This is New York

The prices at my fruit stand have gone up.  Yesterday I payed $.50 for a banana.  One banana.

Last weekend when I was walking to the gym I saw Russell Simmons’ car.  I know it because his office is about a block up from mine and I doubt there are two of that car in this city.  I figured they had just dropped him off or they were waiting to pick him up.  As I got up next to it it pulled away from the curb and the back window was open.  He was in it.

That same day when I was leaving the gym I walked past a store called “Big D.”  A man came out, bend down, picked up a joint that was on the ground and stuck it in his mouth.  I guess he’d put it there for safe keeping?

I am a have not

I really want to go shopping right now.  It’s spring in New York, the seasons and weather are changing and I want new clothes to go along with it.  I haven’t been out to shop because I can’t afford to, but I have given in to walking into random stores I walk past occasionally and there are 2 shirts and 2 pairs of shoes that I know of that I want.  Here’s the problem with that.

Right now I don’t make enough money.  I can barely survive let alone shop.  After taxes I make just over $24,000 a year.  Out of this comes my monthly rent of $1047, cc bill (that is almost paid off – I pay way more than my min cause I actually want to pay it off), student loan bill (I also try to pay more on this than my min, but I can’t afford much more than the min), gym bill of $80 a month, $100 in savings a month, phone bill of around $40 a month, and I am left with roughly $75 a pay check for food and entertainment. 

In New York everything is more expensive in order to cover rent costs.  I spend about $40 a pay check on groceries and DEFINITELY use the other $35 for clothes or yarn (I’m making baby blankets for the twins my aunt is going to have in August) or whatever else a 20 something woman needs.  I have a ton of perks from my job and there is a lot I don’t have to pay for (mainly food) that I would if I had any other job.  I don’t know how someone who’s not me can get by on my pay in this city.  CC’s and no student loans?

I spent $50 on dinner Saturday night and now I feel terrible about it.  Next weekend I can’t go out.  I heart movie nights.  I just wish I had the money for a few new items to spruce up my spring/summer wardrobe.

This week:

Monday: Knick’s vs. Celtics

Tuesday: Team BBQ dinner

Wednesday: Dinner with a vendor

Thursday: Gym; tv; knit (?)

Friday: Wine Tasing all day; secret off site work meeting; maybe Forgetting Smart People

Saturday: Seeing the Pope!

Sunday: Mass; laundry; gym

Saturday was gay day

So it’s back to the grind of the gym.  After going probably 20 times in an entire quarter, I’m back on the horse.  I’ve been to the gym nearly every day of the last 2 weeks and it’s too soon to see results, but I did manage to keep my weight down from “average” while I was away from the gym.  Mostly cause I work all the time and never eat I think.  Now that I’m back to it I’m hungry ALL THE TIME though.  I’ve been eating pasta nearly every day, cause really it’s all that fills me up.

I hate not going to the gym regularly, I always end up feeling so gross.  I’d say I feel fat, but I know I’m not fat at all…I just feel really out of shape and I hate that feeling!  I don’t feel like I look good in my clothes and it’s totally a mental thing.  So going back to the gym makes me feel better and although I still feel like I look gross, it’s totally better than not working out and hopefully by the time I have to spend time in a swim suit I will feel happy with the way I look.  Until then I will continue to go to the gym every day. 

One thing that’s helping me is that I never have time go to after work, so I just never went.  I’ve been good lately about getting my lazy butt up and going before work.  I’ve also been good about going on the weekend, which has historically been my rest period…but if I’m not working out during the week, I have no reason to rest.

I haven’t noticed any weight loss or much change yet, but it takes time.  I’m around 133 right now, so we’ll see how long that takes to change.  I LOVED how I was end of my senior year of college.  I floated around 122.  I’m shooting for that again.  I don’t know that I can manage to lose 10 pounds before Memorial Day, but I’ll take what I can get.  If I can lose 7 or 8 I’ll be happy.  125 for Memorial Day.  That sounds nice! 

My dreams are rarely wishes my heart makes

Yesterday morning I woke up abruptly, but it took me a minute to realize I was in bed and all the feelings I was having weren’t real. . .

I was in Jersey at a party for some friends who were about to get married.  Tony C from elementary school was in town visiting and we were all having a good time drinking and hanging out at someone’s house in Jersey.  Mom and Dad had also come up for the weekend to visit me.  We decided to walk over to the Hudson to look at the New York skyline at night.  As I walked up there were a few people on the boardwalk along the water, but Tony and the girl who were with us hadn’t come with me.  I looked up and saw a 747 coming from NY toward Jersey, obviously just beginning its cross country flight.  Next thing I knew it exploded and came down not far behind me.  About 30 seconds later, while I was still very much in shock, a second 747 exploded in about the same place and also crash landed not very far behind me.  At this point I was scared.  After about another 30 seconds a third 747 came crashing just barely over the buildings that were surrounding me.  It had not exploded outwardly, but was clearly just as disabled as the first two firey planes.  At this point my parents arrived to watch what was happening with me.  A band of police officers also arrive to take notes on the situatioin as there seemed to be nothing else they could do.  All air traffic was stopped, but rather than being grounded the planes were stopped where they were.  Next thing I knew there were 10 or 11 747s hovering about 100 feet above the Hudson river.  They weren’t allowed to fly any further until authorities could figure out what was happening, although we all clearly knew it was another terrorist attack.  After a couple minutes the planes that were hovering in front of us began to explode, one after the next, starting from the north.  One would explode and fall into the river, and then another until there were no more planes, just firey metal floating on the river.

