I moved into my new apartment the last weekend in February. I stressed so much about the move, while E was chill the whole time (figures). The total cost of the move ended up being little more than one cab fare on the very last day with a few extra bags, so I was very, very happy with how that worked out. I didn't really have any furniture, except for my bed, which I sold, but I still had a nightstand and mounds of clothes to move. The move ended up happening in three parts. A couple weeks before the move, E had borrowed a friend’s car since he was going to multiple Trey concerts. We moved a bunch of stuff after work, which was great.
Then, the second-to-last week in February, E had to rent a car for work. The only car they had at the time was a huge plumbing van, like the kind serial killers use. He decided to take it, even though it was a pain to drive, since it would be convenient for the move. It was so big I had to help navigate. Anyway, that was fabulous. We were able to load up my nightstand, side table, mirror, and my millions of bags. I didn’t really have boxes, so a lot of stuff I just piled into random large purses and garbage bags. The next day, I scoured craigslist for cheap furniture and we ended up buying two bookcases for the apartment (for under $100!) that fit quite easily into the van. I was also very happy because when E bought a bed a few months ago the security guy yelled at us because it’s a co-op and you have to use special moving passes whenever you’re moving stuff, so they can pad the elevators. You’re also not allowed to use luggage carts to move furniture. We disobeyed both of those rules but didn’t get yelled at again, for which I was grateful.
The weekend after moving in my stuff, we went to Home Depot and bought everything you could possibly need for home improvement...well, almost everything. A drill, drill bits, screws, superglue, picture hanging things, extra hooks. A really nice worker helped us, and he told us to fill out this customer service thing online, which I did. I hope he gets recognized for his good work!
E turned out to be a whiz with the drill and it feels so nice to have hooks and, thus far, one picture hung. The only problem is my plant hook. In my last apartment, my philodendron hung from my window, but I think by our windows it’s steel, because even our masonry (aka concrete) bit wouldn’t go through the wall. It’s now hanging precariously in the middle of the living room because it seems to need to have all its leaves hanging to survive. I just bought a side-mount plant hook at Kmart during my lunch break so I hope that that will do the trick.
I’m pretty happy with the new space, but I hate hate hate all the old fixtures. There is just decades of grime that won’t lift, no matter how hard you try. The enamel coating has worn off the 60s-era sink and bathtub, so it’s porous and stains quickly and leaves weird dirt streaks. Doors are broken and shredded and don't close very well and are covered with layers and layers of paint. Our kitchen cabinets don’t close. The whole apartment needs to be repainted. A lot of things are covered in paint from the previous haphazard paint job. The toilet leaks. The ceiling has water damage that we need to call maintenance about. We’re missing blinds (working on that) and are hit with blinding afternoon sun on the weekends. The areas that do have blinds have orange or blue mini blinds. I hate 60s and 70s-era color choices. The floors are a little scuffy-looking….and did I mention WE DO NOT HAVE A DISHWASHER??? This is very dire, given that we cook EVERY DAY and have all these nasty dishes in the sink. I bought some heavy-duty washing gloves at Home Depot that hopefully won’t hole up in like a week like the other ones. At least that way I can wash in hot water AND have hands that don’t feel painfully dry. However, it is really frustrating to be in an apartment that needs so much fixing up. Laura, I am jealous of your well-refurbished apartment. However, I need to keep the benefits in mind: HUGE apartment (by New York standards). 19th floor view of NYC, Brooklyn Bridge. A balcony to go outside and enjoy the view. Laundry in the basement (another only-in-New-York-it’s-a-luxury). Rent…well I think the rent is reasonable by New York standards (at least when it’s split with boyfriend), but it’s still like mortgage-level.
Oh yes, and an apartment to share with the boyfriend!! I’m actually really pleased with how far we’ve come already with the apartment, and we have a Salvation Army pick-up in a couple of weeks so we’ll have a little more space in our closets (another New York luxury). But that doesn't mean that when I'm searching for my next place I will want it to be sanded and painted and have non-vinyl, chipping countertops. Ugh. My apartment and I definitely have a love-hate relationship.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
I knew America's obsession with plastic surgery would help me sometime!
