Creativity

Watch all the way through...

Immortalizing Every Person In New York

This guy has taken up a very special project-- to draw every single person in New York City. According to the New York Times, the task could take him over 79 years-- if he draws a person every 5 minutes!-- but I think it's worth a shot. besides being an admirable feat, the guy's really talented. ya know, i happen to frequent such spots on a pretty regular basis... draw me! draw me! Look at this beaut...

ho ho ho

santa convention right outside my door...they're already drunkenly "ho ho ho-ing"...it's going to be a long night...

ah, love.

he other night, i went to the bar across the street. this bar and i have a love/hate relationship because the bastards that loiter outside of it at 3am on weekdays keep me up at night (it's gotten so bad that if i wake up in the middle of the night, i can tell what time it is by the volume of the ruckus outside) and yet, it's the most convenient place to go for a drink. i went there the other night to meet some already sufficiently drunk and rowdy male friends (i would have hated them if i was trying to sleep). after the thorough entertainment of watching them act like idiots and helping them hobble out of the establishment, i was about to cross the street to go back home when some gentlemen started talking to me.

it was totally innocent, so i didn't mind having a friendly chat, even if they were a little tipsier than i was. after a few minutes of conversation, a friend of theirs, a short, slightly balding, beady-eyed, beak-nosed, crooked-smiled, altogether awkward guy came out to join in. and then, all of a sudden, the two gentlemen i had been talking to were gone. Poof! Like loyal wingmen, they had helped their friend, and made their way back into the bar.

so i was stuck outside with this guy, let's call him Little Man, and we started talking. it was clear that he had little to no social graces; in a matter of minutes, while trying to make me laugh, he had insulted my hometown ("LA? you don't look fake enough for LA!"), intellect ("are you sure you want to go into books? are you sure you read enough?" ), and even my heritage ("you're indian? hope you're in the right caste..." ). he was striking out in ways i didn't even know existed. and yet, i felt bad for Little Man; i could clearly see he was trying to be charming and funny, but just going about it in all the wrong ways. he asked if he could buy me a drink, and against my better judgement, i said yes (i was feeling altruistic) (besides, we're in a recession, people, it's getting harder and harder to get a free beer.). about three sips into my drink he managed to insult my skin color ("hey, at least you're not as dark as he is!"). quickly, i got the hell out of there.

the next morning, i was marveling at the wrongness of the wrong guys. normally, in order to make myself feel better when i'm feeling particularly demoralized about men, i go to the weddings and celebrations section of the new york times, because sometimes all you need is a success story. and while i wasn't sure that a simple article could cure the hopelessness i felt after this particularly horrifying encounter, i figured every little bit helps. what i found was remarkable.

i read this and have hereby found a way to remedy every post-Little Man gloom from now on.

not that i'm a cynic, but i'm pretty realistic when it comes to l-o-v-e and such (i.e. i believe love fades, marriage is a contract, and my boyfriend will never go to europe without me because he will most certainly cheat with some irresistible italian girl), but a love story like Macmanus and Funke is a Meg Ryan romantic comedy waiting to happen. it makes me believe in not just flighty, exciting love, but the responsible, smart, sticky love that runs deep.

faith restored, for now.

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische

old, old stuff

was going through the folder in my hard drive that i reserved for "recreational writing," though high school and college etc. (i.e. all the stuff i never had to submit for a grade) and i found some little things that brought back some serious memories. it's times like these that i remember why it's so important to write-- these are experiences that would have eroded into some dusty past. some good, some bad, but i'm glad to be able to say, i lived that...

I know how your hands feel over mine, and I know the calluses over your fingers, and I know the brownness of your eyes and the smallness of your mouth, and the way your lips purse together when you’re watching baseball. I know how red and puffy your face gets when you’re really exhausted, and your funny, ineloquent accent. I know the warmness of your skin and the warmness of your body. I know how it feels when your palm rests on the back of my leg, and the curve of your shoulders when you’re hunched over your desk. I know how afraid you are of getting close to me, ever since I learned how your lips feel pressed against mine, and how your nose feels pressed against mine, and how your soft, slow tongue feels pressed against mine. I know your nervous habit of running away from me when others are around and I know the tenderness of your voice, the kindness of your eyes, the quietness, the sweetness of your affection that hangs in the air—like steam from a hot shower—when we are alone in a room.

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische

ominant, daring, hardly domesticated, indicatively dusky, distant dalliance, annual denouement, darling December

It's the first of December! The only month whose cruel weather is balanced by the warmth that everyone seems to exude as soon as the chill hits. I don't know about you, but as soon as I said my first, "Happy Holidays!" I've been a gonner-- catching myself singing carols aloud (note: i hate christmas music), decking my halls (that's right, complete with twinkle lights, tree, and pine-cinnamon-cranberry scented candles), and generally spreading the holiday cheer.

It's also my birthday month, which tends to throw me in an existential funk (has since I turned 15), but also makes me wholly grateful for the life my 20-something self has been allowed to live. Turkey day is just the kick off to my month of giving thanks-- this is the month that i brainstorm potential resolutions, marvel at the time that's passed, marvel at what's to come, all the while trying to avoid eating myself into a stupor (i'm a sucker for holiday treats).

despite the greying weather and the somehow always unexpected cold, i'll stay in a good mood. at least until the new year when i make promises to myself that i'll try (earnestly and steadfastly) to keep until i tire and become a little bit cynical again (just in time for valentine's day).

for now, though, things are looking up. Happy holidays, lovers.

D courtesy of DailyDropCap

a good sell

there's nothing like a good commercial to get the day started...
i'm a sucker for the creative, interesting, sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking ads that make an impression. it's really an artform-- whether youre selling a brand, a product, a message, or all three, you only get 30 seconds to make it stick. and with all that bad-vertisement that somehow makes it onto our tubes, when it's done well, it stands out. Enter HTC.
the right look, message, music, everything. saw it for the first time earlier today and for some reason, it's in my head. hopefully, in about a minute, it'll be in yours...

what do you wish would happen by the end of the day?

one of the countless reasons there's nowhere i'd rather wake up...

Where do you wish you could wake up tomorrow?

"...Once upon a time, we awoke with a new question on our mind. We didn't quite know what the buzz and bustle of a Brooklyn afternoon would bring. In search of nothing more than some fresh answers, we found a few dreams instead.

It's a simple question and the answers can lead us anywhere. So go ahead, ask yourself."

www.fiftypeopleonequestion.com

ForamsList.com

OK, so maybe this is a result of one-too-many Meg Ryan movies (and proud of it!), but I am a sucker for the missed connections on Craigslist. I check them every so often because i totally have this fantasy of being the best friend in the romantic comedy (think Judy Greer, Rosie O'Donnell etc.) who finds The Ad and just knows its meant for her girlfriend and insists that she contact the poor, lovesick author of the missed connection. and when her girlfriend refuses, the best friend takes it upon herself to write a response, pretending to be the real target of the ad and-- well, you get the picture. fast forward to valentine's day on top of the empire state building, and there ya go: faith in love restored and all is well in the world.

I am not so idealistic, but even a realist can dream.

Usually there are more illiterate creepers than genuine romeos, but tonight, while scoping out some of the MCs on CL, i came across a few standouts. this just might even improve their chances of finding L-O-V-E (and then my own selfish fantasy of being the romantic enabler might be realized!). if not, consider it just a little something to make you feel warm and fuzzy as the chill settles in ...Enjoy!

