Why I Love New York: Morning Walk to Work

It's finally starting to get nice out. One of the coolest things about New York City is my walk to work. The experience is much more sensory than being in an air conditioned, weatherproof box with piped music--no smells, no faces to look at, no freezing cold, icy rain, or that great balmy feeling of spring. In the morning I always see kids on their way to school (including Sarah Jessica Parker taking her kid to school sometimes, if I'm running late), people walking their dogs (the pee smells TERRIBLE in the summer). On garbage day it also smells terrible, but walking along west 9th st I see the most gorgeous things put out to the curb--if only I had room!

I've also observed the financial crisis. Suddenly, this winter, I saw "Townhouse for Sale" and "For Rent" show up on many private residences. Now, stores are closing. A children's clothing store closed, a woman's boutique shut down, a bath store looks to be in dire straits, and Flight001 keeps on advertising their sales. Balducci's (gourmet grocery store) is closing this week, and I can't think of another thing that can go in the amazing neoclassical building--how many grocery stores have columns, marble, and painted ceilings?

I'm under the impression that until maybe the 1950s, when everything suburbanized, many people would walk to work. I strongly believe that walking to and from work--instead of spending an hour behind the wheel--brought down obesity and stress rates in society. By the time I walk to work, I'm ready and alert. I don't need coffee right away. If I've been feeling stressed during the work day, that twenty minute walk home provides me with a chance to unwind. Since it's the 21st century, I often make phone calls to friends and family. I run errands. I walk. The slight uptick in my weight due to my boyfriend's rich food and birth control notwithstanding, I gradually went from tight-fitting pants to loose pants since I've started the job. Nothing major, but it's positively impacted my well-being. I feel happy and well-connected. I'm not isolated from my world, but experiencing its weather, its sounds, smells, and people. While I've heard that walking in the city is more stressful than walking in nature (and I totally believe that), I can vouch for the fact that walking in the city is WAY better than driving on a highway. My summer of Los Angeles commutes just killed me. I love my commute, and you can check it out on google maps here:


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A feisty weekend

Had a nice, fabulous weekend with the bf. Despite a nagging cold that left me tired and periodically napping/apologizing for being tired and saying 'no' to everything/unattractively blowing my nose, we really packed things in!

Friday I napped, then went over to bf's house. It was late and I was feeling very low blood sugar so we just had some whole foods artichokes with aioli on french bread, and I had some prepared blood orange ham he had bought. Normally we cook together so this was a bit of a change. Later I ate the rest of his haagen dazs. I am evil.

Saturday we hung out, then went and walked over to Chinatown for some dim sum. I have always wanted to do dim sum, but was under the impression that you needed a lot of people. Untrue. We went to a pretty low-key place, ordered maybe 5-7 dishes, random dumplings and some beef noodles. Eric ordered a couple of fried things that were cold, so I totally won in the ordering department. Fried shrimp wrapped in bacon just isn't that good cold. Due to my cold, I drank pretty much the whole pot of tea. Overall, the place wasn't stellar, but I tried something new that I liked (siu mai: open shrimp and pork dumplings) and we took cute photos of each other. And after that, because we are huge gluttons around each other, we went to Doughnut Plant, which has these amazing gourmet donuts. I like cake ones, so I got a strawberry (REAL strawberry pieces included) glazed cake donut and Eric got the blackout. I was desperately consuming sugar in an attempt to stay awake.

Eric had been emailing people on craigslist to get last-minute tickets to Prarie Home Companion that evening at Town Hall in the theater district. At the last minute, he got them for $20 each (much less than the $67 each face, plus those random fees). We high-tailed it but it took almost ten minutes for us to get a cab. We ended up taking one of those fake cabs. Usually they rip you off but when I said $15 he agreed. Times must be tough. Eric gave him $20 anyway. We were 15 minutes late to the show, which started at 5:45, but got there just in time for the real radio show to start up. It was kind of funny because all the skits/songs were about life in New York (I was particularly fond of a song called 'coffee') and one of the couples skits was so like us it was funny, we kept on looking at each other laughing.

Then we went home and made some shrimp scampi and I watched a Bobby Flay on Pad Thai since I had just made it last week and was curious about the sauces they would use. And went to bed early because we WERE GOING HIKING TOMORROW.

