I'm Accepting It and Moving On

It's been something that has been on my mind for awhile. Tossing around, fermenting, and then today I finally came to the realization that I just have to accept it and move on even if it bums me out:

If I was a mutant I'd probably be a member of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants even though obviously any smart, well-intended mutant would want to be a part of Professor X's X-Men.

I'm judging based solely on my information from the movies and I'm not taking into account any long and confusing back stories or details that only comic book freaks would think about. I get that both groups are victims of horrible bigotry and mutants in general are feared in society because they are misunderstood and ostracized. But what it comes down to is X-Men are good and life-saving and want to make the world accept mutants and the Brotherhood is mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore.

So often when I'm walking down the street and someone really pisses me off I always think of some vengeful move that I would do if I had 'powers'. All this vengeance which sadly is never mine makes me realize that most of my 'powers' would be used in anger therefore I'd be a Brotherhood member just dishing out a cold fate to people who pressed the wrong buttons.

For example the most common thing that seriously makes me a wild woman is a driver who is a ginormous asshole and cuts me off when I have the right of way when walking. When that douche-bag taxi driver almost runs over my feet because god-forbid he have to use his brake pedal for 5 fucking seconds I ALWAYS want to be able to just like, graze my finger on his trunk as he speeds by me while standing in the freaking crosswalk and have something happen that just ruins his day. Most of the time I'd like one of his tires to instantly blow out or maybe like his battery to just magically die and his car go to poop. Or like his windshield shatter. That's a good one.

Either way though I wouldn't want anyone to even notice that I inflicted the damage. It would just be the slight touch on the vehicle. Or perhaps some crazy powerful energy expelled from me thinking of the action. But always something really low key so I can just stand on the corner looking surprised like everyone else as I watch the chaos that ensues.

It's not always just about me though. Whenever I see a jerk driver do dangerous stuff to like a lady with a stroller or an old person walking slowly I always wish I could do it too as justice for them. That's when I'm like: It's for someone else, that's good right, that makes me an X-man! No. I'm sure it doesn't.

But maybe I could be a member of the X-Men and I could just be the member who has anger-management issues. And when that kinda stuff happens I get demerits or maybe Professor-X doesn't let me leave the school grounds for awhile, like I'm grounded. But I'm still a good girl. Maybe Wolverine and I could have a beer and discuss how exhausting it is not to want to punch everyone in the face.

Either way. I wish I just school some people. Because let's face it. Assholes rule the world. There is no justice. They'll never learn and it makes me really angry.

Sigh.

Halloween: A Tale of Survival

So, I don't know if this wasn't crystal clear before but I'm not a big fan of where I live. Meaning, more precisely, the building I live in. I've got loudness coming from alleys, cigarette smoke liberally wafting in from the bitch downstairs who smokes in the hallway, drug dealers who give you shady looks as you walk through their deals to get to your home, and teenagers with nothing else to do but be thugs-in-training who block the entry steps.
Add that to occasionally no water in the shower (always best when you're already covered in soap), and no heat- ever, and wow...I love it!

My only sense of hope is that Mark and I follow the same pattern as we did in Tahoe: our first apartment upon first glance was cute and cozy and then became a house of horror. Our second apartment was Tahoe-fantastic (for us anyway). I'd like to think that our second go at apartments in NYC will be a vast improvement but since I don't see our money situation really increasing and rents definitely increasing that hope is pretty grainy. It's a hard feeling to cope with- when your home is not always the sanctuary you need.

So here comes Halloween and I'm terrified. Not only is it Halloween but it's a Saturday. The vibe outside should be pretty horrible tonight. Yesterday when I arrived home there were already eggs strewn on the courtyard floor. At 4 in the morning I heard a whole lot of males hollering and making a ruckus of some sort that sounded like mounting violence. Car alarms started to go off and eventually I heard police sirens boop-booping and a voice over loudspeaker telling them to break it up. So hopefully not too much damage or carnage ensued but I'm not planning to be anywhere after dark falls. I hate walking into my courtyard in daytime I'm not risking it tonight.

Only 8 months left on the lease!

¿Qué es eso?

So let's see. My neighborhood. I grew up here and I don't mean to sound like people should be in awe of me but I do think it's funny that I've gone and seen things that some in the neighborhood don't even know exist. How do I mean this? I mean, forget the Inwood of now. The Inwood with its one-bedroom Co-ops selling for over $400,000. Forget the Inwood of the Indian Road Cafe, of yoga in the park, of yoga period.

Remember when Inwood was sketch? Remember when the 207^th Street A train subway stop was one long, dark, dank hallway that you had to walk all the way down to get to the turnstile? Basically, the Inwood before money started moving in (or when the money was just on Park Terrace)?