So, this is how I research doctors.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I took these pills and now I'm a crybaby
I think men don’t cry because of hormones. Since going on the birth control pill a year ago, I have found that crying comes much, much easier to me. I cry reading a moving newspaper story at work, I cry at movies, I cry when I’m frustrated, I cry whenever I’m having emotional discussions with my boyfriend. When I told my gynecologist about it, she seemed worried, but I explained I don’t feel sadder than I used to, I just express my sadness with crying.
In fact, this morning I cried while having an IM conversation with my boyfriend—to be fair, we were discussing something really, really sad. Although it was awkward to blink back tears and hope no one comes over to my desk in the interim, I still like being able to cry more easily—except for the fact that crying in public has become a little too common. I didn’t appreciate the time I was sobbing in the subway uncontrollably before the Wilco concert, or the other time I ended up sobbing on public transportation after a conversation with my dentist (the truth can be harsh).
But I associate not being able to cry with being depressed. I remember feeling so sad when I was alone in LA the summer after my junior year of college, and being utterly unable to cry. Even after I got over that, my before and after still involved a lot less crying than my childhood and early teens.
But now I am a crier, and proud of it. I am 99.9% positive this is because of birth control pills, because objective things like television shows, newspaper articles, and movies don’t change. Their emotional content is pretty standard, and the only thing that’s changed is that I cry in response to them. The other possibility is that I am much happier with my boyfriend, and I can experience the full range of emotions, good and bad, because I am in such a good place. That could be true, I suppose, but I am less inclined to believe it because the crying and emotion in response to random things seems so utterly disconnected from what’s going on in our relationship. I would be more inclined to believe that if I were mostly crying when we’re having emotional conversations or fights or whatever.
So anyway, birth control pills have an unexpected side effect: making you cry more often! And some random crazy chick (that would be me) thinks this is a benefit, not a drawback.
In fact, this morning I cried while having an IM conversation with my boyfriend—to be fair, we were discussing something really, really sad. Although it was awkward to blink back tears and hope no one comes over to my desk in the interim, I still like being able to cry more easily—except for the fact that crying in public has become a little too common. I didn’t appreciate the time I was sobbing in the subway uncontrollably before the Wilco concert, or the other time I ended up sobbing on public transportation after a conversation with my dentist (the truth can be harsh).
But I associate not being able to cry with being depressed. I remember feeling so sad when I was alone in LA the summer after my junior year of college, and being utterly unable to cry. Even after I got over that, my before and after still involved a lot less crying than my childhood and early teens.
But now I am a crier, and proud of it. I am 99.9% positive this is because of birth control pills, because objective things like television shows, newspaper articles, and movies don’t change. Their emotional content is pretty standard, and the only thing that’s changed is that I cry in response to them. The other possibility is that I am much happier with my boyfriend, and I can experience the full range of emotions, good and bad, because I am in such a good place. That could be true, I suppose, but I am less inclined to believe it because the crying and emotion in response to random things seems so utterly disconnected from what’s going on in our relationship. I would be more inclined to believe that if I were mostly crying when we’re having emotional conversations or fights or whatever.
So anyway, birth control pills have an unexpected side effect: making you cry more often! And some random crazy chick (that would be me) thinks this is a benefit, not a drawback.
Monday, February 8, 2010
What better way to start your day than with a constitutional
In less than one month, this will be my new walk to work!
View Larger Map
I am also thinking about getting a bike to make the commute a bit faster. I can store my bike in the apartment, but I will have to lock it outside of work, which I am a bit afraid of. Mayor Bloomberg passed a law last December saying that employees should be able to bring their bikes inside their workplace, but I asked the people downstairs and they said they had a "no bike" policy. Phooey. I see bikes without wheels, seats, etc. all the time, which have either been stolen or people going through the trouble of removing these things so they won't get stolen. One would hope during the day it's okay, but there are a lot of delivery people dropping off breakfast and lunch, meaning lots of bikes are going in and out (and not a lot of space to chain up). That makes me a little more hesitant to spend the $200-300 I estimate it will cost for bike, helmet, and decent lock. But the bf likes bike riding and, if not for commuting, it would be a fun weekend activity for us.