Eric's friend picked us up a little after 8am (he's a trader and has to get up early, and apparently that extends to the weekend). It was nice tunes and smooth sailing up to Bear Mountain. His friend Joe was telling us about a grilled cheese restaurant he's in the process of opening so I put in my two cents (of course). The day was absolutely gorgeous and one of the warmest this spring, but the real reason I was sweating 10 minutes into our hike was because a) we were going up a STEEP mountain, b) I was carrying a cup of coffee, c) I was wearing Eric's fleece and fleece gloves. There were some gorgeous views of the Hudson River, and we climbed over 1,000 feet, and celebrated with these huge, New Jersey sandwiches that were truly out of this world. Fresh mozzarella, sundried tomatoes, tomatoes, lettuce, turkey. Yum. I had some of the Italian red meat sandwich Eric had and it was delicious but I am glad I didn't have to eat that whole thing. On the way down we basically had to scramble down all these rocks, just huge slabs of rock you had to count on your rubber shoes to grip you so you wouldn't fall down. I am SO glad that we didn't come up that way. I would have died. I was incredibly exhausted, and because Joe lived in New Jersey he dropped us off at the train station on the way home since it was easier for him. We took a brief ride, then got on the subway, so it took an extra hour just to go through the city. Always funny how that works--once you get to the huge, dense mass of people you can only go so fast through it. We relaxed for a few hours, then I walked over to my book club.

Evelyn, Jess, Anna, and Julia were there when we arrived. It was at this nice, new bar called the Donnybrook (on the Lower East Side), that has an English/Irish pub theme going, a little white illuminated light by the stairs that says W.C., etc.. They don't have a kitchen yet so Julia brought some banana bread, which I thought was really nice of her. Rita and Sahar showed up a bit later. Our discussion was great--we read three short stories, one by Poe, one by Kafka, and one by Woody Allen. I have been lacking for mental stimulation and all three of these were the brain exercise I needed--and discussing them was so much fun. I ended up staying almost three hours. Our talk devolved into a little bit of that Sex and the City-type discussion, and snippets included: gynecologists, and why some of them stick their fingers up your butt, why someone thinks her ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend is faking cancer to get him back with her, how our health center used to think all the young black women needed to be tested for AIDS since "sooo many young black women have AIDS," what we were talking about while drunk two weeks ago during St. Patrick's Day, and surely a few other tidbits that made us decide that this was why our book club was going to remain all women. It was absolutely hilarious, and even though people were coming and going we always felt like we had a cohesive group. I'm looking forward to many more book clubs. I brought Rita back to Eric's because she had bought me my Hoegarten but we had stopped after one round. We had some leftover shrimp scampi, chili, and some candied/crystallized ginger that Eric had made while I was gone. It was really good, nice strong grown-up candy, and I definitely want to learn how to make it.

And today? I didn't bring an umbrella to work, and my oatmeal exploded in the microwave, twice, leaving me with a very small breakfast, that I supplemented with candied ginger. Yoga tonight, DVR, and lots, lots of sleep.

As the pendulum swings!

I totally called this. The Huffington Post (which I don't read), the website that writes about originally researched news articles and explains them the way your friend would: opinionated, with a point of view, will now CREATE journalism.

Awhile back, as I was thinking of the future of my job, and the tension right now between blogs and newspapers. The problem is that newspapers put a lot of time and money into their articles, and then earn money through subscribers and ad revenues. Blogs put very little time and money into their pieces, but can turn a profit by writing "voiced" opinions of the news.

I predicted that blogs would cannibalize on newspapers until they no longer existed, and there was no more original content to mine. Then, in order to survive themselves, they would need to come up with original ideas themselves. With journalism and its big budgets already flaming out, the new projects would be on a smaller and more manageable scale (or, in this twist, funded by a non-profit). Journalism will rise from the ashes; a baby instead of a Jabba the Hut, overgrown menace.

I see this happening more than once, as blogs struggle with the investments they must make to create original content, that in turn are cannibalized by other blogs. There will definitely be a few pendulum swings before everything settles. I even see subscriber-based New York Times as within purview; I know personally I cannot live without my newspaper, and if the subscription is cheap and information again becomes barrier-based, I will need to pay money to cross the barrier.

