Tigersmile

2006-10-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

Ah misery... my lovely lovely friend, so dramatic, glamourous and beautiful in my minds eye. In actuality misery is more like a heaviness that drags on your features, your walking pace and your self-esteem. Fun every once in awhile but when it becomes habitual- burdensome. And truly, feeling sorry for myself has gotten me nowhere in the past. Nowhere I wanted to be... So I won't. Not tonight anyway.

Besides. There are lovely things in my life. Wonderful things going on- even if not happening as I planned. The going is slow acting wise and I'll admit that has more to do with the fact that I have been juggling around with my paying jobs more than I should. But I have two good auditions this week to prep for, a class I love and friends in the theater that awe and inspire me. Soon I will be 26- but I don't need to have my IRA this year. It would be nice to start it but we'll see... Boys... er... confuse me... so I won't even go into that. I really have little to be miserable about. The seasons are changing over, Halloween is coming and I am going to have a badass costume this year; maybe I'll be a vampire airline stewardess or a zombie ballerina?

2006-08-29T18:45:00.000-07:00

NEW JOB- and lots of work; memorizing menu descriptions, wines, service skills, dealing with about 18 additional steps in my normal table waiting and reminding myself to upsell without being pushy.

My last day at the Roast one of the newer servers worked the busiest, most stressful and hectic days you can work there: BRUNCH or Brunch Hell as I like to call it. Throughout the day she was tossed back and forth by customers, management and bussers. At the end of it all she counted up her money and found that she had only made $70. Somewhere along the way she had lost $80-$100. I remember having been in her shoes before years ago when I lost $100 at a night club I worked at- but I didn't know what to say- just that I was sorry- that things would get better and that yes it did suck. I reflected to myself that I was lucky that I no longer was reduced to tears from waiting on tables though I spent my first 3 months at the Roast crying everyday.

Flash forward not even a week and here I am at my new job; thats right, in tears, while two waiters comfort me, "it's a lot to learn, don't worry, it will get better- we were there too." I appreciate their support. And I realize that I can get pretty cocky sometimes. Nope. I haven't seen it all. I don't know all there is to know and there's a rough road ahead with a lot of things I won't expect. I gotta keep my chin up. I gotta keep going forward and I can't let it all get the better of me and I have to work hard and take what comes.

Restaurants in NYC in the month of August

2006-08-27T05:30:00.000-07:00

So my first week at my new job is plodding along. So far I am making the slave, new girl wages- 12 hour shifts yielding $20-$60. Which is admittedly depressing. I know that ultimately these things will change and over time they will even out just so long as I impress the management with my skills. Everyone there who has worked there for any significant amount of time makes up to $400 a shift so I am going to be mellow, patient and just look for opportunities to improve my sales make extra cash. In the mean time- I need to make rent... this is going to be a major scrape for cash. Hopefully I will be needed tonight at Gotham Comedy Club as they are my only other source of income... NYC... hmmm...

Otherwise, meaning aside from the actual money I am making; My new restaurant seems to be populated with some very cool people; mostly actors, honestly. Every straight man there is unavailable, of course, but everyone seems fun and funny. There is a lot of gossip and moaning and groaning like at every restaurant I've been. One of the senior servers suggested I hang back and observe well before I threw myself into the mix of things. I have a feeling that when dealing with the managers there is a very specific way to approach them. Yesterday I came in at 10 AM for my Brunch shift. I turned over the upstairs, setting it for Brunch- waited around and helped the downstairs waiters while we tried to have our meeting. Then I waited around, got no customers and was cut at 12:30. A little miffed I asked my fellow waiters what I should do and they suggested I talk to management about compensation. So I did, even though I didn't want to be a bother and I am kinda afraid of all of them. I now have $20 towards my next dining experience within the restaurant and its affiliated restaurants. The restaurant industry is pretty nasty and cheap in the dry late summer months. Not so many people visit NYC this time of year and the locals are vacationing. Its a bad time of year for restaurants and waiters. Next year I want to be on vacation this time of year. Maybe I will travel to Scotland to see the Fringe festival- or hang out in Iceland and sip expensive cherry sodas. But next year- I want to be outta here for these godawful restaurant days.

quitting...