View Larger Map
I am also thinking about getting a bike to make the commute a bit faster. I can store my bike in the apartment, but I will have to lock it outside of work, which I am a bit afraid of. Mayor Bloomberg passed a law last December saying that employees should be able to bring their bikes inside their workplace, but I asked the people downstairs and they said they had a "no bike" policy. Phooey. I see bikes without wheels, seats, etc. all the time, which have either been stolen or people going through the trouble of removing these things so they won't get stolen. One would hope during the day it's okay, but there are a lot of delivery people dropping off breakfast and lunch, meaning lots of bikes are going in and out (and not a lot of space to chain up). That makes me a little more hesitant to spend the $200-300 I estimate it will cost for bike, helmet, and decent lock. But the bf likes bike riding and, if not for commuting, it would be a fun weekend activity for us.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Costa Rica Pictures
Ok, I should have linked to these long ago, but Flickr was being finnicky. Enjoy!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Google solves problems for the would-be lovelorn
I like to type existential questions into Google. I'm thinking of taking a big step in my relationship (moving in, not the other one), and I'm filled with all those fears and doubts the way people of the Sarah persuasion are, and I came across this article about knowing if someone is "the one".
I started crying when I read this:
It was exactly what I needed to hear. She even touched upon my greatest fear earlier in the article (before the quote), that twenty years down the line I'll change my mind. And how can that even happen? How can you be with someone so long and not have it work out? That scares me to death. If you "make" it the one, you have control over your situation, you're choosing to love someone. They're choosing to love you. At the same time, I have a problem with wanting to have control over things that are uncontrollable. Part of me feels I should just flow with whatever happens to me. And what about the things you can't really control? What about the ways that you're initially drawn to someone, like physical chemistry, having similar things in common, or life goals. What if those change? What, oh god what, do you do if the passion fades away? (Another one of my fears). I guess there is nothing left to do put keep thinking and feeling and wondering...and eventually, believing.
I started crying when I read this:
"I remember sitting on an old davenport in a tiny cabin on the Washington coast years ago, having a tearful conversation with Mr. R about this very concerning concern. He was pretty convinced that we were IT. Yes, but how did he know? I still wasn't sure.
Finally, he said in pure flabergastation (flabergastification? flabergastedness?) something like this:
There is no ONE. No one that exists out there in pure form, in spiritual perfection, in theoretical bliss. We make it the one every single day...in what we say to each other, in how we treat each other, in what we do together. On dog walks and in car rides, over dinners and through disagreements. So stop looking for some theoretical one out there in never-never land. And agree to make this the one, each and every day, with me."
It was exactly what I needed to hear. She even touched upon my greatest fear earlier in the article (before the quote), that twenty years down the line I'll change my mind. And how can that even happen? How can you be with someone so long and not have it work out? That scares me to death. If you "make" it the one, you have control over your situation, you're choosing to love someone. They're choosing to love you. At the same time, I have a problem with wanting to have control over things that are uncontrollable. Part of me feels I should just flow with whatever happens to me. And what about the things you can't really control? What about the ways that you're initially drawn to someone, like physical chemistry, having similar things in common, or life goals. What if those change? What, oh god what, do you do if the passion fades away? (Another one of my fears). I guess there is nothing left to do put keep thinking and feeling and wondering...and eventually, believing.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Costa Rica - Montezuma and the Beach
I still have my sunburn from Costa Rica, but everything else about it is fading fast. I love traveling, so much, and was planning on doing a day-by-day recap here but I don’t know if I can recapture all those moments in my head. Even looking at the pictures (which I will post soon), there’s a certain level of bliss that just can’t be called back by my memory.
And little things, too. On my second-to-last day in Costa Rica, I suddenly realized my perpetually clogged sinuses had cleared. I hadn’t wore up with nasty sinus-snot mouth, nor was I blowing my nose throughout the day. All this despite the developing world-standard exhaust I was inhaling everyday, plus the occasional cigarette (since they’re supposed to relieve nausea and Eric was smoking some).