Oh, journalism.

Goal: improve elderly-level memory

I've felt like I've been getting dumber for some time now, in a very specific way. This blog post today on the NY Times, about working memory, nailed it.

-I find myself thinking of something to say and then forgetting it: I can't hold a thought in my mind.

-I find it difficult to hold a thought in my mind in order to mull it over.

-I find myself having trouble remembering basic things, and must Google them.

These are all working memory problems. Thankfully, just as it can slip easily (or so it seems to me) it can also be regenerated with some effort. I think my problem with working memory is exacerbated by certain personality/lifestyle attributes.

-I'm no longer in college anymore, forced to do these things.

-I drink and smoke and sometimes try to hold intellectual discussions while doing both of these things (although don't know if I'll give up the wine at the book club, I think that actually still comes out a net positive)

-I am selectively stimulated in my new job. I miss interacting with people, which I don't do as much, and throwing ideas off of them. I can't be awesome in a vacuum. (ha, ha) I need to talk things out. It's annoying, because my job requires the skills I feel are slipping, but it doesn't nurture them, especially given my blog/RSS feed addiction. I totally overcheck those sites instead of working.

I feel like the best analogy is diving, where you need to be incredibly fit and flexible to dive, but actually diving does not work you intensively and long enough in order to make you more fit and flexible. You have to go elsewhere to improve yourself.

I think it's going to be my goal to improve my working memory and the depth of my thoughts.
This is going to include:

-yoga, which I do already. My instructor the other day mentioned that people who practice yoga are more mindful and listen to people when they speak to them. It requires focus and concentration, and it also decreases stress, etc., and a host of other things.

-intensive exercise. and figure out a way to get back into the water. I need to increase blood flow, push myself, and just feel activated and invigorated. I've been running on the treadmill at the gym, and I'm excited to go outside and run and rollerblade once it gets warmer.

-purposely check the ADD tendencies

-be selective about multitasking. Even listening to music, gchatting/working, etc., can be bad when I need to focus. Doing mindless work while listening to "This American Life" (which I do sometimes when I have to do data entry) is okay. And apparently doodling while thinking about something improves concentration, so situationally-dependent multitasking is okay.

-limit the amount of times I check RSS feeds. I will say this yet again.

-DISCIPLINE myself. Just because it crosses my mind to check a blog/email/bank account/that one thing/etc. DOES NOT MEAN I NEED TO DO IT THAT SECOND. More likely, I am stuck on a sentence and want to avoid it rather than buckle down and think of an answer. Knuckle down. It's my new motto.

Of course, it should be mentioned that I am doing this as I prepare to write a 2,000 word piece essentially straight through, due to my procrastination yesterday. Still, I think this was a good piece of time to set aside and think about ways that I have lapsed as of late and ways that I can fix them and be happier and smarter and more engaged in everyday life.

Why abortion is murder I am okay with

The inspiration for this post comes from two things: one, the documentary I am in the middle of watching, Lake of Fire, and two, the fact that I just read The Easter Parade and a character starts to write an article about her duo of abortions but stops.

I think abortions are an incredibly tricky issue. I have been pro-choice from day one, and while I haven't wavered from that stance, my reasons for staying on this side of the debate have changed drastically.

Here's the first one: I do think that abortion is killing something, so essentially I condone murder. Before, I didn't think of a fetus as alive, just a mass of cells, even though I have seen jarred fetuses before. While watching Lake of Fire right now, they opened a scene with a glass cylinder with a tube attached, kind of a permanent, glass IV. The movie is black and white, but the cylinder abruptly filled with a fluid that could only have been bloody, pulverized mass. The camera pans right, and you see a vagina with a tube inside it. The doctor says, "It's over," and pulls out the speculum-like thing inside the vagina. Twenty weeks.

Then, because the girl was so far along, he puts the bloody mixture on a metal screen, and rinses much of it with water. He tweezes out a foot, an arm, part of the torso and head. He needs to make sure all of the baby got out for the woman's health. It's like a puzzle, like panning for gold.

That's the first operation like that I've ever seen. I assume it's dilation & extraction (or evacuation), the most common abortion procedure. I paused the doc (which, by the way, seems more pro-choice than pro-life) and immediately googled pictures of fetuses, thinking about what I would do if I were in such a situation.