2006-08-09T07:03:00.000-07:00

I have come to a point where I have to admit. One of my fatal flaws: amongst everything else, of course, is that I am a quitter. Well- I never really quit. I waffle about quitting. I threaten to quit and then I am coerced back into the mix sans quitting, but rarely fully committed. As I prepare to train at a new job this week I have to remember that it is my instinct to quit when the going gets tough. But that I have toughed things out in the past and made it. When I think about acting I often get the same feeling: I want to quit because its too hard, I am not good enough, I am too fat, nobody knows who the hell I am, etc. Yet I know in my heart of hearts that it is not time to quit and that I will assuredly get nowhere if I don't try. It just isn't all going to happen right now.

2006-08-04T00:10:00.000-07:00

Do you ever spend an entire day feeling sorry for yourself? I am sure most people rarely do. And you keep trying to be positive and let go of your angst and every time you get above the grime and melancholy in your head and actually see everyone else, you see something that reminds you of your misery and you just suck right back down into yourself.

Well. Today was poor me day. "Poor me, why me why why?"

It is so odd that I can sit in misery and feel like I am the unluckiest person on earth when I am not in debt, making a living in the big apple, in good health, sober, reasonably attractive and appealing. Yet sometimes all I can think of is what I don't have. All I see is what everyone else has. I pine for a waist as thin as the model's at table 12. I want the grace and wisdom of my coworker Anna. I want the career successes of my actor friend. I want the generosity of spirit I see in others. I am so busy counting all the things I don't have. I have no idea what I do have. Man. I need to know these things.

I have an active imagination.
A desire to grow.
the courage to continue to challenge myself and apply myself to my goals.
My health
Citizenship
Good Friends
An appreciation for the arts
A College education
Good eyesight
Endurance
Parents that love me and inspire me
A whole family of different and inspiring individuals
Friends all over the country
Electricity (didn't have it two weeks ago)
AC
the ability to laugh at myself
passion
creativity
drive
the universe
amazing friends
amazing friends
amazing stories
a vivid imagination combined with a decent memory

2006-07-27T10:29:00.000-07:00

This Tori Amos song is running in my head right now; the main lyric that keeps repeating to me is , "Nothing here to fear, I'm just sitting around doing nothing when there is work to be done..."

Yep. Well- it calms me to think of Tori Amos, prolific song writer and busy mother, rock artist and touring diva sitting around doing nothing. Even if it was probably briefly.

I intended on going to the gym, and a meeting today. But I opted for coffee and the internet instead. I don't like French Roast- the shifts eat up my entire day. What other time do I have to workout, go to meetings, prepare for auditions and shows. I have three things to prep for: my class next Tuesday- it comes around a lot faster than you would think. A scene in which a writer confronts a deathrow convicted murderer and asks permission to broadcast his execution live. DRAMA! I have an audition tomorrow- I need to read the plays and pick a scene to audition with prior to my audition. (Hello 10am in Manhattan!) I have a play reading tomorrow night that I need to prep for. It is good. I like having stuff to do. It just seems to always happen not at all and then all at once. Hmmm... kinda like in the restaurant industry. I knew my experience waiting tables would come in handy later on!

Of course as soon as I am very busy I feel the need to write all of my friends, update my blog and start artsy craftsy projects. Now is the time to begin new projects? Ha ha.

Anyway- trying to breathe, live and make time for all the things I want to do- and not forget to be of service to others. Ok- honestly that is an afterthought. But I have to make it a priority. That's what we're on this planet to do- help out our fellows- and I often forget that.