Book Beau:

Uptown 6 - 9 AM- Unbearable Lightness of Being - m4w (Midtown East)

---

Date: 2009-10-09, 12:41PM EDT

---

6 train at around 9 AM- You got on around Bleecker or Spring and sat down next to me. We were both reading but I couldn't concentrate. I noticed that you make really big folds at the corners of the page to serve as a bookmark. I almost said "I think you could make the folds a little bit smaller and would serve the same purpose", but I didn't feel like interrupting your reading, especially so early in the morning. Then you got off at 33rd maybe. Anyways, that's that.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1413749914

Platform Puppy Love:

I saw you on the L train platform... - m4w

---

Date: 2009-10-09, 1:37AM EDT

---

...at Union Square.

It was Thursday night. We were both waiting for the 8th ave bound L. You were reading a book. I had just come down the stairs when I stopped to wait for the train and then there you were.

You were wearing a pink v-neck sweater, white collared button up shirt underneath, gray/beige skirt, and knee high boots. You were listening to your ipod. You have shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes and easily the prettiest face I've seen on a subway platform.

There was some band in the background playing on the drums but I wasn't really listening to them because I was mostly looking at you.

I hope somehow you see this.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1413245776

Brutally Smitten:

Fuerza Bruta Sept 30 - m4w

---

Date: 2009-10-08, 3:32PM EDT

---

You were wearing a blue/torquoise tanktop under a black and white jacket and had a diamond nose stud. The show was amazing, but your eyes were mesmerizing. I lost you to the crowd before I could thank you for brightening my night. You were the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1412429040

lánytestvér

so i've been house-ridden the past few days, spending a LOT of time on the couch, munching and watching I Love Lucy and Say Yes to the Dress re-runs. If i'm not on the couch, then im in my bed reading Freakonomics or reflecting. yea, thats right, reflecting. at the risk of sounding like a starry-eyed lofty cliche, having this much down time (unemployed, remember?) and being in poor health makes reflection a pretty productive use of my time. sometimes i catch myself thinking of Hungary-- memories of waking up at dawn to the incessant cockadoodle of the rooster in the backyard; sitting on the deck outside of my room and reading under the pear tree. today, a memory in the corner of my mind worked its way to the front...

we sat in the car in silence, our faces lit only by the residue of headlights. (no streetlamps on these village roads.) on this last night in the village, there were no words. but three weeks of speaking through smiles and signals had taught me that anita and i didn't need words. i felt my eyes swelling as i tried to blink away tears. after climbing mountains, picking grapes, translating songs, drinking and eating and laughing together-- without ever speaking english-- anita had become a part of my heart. and now, we had to say goodbye. sitting in that quiet car in the middle of the village street, we became aware of the very real possibility that we might never see each other, never be next to each other, never breathe the same air, ever again. she looked at me, said my name, and put her hand to her heart. i did the same. i dont think knowing english or hungarian would have done us any good-- there were no words that could fill a room the way that gesture did. it was then that i realized the providence that had brought us there, together in a parked car on a dimly lit dirt road in the middle of rural Hungary. it was the first time i felt a quiet love in the most meaningful way. we had the kind of bond that most people are only born into-- i'd found a sister on the other side of the ocean.

killing time like its my job

i'm no good at this unemployment thing. sure, it's given me time to think, reflect, tap my inner yogi, shop, lunch with friends, forget what day it is, nurse some nasty hangovers, wander the streets in this beautiful weather, and relish in a state of general boredom...but it's surprisingly difficult. by tuesday morning i was on the phone with my dad, confessing my anxiety about waking up with nowhere to go. oh, the horror! like a good dad, he was quick to ease my qualms about being temporarily jobless for the first time in 3 years, and reminded me that maybe i should embrace the rare moment in my life that i don't have to work. thanks, daddio.

so we'll see how this goes. i guess, like most new yorkers, i thrive in busyness-- feeling late, rushing to the train, panting as i run back up 3 of the 5 flights to my apartment to retrieve my poor, forgotten cell phone... i love that stuff. and i'm sure, soon, i will be back in that mode. for now, i'm a manhattan meandering, binge blogging, nolita homebody with a whole lot of time on her hands.

and now im watching Hitch and all i want is some rice pudding

One more thing: what's the point of DVR if you don't have to miss what's on tv (a You've Got Mail reference...I can't resist)?

Argg where's me paperback?

This article got me thinking...

Book Piracy?

though it's still not quite a part of the mainstream, the ebook threatens to flip the business model for book publishing on its head. the internet has made it even more complicated, and has brought up the question that the journalism industry, torn between online and paper versions, with has been riddled with for years now: how to monetize?

i feel like the fact that these are books should be enough to keep us in line. this isn't that subtitled Bollywood movie you're mom has been dying for you to see, or the version of "Always Be My Baby" from Mariah's Daydream tour. These are books. doesn't everyone get emotional about them? i can't even imagine downloading a book illegally-- i feel guilty enough borrowing from the library sometimes. and to be honest, i feel like the readers who are actually into reading for pleasure aren't really going to go for this. i think they're part of the sentimental bunch who have a soft spot for full bookshelves.

i think pirated books mostly threaten the textbook industry. think about it: as students, the bane of our existence (or at least top 5, under being sexiled) is buying textbooks. if you buy them at the bookstore, you will no doubt pay through the ass for a book you'll most likely crack open MAYBE twice in the year (hello, The Economics of Labor Markets). if you buy online, you have to worry about when, from where, and in what condition your book will get to you. nothing sounds more appetizing than a quick, easy, free way to get our reading done. afterall, we're more likely to rationalize our unethical actions by our economic situations: 1. we're paying tuition, after all, so it's not like this is free-free... the transaction is just a little less direct; and 2. we're students! we're poor! we'll buy books when we can afford them, and when we want them.

i'm not supporting it, but i can't say i wouldn't be tempted. and hey, maybe publishers could work something out with file sharing systems to better monitor and somehow monetize the situation. this might be difficult, but it's not impossible. we managed to create the beast that is the internet, and instead of taming it, maybe we should be frolicking through the fields with it. after all, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

(image from Heads of State, New York Times)

an evanescent, velvety, vital, visceral vesper

At sunset I sit on my fire escape, reading and drinking a glass of wine. I love to sit here and look up and down the street. To my right, I can see pretty far past Little Italy into Chinatown. Left, I can almost see the Chrysler building, if I lean over a little bit. The scent of pizza wafts up, four stories high, to where I’m sitting. The smell is a familiar tease now; I’m as accustomed to it as I am to the smell of dog piss (though one is no doubt more appealing than the other). People pass under me in small groups, an occasional singing bicyclist zips past, but it’s quiet, mostly. Fall isn’t here yet, no. The trees are just barely tipped yellow; the breeze is only mild. I still see flip-flopped pedestrians walking their dogs. Kids still run around in the park without their coats. And—perhaps my most compelling piece of evidence—there aren’t any couples out. I watch the sun fall over trees and behind me. It feels like a dream. It was, once.