It's hard. I definitely believe there is life in an unborn child, but it's a twilight life, and in between murder. The child is more alive than not, but its first breath, its integration into Earth, and being held and accepted makes it perhaps no more alive, but its existence more real and visceral.

Whenever I think of the question "When does life begin?" I think of a practice of a culture (I've forgotten which one) I studied. The babies there are not named until the seventh or tenth day. If they die before that time, they are treated differently, because they are not fully alive. To me, this seems like a practical way to deal with a high rate of infant mortality, a way to minimize the emotional impact of stillbirths and babies that die shortly after childbirth. It also shows me the range of where "life" begins. Some think it happens even before the egg is fertilized. Some think a soul is floating out there before that. Some it's at birth, some it's at conception.

I think of the legality of abortion, philosophically, as utilitarian. One is able to create more good for the mother at a time one can conveniently distance oneself from what you are truly doing. I think there are circumstances under which almost anyone would murder someone, and the unformed, unknown entity of a fetus is a particularly apt candidate. If murder is simply saying yes, pressing a button (and we know how easy that is to 'execute' from the Holocaust), then many people would do it. And do it.

Here's another thing. Even pro-lifers often hesitate when you ask the question, "If abortion were made illegal, what would you recommend as a punishment for women who have abortions [commit murder]?" No one asks for the death penalty, or even life in prison. They want the woman to recognize what she has done, to repent, to realize she has committed a sin and killed an unborn child. Which almost makes me think that they view abortion as grey murder themselves.

It's difficult to know what one would do in a situation of an unexpected pregnancy. I believe that I would seek an abortion, especially given my current situation, but I think I would also believe that I was doing something wrong and in fact selfish, and putting my needs above that of the other life. Although I think that knowing that I would not be able to provide for my child would make me feel less selfish, and more a statement of my cruel and cold practicality. I also think that if I had one abortion, I would be less inclined to have a second.

Anyway, I find the process of abortion horrific and a sad but necessary part of American society. As long as the right to choose is safe, I actually have an incredibly amount of sympathy for many pro-lifers, especially the ones without the crazy talk about a woman's place and whatnot.

One month

So I've been dating this boy for one month now, today actually, though I'm not really the type to keep track and celebrate that kind of thing. I like him. After our first weekend together we said we wouldn't date anyone else, which is essentially a bf/gf relationship. But I'm still scared to call him my b*******d. I've tried throwing the word around, and I like the idea of shouting it out from the rooftops in the abstract (i.e. facebook, where all those ex-hookups can see and hopefully be jealous), but the idea of introducing him to strangers as my boyfriend freaks me out. I mean, I guess I'm comfortable having close friends know, but I think what I must be scared of is how I judge couples. I always evaluate to see if they are a good match, if one of them seems to be dating down or up, what they see in each other. I also look at how confident a couple seems with each other, which can influence my judgment, making me care less or care more about a quality that, unmediated, would have a very clear reaction in me.

Anyway, I think I'm almost ready. Soon, soon.

Johari Window freaks me out

I just learned what the Johari window was, and found it radical (as I do many things in psychology) in taking its premise for granted. I guess what I mean by that is that I still have a problem with psychology explaining the human brain so scientifically.

Here's a Johari Window:

As some may know, I am obsessed by the idea that I am secretly retarded (a flip way of putting it). If I had one secret power, it would be to read people's minds. There are a million reasons for this, that I don't particularly feel like unfolding in a blog post, but it has led me to do and say some pretty silly things. Laura, remember how I used to make you write letters listing all my flaws? I'm laughing out loud just thinking about that. Now that I know about this nifty square, I can just say that I am obsessed with the "blind spot." Nice to have a name for this, huh? I guess this is what they call an heuristic...

Apparently, from my googling, the Johari window is very popular among workplace psychologists, you know, when people have no idea that they are doing a poor job or everyone hates them...

Also, to figure out my blind spot, I found this online thing. You should follow the link and name five adjectives that describe me--I'm curious to find my "blind spot."
http://kevan.org/johari?name=sarista444

Also, rather fittingly, I'm listening to Lady GaGa sing "Poker Face"
p.s. Her album is a Britney Spears level of awesome.