Anyway, that's just a long intro into something funny I witnessed walking to work the other day. It was garbage day on my street and as I walked to work in my usual depressed state I saw a snowboard tossed on top of a pile of garbage. My immediate reaction was 'Holy Cow, a snowboard! In Inwood? On Vermilyea?'.

Now don't get me wrong, from the little bit I know of snow gear I don't think it was a very high quality snowboard, but a snowboard it was. So here I am, staring and I notice the old lady who sweeps the sidewalk staring at the snowboard too. Her friend starts to walk towards her and (everything she says in Spanish) she tells her friend 'Hey look at that'. Then the super of the building, the guy who would've put the snowboard out there, comes out of the building and she goes 'Hey old man, what is that thing?'

It gave me a good laugh. Part of me wanted to turn around and explain it to her in horrible español but I just kept walking. I really wish I could've heard his answer. But this is my point. Here I am, from this neighborhood, where most people don't even know what a snowboard is.

Meanwhile, I lived in Tahoe for almost 3 years. Worked in a ski shop for a winter (wha?) I've even skied (three goes on an easy slope where I cheated death). I've lived where every other person had a snowboard constantly strapped to the top of their Subaru. And I'm not from an adventurous clan. So sometimes when I see people here in awe of something so many people outside of this city find totally normal it kinda makes me giggle.

Another Domino's Post!

So whenever Mark and I do laundry I always bring a book to read. The problem is I never get any reading done because the laundromat is, like, sensory overload central. There are bright lights, buzzing machines, lots of weird neighborhood people (a sad-looking man doing laundry alone, or someone with massive tons of laundry: where do they keep all those dirty clothes at home?, people doing laundry in their very obvious 'house-clothes' even though you have to actually go out in public to do the laundry, do they fold out of the dryer or just dump in a bag, etc.), and the place is right on Broadway so there are tons of passersbys.

So anyway, we were doing laundry at our preferred laundromat on Broadway and Academy, and as the clothes were washing and drying we sat out on the lawn chairs that had been set out on the sidewalk, because I wanted to get my outdoor-people-watching groove on. After about 50 minutes I recall a white sedan, parked, just off to the right in my viewpoint because I was looking left. I remember hearing a loud thud, or thump. A strange noise. The sound of impact but not a bang.

So many things happened simultaneously because of how quick it all occurred:
I turned my head and saw the white sedan rocking and a bicycle helmet flying to the ground.
I think that the sedan got hit from behind because of the way it's rocking.
I realize the car behind the sedan is parked and has a good amount of space between the bumpers.
The driver of the sedan is half-out of his car and there is a very dazed Domino's guy standing very close next to him.
The girlfriend of the sedan driver is waving napkins to him through the window.

It suddenly becomes very clear that the sedan driver opened his car door at the exact minute the delivery biker was zipping past him and the dreaded car door/biker crash occurred. The sedan driver is walking around to the passenger side of the car asking his girlfriend (in Spanish) for the towel. I need the towel. Right behind him is the biker and his fist is gushing blood. I'm actually shocked by how much it was dripping.

The killer irony of all this is that the delivery guy was just a half-block away from being back at Domino's. I actually walk up to the biker to see if he wants me to go down to Domino's to tell them that he's been hurt and he says no. I see all the blood on the asphalt and, again, I'm shocked at how much blood there is from a probably shattered fist. And the biker looks pretty damned shocked too.

Eventually the cops show up, a big unattractive chick and a very red-skinned, Irish-looking dude who lights up a cigarette as he listens to everyone's story. Super professional, that NYPD.

Apparently there is another car that the biker must've fell into who was standing at the red light. His rear passenger door has been all scratched and dented from the bike and he's sticking around probably to get his fair share of insurance help. Plus Latin people love their cars way too much. He's not going to shrug off a scratch. He's gonna stick around and bitch about it.
As a matter of fact as the biker sits in the recently arrived ambulance and the cops are talking to him the sedan driver and the scratched door driver start to get into it and get yelled at by Smoker Cop. Sadly, they only spoke Spanish and since we all know my parents let me down by not raising a bilingual Jamie, I have no idea if there was blame being laid down or what...sigh.

Anyway, I felt really bad for the biker. I mean, you deliver pizzas by bike in an aggressive-driver city. You probably get paid shit and who knows how many of these ass-wipes who order the pizza are tipping you? One wonders if you have medical insurance, if you can afford any rehab your hand might need and if you'll get your job back once you've healed. Also, since it was only around 1pm he couldn't have been on shift that long so he probably didn't make any money that day.

The only plus to this situation is I now have a new NYC: I Once Saw This Happen story. My dad has a lot of those.