Today, my yoga instructor put us into Tree Pose (I guess she was feeling ambitious). As we struggled to get onto one foot and raise our hands over our heads, she said, “Feel for soft ground. You can always find your balance not from strength, but from soft ground.” Easier said than done, I thought. What the hell is “soft ground,” anyway? All I know in this town is hard: how to walk hard, work hard, be hard. I love that about this place. And that, I guess, was her point. In this Manhattan bubble, where we’re on go until our heads hit the pillow (note: I started to sleep so much better when I moved here), it’s easy to stay stimulated, occupied, elastic, stretching and stretching. Being as excitable and impatient as I am, the energy is intoxicating.

As it gets darker, the bars start to light up. Laughter gets louder from the dives across the street. The sound of after-work drinkers, pre-dinner cocktailers, or extra-early nightcappers—who will no doubt wake me hours from now—mixes with sirens. But for now, they’re just part of the hum of this city, tuning.

These evenings on my fire escape make up my foundation. This is where I find balance and peace above the horns and cries and calls of the city. This is why I love this place: I’m four stories up, and I’m on soft ground.

Or maybe I should devote my time to this!

how can i say no?

The Bucket List

and This is just too close to home...

shouldn't october be the eighth month of the year?

open-aired, autumnal, overdue, on-my-own (almost), officially unemployed, October

Tonight marks my official first Sunday of being "in-between jobs." blah. so now i've got some time to kill! I figured i might as well make the most of it, so i'm going to try to find as many interesting solo (free/cheap) activities in the city as i can.

this is what i have so far:

1. yoga

2. flu shot.

clearly, the list needs a little work. Maybe i can catch up on some reading in my beloved park before the poor thing gets cut in half again... but then what?

also, i love Stacy London

Back in the U-S-A

I haven't written in so long...I've just been busy readjusting to crazy New York life...I will write more soon. But for now, this---

About 6 months ago, this article would have meant little to me...

Now, I cannot tell you how much it matters:

Madonna Booed in Bucharest for Defending Gypsies

Introducing Cat Contiguglia

Cat Contiguglia is a friend of mine from Journalism at NYU. She and i used to share cigarettes and conversation in Washington Square Park before classes freshman year. She has been abroad, so i havent seen or heard from her in a while. Until recently, when she showed up in a little newspaper called the New York fucking Times.

READ

I'm just going to say, i am excited, proud, thrilled, amazed, but not surprised. definitely not surprised.

Last Day August 6

Hello loversssss
Today is my last day teaching. There is too much going on in my head. My feelings are contaminating eachother-- my happiness is mixed with sadness and my relief is mixed with anxiety, and everything is layerAed around a lump of excitement. I cannot believe this experience is over; the experience of teaching, that is. 2 months have felt like 2 years, but have also flown by. Its strange, because I almost cant grasp the fact that I did it. I feel like I will get back to New York and feel like it was another person who walked into a classroom full of kids that didnt speak any english and started to teach. It is surreal.
Its so cliché to say that this experience has changed my life, but it has. It has made more things possible to me than ever before. It has given me new kinds of courage. Because once you do something as ridiculous as live in rural Hungarian villages to teach English, a lot more feels possible.
I feel lucky beyond words. I have met such kind people on this journey. I have seen the loud, crazy, sometimes embarassing love that can flood a room so fast it feels suffocating; I have seen the quiet, steady love that trickles in like water from a leaky faucet, or a whisper between two lips. I have felt both kinds of love and now I know that they come from the same, buttery center. Theres a lot of metaphors in that paragraph, but if you cant use them all up when talking about love, then when can you?
Tomorrow morning I leave to go back to Budapest, the place where this all began. I can so vividly remember what it felt like, in the beginning, when this was all some crazy experiment that I chose to try out. I realize now that there never was a choice.
I love you girls. Ill see you in 2 weeks...
Foram

Just a few shots...

Ive got too many words on this blog. So, here are a few shots from my trips. Theyre taken by my friends/fellow teachers. These are all on facebook already, but because I havent gotten a chance to upload my 500+ quite yet, itll have to do.

So for now, a picture for each country:

Budapest, HungaryLjublana, SloveniaKomarno, Slovakia
And, of course, Prague, Czech Republic

czeching out prague August 3, 2009

hello lady loves,
Im a little sleep deprived. after a crazy amazing two day stint in Prague, Im back to work. I cant believe ill be leaving here in 4 days. But ill leave that subject for another email entirely. this one is devoted to Prague (and dedicated to my dear friend and freshman roommate Vivian).
So. I dont even know where to begin. The whole 6 hour bus ride back, I tried to think of a good way to describe my experience in that incredible place...but still, im short of words.
Let me set up the situation for you girls, because you dont know the travel guide vivian compiled for me. i told her i was going to be in prague for the weekend with my friends over here, and asked her to send some suggestions my way since she lived there for a semester. i did not expect a 3 page guide, complete with detailed instructions of where to go, what to eat, and personal favorites. I forwarded the guide to my friends, who LOVED it. everyone printed out a copy. the very night we got into the city, we started wandering around, looking for the places vivian had suggested. "what does vivian say?" it became our mantra when we didnt know where to go next. we spent our weekend in prague faithfully following her guide, and because of that, i credit her for the amazing experience we had there.
prague is such an exquisite city. its almost cliche now to talk about how beautiful it is, but it has earned that cliche. the architecture is nothing less than arresting. the buildings, the roads, the feel of the city, forces you to walk slowly to soak it all in, because it really is surreal. it is exactly what i imagined europe to be like, and because of that, for two days it felt like i was in a dream. one big drunk dream. it is prague, after all, where beer is cheaper than water.
it was also so nice to be in a big, diverse city again. the greatest challenge here has probably been the monotony of language and people. im not saying authenticity doesnt have its charms-- of course it does-- but there is something really beautiful about cultural contamination, and, if i might refer to kwame anthony appia (thanks bryan waterman), something uniquely cosmopolitan about that too. and listen, i love visiting this slow life, but city girl needs the city. i almost peed my pants when i saw a black person, i was so happy.
vivian warned me about being mistaken for a gypsy in prague, which im sure is a problem in the off season, but in august its about as crowded with tourists as disneyland on a friday. i also have been dealing with the gypsy thing over here in slovakia, so i was aware of the issues with my skin color. i stick out like a sore thumb in rural slovakia. it was the same in hungary, but in my last village, everyone knew i was american before i got there, so i was treated with respect almost 100 percent of the time. Here, however, few people knew of my arrival, and slovakia is considerably less tolerant than hungary, for many reasons that are political and cultural and which we can talk about later. here, i have often been mistaken for a gypsy, which is a race that is highly discriminated against. so, here i have dealt with uncomfortable stares, rude remarks and generally soft racism. but racism nonetheless. im lucky that my american accent is so obvious, because it has saved me sometimes. when they realize im an american who just happens to not be white, they usually treat me much better. then they ask me questions and realize theres a lot they cant tell just by looking at me.
other times, people dont care that im american-- because of my coloring, i am a gypsy to them regardless, which i think is the epitome of hatred. there is nothing that can take a toll on your self-esteem more than being the "wrong" color. basically, i look exactly the way you wouldnt want to look living in slovakia. that has been difficult, to become self conscious about my outward appearance (having nothing to do with being pretty or thin) while developing and maturing on the inside...its a weird feeling, like being pulled in two different directions. wow, this email was not supposed to be about this ...its relevant, though, because in prague, i felt the relief of tolerance and regained a little bit of the confidence that was being rubbed away as my tan got darker and darker in the hot slovak sun.
we met some awesome people in prague. i met a very sweet Georgian during our pub crawl named bryan. of course, i go all the way to prague and kiss an american (an american with a girlfriend...eek....). but i cannot say no to a southern boy. it had been a while since someone had called me beautiful, and said with a southern twang, how could i resist?
we ate amazing food-- duck and potato croquettes, honey cake, pear juice--at vivians favorite restaurants. my favorite part of the trip was probably riding bikes around the city, across charles bridge, through the palace, and to the john lennon wall, which is this beautiful, grafitti-ridden wall that everyone writes on. i took my sharpie to it and made my own mark.on it, i wrote a quote from the little prince (of course): "has the sheep eaten the flower?"
i cant wait to show you guys pictures... im sure plenty of them will be up on facebook shortly. my friends are really good about putting them. as for me, ive got about 500 to put up and will do so when i get to budapest (in 3 days!! AH).
i love you girls
foram

