Winter, we're through.

This is my second winter in New York. Winter here is a little different than in California, I've noticed. Now, I know what you're thinking and I know that there's really no such thing as winter in California aside from a few more cloudy skies and a few more drops of rain. Unfortunately, growing up in said "non-winter" weather did not prepare me for what I was up against this year. Even last year's New York winter did not prepare me for this winter.

Where to begin....

Let's start with the days. As we all know, the days get a little shorter during the winter because the earth is on an axis and all that... What I was not prepared for was, if I choose to have a late lunch, by the time I walk outside again, it's dark! At the height of winter, the sun is gone by 4:30 pm, at the latest. If that's not depressing, I don't know what is. On the bright side (no pun intended), the days start getting longer again in December, but it's a long and grueling climb before we get to spring.

The fall season leading up to winter is beautiful here in the city. The leaves turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. The crisp air calls for you to put on another layer while the sun still warms your face. Then, right around the beginning of November, after about 5 days of that perfect fall weather, you're suddenly startled awake by the reality that the trees are now completely bare and you realize that wearing even three layers under your hoodie just isn't cutting it anymore. Hopefully, you didn't choose to go on vacation during those 5 days of fall, because you find that you won't be climbing out of that pile of coats, hats, scarves, and gloves for at least 5 more months.

Oh yes, it's finally time to pull out that old winter coat; The most unfeminine, unbecoming, and absolutely necessary piece of clothing that one can own between the months of November and April. This shield of warmth is usually ankle length, filled with a gaggle's worth of down, equipped with a furry hood that you can cinch so tight you can only see out of one eye at a time, and, if you're lucky, fleece-lined pockets for added protection from the cold. But don't think it stops there. Oh no. Before the coat goes on, there are layers and layers of fabric that can't be done without. First, tights under the jeans, because, trust me, your Sevens have got nothing against the 15 degree air with a -2 degree wind chill. I prefer to wear a long-sleeved shirt and a hoodie, in addition to my coat, just to be sure. Then the hat. I have never seen so many hat varieties at one time than I have in this city. Evidently, along with keeping their heads and ears warm, the people here use their hats to make whatever "statement" they usually make with their clothing, but can't because it's covered in a full body feather pillow. Some are trendy, some are practical, some are homemade, but all of them serve one very important purpose: to keep your hair from getting messed up with the constant winter wind. (That and the whole heat-retention thing.) Then finally comes the most important accessory, in my opinion: the scarf. Fleece, wool, whatever you prefer, as long as it covers that one little exposed area around the neck that none of your other seven layers can seem to cover no matter how hard you try. And it's the one spot that somehow leads directly to your core and, if uncovered, will somehow cause your bones to shiver despite all of the above precautions. And last, but certainly not least: the shoes. These are a very important aspect that sometimes goes forgotten about, or at least by me. I've never really had to think much harder about my shoe choice than, "It's raining outside. No flip flops today." It turns out that even your basic tennis shoes aren't going to cut it out here. No, what you need are serious, tread-on-the-bottom, fur-lined, waterproof boots. Or at least that would be ideal in this weather, but let's be realistic. I am in New York City, not Podunk, North Dakota. My solution: UGGs. (I know, Christian, "UGGs are for westies.") If I'm not wearing my UGGs, my feet inevitably are numb from the cold and/or wet by the time I reach my destination. Unfortunately, (like many others here, I presume) if I'm going to work, I then have to change out of the boots and into my work shoes. (I also carry a big bag during the winter.)

Remember, all of this needs to go on every single time you go outside. So, if it takes you a while to get ready, in the winter, you have to tack on at least another 20 minutes just to bundle up. Once I'm finally ready, sometimes I feel like the kid from A Christmas Story. You know, this kid.

Now, I haven't even begun to talk about the snow. It snowed the other day, a lot. I've personally never been in so much snow. Ever. When you're inside and cozy, looking at the pretty white snowflakes gently falling on the bare tree branches creating a mystical and magical winter wonderland, it brings a feeling of seasonal bliss that makes you want to drink hot chocolate and cuddle up with your favorite blanket and a good book. Then, you're forced to go outside and your little snow globe of joy bursts into a big wet mess of plastic and little white balls. If the snow has freshly fallen, be prepared to shuffle your way down the block like the crazy old guy you see in his bathrobe from time to time. There's no going much faster than this unless you want to find yourself with a sore, wet bottom. If you're lucky enough to have had the sidewalks and roads cleared, you can pick up the pace a little, but you still have to watch out for that black ice. Be warned: It is NOT a myth. It is real and it will have you on your ass quicker than you can say, "Vans were a bad choice!" If you make it to the crosswalk unscathed, you may find yourself with a little spring in your step, until, that is, you're stopped dead in your tracks by the 3-foot pile of snow-dirt that the snow plow has generously left. As you make your way over this and onto the street, you may notice that it looks a little slushy. DON'T BE FOOLED! It is very likely that you are about to step into a 4-6 inch deep puddle of slush that will ruin even your best day. Nothing says defeat like a cold, wet sock.