My favorite part of the trip was Montezuma, which is on the tip of the Nicoya Penninsula, on the inland side, so it doesn’t have the big waves and accompanying surfer crowd. When we arrived, we were tired after a 6am Tico bus, a two-hour 11:00 Ferry, and another hour and a half Tico bus (read: local, cheap bus. This was the only day we took the Tico bus but I would do it again if I had more time, since it just takes slightly longer and a knowledge of where you’re going), all after a night with virtually no sleep thanks to my choice to stay at $30/night Pension St. Elena (you get what you pay for). I was busy using my phone card to try to figure out a place to stay when Eric walked into a real estate office and found this great woman there. We ended up renting a house—really a rustic cabin—on the beach for just $80/night. It was amazing. There was no road behind the house, as we initially thought. People came and went literally by driving on the beach in 4X4s. Awesome. We hadn’t rented a car, but we were able to walk to town in about ten minutes, perfect for dinner and trips to the Montezuma Supermercado.
After getting all of our things settled that afternoon, we headed straight for the beach to cool off. The water was like bathwater. You just walked right in. There was absolutely no adjustment time at all. Perfect. The waves were pretty intense, and required some dedicated diving beneath them to get to a comfortable floating place far enough from shore. It just reminded me how much I love beaches, and how every time I am near one I want to live there.
We showered off, had some drinks, mango juice and rum courtesy of Eric’s mixology, and Imperial, the beer of Costa Rica (the other one is Pilsner).
The town itself is kind of like Berkely, California. A little hippie, a little upscale. There was the expensive smoothie place Organico that we ended up never going to, though we did buy some vegan granola from them to have for breakfast. The nice restaurant, Cocolores, which actually ended up being pretty well-priced for the "most expensive" place in town. The night we went there I had this mahi mahi (THREE huge filets...I couldn't finish them) with banana in curry sauce. The banana was SO good. I love sweet preparations for meats, and this was so original. Mmm. They also had a quesadilla-type place, and then our favorite, Cafe Buen Provecho. We ate there our first and last night there. We were totally bummed out on casados, which is Costa Rica's national dish. We tried to eat local, but let's be honest: Costa Rican food is not that exciting. A casado consists of some type of meat, generally grilled and greasy but somehow dry, rice, red bean (which were always cooked perfectly every time. I LOVE beans), plantains (good) or mashed potatoes (bad), and salad. The good ones were topped with local cheese, which is salty and has the consistency of feta with a more neutral, cottage cheese-y flavor. Anyway, after eating all this local food, we were thrilled to have the most amazing bread salad ever at this place, some delicious sangria, and filet mignon with this awesome cilantro/parsley dipping sauce. So, so good. The last night there, we made friends with the owner (who used to live in San Fran) and her boyfriend (a Tico). We also liked the waitress, who was from Ohio. They were so nice, and we talked about food and how it really fit our palette. It turned out they had only been open for a couple of weeks. The general friendliness with random people happened throughout our trip. It really happens naturally, but I also have to thank Eric for being more out there and willing to exchange emails, facebook, etc. with people. Our camera battery died when we were ziplining and we got this Belgian and French guy to take (HD!) videos of us ziplining. Now we just need to see them :).
That night we went back to the place, looking forward to our "quiet, private" place, especially after a night of hearing motorcycles all night. Instead, there was blasting salsa music coming from the resort which was around a rocky corner, a few hundred yards away. I was having none of it. I decided we should investigate rather than try to go to sleep and listen to hours of music. We had seen a wedding earlier on the beach, so we thought it might be the reception. We were right. We asked the waiter when they thought it would be over, they said 10 something, but thankfully Eric went ahead and talked to the head guy, who told us 11:30 and gave us free drinks. We hung around for awhile, awkwardly on the fringes of the (small) wedding. Closer to the beach, they were building a huge tepee fire, which was really beautiful to look at. You could see upstairs, and some other people at the resort were taking a break from their dinner and dancing. We went back, so tired the music didn't bother me as I drifted to sleep.