can you say guyash party? July 27, 2009

Hello lovebirds,
week two over here in alsobodok. the first week went by surprisingly fast. it was difficult, but brief. definitely tested my emotions and grew me up just a little bit more. im hoping for the next two weeks to follow suit. thats not to say im not having a good time here. i am. i am making friends and my host family is really starting to open up to me. i think the difference between to two villages is mainly this: my first village liked me before they ever met me, which is why when i left, we were all at the love stage, already like family. this village, however, really didnt care about my being here for some good reasons...
1. this is the 7th year the village is hosting a volunteer, so its really not so novel that im here.
2. the mayor is kind of a prick and a bully. he never asked my host family if they wanted to host me, he basically just told my host sister one day that i was going to be staying with them for 3 weeks whether they liked it or not.
3. other people planted toxic preconceived notions in their heads. now that my family likes me so much, they feel its ok for them to laugh with me about all the stuff people told them about americans-- that we are spoiled and rude, demanding and thoughtless. my family really just expected me to be a monster, which i guess makes it easier to prove them wrong!
anyways, thats what i spent this past week doing-- breaking down the walls that they had put up. and i think its safe to say ive done it. this morning my host mother said i was part of the family. my host sister said i was like her sister. thats a big deal considering i look like a gypsy (i will explain in more detail when i get back)
on saturday we had a guyash party, which is basically the hungarian equivalent of grilling out. we all went up to the vineyard and made guyash outside. it was delicious, and many friends and family stopped by. on sunday, my host brother, a couple of other guys and i hiked up a few slovak mountains. it took 3 hours or so, but it was awesome. it was about time i got a real work out! this weekend im going to prague with the other volunteers. i am so excited. its my motivation for getting through the week!
to be honest, another thing i am learning is that i dont want to be a teacher. not that i dont love this program and the kids and the teaching, in fact, i think im pretty good at it. but it doesnt fulfill me the way i think a profession should. which brings me to my most recent discovery: the truest challenge comes when the enthusiasm runs out and you must rely solely on willpower to complete a task. i think this goes for most things. we cant be excited all the time about the endeavors we take on, but what shows us our strength is how we handle things after the honeymoon is over.
not that my honeymoon is over--far from it. in fact, i am still loving this, the traveling, the immersion. im already planning my journeys for the coming years. i ache for new york. i ache to see you girls and be a part of your adventures in our apple. its so good to hear about the magic that is happening in your lives, and i want too badly to be a part of it again. soon enough, though. its hard to believe that in 4 days I will be in prague. in 11 days i will be back in budapest. in 16 i will be in Cyprus. in 23 i will be in manhattan! what a life!i applied to my first job from abroad today. it was for an imprint of simon and schuster, the huge publishing house. it was such a thrill to write in my cover letter, "Currently, I am in rural Slovakia teaching English, creating and executing daily lesson plans and becoming acutely aware of the power of language." i hope i hear back from them. i plan on applying to as many jobs as i can while im over here. it will give me something to focus on and probably ease my transition back into reality. ok enough about me.
keep talking about you.

To my teacher, mentor and friend, Mrs. Kronstadt (Kman) July 24, 2009

Kmannnnn,
Here I am, in my second Hungarian village. After 3 incredible weeks in Csatar, Hungary, I have landed in Alsobodok, a tiny village about an hour outside of Komarno. This has been quite the journey. I was thinking about you this morning while teaching my morning class, and decided i should write and see how you are... And, of course, talk about myself.
To catch you up: I started out with a brief 3-day orientation in Budapest, with the other volunteers in my program. Theres about 15 of us. Theyre from all over, but mostly Washington DC or California, mostly students at georgetown or stanford. What an amazing group. you know how they say that trauma can bond people? well we were all going through a common, "What the HELL am i doing?" phase, and we bonded pretty quickly. Needless to say, i have made lasting friends on this journey. It is intoxicating to be among such adventurous, curious, friendly, kind people. ive found my favorite way to ease fear is to lather up on the enthusiasm and with them theres plenty of that to go around!
anyways, after budapest, we were put on a train to western hungary, to a city called Zalaegerszeg. Zalaegerszeg is a "large" city of about 60,000, surrounding which many of us were stationed in nearby villages. I lived in a village of 500 called Csatar and taught just across the street in a village of 1100 called Bocfolde. I wish there was an easy way to describe my experience there without sucking dry a well of clichés. Yea, it changed my life. It made me see the world in a different way. it opened my eyes and i realized how similar and different we are from one another. it really did all those things. i was welcomed into these villages, chock-full of the most boisterous, jovial, excited men and women ive ever seen in one place. none of whom spoke a word of english. Well, thats not true-- there were two people in the village who spoke english, both were wonderful. but i had the most fun when i was with the people who knew none. i picked up some hungarian in those 3 weeks, and it got easier and easier to understand bits and pieces of the language.
i wish i could tell you everything i did in one email, but theres just too much. i wrote down all the things i did everyday, to make sure i would never forget, so maybe when i get you on the phone someday ill read off the milelong list. I met incredible people who became dear friends in too short a time. it broke my heart to leave them, but i had to come to my new village. so, after an elaborate dinner set up by the mayor, where a magazine came to write a profile on me (they promised to send me a copy), a tearful goodbye, and a five hour train ride, I was in Komarno. There, i met up with the other volunteers for a few days before heading to my new village. and now, here I am, in Alsobodok, a much more quiet village in Slovakia. this experience is very different from the one i had in Hungary, but i can just feel the courage from it seeping into my pores. and as homesick as i am for more places than i can count-- la, ny, and csatar--i hear you in my head saying, "if you do it once, youve done it, if you do it twice, you can do it," and i feel brave.
Thats not to say im ready to come home, because im not. besides, i have more stops to make before i fly back. So far, ive seen more than i have ever before. ive been to budapest, to rural hungary, to ljublana, slovenia (the other volunteers and i had a CRAZY day there...only when youre 21 can you rationalize traveling for 10 hours to party for 24!), and to komarno. next weekend i will be in prague, then the following weekend ill be back in budapest, and then ill be in cyprus for a week of glorious relaxation before heading back to my island. I have a 12 hour nighttime layover in london that i might spend running around the jolly ol town. By the time i return to my manhattan, on august 18, i will have stepped foot in 6 different countries, one of which I didnt know existed until 2 months ago (slovenia) and another whose language ive learned solely by way of immersion (hungary).
so here i am, satisfying my curiosity and learning the ways of these people. there is so much more to talk about, and i cant wait to tell you more about it. is there any chance youll be in new york in the fall? im thinking about coming back to la for a little bit, but i have to find a job first--thats another thing im devoting my free time to while im over here. The Job Hunt. yuck. I figure this is a good time to apply, while i sit here on the other side of the world, feeling brave, seeing what else i can do.
i love you, kman.
foram