If, after scaling snow moguls and evading camouflaged mini-lakes, you auspiciously make it to the subway, pray that the line is still running. Oh yes, even the subway system is affected by the snow. How can this be when the subway runs underground, you ask? My theory is that a long time ago, a group of time-travelers stuck on this island stupidly detonated a hydrogen bomb thinking that it would get them back home but instead left us with 6 months per year of winter and snowstorms that cause everything, including schools and transportation, to come to a screeching halt. Or maybe they just haven't gotten the hang of this whole winter thing yet. I know I haven't.

Warning: Existentialism abounds

(A little note before you read this entry: I realize I've been away from the blog for quite a while and a lot has changed since my last entry. That being said, if I'm going to continue writing under the same premise of "My experience in NYC", I think it's important to note the change in perspective before continuing with this blog, thus my reasoning for the small dose of existentialism that is to follow. Thank you, mgmt.)

I just got home from a little date with my city. Lunch in the village, followed by a stop into a coffee shop to get some reading done. I can't believe I've lived here for almost two years. It really feels like just yesterday that I showed up with a couple of bags and a cat carrier, wide-eyed and filled with a sense of adventure. That excitement was quickly, but temporarily, snuffed out by the job that I had... or maybe it was just my lack of perspective. Either way, I managed to lose myself for a while, allowing my excitement and sense of adventure to be masked by a short stint of gloom. I managed to walk around with a little rain cloud over my head that I just couldn't shake. Now, looking back, I can't believe I let myself be that girl. "Woe is me! I'm single and living in New York City. What am I to do?" Well, I finally figured it out... kind of. I got rid of that silly teaching job, started serving tables and eventually bartending at a new, hard-to-describe-unless-you've-actually-been-there venue, moved to Brooklyn, turned 30 (in Amsterdam), and (hopefully) gained some perspective. For the last year and a half, I have been racking my brain (and heart and soul) to figure out what this life has in store for me. "What should I do next?" has been the question of the year and, in an effort to figure out "my path", I've taken classes, bought books, networked... but I was missing one glaring detail: This is my path. I'm on it, right now. My move to New York, my hatred for my job, my discovery of my new job (Not career. Job.), the freedom to do what I want, when I want to is all part if it. Is it self-indulgence? Maybe. Should I feel guilty about not actively looking for my new career? Nah. There's time for that later. What I've realized is this: as far as I know, this is the only life I get and it's not a very long one in the grand scheme of things. I have been blessed with a great number of things and have had a pretty cushy experience in this life, so far. So why not appreciate it and take advantage of what I've got, while I've got it? Wasn't that why I moved to New York in the first place? To live my life? So, that's what I'll do. I'll figure out the rest as I go along.

Long Time, No See

Yes. I realize I have not blogged in about six months. I've actually been stuck in a frozen block since November and am just starting to thaw. Thanks for the warning New Yorkers. That, and my job is... well, you know. Looking back, I'm actually kicking myself for not coming home daily and documenting the absurdities that occur in my workplace.

That being said, I still am in love with the city of New York and I have made it a mission to stay here for a while. I have met some amazing people and I get to explore this incredible city on a regular basis. I still don't understand why everyone wouldn't want to live here at one time or another. I'm planning a career change, although I don't know what I'll be doing next. All I know is teaching is not in the cards for me anymore. I took a graphic design class. Loved it. Want to take more. I feel like I'm 22 again, trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. Maybe I'll figure it out... maybe I won't. The point is to enjoy the ride.

Speaking of... it's way too beautiful out for me to be inside on the computer. I'll try to pay more attention to my blog. I think I've given it a complex....

Taxi!!