The nature of Power

2006-07-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

In case you didn't catch the weekly news out and about; various parts of Queens, North Brooklyn and East Bronx are experiencing Brownouts this week. "Hmmm..." you might think to yourself, "Do I know anyone who lives in Queens?" Why YES! And yes in fact I am completely powerless. No really- not just in the figurative sense. There is no electricity in my house. I am scared of my freezer and I long for air conditioning.

So what does that mean. Well- all the butcheries, bakeries, coffee houses and supermarkets are either closed or running on power generators that cost them an insane amount. A bunch of us Astorians lack refridgeration, air conditioning, alarm clocks, cell phone reception and internet connection. All our bars, restaurants, health clubs and laundromats are closed.

This all began on Tuesday. About the same time my sponsor suggested I go back to step three and consider turning my power back over to god. Suddenly I am in my dark appartment without the option of zoning out on tv, working on the computer, listening to music or calling a friend. I was powerless. And I couldn't stand it. So I did a novel thing. (For me anyway) I walked out my appartment door armed with only my keys and $5 and my cell phone with its power cord. I was going to search Astoria for a working power outlet.

I found Waltz, miraculously unharmed by the outage about fifteen blocks from my house- a coffee shop and live music venue with open mike night commencing. I pulled up a chair and sat next to my charging phone and met a couple of fantastic musicians, a comedy writer and saw some amazing performances. I remembered that this is what I really came to NYC for. Oh yeah. Not just to be an actress and to work my life away as a waitress- but to meet cool people and listen to awesome music and to be part of the scene. Weird. And huh? There's a scene in Astoria. And I have been missing out on it because I have been obsessively working, working out, watching tv and trying to block out the world. Apparently this higher power of mine didn't want me to sit alone in my appartment on Tuesday night. Because as I started to sit down to do what I usually do it occured to me how lonely I was; sitting and staring at the empty screen of my tv and my laptop; and how in reality there isn't that much difference between staring at a tv that is on vs a tv that is off. Your body is performing the same action. You are still alone. The tv may distract you from those facts but the facts remain the same.

Anyway- some noteworthy musicians I heard on Tuesday night:

Lynn Sher: pianist and vocalist- jazzy/sultry/20's hot chick with badass boots.
Jayson ? : guitarist and vocalist recording in Jersey

2 AM outside

2006-05-31T23:42:00.000-07:00

In the 2AM Wednesday evening Thursday morning street, a passerby chucks an empty tin can into the gutter and continues his jagged walk back to his room, stuffing his hands roughly into his leather jacket pockets, pulling out a cigarette to light across his lips. For a moment he stops, though the world seems to continue jumbling by him, the blaring noise of street lamps, a car passing in the night, a window closing hard and his last thought echoing in his head louder and louder. Then lit he continues; following his inertia back to his front door,

"a cigarette, a cigarette. I'll light it light it and breathe in the evening, the new thought, the threat of dawn, the keys, fumbling jumbling in my pocket, the stench of beer and liquor, the front door, my clumsy hands... the momentum of my body is too much for me..."

In the distance a girl closes her window, the hot day has melted away and been taken by the cool breeze; summer beckons and haunts and taunts but fades away to remind her it is still spring and she wakes up wrapping herself twice in her blanket sheets. He is gone tonight and she misses him. he is gone for a week and she knows he'll be back but she misses him, her body wraps around his place in her bed, her heart pounds against the mattress and she pulls the sheets tighter against her, covers her head to block out the noise of the street, of the cars that go by, of drunk men hurdling empty cans into the gutter, of her thoughts echoing louder and louder,

"Does he love me, does he really love me? Does he miss me the way I am missing him? I should sleep. This blanket is warm. Am I silly? Why am I silly? Should I call him? I wonder what he'll eat for breakfast tomorrow. He always has eggs... always... I should have eggs. I shouldn't have eggs. I miss him"