Also, Alsobodok July 20, 2009

Hello lady loves,
I am in a new village again, just as i was beginning to call csatar home. and to be honest, my heart is a little bit broken. i am homesick for more places than i can count, for more people than i can count. I dont want to be a cry baby, so ill tell you more about it in person, when it doesnt ache so much. this village is very different so imtrying to adjust as quickly as possible. here are some good things about it:
1. my host sister speaks some english!
2. i live in the house with the family, so i get to spend more time with them
3. there is a tv with AMERICAN channels! man, i love cnn.
4. my host mother cooks great food
5. i get to walk to school, so maybe i can work off the massiveamounts of food i ate the past 3 weeks
6. i get to make my own class programs, so im actually only teachingfor 2.5 hours a day... the problem with that is i have a lot ofdowntime...
7. the people are very kind.
i really hope i make friends here. the people are not as enthusiastic as my first village. i think i got really spoiled the first time around. i hope this time flies by. and i hope i stop feeling so sad,because too much downtime means i have more time to think about you girls. i am trying to keep my heart open, but its hard because i want to keep some special places locked up-- the spaces i keep for new york, for la, and now for csatar and bocfolde. I feel childish, but part of me doesnt want to love this place, because if i love this place more, maybe i love csatar a little less. does anyone have a recipe for new love? that way maybe i can have enough to go around.
lovelovelove
foram

Village 1: Complete July 16, 2009

i didnt think i could love this place--these hills, these roads, these vineyards, these people-- in just 3 weeks. i didnt know love could happen that fast. im learning the hard way, the beautiful way, that it can. i just said goodbye to my dear friend anita. she and i spent a lot of time together in these past 3 weeks, despite the fact that we dont speak the same language. but i feel like she knows me better than so many people i can speak english freely with. i have gotten such beautiful, thoughtful gifts and so much love from everyone here. my heart has been tested and stretched and warmed on this journey. today the mayor is throwing me a goodbye party. im humbled and totally honored. needless to say, i never thought i would be the guest of honor at a hungarian ball, but here i am, living the life i could not possibly have imagined. i can only hope that my next village will be a fraction of what this one has been. i hope that the hearts are nearly as big, the eyes nearly as kind, and the arms nearly as open at the ones in csatár and bocfölde. i have learned how to love a different way here. tomorrow i get on a train to komarno, slovakia. after 2 days of partying it up, i will be in Alsobodók (also known as Dolné odokovce), Slovakia.i will write you when i get there.
love
foram

Csak keks, nem szex July 14, 2009

There is a precious little seven year old girl standing next to me at this very moment, talking to me entirely in Hungarian and I have no idea what shes saying. all I can do is smile and nod and look into her eyes as if I understand. I have a feeling she doesnt mind. maybe she just wants someone to listen to her. So im keeping quiet, and she keeps talking. Its been about 2ö minutes. and shes still talking. she pauses sometimes, to see my reaction, espcially when she says something she thinks is funny. she grins wide, her tongue pressed against the spaces between her teeth. when i just smile, she continues her story. so far, i think shes talking about a black and white butterfly....and something about forgetting about her dog. thats the only vocabulary ive recognized in her conversation (fekete, feher, pilango, effeletetem, kutya). she gave me a beautiful drawing she made of an ocean and a fishermen. i will try to continue this email without disturbing bettis (thats the little girls name) story. yesterday i rode on a horse drawn carriage up a mountain and rode on horseback when we reached the top. it was amazing...so beautiful, and frightening. of course, i got eaten alive by mosquitos, but it was worth it. hope i dont come home diseased. it was my first time riding a horse. then, on the way home, i drove a stick shift down the mountain! i never learned to drive one in california, but somehow i managed to learn with my buddy benyo in the passengers seat instructing me in hungarian. it was awesome. i i figured i might as well get as many firsts over with as i can while im at it. i made the decision pretty early on to say yes to as much as possible. that kind of philosophy can change a girls life, ya know?i had an INCREDIBLE time in ljublana with the other volunteers. we met a french couple on the train who had been going to school in lubey for a year so they knew everything about the place. they ended up being our tour guides for the whole day and night. they also ended up becoming our great friends. there was a lot of drinking and eating and wandering through the gorgeous city. we had an amazing 24 hours. i cant wait for slovakia. other than the villagers, some of the other volunteers have become dear friends. alison, yan, camille, diana, ridge...i cant wait for you to meet them. they are hilarious and kind and adventurous and wonderful. they know all about you all and are very excited to see you. were thinking about having a reunion in nyc in the fall. oh, yesterday ran into the sexy young village boy, rolande. he was with his dad and i was with my host dad and they stopped to chat while we made eyes at eachother. if only i was staying here for 3 more weeks! i could totally make it happen! my friend anita, who speaks no english, and i have a saying, "csak keks, nem szex" which means: "just cookies, no sex." which cracks us up and i cant really explain why. i guess we think its funny that im not getting any while im in the village. i love these people so much. i am so lucky to be here, and i can only hope that my village in slovakia is a fraction as amazing as this one. ok, betti is still talking, this time im pretty sure about her pants and something about going upstairs.

i love you all so much

foram

sceretlek July 10

...means i love you. my friends here insist it is by far the most beautiful, poetic word in the hungarian language. indeed, it is lovely to say. it rolls of the tongue more easily than other hungarian words. it feels more like velvet while other words are closer to cotton balls or papier maché (read: üborko, cükorizo).

hi pigeon i just wanted to say hi. i was thinking about something lately and i thought i might talk to you because, really, who else would i tell? so here goes...

being here has taught me so much about what it is like to be an immigrant. i mean, it pales in comparison, because of course, immigrants to a new country do not have a village waiting for them with love and food and fun. but on a very basic level, when it comes to leaving every single thing i have ever known to go to a place where everything is new and uncomfortable, i feel like an immigrant. I didnt even know how to say yes (igen) or no (nem) before I came here...and thats scary to think about now. i think of my parents, who knew enough english to get by but knew less about american culture, and how they managed to become fluent in a language, fluent in an economic and social environment, and fluent in the constant reminder that they are in a land so far away from home. i think i took that for granted for a long time...for my whole life, really. now, i am grateful to them for leaving a place i have seen riddled with social and economic injustice to take me somewhere where I am part of a cultural playground. in india my life would have been radically different--that goes without saying. but what is startling to me is that i was so close to that life. i was just a single generation away from being born and raised there, and probably would have had to do what my mother and father did--move away to another continent forever-- in order to live the life i wanted. Here, in hungary, where i could be easily mistaken for a gypsy, i might as well be a black woman in alabama in 1964. but in the us, im one of millions of indians who are successful, who are welcomed, and who contribute to the life and flavor of american culture. thats amazing. i feel so lucky to have the luxury of taking diversity, good coffee and wifi for granted. i feel so lucky to have been raised just a few steps away from an amazing burrito, an otherwordly falafel, and my moms authentic indian cooking. i can walk down the street and hear french, chinese, spanish and english in a matter of blocks: that is beautiful. and i am learning now that that is uniquely american. and i guess it all sounds a little cliche, but i think i can say... im proud to be an american (cue music).Sylvia plath once said, "Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted." I think this is why my heart calls to me so ferociously, and why i cannot dismiss it, no matter how hard i try: because i want to become acutely aware. because this might be the overriding theme of my life. i hope it is.
love
chicken.

