this a new trend? Are people (men in particular?) resorting to story-telling to get laid? Or is this just another strange thing that's happening to me?
3)I'm 23 years old, and if I keep with my typical age projections, I should be dating people that are within the 27 - 32 age range. If I stay away from the obviously age-retarded, does that mean that I can look forward to finding more people with emotional/financial stability?
There are many out there who would scoff at my statement - "How about that guy you made out with at my party?" "Remember that fling you had over Spring break?" "Are you saying that sex doesn't count if it only lasted four minutes?" - but it's true. Sure, there were one-night stands, casual dates, non-sexual-but-ultimately-illuminating encounters in between the "serious relationships" - but those haven't rendered me seemingly inexperienced at being single. At this moment, I feel alien to the world of dating.
I submit to you a list of questions/situations that I find myself wondering when I'm idle. Send help immediately!
1) Men keep telling me that they haven't gotten some in a while. Is this a casual way of slipping in the fact that they want sex? Do they think it will endear me to their "cause"? Are they simply obnoxious and/or lying in an attempt get some?
2) I've gotten some strange requests for sex in the past couple of weeks: "I want you to be the last person I sleep with before I become celibate." "My girlfriend says I can have sex with one person one time with no repercussions, and I want that person to be you." "I can't stop thinking about that one time at that concert when we were going at it, and I wanna do it again." "I've been in a relationship with my girlfriend for four years and I can't emotionally commit to her - I think I have to get you out of my system before I can do it." "I've always thought you were out of my league, but I know you'll be so far ahead of me by the time you get back to New York that I need to make my move now, before you don't know who I am." "I want to lose my virginity to you." etc. Did I miss something? Is this a new trend? Are people (men in particular?) resorting to story-telling to get laid? Or is this just another strange thing that's happening to me?
3)I'm 23 years old, and if I keep with my typical age projections, I should be dating people that are within the 27 - 32 age range. If I stay away from the obviously age-retarded, does that mean that I can look forward to finding more people with emotional/financial stability?
Monday, January 14, 2008
My big, fat mouth will be my undoing...
...and the undoing of great sites that stream free movies.
Rob put me on a few months ago to moviesister.com, which has a bunch of free movies, shows and such for your illegal enjoyment. Now that I'm sans job and classes, I'm totally whoring it out for all its worth.
Here's the list of the movies I've watched in the last four days:
1) Atonement
2) Juno
3) National Treasure: Book of Secrets
4) My Blueberry Nights
5) The Nanny Diaries
6) Suburban Girl
7) The Bucket List
8) Charlie Wilson's War
9) A really, really bad film starring and directed by Helen Hunt... You remember Helen Hunt, right? She's that chick that was in "Mad About You" and "What Women Want." I always thought that she should do a film with LeeLee Sobieski, where they play mother and daughter, or where : Sobieski plays the younger version of Hunt, cuz maybe it's me, but they look alike.
Rob put me on a few months ago to moviesister.com, which has a bunch of free movies, shows and such for your illegal enjoyment. Now that I'm sans job and classes, I'm totally whoring it out for all its worth.
Here's the list of the movies I've watched in the last four days:
1) Atonement
2) Juno
3) National Treasure: Book of Secrets
4) My Blueberry Nights
5) The Nanny Diaries
6) Suburban Girl
7) The Bucket List
8) Charlie Wilson's War
9) A really, really bad film starring and directed by Helen Hunt... You remember Helen Hunt, right? She's that chick that was in "Mad About You" and "What Women Want." I always thought that she should do a film with LeeLee Sobieski, where they play mother and daughter, or where : Sobieski plays the younger version of Hunt, cuz maybe it's me, but they look alike.
<--Leelee Sobieski
Helen Hunt-->
Okay. Maybe the eyes are slightly off. Slightly.
But anywho, you get the idea.
Anyway, I lied. Not about thinking that Helen Hunt and Leelee Sobieski look like older/younger versions of the same person, but about watching all of those movies in a span of four days. It was more like seven or eight days. And I dunno if I watched them, so much as I focally inhaled them. Or had them playing in the background as I read books, cleaned my house, and scoured the web for job openings.
Incidentally, I recognized the "office set" of "Suburban Girl" to be the Penguin office, where I did a brief stint as a promotions/marketing intern last semester. Watching that movie made me remember how great/horrible an industry publishing is. It also made me uber critical of my grammar.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Top 10 Reasons Why I Shouldn't Go Through with "The Plan"
a.k.a. WHY I SUDDENLY HAVE COLD FEET ABOUT MY PLANS TO MOVE
1) My vajayjay might as well be on vacay. Not for nothin, but I'm susceptible to the opinions of my kin folk, and I don't want them thinkin I'm a slut. Besides, 1) I'm weary of being an American notch on some Flip guy's belt, and 2) It's nearly impossible to be the one makin notches out of men when I'm the foreigner.
2) I'll miss my friends.
3) How do I know that moving to the Philippines isn't just another way of running away from happiness/responsibility? Again?
4) Rob.
5) A part of me really does wanna earn her Creativing Writing and Philosophy dual degree from Brooklyn College asap.
6) Family. And by "family," I mean "close friends."
7) My cousins in TN.
8) I'll miss out on bachelorette parties, weddings, the births of my friends' kids, tumultuous times for my loved ones in the States (that I coulda helped out).
9) Justice. (My pug.)
10) Since I won't be contributing to the family income, I'll have to borrow money from T... Thank God he's seen me naked, or I'd be too embarassed to take the loan.
1) My vajayjay might as well be on vacay. Not for nothin, but I'm susceptible to the opinions of my kin folk, and I don't want them thinkin I'm a slut. Besides, 1) I'm weary of being an American notch on some Flip guy's belt, and 2) It's nearly impossible to be the one makin notches out of men when I'm the foreigner.
2) I'll miss my friends.
3) How do I know that moving to the Philippines isn't just another way of running away from happiness/responsibility? Again?
4) Rob.
5) A part of me really does wanna earn her Creativing Writing and Philosophy dual degree from Brooklyn College asap.
6) Family. And by "family," I mean "close friends."
7) My cousins in TN.
8) I'll miss out on bachelorette parties, weddings, the births of my friends' kids, tumultuous times for my loved ones in the States (that I coulda helped out).
9) Justice. (My pug.)
10) Since I won't be contributing to the family income, I'll have to borrow money from T... Thank God he's seen me naked, or I'd be too embarassed to take the loan.
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