My parents were supposed to leave the next day and return to Houston.  I turned around to them and while sobbing told them they were not going anywhere for a few more days.  My Dad tried to comfort me and tell me they wouldn’t leave until Wednesday, but even the thought of them on a plane upset me.

Clearly his mom picked up his room

When I moved into my current apartment, I moved into a bachelor pad. It clearly hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned since my roommate moved in. The bathtub was black and me scrubbing it twice with clorox clean up didn’t make much of a dent. I made him get bleach and clean the tub. Then I instituted a cleaning schedule. I figured cleaning every weekend was a little aggressive for him, so I got him to agree to the apartment being cleaned twice a month. One of us cleans every other weekend. This way, with one of us doing all the cleaning once a month it is a fair break up of chores. Seemes pretty fair to me. This was until I figured out he really doesn’t know how to clean. He doesn’t use cleaning products and pretty much thinks sweeping is enough. I asked him one weekend to make sure he starts using the Swiffer, so now he does that, but he still doesn’t use the Clorox wipes for the counters and I don’t think he knows the stove needs to be wiped down every time he cleans. He doesn’t know how to clean the inside of a toilet bowl, because when it’s my turn it’s already turning a funky color of orange. He also never cleans the shower.

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Last weekend when it was his turn to clean he hadn’t done anything all weekend. In fact, he’d been in bed all weekend. When I was leaving for the gym Sunday night I reminded him that it was his weekend to clean and he said he didn’t know. Funny since I write it on the calendar in the kitchen I bought specifically so he wouldn’t forget. I update it every month and our kitchen is about 6×6, so it’s not easy to miss.

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When I got home he had “cleaned” and I could smell the swiffer. He had emailed me earlier in the week though asking me to take out the full trash although I hadn’t been home for almost a week and the trash was clearly his. The proof in that was that he emailed me. Whatever. He approached it saying he was concerned abeout it smelling. I knew I wasn’t going home that night though, so I told him I wouldn’t be home and that if he was concerned about it smelling he should probably take it out. He didn’t. When I got home he’d only filled it more and left it for me to take out. Soooo, since I had to take out his trash I was going to make sure he actually cleaned the bathroom. When I came home from the gym the sponge that should be used to clean the bathroom was still dry. I poked my head into his room and said, “can you make sure you clean the bathtub and the toilet too when you get a minute?” He said he did. I asked, “with what, the sponge that’s dry?” He said no, napkins. Ok…napkins?!? You can not clean anything with napkins; the best you can do is wipe it down. The toilet is already turning orange, so I know he didn’t do that either.

I don’t know how to handle this correctly. Do I just suck it up until I move out? Do I show him next time I clean? Maybe I should just email him.

Snail mail still excites me!

Today I came home to 2 envelopes on my bed.  One had my pay check stub in it.  Into the filing system that goes.  The other was from the Diocese of New York.  It was my ticket to see the Pope on Saturday!  I am going with my bf, his sister and her husband.  We will have to be there at 6am Saturday, but it’ll be worth it to see the Pope in the US.  Tickets were free.  Can’t wait!

Overheard

On the subway leaving the Yankees game while everyone was trying to pack into the train…

 Conductor:  There’s room all the way in the back.  Take it in the rear please.  Take it in the rear!

“Thanks for being understanding”

I hate it when people thank me for something they hope I will do in the future.  “Thanks for your quick response.”  “Thank you for your patience on this matter,” after an email telling you what you’d planned isn’t happening the way you’d planned it.  “Thank you for being understanding.”  I think this last one bothers me the most because of who it came from and the context in which it was used.  I don’t want to be understanding.  I want to be selfish and self serving and have things my way.  I don’t want to share or give up.  I don’t want to compromise, but given my situation, that is something I’m having to learn to do. 

I just hate when people thank you for something you haven’t done in hopes of being persuasive and hoping you’ll do what they want.

 

Usually I don’t take the express train to work.  I’d have to take the local up one stop and transfer, so if the train is there sometimes I will take it because it cuts out 2 stops, but most of the time I stay right where I am for the sake of reading a few more pages.

Well, today it was early, the trains weren’t crowded, and I decided to take the express.  When I got in and got comfortable I looked around and saw a girl reading who had very fare skin, dark hair and dark red lips.  She looked very classic.  On her coat there was a no fur button.  Then I observed that her gloves, her handbag and her shoes were all leather. 

The flaw I always seem to find in no fur activists is this: they eat meat, they wear leather; what is the difference?  In my mind, people who are no fur are that way because they don’t want to hurt/kill animals.  So then should you not also be a vegan who only wears cotton?

Regardless of whether you want to wear fur or not, recognize that animals die all over the world every day to feed people.  So do you then waste the rest of the animal or do you use it?  Hell, if someone wants to wear leather, I’m eating a hamburger, do you can take from my cow.