The Last Domino Falls

Oh...God...
Even though I went to PathMark by myself on Sunday and hauled 50 dollars worth of groceries home on my own Mark and I still opted to order "oven-baked" sandwiches from Dominos tonight. We just didn't want to have leftover spaghetti for a third time in a row and I wasn't going to cook anything else. Now I feel sick because, let's face it, that shit is greasy and evil.
What does this teach me? Well, I'm probably going to swear off Dominos. I can't remember the last time I ordered it and didn't regret it. Also, I really need to get a storage canister for uncooked pasta. I always cook the whole box because I don't want to store any unsealed food in my apartment. But then we end up with a pound of cooked spaghetti and we have to force ourselves to eat it as we really hate to throw away food (though it does happen, we're not perfect).

Luckily I'm still working out at PF. While I'm not ever going to be a supermodel I think my heart is glad to get a workout. I've been having shin issues and maybe a little boredom so I almost didn't go today but I forced myself over there. I try and burn about 250 calories on the more "intense" machines which makes me feel really happy. But this past three-day weekend probably made me feel more lethargic today instead of rejuvenated (even though I worked out 2 of the 3 days) and so I just strolled on the treadmill. I think I need some new workout music. That might help the motivation.

So this past weekend my parents met Mark's parents for the first time. It was strange for me because my parents had never met a partner's parents before. Of course I've never been engaged before either but that didn't make the nerves any less annoying. But I think it went quite well. They're not exactly going to be texting each other or calling each other to ask how the day went but I think if they're ever in the same room again (other than our currently non-existent wedding) that everything will be okie dokie.

So there.

Instead of Sweeping

Not much going on here. Mark's parents are coming this weekend and for some reason this has sent me into a spiral of panic. Probably because I usually keep an extremely neat apartment but this weekend I was hit with a pretty bad cold and a massive affliction of EVIL HORRIBLE NEIGHBOR and so I got very little rest and recovery time. Therefore my apartment is currently a mess. MESS.

We were at IKEA adding to our bookshelf collection when I felt the sore throat hit and I knew I was a goner. That night the aches and runny nose started just in time for the building next door to throw a massive and horribly noisy party in the alley behind my building which also happens to be where my bedroom window faces. The party was so bad that we called the cops three times. Two times through 311 and one time directly. By then it was 4 in the morning and someone from another building was flinging glass beer bottles down on the crowd. I hope they hit someone. You can live in the ghetto but even ghetto people will only put up with abusive noise for so long.

So I really shouldn't write too much because I feel the need to tidy up something. I just wanted to pop in and say hello. I hope the rest of the week goes well for everyone. I'm excited for the fall season of TV to premiere (I'll admit it. I'm not ashamed to watch TV only because I know I still read a lot). However I don't know when I'll actually be able to watch anything because Mark can't get any work done when the TV is on. And since I'm apparently the second-class citizen here, I turn it off.

Farewell for now.

Thursday Nights

So today was the first full day that my 4yr olds stayed all day. They usually have 2 half days to get used to going to school and then BAM! they get smacked in the face with the reality that they have to stay all day at school. The day was going "smoothly" (in nursery school that term used loosely) and then lunchtime hit and a couple of kids realized they weren't going home anytime soon. Meltdown Mayhem. There was lots of crying, some heavy sobbing, red faces, gasping for air, cries for mommy, denial of hunger. Wow.
Some of my kids are really adorable. Some of my kids would probably be really adorable (to me) if they listened to direction a little better. But hey, it's Day One. If they've never been in school before they just don't get it. I know you don't want to sit on that rug over there, but, see 19 of your friends sitting on it? That's because you have to sit on that rug over there. NOW GO!

I tried a new machine at Planet Fitness the other day. I'll have to find out which one it is precisely and link you to info about it. This thing is intense! It's kinda elliptical machine kinda stair machine, total kick in the ass. I love it. It doesn't love me. But I'm not giving up. There are rivers of sweat pouring through my hair and down my face when I'm on this machine and I'm going fairly easy. It's an awesome cardio workout and I'm hoping it does magic to my upper thighs. While the UTs don't see much sunlight in general, I'd like them to be much nicer. So yeah!

But...
Mark has class Thursday evenings and so today while he's out probably exhausted and miserable I've decided to bake chocolate chip cookies to entertain myself. I can't watch TV because all I have is Project Runway and Top Chef and Mark wants to watch those too. I can't watch a movie because I don't have the attention span, and I can't really go work out because I needed the day off from crazy elliptical machine because my right leg was not doing so good after yesterday's big push.
They're double chocolate chip (white and bittersweet) and I got the recipe from a book I got free years ago called Pig Out. The recipes are always a tad off and I accidentally set the oven 50 degrees cooler than it should of been so we'll see how these things turn out. But if it's got chocolate, butter, and sugar there's probably no chance these things will just sit around the kitchen.

To Upper Thighs!