zűld fa July 8, 2009

"green grass"
hello loverheadsssss
you are such glorious creatures. i love that you are happy and well and taking care of our city while i am away. i must admit, i am beginning to feel the early pangs of homesickness, which is what i was expecting around the 2 week mark (and like clockwork, here it is..). its alright, i only feel it in the moments i am alone and in the quiet, not preparing a lesson plan or trying to learn a hungarian word or eating delicious fresh food, or oggling cute hungarian men. even then, all i need to do is look through some pictures of my kids or the other volunteers or dig through my pocket and find one of the many sweet notes my host sister leaves me, and the feeling subsides. yesterday i taught my intermediate class about the superbowl and american football and then we went outside and played it. funnnnnn. today i am going to teach them a song, and im still deciding between the beatles, beyonce or michael jackson. i think im going to go with mj as a tribute. this week, ive been going to dinner at my students' houses and talking with them one on one. i think thats the most valuable way to teach them, just by talking to them alone. in the class, everyone is on different levels and you can only learn so much. but one on one, they feel more free to ask me questions and to tell me about themselves. last night one of the teachers (the same one who crushed a lemon leaf into my hand) took me into zalaegerszeg, the city, and took me shopping. it was really nice. we got ice cream and she showed me around...and we communicated with my little hungarian and her little english. it was great. i cant believe the second week is almost over. it is hard to believe that i will be leaving this village, where i already feel like i have been forever. at the same time, one week feels like one month when the sun is already up when i rise at 7am and sets well after 9pm. i dont get much rest these days, but i feel awake all the time, even when i am so tired i cant sleep. i feel alive in a different way-- the energy i feel comes only from me, not from the momentum of my environment, because life is so simple and slow here. i think because of that simplicity, people are happier. everyone says hello to one another, stranger or not. if someone needs a ride, you open your car door. even kids have a different sense of obligation here. every morning, by the time ive woken up, my host brother and sister have already made and eaten breakfast and are helping out at the orchard or the vineyard. and at the dance camp, i noticed that the children were always taken care of by the teens. the teenage boys did all the dishes--piles and piles of them-- after every meal. it wasnt even asked of them, it was just something they knew they should do. when a child needed a place to sit, he could always crawl onto someones lap without hesitation. it is so nice to see people taking care of one another. that kind of love, the kind that is so effortless and natural that it goes unacknowledged, is pretty amazing to see and to feel.

speaking of which, i love you, effortlessly and naturally!
foram

effélététem July 6, 2009

....that means, "i forgot"i cant tell you how much it means to me to see you in my inbox, whether its for a little update on your lives or an amercan flag (zaszlo amerikai).on friday after school some villagers took me to a tiny village called bazakerretye, about half an hour away from bocfolde. its basically a sleep away camp for people who just wanna kick it in the woods. we went straight to the swimming pools (there are 4 of them, all different sizes and temperatures and colors, strangely enough). there were about 2ö people there, all different ages from 7 (the cutest fucking kid with a husky little voice, marcéllo) to 47 (my buddy iréne, who doesnt speak english but weve had the most hilarious conversations). at first, everyone was afraid of this american girl who looks like a gypsy, so for the first night i just danced with them and taught them some indian folk dancing too. by day two, however, EVERYONE wanted to try to speak english with me, which was really sweet. we spent hours in the pool having conversations...very slow conversations, haha...its funny, you have to talk to these totally competent, fine people like theyre dumbasses. that night, after hanging out with the teens in the pool, who were so sweet, the children took over. while the older dancers practiced, the kids and i sat by the campfire and they tried to talk to me. it was the sweetest, funniest thing, to see this kids try to communicate. some of them acted out everything, others drew pictures, one talked to me as if i was deaf...all in hungarian. we took pictures together and ate candy. i can still hear them calling out, foRAM, foRAMMMM! it makes my heart smile. i also chopped wood with this 16 yr old who is too hot for his own good. hes one of kristoff (my host bro)s friends. they both dont speak any english but we managed to hang out despite all their teenage angst. i cracked a little bit of their brooding shell. i had such a good time with them. then i got picked up from the camp and was taken to a picnic that was going on in the village field. it was a sort of senior citizen gathering, and i was only supposed to stay for 10 minutes. well, that turned into 4 hours... so. much. wine. i got wasted with old people. everyone was singing and laughing together. the old men sang to me and the old women showed me pictures of their grandsons... it felt like india. it was hilarious.the rest of the night feels like a dream... scarcely remember the ride home. somehow i managed to shower, AND write a few sentences in my journal, which i think is pretty impressive. i credit you ladies for excellent drunk training. today im going to relax at home, i think. spend more time with my fam, maybe watch some hungarian movies. its weird, i hardly hear my own voice these days, the one im used to, at least. im either talking slowly or loudly or in broken english in order to be understood. i am learning that when you are forced to choose your words carefully, you say only what you mean. thats pretty fucking cool. but when i get back to the states, i cannot WAIT to use as many big, compound, complicated, unpronouncable english words as possible. this weekend i am going to slovenia for two nights with the other volunteers... im so excited, especially seeing that about 2 months ago, i didnt know such a place existed. things like that remind me why im doing this.
i love you.
foram

Kusonom, Scivesen! July 1, 2009

yesterday i climbed a mountain with some local villagers to my friend anitas vineyard. she is hilarious. were teaching eachother hungarian/english and having a great time doing it. on the way up the mountain we stopped at the mayors house, which he is building with his bare hands, overlooking the village. we took a shot of palinka, a VERY potent liquor (about 50 proof) that everyone makes themselves out of peaches. its custom to take shots of it w guests on any occasion. since ive been here, ive lost count of how many shots of it ive taken. anyway. that people here are so great. my students are so smart and so eager. the kids are so so so cute. and my intermediate class is really smart. some of them know a lot of english and are really good speakers. together, we read a little part of the little prince every day. i knew it would come in handy to bring it along :) i am learning so much. im seeing the world in a completely different way. the kindness of strangers, the courage of young people, the beauty of nature totally untouched, the value of hard work, and the magical way the human spirit does not need language to move mountains. it is overwhelming. today the other volunteers and i are are all meeting at a nearby town called zalaegerszeg. if you can believe it, i can actually pronounce that without a problem. i am learning some hungarian while im here... hopefully ill remember it so that when i come back i can still talk to everyone.
i love you all, i miss you all.
pussy (that means "kisses." i know.)
Foram