It started to rain in the middle of the night. Eric was complaining of bugs biting him. We had a "charming" mosquito net to drape over our bed. I was fine...or so I thought. I woke up the next morning, and on my way to the bathroom I could tell something was wrong. I had four or five bug bites around my eye, on my cheek and my forehead, and one of my eyes was swollen, deforming my face. This has happened to me exactly twice before, once at summer camp and once in NYC, and this ranked between the two of them. In all my pictures, if you look closely you can tell, especially when I'm smiling. One side will have no undereye crease at all because it's so swollen. Thankfully it didn't swell up from my nose side--that's what happened at summer camp and I looked like a chipmunk. The arm that was poking from the covers was also COVERED in bug bites. At least 30 on my upper arm. I had another 10 or so bug bites over the rest of my arm. Eric, on the other hand, was fine. All of his bites had "healed" overnight. Lucky bastard. Needless to say, I covered my body in carcinogenic DEET for the next three nights.
With the rainy weather, we didn't get around to beach walking until late in the day, when we found Playa Grande. Because there are periodic rock formations jutting out to the sea (Eric said they were volcanic), there are trails through those sections. After walking for quite some time, since I wanted to climb all through one section of the rocks, we found this amazing beach, probably at least a mile long of just sand. And no people. It was so beautiful. The waves had these incredibly long breaks. We swam for just 10-20 minutes, because it was getting to dusk, and vowed to return the next day.
The next day I rented a boogie board and we headed to Playa Grande. It was really hard to get out there with the board. It would take five minutes of HARD work to get past all the waves. Then some rogue ones would come up and give you more work to do! When I finally did catch a wave, I had one of the longest rides in my life. It was amazing, though I have to say I'd rather have shorter rides with an easier time getting to the reset position. The waves were also really strong, and it was hard to find one big enough to take you all the way to the shore that wouldn't just injure you instead...
Ok, I don't think anyone is going to read anymore than that. All for now!!
And little things, too. On my second-to-last day in Costa Rica, I suddenly realized my perpetually clogged sinuses had cleared. I hadn’t wore up with nasty sinus-snot mouth, nor was I blowing my nose throughout the day. All this despite the developing world-standard exhaust I was inhaling everyday, plus the occasional cigarette (since they’re supposed to relieve nausea and Eric was smoking some).
My favorite part of the trip was Montezuma, which is on the tip of the Nicoya Penninsula, on the inland side, so it doesn’t have the big waves and accompanying surfer crowd. When we arrived, we were tired after a 6am Tico bus, a two-hour 11:00 Ferry, and another hour and a half Tico bus (read: local, cheap bus. This was the only day we took the Tico bus but I would do it again if I had more time, since it just takes slightly longer and a knowledge of where you’re going), all after a night with virtually no sleep thanks to my choice to stay at $30/night Pension St. Elena (you get what you pay for). I was busy using my phone card to try to figure out a place to stay when Eric walked into a real estate office and found this great woman there. We ended up renting a house—really a rustic cabin—on the beach for just $80/night. It was amazing. There was no road behind the house, as we initially thought. People came and went literally by driving on the beach in 4X4s. Awesome. We hadn’t rented a car, but we were able to walk to town in about ten minutes, perfect for dinner and trips to the Montezuma Supermercado.
After getting all of our things settled that afternoon, we headed straight for the beach to cool off. The water was like bathwater. You just walked right in. There was absolutely no adjustment time at all. Perfect. The waves were pretty intense, and required some dedicated diving beneath them to get to a comfortable floating place far enough from shore. It just reminded me how much I love beaches, and how every time I am near one I want to live there.
We showered off, had some drinks, mango juice and rum courtesy of Eric’s mixology, and Imperial, the beer of Costa Rica (the other one is Pilsner).