Alone, driving by the empty sidewalks with the windows down, feeling the rush of cool spring air, the faint noise of his turned down radio; no fares tonight. Not after his last, ten minutes ago, dropping them off in Queens, leaving him stranded. He can either go back to Manhattan to pick up a fare or find one now. He might as well head home, call it an early night; people are already asleep and the silence is loud and entombs him, He turns up the radio to block it out; the guttertrash, the isolated noise of a tomcat, a window being slammed shut, the increasing volume of his head:

"Will she still be awake when I get there? Will she be up and upset? Is it enough money to put away, to feed my family, to get them something new, to send it away? I shouldn't worry. I shouldn't want. No. Thank God. Thank God. I am glad. I am glad. But is it enough? Will she be mad?"

2 AM

2006-05-31T23:04:00.001-07:00

In the 2AM I sit in my tired body, willing myself to get up and move. To brush my teeth to go to bed. I am convinced everyone is living more than me. Every person's life is more full than mine. I miss drinking. And I don't at all. I want to plan my life out to the last detail. I want answers and perfect formulas and to mold myself into happiness and success. In the 2AM I can taste the air outside my window by the sounds of my thoughts bouncing from the pavement to the lampposts to the infrequent cars that pass by, the shuffling of feet that drag home, a lighter flickering to light a cigarette, a window closing in an appartment down the street. I can see into the indigo air above the rooftops, I can feel the expanse and the space inside my chest as if I could open my arms and fly right out my window into the night sky above all the human beings having more fun and more life and more space than I.

But everyone else is sleeping. Tomorrow is a Manhattan workday. Only restaurant workers walk home this time of night; a slow summer weekday's wages in their pockets.

Rainy days

2006-05-15T07:39:00.000-07:00

A rainy day kind of reminds me of home. I like the sound of rain echoing in the court between my appartment and the neigbor's, the sound of cars coming by splashing the puddles. And my iTunes shuffle keeps playing Ella Fitzgerald and moody Seattle music. These are days in which coffee, and tea you shut in and listen to music, dance to yourself, read that mystery novel... Maybe these days are sent our way for forced contemplation: the weather is sending a message to New Yorkers: time for a little reflection everyone.

If that is true I must get myself out of doors on the days we have good weather. Out olf doors and maybe out of the city to a beach or somewhere.

I'd like to think by the time I get to work tonight it will have cleared up, though... and maybe people will dine outside letting the light spring breeze blow through their hair, scented with blossoms and threats of summer days.

People are more subdued and pleasant to wait on when the weather is nicer. They tip better. The angstier the weather is the angstier your average customer is. There are always exceptions, of course, but you can bet that if people are upset by their lack of control over the weather they will take it out on those they can control; namely you, their server. Or it will just be slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Oh well- I come prepared with my imagination and a willingness to ask random questions purely for my own amusement.

late nights

2006-05-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

I was bored. The night was winding down and the earlier dinner rush had given way to couples lingering indecisively over cups of coffee and half eaten cheesecakes. I was scheduled until 3 however and I knew that anytime there would be a late night rush from the movies getting out so I took a double shot of espresso and started playing games at the hostess stand. My section was slow, mostly because three of my tables were unseatable due to the unwelcome appearance of a mouse that came out to play on the windowsill just long enough to scare away customers and quickly run back to the heating vent. I was intent on catching it for the first hour and releasing it in the streets two blocks down, but alas mice are not like spiders and roaches. They run faster for one.

When it gets slow I get restless so lately I have been playing games with the other waiters, nothing fantastic but last night I made it my goal to figure out what all our super x-men like mutations would be. When you go up and ask someone, "If you could have a mutation super power, what would it be?" you find a lot out about a person. For one: how they look at you when you first ask. I got the what are you crazy stop wasting my time with your silliness look a couple of times. Several times I was asked to explain what I was talking about.

"You know, if you were one of the x-men and you had a mutation that was actually a superpower and you could fight off bad guys what would it be?"