I'm Hungary. Not Thirsty. June 29, 2009

This is incredible. I am in bocfolde/csatar, two tiny villages of 1000 and 500. this is a breathtaking experience. i cannot explain it. the people are so kind and generous. yesterday y host family, after showing me the beautiful APARTMENT i am living in, paraded me around the village and introduced me to so many new things...orchards, vineyards, pigs, the mayor. i was given a very valuable gift by a local... a giant mushroom. my host mom and i are going to cook it today, i think....i am overwhelmed and so so happy. i taught my first class this morning to wonderful excited children. this afternoon, ill be teaching intermediate kids...people more our age. its really challenging, teaching 2 two hour classes, but i try to fill up the time as much as possible. theyre so eager to learn and i am too. ive been trying to pick up hungarian, but its a tough languag. a few words here and there so far... theyre being patient with me. this is crazy! but they treat me like royalty. theyve never seen an american before, let alone an INDIAN american. they are too cute. did i mention these people are amazing! after having the time of my life in budapest, i miss the other volunteers, but a bunch of us are meeting up this week to catch up and speak as much english as possible. i still cant believe im doing this. its awesome. i will write you more coherently and eloquently at the end of the week. i gots some lesson plans to take care of first. i love you all. ps i showed your pics to my host family and my students and the most common reactions are: "are all americans so beautiful?" and "cool clothes!"
love love love
foram

i am alive, i am alive!

I am sorry. But I have a good excuse: I left the country!
In fact, I am still out of the country. So, instead of blogging and trying to catch up, I am going to post the emails I have sent to my dearest friends. For the time being, consider this an epistolary blog.

But first, a little background: I am in rural Hungary teaching English. I applied to the program back in January, was accepted, and left in June to this country, my first time in Europe. It is amazing!

Do Something

Meet Maggie Doyne.
When Maggie graduated high school, her parents let her take a year off to backpack through Southeast Asia... and she never came back.

Instead, she wound up in Nepal. While traveling through the region, she witnessed the terrible toll that war and corruption had taken on Nepali children; the country was full of orphans. So what did then- 18-year old Doyne do? She called up her parents in Jersey and asked them to wire over her life savings-- $5,000 in babysitting money. She knew 5 grand could go a long way over there... and it did. Doyne built the Kopila Valley Children's Home in Nepal and now, at 22, is the guardian of 24 orphans, has sent 60 kids to school and has placed 700 orphans in homes.

Can you believe it?

I didn't, until I saw Maggie Doyne accept $100,000, at the Do Something awards last night at the Apollo Theatre. I didn't, until I saw her cry when a picture of a dozen or so Nepali orphans flashed across the screen and she said, "I promised myself I wasn't going to lose it...but then I saw my kids up there..."

my kids.

22, mother of 24. I'm 21 and can hardly take care of myself. As she stood there on the stage, this totally unassuming, petite, fair-skinned blonde was surrounded by a spotlight that formed a sort of halo around her thin frame. I thought to myself, This is what an angel looks like.

She kept saying how humbled she felt, to be the recipient of such an enormous sum, to be selected out of a group of such deserving, accomplished candidates. Humbled? Really? (Humble: from the Latin, humilis, meaning low, from humus, meaning earth. In a sense, to bring one back down to earth, to plant one's feet back to the ground where you started; back to when you were just a seed in a pile of dirt). I sat there thinking, I'm the one who's humbled. What the hell have I done? Granted, circumstance, personal choice and so many other things (chance, fate, karma?) have so much to do with why she plays mom and why I just play. And then she said:

"It all starts with a yes."

Every true act of compassion, courage, love, service starts with a yes, despite the misgivings and qualms that come with most acts of honesty. You've got to start from the ground up. And here I am, thinking that a quarter of my life is already over, and I've already experienced most of the Big Moments that will punctuate my personal history...but maybe I'm still a seed. Maybe all this time where I thought I was growing and branching out, I've only been sprouting, stretching, warming up. I'm not saying that one day I'll run off to a foreign country to save the children. But there's no time limit to the call of your heart. So in the meantime, I'll be here, listening.

Ain't just a river in Egypt!

Nyle was a peer educator at my freshman dorm at NYU. His music video for his song "Let the Beat Build," (yes, like Lil' Wayne's) went viral a few months ago. It's shot all in one take and the sound is recorded simultaneously... watch!

this is considerably less zen

Who doesn't love Beyonce's "Halo?" I do. Nami and I can't get enough of the song and the music video. While browsing YouTube, I found about a THOUSAND (rough estimate?) covers, in every form you could imagine-- good, bad, fat, thin, young, old, eastern european, acoustic, synthesized, in the bathroom, in the backyard, you name it. 

Here's the official version with the too-sexy- to- be- true michael ealy. I hope you're near a fan, ladies, because you're gonna melt a little.

have some chai when you read this.

never before, next to nothing, now-not-never, nuanced nesting, new.

 I am here I promise. Newly graduated, newly unemployed, newly moved, newly many other things. I have finally unpacked my life from boxes and bags and things are finally finding a place in my home. It was a strange, stressful task, physically packaging up my life so that I only had to worry about one thing at a time. Books in one bag, jewelry in another. summer clothes, winter clothes. and the things I had to throw away! It broke my heart to toss out shirts from high school and middle school, the letters i would never send and the books i couldn't get money for. No matter how hard I try to compartmentalize, things always get messy. My mom says that's because I'm too emotional; My dad says that's because my mercury is weak; My brother says that's because I got the inferior genes. Whatever the reason, there's always going to be clutter, no matter how regularly I make my bed or how carefully I fold my clothes. Because I'm just messy. And I'm not just talking about moving. 

I've been rediscovering this mantra my grandmother used to repeat to me when I was a little girl: Om Namah Shivaya. She used to lull me to sleep whispering it under her breath as she patted my back with the palm of her firm, papery hands. It appeared to me again after so many years in a book I read a few weeks ago, Eat, Pray, Love (which is far superior to any other chick lit I've come across). In the book, Elizabeth Gilbert translates the chant to: "I honor the divinity that resides within me," which isn't literally what it means, but is the essence of it. Literally, the words mean "I honor Shiva," the creator and destroyer of the universe; but in Hindu scripture, Shiva is also the name given to the one thing that remains intact even when everything else goes away...the self.

Is this too zen? Sorry. My point is this: I've been relearning how to feel, fear, love, and trust this whirling magnetism that I was born with-- that we're all born with. And an amazing thing is happening... I'm learning how to let go. This is no easy task for the girl who can't bear to let anyone else stir the brownie batter and refuses to let go of the remote control. This feeling isn't new, but it's rare and fleeting. I know it like I know a great pair of jeans or a good haircut or a beautiful conversation...I hope it stays for a little while. Paring my life down to some boxes proved to me how much I need and don't need. Because when all this goes away, I just have me.

But who I am is made up of all these people and lives and loves I'm experiencing now. Me is what happens in the middle. And I guess that's why I'm okay with letting go a little bit, not holding on so tight to what happens next...because tomorrow I won't be what I am today.

im here, hello

I've been negligent. For that, I'm sorry. So much has happened in the past week: Nami and I got the keys to our place (it's official, we have an apartment). Finals FINALLY ended! Meanwhile coping with brief episodes of anxiety attacks about graduation (it comes in waves, I tell ya). Meanwhile coping with my mother in town (she's a handful, I tell ya). I can tell you one thing I haven't been doing-- Sleeping.  So, in the midst of all the glamour of packing and cleaning bathrooms and sweeping floors and writing papers by day and painting the town red by night, my secrets have been more in my head than out in the air. But I wanted to stop and say hi. I miss you. Do you miss me?