Taxicabs in New York are somewhat of a New York City institution. In an effort to save some money, I try to stick to the subway as much as possible, but if I'm headed to/from the airport or if I'm out a little late, I spring the extra few bucks for a cab ride home. Once you get over the feeling that your life is being threatened by the reckless driving through the city streets and the occasional honking or yelling out the window ("F*#% your mother, you motherf*@%er!!), it takes some self-discipline not to take advantage of convenience of the New York City taxicabs. They are extremely easy to find at any time of day or night and they take you right to your door. You find drivers of all races, nationalities, cultures, and personalities. Some can be quite friendly, while others... well, are not.

The most intriguing thing I've found about these cab drivers in my observations thus far is the fact that, no matter what time of day or night, they are always talking on the phone. Always. Every time I've gotten into a cab I've had to interrupt his conversation to tell him where I'm going. At first, I thought they were talking to me because the conversation would start right back up after I gave the address, but then I realized that it wasn't English that was being spoken ("What was that? ...Oh."). What I don't understand is how they are all on the phone every time I get into a cab. Are they all talking to each other? Who else could they be talking to at 4 in the morning? I can understand that the profession must be a kind of a lonely one and I guess it's better that they talk to their loved ones or fellow cabbies rather than striking up a meaningless conversation with me. The one time I did encounter a driver that was not on the phone, that is exactly what happened.

I had just gotten back from my reunion weekend in California and hopped in a cab at JFK. I knew that he was a talker as soon as we started to pull away from the terminal. He started pretty casually, discussing the traffic and the new Jet Blue terminal, but by the time we had left the airport, he had already asked me my marital status and was giving me advice on men. "I let you on little secret," he says in his Carribean accent (which I later learn to be Haitian). "When you find a man to listen to you, you keep that man, because a man who listen show dat he cares." Profound. Great. Now I feel obligated to listen to this guy for the entire 45-minute ride back to my apartment. He did, in fact, have my fate in his hands, so I had to humor him at least until I got within walking distance. Just as I expected, the next 45 minutes were filled with this driver's life story... his children, his first marriage, his stroke... I learned it all, and, I must say, very little of it was comforting, especially the stroke part where I think I heard something about partial loss of vision. Needless to say, I made it home, but not without a little anxiety and a greater appreciation for those cabbies with cell phones. I just hope that the next time I get into a cab and the driver isn't talking on his phone that I'm getting into the Cash Cab.

Plastic Butts

I don't intend to talk about work too much because the situation there is just a little too depressing and I don't want to bring you all down with stories of how ridiculous this education system can really be. That being said, there are a few things I would like to share that you might get a kick out of. Over the summer, the school decided to "renovate" the science lab to make it "new and improved." In reality, they completely gutted the room, starting from ground up to put in new cabinetry, desks, gas, electricity... basically, they made it a completely new science lab, which is supposed to be equipped with state-of-the-art supplies and technology. However, it is now nearing the end of October, and only last week were they FINALLY able to give me electricity. Don't get me wrong, I had lights in the room, but none of the plugs were functional, so, of course the obvious solution to that would be to run an extension cord from the classroom next door, duct tape it to the wall along the hall, and feed it into my room so I can at least use an overhead projector. Naturally.

Just getting around the room is a challenge in itself. Within the first four weeks of the school year, new sets of boxes were being brought up, full of various "science kits" (don't even get me started), books, and (mostly useless) supplies for the lab. These quickly filled up any empty storage space that was left, along with any counter and floor space that might be used for other reasons like, I don't know, walking. Luckily, they gave us some (paid) time to sort through all of the nonsense. Most of the boxes were filled with various science supplies that aligned with the curriculum i.e. acids, bases, plastic syringes (without needles, of course), various measurement tools, etc. One box, however, stood out above all the rest. One of the units I'm expected to teach this year is the human body, so when I opened a box labeled as such, I didn't expect to be surprised or confused. To my horror, upon opening said box, I found a semi-anatomically correct and completely useless plastic mold of a male human body. Basically, there was a stack of about 8-10 trays that looked like "fronts" and 8-10 trays that looked like "backs." What I am actually supposed to do with these things, I have no idea. I'm not sure where the scientific or educational value is in a mold of a perfectly shaped human buttocks, except to motivate me to keep running. So, I simply stuffed them back in their box and found a place for it, along with the other 50 boxes of wasted money.

Then, last week, the radiators in the classroom kicked on over the weekend to accommodate for the cold front we've been having out here. So, I walked in to the room on Monday to a cloud of dust and haze. If it wasn't for the smell of burnt dust, I would have thought I was in the basement on That 70's Show. Needless to say, I wasn't able to teach in my classroom all day while the haze cleared. As the week went on, I continued to encounter the smell upon entering my classroom each morning, although the haze progressively improved.