After the initial weirdness everybody makes a choice. Flying(manager), absorbing large amounts of information rapidly (NYU student), being able to take the form of everyone else (the belly-dancer), reading minds (finance student and permanent grave shift)...

To which my boredom really got to me and I dared everyone to read my mind. At 1AM some pretty daring thoughts come to your mind and though the two people I asked claimed they didn't know what I was thinking they had to see that mischevious look in my eye.

So after work I went to the bar with one of my coworkers to play pool. I am not much of a pool player and I am used to being with others who are similarly disabled but as I watched them playing with the realization that I would be joining soon I was filled with terror: I was going to fail miserably. My coworker told me to walk through the bar and find someone who looked like they would be good at the game to play on my team (another activity which fills me with terror: talking to an individual I don't know without provacation) I chose a man with glasses and a native new yorker look to him, Gerard.

He was damn good. It took a while before he realized that I had no idea how to play pool and then he gave me a few pointers. What struck me though was how great it was to go out and get to know people; their neigborhoods, their skills, their attitudes. Gerard lives in the Upper West Side; listens to Johnny Cash, plays a mean game and took the time to hail me a cab. Plus we won two games and I learned a little bit more about playing pool and doing things that scare me.

Dream On

2006-05-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

I have recently begun to dream again. Since I have moved to the city of New York my once vivacious, visually stimulating, rich dreams had disappeared. I used to wake up every morning haunted by my subconscious; better than any tv show, rich sugared goodie or drug. But after I quit drinking and moved to NYC the dreams left. The only dreams I had were re-occuring stress dreams in which I re-enacted the events of the day (usually my job) and awoke with the bitter realization that I had worked all night with no pay. I have been so distracted by life and the things happening in this chaotic city that I barely noticed my dreams had left. Partially their leaving was a relief; no longer would I awake analyzing my inner turmoil, trying to recreate the feelings I experienced in my dreams... But my dreams have always been a part of me and losing them was like losing part of my soul- the whimsical abstractions of my life.

In a dream a duck can talk to you and tell you to fly away. It makes perfect sense.

You can make the bed of your customer at table 31. You can track down a murderer and not let him get the better of you. Your sister is Heather Locklear and you meet daily at the eiffel tower to discuss the takeover of the US government. It all makes sense in your dreams and comes from nowhere. Completely random and abstract...

The only problem with dreams is knowing what to do with them. Waking up with this crazy story in your head feeling like it really happened and what do you do with it? I am not super fond of using it to analyze myself because analysis seldom leads to action for me. I feel like these dreams are a gift of mine; some kind of tap I have into the collective unconscious. I have to find ways to channel them somehow into my creative life and stop boring my friends with the constant,"I had the craziest dream last night..." followed by a lengthy and detailed description.

2006-05-05T08:31:00.000-07:00

When I wake up in the morning sometimes dread washes over me. Maybe its the early hour, maybe its the horrible sound of my alarm clock... but that is just the beginning. After I hit snooze for the eighth time and crawl out of bed to brush my teeth my mind whirs and buzzes: "What next?! What next!?" I know I have a to do list the length of the Nile, if I could only find it under this mess- when am I going to clean my room anyway? Food. I am not really hungry but maybe if I eat I will figure out what to do next. The TV beckons, the internet beckons, the chocolate bars beckon... My mind wants to dwell in turmoil, wants to fizz out, go blank and pass out in front of the TV, in front of the window, in front of the computer. I am in dire need of a solid morning ritual to combat the littany of fears that attack me upon awakening. I either see a blank wall- and can not even think of one thing to do or I see everything I want to do begging immediate accomplishment.

I have chosen for this time to be an aspiring actress. This requires a good deal of self-motivation, discipline and persistence. What I get back fills me with joy; when I do a good job, when I entertain an audience when I feel good about an audition, when I meet other actors. But in the day to day there is a good deal of practice required with no immediate rewards, no gratification... This is tough but i don't think impossible. Just tough.