 Just in case, here are some pictures of me and my lady loves (taken by the brilliant Nicole Tung, as promised) to hold you over until next time:

My new place

Today, Nami and I signed the lease to our new apartment (!!!). I was surprised by how empowering it felt, to sign my name, claim something as my own, to know that I'm willing and excited to commit myself to another year in this place. I feel grateful to know that I can. Just a few months ago, when my future was even more uncertain than it is now (I can hardly believe that), I remember I sat with Nami at Think, nursing my coffee with one hand and holding hers with the other. We were so upset at the thought that our lives as we knew them could be over.

*******

I saw a movie this weekend called, "Salt of this Sea"  for the Tribeca Film festival. It's a modern-day take on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the eyes of one Brooklyn-born Palestinian woman, Soraya (played by one of the most powerful poets I've ever experienced, Suheir Hammad). And back in January I saw the brilliant and moving "Waltz with Bashir." Okay, first thing's first: I don't know enough about the history or politics of these cultures to understand the intensely personal and complicated conflict between them. All I know about either is the friends I've made who happen to be Israeli or Palestinian in heritage. In a lot of ways, seeing films or stories about it makes me feel ignorant and naive; these are histories that have shaped the world as I know it, yet I know so little about them. But sometimes I feel lucky to hear these stories and see these faces with clear eyes. Because I don't know enough to make judgments, I have no biases; they're just people. They're all people who have lost land and lives and stories and heirlooms and time because of... I don't know. Maybe I don't know the reason because there are too many to count; maybe I don't know the reason because there aren't enough.

One thing I've noticed over time, though, is that so many of my friends share this intense sense of belonging to a people and place. My Jewish friends are so closely connected to their heritage that it seems innate; my Palestinian friends voice their ties to their history so fiercely and ardently that it feels like they're defending their mothers. I wondered for a long time how they could be so impassioned by a place many of them had never been to, of a time they never knew. 

But I guess that's what happens when your land, your history, your people have been threatened for as long as you can remember. It's what you've been told since you were a kid: That this is your identity, but some people don't think it belongs to you; That this is your family's house, but not; That this is your homeland, kind of. 

I've never felt tied to my "homeland." I thought that every first-generation experience was like mine-- a limbo between two places you didn't quite belong to. I thought that the fact that I was never quite Indian enough to be Indian or American enough to be American was all part of the motions of assimilation...I had to be a little homeless now so that one day, my kids might completely belong to someplace. But here are people my age who have been born and raised thousands of miles away from their roots and yet feel a sense of belonging that is so foreign to me. It's an amazing thing, to see someone fight for a place she doesn't know but is somehow utterly connected to.

******

When I was walking home in the rain the other night, I was thinking about that...and I thought, maybe one day I'll love a place or feel so rooted to a world that I am willing to fight for it, risk for it.  And as I trudged through the rain and headed home to make myself a can of soup for the third night in a row (times are tough; we're in a recession, people!) and email my boss to tell him I'd be at work late and study for another final and call my mom to assure her that I indeed am still alive after another day in this big, bad new york city, I realized that I already do. 

That's why signing that lease for some four-story walk up around the corner matters so much. I'm deciding to belong to someplace...I'm taking what's mine.

I'm still here

No, I didn't forget you exist, dear blogosphere. I just had some finals to deal with. So much has been going on in my head, I have so much to say. I promise as soon as I get a minute I'm going to spill my guts out onto this computer screen and clickity clack my fingers into arthritis, or maybe carpel tunnel.

I'll be here soon!

I think you're an asshole, no lie.

Case Study: “I Think You’re Fat” By A.J. Jacobs

The Writer: Raised in Manhattan, A.J. Jacobs is the editor-at-large for Esquire Magazine and the author of two books. He might be best known for his month-long self-imposed experiments, which are the subjects of most of his writing. He has also written for the New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, and New York Magazine. In his first novel, The Know-It-All, Jacobs chronicles his quest to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, cover to cover. His second book, A Year of Living Biblically, tracks his year of trying to live literally by the every single rule in the Bible. He continues what he describes as “experiential journalism” with his new book, The Guinea Pig Diaries: My Life as an Experiment (2009). 

The Story: It was during his research for A Year of Living Biblically that Jacobs stumbled upon another story idea. While browsing the Internet, Jacobs ran a search on “honesty” in a search engine. “And up popped an article about a guy running for Congress in Virginia who refused to lie,” Jacobs said. That guy running for congress was a man named Brad Blanton. The more Jacobs read, the more interested he became. Blanton would become Jacobs’ truth mentor. Blanton’s movement was dubbed as Radical Honesty—a lifestyle that dares the practitioner to speak exactly what is on his mind at the exact moment that the thought occurs to him. Blanton’s book, also titled Radical Honesty, promises to “change your life by telling the truth.” Intrigued by the challenge, Jacobs decided he would try to give Radical Honesty a shot, and traveled down to Florida to experience Blanton for himself.

 

The Reporting: After spending a long day with Blanton, observing him and documenting his reactions to the people around him, Jacobs returned to New York to try Radical Honesty himself. Most of the research and reporting in his piece go hand-in-hand; in experiential journalism reporting and research occur simultaneously. He lived Radically Honest for a few weeks—less than his usual month-long endeavors. Jacobs writes about the highs and lows of being totally—brutally—honest. 

The Writing: The article is written Radically Honestly, complete with parenthetical candor as well as straightforward statements of opinion. When it came to describing Blanton, Jacobs didn’t have to worry too much about misrepresenting him. “I was lucky because his quotes speak for himself,” Jacobs said. “[Blanton] says such outrageous things... That doesn't happen too often, sadly.” So Jacobs relied mostly on Blanton’s quotes, “…and on his gestures,” Jacobs said, “like picking his nose and spitting.” After two or three drafts, neither radically different from its original form, according to Jacobs, the article was complete. 

During the drafting process, a conflict arose between Jacobs and his editor: Editor wanted to remove a section in his article about the implications of Radical Honesty on an ever-invasive environment of technology and social networking. “He wanted to take it out. I wanted to keep it,” Jacobs said. “We compromised by having him write ‘Bullshit -- Ed.’ at the end of the section.”

 

{Below is the excerpt from the article}:

“Now, my editor thinks I'm overreaching here and trying too hard to justify this article's existence, but I think society is speeding toward its own version of Radical Honesty. The truth of our lives is increasingly being exposed, both voluntarily (MySpace pages, transparent business transactions) and involuntarily. (See Gonzales and Google, or ask Alec Baldwin.) For better or worse, we may all soon be Brad Blantons. I need to be prepared. [Such bullshit. -- Ed.]”

 

An inadvertent moment of brutal honesty occurred during Jacobs’ writing process but was cut out due to space constraints (I wish it hadn’t been). Says Jacobs: “I asked for help transcribing the interview tapes from an Esquire intern (we only had female interns at the time). Which was humiliating in it’s own right, because [Blanton] said so many offensive things. And then, to make matters worse, the intern reported that I forgot to turn off the tape recorder while taking a pee. Three times. She had to listen to me go to the bathroom.”