The progress of the classroom is slow and my patience continues to be tested on a daily basis as new challenges arise. I guess I should look on the bright side... at least I have plastic butts.

I Heart New York

Today was one of those perfect New York days that makes you want to find any reason to stay outside. I have heard countless times about how beautiful New York can be in the fall, but today gave me the first glimpse into how breathtaking this city can really be.

The leaves have begun to change and the air has begun to bite. Scarves and overcoats are becoming more and more prevalent on the streets as the winds and rains pick up. The uncomfortable heat and stickiness in the air is gone, replaced by a brisk, refreshing breeze that messes up my hair and kisses my face in the morning. It is officially autumn in New York (but significantly less cheesy than the movie).

I walked home from work, as I do every day, exhausted from the week. I got to my apartment, finally able to sit down. I realized that rent checks have a funny way of significantly reducing the number on my ATM receipt, so, in an attempt to avoid a little minus sign in front of that number, I thought it would be a good idea to deposit my HUGE city government-issued paycheck (...and that, my friends, is what I like to call an oxymoron and is clearly false). I put on my scarf and my new olive green trench from Century 21 (still awesome) and headed out to the bank. As soon as I got outside and felt the breeze through my hair and the afternoon sun on my skin, I was brought back to life. Lately, my job has made a continual effort at sucking me dry of any optimism, warmth, and happiness and has, unfortunately, been quite successful at it. Today, however, despite the absurdity and vacuum of negativity that I was forced to endure between the hours of 8 and 3, I was reminded of why the decision to move to this city was a good one. As I made my way to the WaMu on Madison Avenue in my new coat and scarf and my old comfortable shoes, I realized that I was wholly and completely happy to be here, a feeling that I have been awaiting for two months. So, I left the WaMu, slightly wealthier, and decided to walk without destination. As I passed each storefront, I could sense this feeling of wonder and amazement for the city grow with subtle undertones of reassurance and satisfaction.

The feeling is quite difficult to put into words because of its uniqueness to the city. There's something about the energy of this city and the people in it that is unlike any other place I have been. The colors, the fashion, the variety of people on the street (and their dogs) are all dynamic and in constant motion, making a simple walk down the street vibrant and exciting. The concrete and brick that make up the majority of the city still somehow manage to be comforting and warm. I don't know that anyone can truly understand that warmth unless you have lived here and even then, it took me two months. Or, maybe, it's just the allure of the city and the season that seem to perfectly compliment one another and a visitor of only one day can be filled with this warmth. All I know is, although my relationship with New York is new, I think it might be love.

(O.k., maybe it did get a little cheesy, but still not as cheesy as the movie.)

P.S. Please remind me of this romantic feeling I have toward the city when I'm freezing my buns off in January. Thanks.

Social Variety Disorder

Another thing I just love about this city is you can be as lonely or as social as you want to be, without really having to know anybody. Tonight, when I got home from work, I realized that I had left my keys at home by accident, so I had to wait for one of my roommates to get home to let me in. Being locked out in New York isn't really all that bad. It's actually kind of a blessing (or at least when the weather is good). It forced me to walk around and enjoy my neighborhood. If I felt like being social, I could have gone to a bar and probably made a friend or two, like I did last weekend: We don't have cable set up yet and my roommates aren't huge football fans, so they weren't willing to accompany me to one of the many local sports bars to watch my fantasy players dominate, so I went by myself. I sat at the corner of the bar and met some very nice fellow football fans. That's the wonderful thing about this city: I'm able to go to a bar by myself and people don't look at me like I'm diseased or pathetic. I was able to enjoy a bloody mary and discuss my fantasy team with the other patrons. It was a lovely afternoon.

Tonight I chose to be somewhat anti-social. I've been in a bit of a rut and it was nice to break the cycle a little. Lately my schedule has been: up at 5:45am; get to school by 7:00am; have the life sucked out of me between 8:00am and 3:10pm; call parents, plan, deal with classroom construction, and try to locate any teaching resources I can find since I haven't even been given textbooks yet between 3:10 and 5:00pm; get home by 5:30; run for an hour, eat, and go to bed by 11:00pm; then start all over the next day. So when I realized I couldn't get back into my house for a while, I decided to have a little quiet time to myself and get some dinner. I went to a little asian noodle place on 2nd that has become a staple in the diets of myself and my roommates and dined alone, without even the protection of a book or newspaper. I sat by the window, watched the people and the cars go by, and emptied my mind. It was nice.