For instance: in order to support this lifestyle I need a job which allows me to call out at a moments notice: which leaves me to catering and waiting tables; difficult, often time thankless jobs that cause a good deal of stress and fatigue. I hope that there is some way I can learn from these things. At my catering job I get to meet a good deal of other actors and artists that I can network with. Last night I cater-waitered for a sit down dinner. I got to watch mayor Bloomberg give a speach through the upstairs window of the Nigouchi Museum. Yoko Ono was there too I think. And although I felt entirely unattractive dressed in a white waiter's jacket and a black tie, I did get to flirt with a couple of boys in between course servings.

One conversation discussed the difference between buying into the game and not. Don't buy into the bullshit: Be yourself. Its all about garnering life experiences. My issue is this: working for the man. Just do as you're told. Follow directions I guess I aspired to a little more than that in my life. What I find truly disheartening is that it turns out I am really good at doing what I am told. I have often envied those rebellious spirits that laugh in the face of authority, that don't seem to acknowledge the borders and lines that aren't to be crossed, that charge across them with brazen will. My sister is like that and I am sure she doesn't necessarily like that about herself, or she feels its a bad quality: but she still does it and frankly I admire it.

N TRAIN

2006-04-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

Today I found myself at a rehearsal, looking over the motley crue of actors, all of us non equity, all of us taking this show with varying levels of seriousness; some actors argue with directors, some beat themselves up, some never really learn their lines, some come to do work and then get out of there, some only want to socialize... During a tech rehearsal, the lighting and sound is placed for the final production. Which means the actors essentially stand around the entire time, marking their places, waiting while the director chats with the light board opperator. In times like these the most ridiculous conversations start; anything from relationships amongst actors, to Alec Baldwin, to whatever... It is a big whatever time.

Anyway i was glad to get out of there because I am getting over a cough. Bounding back from rehearsal I hopped on the N and sat to write to myself. My post rehearsal brain drain went something like this:

"I have a lot of work to do on this show. I should do it all as soon as I get home. Mmmm... That girl is really nicely dressed and her hair is blow dried. That takes too much effort. I am not like that. On my person I am carrying a bag given to me by my mom, listening to a cd player given to me by my roommate, wearing a jacket given to me by my sister, earrings given to me by an old boss, and a necklace given to me by an actor in Seattle. On any given day I am wearing several items that were gifts. One: That actually thrills me; that I am carrying pieces of my friends and family with me. Two: I need to start giving back more."

Then it occurs to me. This is life. This is what I want when I envision the perfect life for myself. I always wanted to be a ragtag "gypsy" put together piece by piece like a suitcase with stamps from all over the world. Yeah, it would be nice to have a boyfriend and be skinnier and make more money. And those things will happen for me eventually but right now- I am exactly who I am supposed to be, exactly where I am supposed to be; on the N train baby.

2006-04-25T19:48:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was Greek Easter. I know because I awoke to fireworks displays right outside my window at midnight. I was flooded with memories of last year, knowing I had to wake up early the next day, cursing the Greek Orthodox church and wishing I had a pair of earplugs. It seems so odd that I live in the middle of this culturally rich area and can live my life so isolated from it; aside from the occasional fireworks display. That gets me: every day I take the N train home and sometimes I see the same characters pop up over and over. Yet we never speak. We plug into our music, our books, our journals and do our best to get off the train first.

2006-03-27T02:01:00.000-08:00

Its 5 Am. I just came home from a massively long night of poker and diet coke, coffee and the giddiness of sleep deprivation. I am not an experienced poker player but I would like to give myself credit for staying in the game almost to the very end- fourth place in the tournament which meant I lost all of my $20 but considering what one spends for dinner and a movie in this city- that was not too expensive for a night of entertainment.
Here's what I learned- first instincts are good. Always bet or fold and fold as soon as you can. When someone is going all in; they probably have a pretty decent hand. Another thing; having a large bank doesn't secure you from losing it all. Having nothing doesn't mean you won't win the game.
The birds are singing. Usually I only see the sun rise when i am coming home from a really great date. Poker night isn't really the equivolent of a really great date because I have nothing left over from it, certainly not that buzzed excited and dreamy feeling you get when you've found someone interesting to start things with. But for now- I best sleep so I can get up in enough time to get to work tomorrow... Tired. Very.