The town itself is kind of like Berkely, California. A little hippie, a little upscale. There was the expensive smoothie place Organico that we ended up never going to, though we did buy some vegan granola from them to have for breakfast. The nice restaurant, Cocolores, which actually ended up being pretty well-priced for the "most expensive" place in town. The night we went there I had this mahi mahi (THREE huge filets...I couldn't finish them) with banana in curry sauce. The banana was SO good. I love sweet preparations for meats, and this was so original. Mmm. They also had a quesadilla-type place, and then our favorite, Cafe Buen Provecho. We ate there our first and last night there. We were totally bummed out on casados, which is Costa Rica's national dish. We tried to eat local, but let's be honest: Costa Rican food is not that exciting. A casado consists of some type of meat, generally grilled and greasy but somehow dry, rice, red bean (which were always cooked perfectly every time. I LOVE beans), plantains (good) or mashed potatoes (bad), and salad. The good ones were topped with local cheese, which is salty and has the consistency of feta with a more neutral, cottage cheese-y flavor. Anyway, after eating all this local food, we were thrilled to have the most amazing bread salad ever at this place, some delicious sangria, and filet mignon with this awesome cilantro/parsley dipping sauce. So, so good. The last night there, we made friends with the owner (who used to live in San Fran) and her boyfriend (a Tico). We also liked the waitress, who was from Ohio. They were so nice, and we talked about food and how it really fit our palette. It turned out they had only been open for a couple of weeks. The general friendliness with random people happened throughout our trip. It really happens naturally, but I also have to thank Eric for being more out there and willing to exchange emails, facebook, etc. with people. Our camera battery died when we were ziplining and we got this Belgian and French guy to take (HD!) videos of us ziplining. Now we just need to see them :).
That night we went back to the place, looking forward to our "quiet, private" place, especially after a night of hearing motorcycles all night. Instead, there was blasting salsa music coming from the resort which was around a rocky corner, a few hundred yards away. I was having none of it. I decided we should investigate rather than try to go to sleep and listen to hours of music. We had seen a wedding earlier on the beach, so we thought it might be the reception. We were right. We asked the waiter when they thought it would be over, they said 10 something, but thankfully Eric went ahead and talked to the head guy, who told us 11:30 and gave us free drinks. We hung around for awhile, awkwardly on the fringes of the (small) wedding. Closer to the beach, they were building a huge tepee fire, which was really beautiful to look at. You could see upstairs, and some other people at the resort were taking a break from their dinner and dancing. We went back, so tired the music didn't bother me as I drifted to sleep.
It started to rain in the middle of the night. Eric was complaining of bugs biting him. We had a "charming" mosquito net to drape over our bed. I was fine...or so I thought. I woke up the next morning, and on my way to the bathroom I could tell something was wrong. I had four or five bug bites around my eye, on my cheek and my forehead, and one of my eyes was swollen, deforming my face. This has happened to me exactly twice before, once at summer camp and once in NYC, and this ranked between the two of them. In all my pictures, if you look closely you can tell, especially when I'm smiling. One side will have no undereye crease at all because it's so swollen. Thankfully it didn't swell up from my nose side--that's what happened at summer camp and I looked like a chipmunk. The arm that was poking from the covers was also COVERED in bug bites. At least 30 on my upper arm. I had another 10 or so bug bites over the rest of my arm. Eric, on the other hand, was fine. All of his bites had "healed" overnight. Lucky bastard. Needless to say, I covered my body in carcinogenic DEET for the next three nights.
With the rainy weather, we didn't get around to beach walking until late in the day, when we found Playa Grande. Because there are periodic rock formations jutting out to the sea (Eric said they were volcanic), there are trails through those sections. After walking for quite some time, since I wanted to climb all through one section of the rocks, we found this amazing beach, probably at least a mile long of just sand. And no people. It was so beautiful. The waves had these incredibly long breaks. We swam for just 10-20 minutes, because it was getting to dusk, and vowed to return the next day.
The next day I rented a boogie board and we headed to Playa Grande. It was really hard to get out there with the board. It would take five minutes of HARD work to get past all the waves. Then some rogue ones would come up and give you more work to do! When I finally did catch a wave, I had one of the longest rides in my life. It was amazing, though I have to say I'd rather have shorter rides with an easier time getting to the reset position. The waves were also really strong, and it was hard to find one big enough to take you all the way to the shore that wouldn't just injure you instead...
Ok, I don't think anyone is going to read anymore than that. All for now!!
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