2006-03-23T09:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was this GREAT day for some inexplicable reason. This big weight that seems to have been dragging at me all winter was momentarily released and I felt like, you know what? Everything is ok. And then I bounded off to the city- meeting to meeting, catching up with friends and then got to my acting class.

Ok- this is only a one day a week class and I only get to go up once a night- but it has really inspired my work. After my last play which was really difficult to get into, extremely demanding and pretty much sucked the life out of me, its great to just focus on the craft of acting and to remember that this whole thing is about creating characters; real people with real problems, flaws, talents and desires. Sometimes I think I get a little too zen about the whole thing; and the truth is people are messy and its fun to play in the dirt.

I leave this class and suddenly I see stories all around me; a girl walks by supressing a smile, fingering her bracelets and brushes back her hair; is she remembering a flirtation with a coworker, or dreaming up a plot to sweep her roommates boy-friend away? Are those bracelets a gift from her favorite Aunt? Did she just steal them from the silver store on the corner? An older lady with blue gray hair folds up her Polish Journal and sighs as she waits patiently for her stop on the subway. A man sneaks a peak over a stranger's shoulder to read what they're writing. A boy stares wistfully at an oblivious girl two seats away.

Then I got smacked with some more stunning news, walking on the way home from the subway talking to my sister. What I have found in this past year is that everything changes; life is really, really unexpected. The number of time I have been asked, "Are you sitting down?" this year by family members and friends stuns me. Then this totally unexpected piece of significant information comes out of their mouths and I am not even sure that I want to hear it; but there it is and its now this FACT; you can't deny it but you're not really certain of its implications or how you should modify your behavior. And what difference does it make if you are sitting down or not, really? I guess its probably a good idea not to be walking around in a crowded grocery store when your mother tells you she has cancer or that your grandfather has died... and probably you should be in a place where your loud exclamations and excited jabbering doesn't wake up your roommates when you find out someone's getting married or having a baby. But sitting down doesn't seem to lessen the shock in my opinion. It is an awfully nice consideration on the part of the bearer of news and thats all I can say.

Bon Matin!

2006-03-14T08:09:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up to my Astoria appartment. I heard my roommates going about their daily preparations for work, I turned over in my bed and listened to the raptaptapping of the old heating system. I jumped out of bed and ran out to the sink to fill up my glass with cold water, ducking back into my room as quick as possible so as to avoid human interaction. I'm not the most social in the mornings; most humans receive a cold and biting stare and maybe a forced, listless smile if they're lucky. Then after downing a full glass (damn heating system) I went back into a peaceful sleep.

Waking again much later, at a more appropriate hour for a restaurant worker I quickly covered myself with a jacket and bundled up to go outside. (With the heat that high it must be freezing outdoors.) But I was pleasantly suprised at the breezy spring air that warmly blew my hair out of my face as I walked across the street to my favorite bakery.

As I walked the block over people headed to the subway on their way into the city; a black haired woman with a stylish trench raincoat and glasses that cover most of her face. She looked focused. An old man with a baseball cap and a sportscoat looked around for the bus schedule at the bus stop. An older hispanic lady whispered spanish words to her grandchild in a stroller. He looked distracted by the world, could barely hear her, could not be reached.

Inside Martha's the bakers in the back listened to their music, the ladies up front were tired, having just gotten over the morning rush. I got my muffin and my coffee and walked back to my appartment idling slightly at the real estate office advertising studio appartments. Sigh. Then I marched up the stairs to enjoy my muffin as the wind galed past my window.