The week ends, the week begins.

Sitting here listening to Miles with my feet up on the coffee table (as usual), watching Cosby Show (always a treat) and trying desperately to finish my Calc homework (too many numbers for me)... so I'd rather blog instead. The only new feature to this scene is a slightly altered coffee table... Katie put her stiletto straight through the glass of the old one to see her outfit. Guess that's what you get for not having full length mirrors in the apartment.

I's cold outside but nice and warm in my apartment. The jazz is great. We have terrible lighting so I've turned the white Christmas lights on... they give off a dull yellow glow. Kaila and my roommates are here and we are all quiet and lost in thought. It's so nice to have company, even when words aren't being exchanged. I am content.

It's Sunday night and I have no idea how the entire weekend passed and I was so unproductive. Had a hectic week as usual, between work and school and trying to get back into distance running (14 miles and counting). I've basically decided to forego homework in favor of bars with friends. There just isn't time for it all! But it is my last semester. So who cares?

I was talking to a friend yesterday and was apparently running my mouth at a mile a minute. My friend jokingly said, "Are you on crack?!" And I had a sudden twinge of sadness just for a second as I thought, "No, my life is on crack."

I think I need to sit and do nothing like I am now. It's my way of grounding myself... of just taking a break from the craziness that is my life and the city. There is never a minute to rest, so when I can find that minute, I relish in it. It is so quiet and peaceful in here, but I know just twenty feet away, outside in the cold, the city is still running.

That's all for tonight. My pulse beats to Miles Davis - "Blue in Green"

On a side note, I'm going to be a biker for Halloween... black lace-up high heel boots, leather jacket, lots of big black and silver jewelery, probably some crazy hair. I think it's appropriate for the pub crawl.

Summer reading and more

Okay. This could end up being a huge mistake, but I am going to actually request that people comment on this post... but that would require people to read this post. So I guess if no one reads this, then no will know that no one else has posted anyway.

I'm looking for books to read this summer... AND for cool places to go (where I will presumably pretend to read my book but really just people watch). I know there are some cool jazz concerts in Central Park I'd like to check out, but I need some other suggestions (for when this class I'm sitting in is finally over). I've also heard the most fabulous take-out Puerto Rican food is on 15th and 8th (La Taza Deoro) so that is a must. 

Here's my book list so far... don't judge me.

1) Rory and Kim - Skinny Bitch

2) That book Jess keeps on the desk called City Chic

3) Hemingway - The Sun Also Rises

Thoughts?!

I Vow to Be Monogamous.

I've only been back home in NYC for about a week, but I guarantee I will not cheat on New York ever again... or at least anytime soon. London? Bloody good time. Madrid? Always a fiesta. Ghana? Well... uhh, right. But New York is the only city in the world where there ratio of complete weirdos to regular people on mass transit is 10 to 1. And where every Asian take-out you order is the best take-out you've ever had. And where people come running over screaming in Arabic to help you as you fall out of a cab because you have a broken leg and are not coordinated enough to use crutches (hypothetically speaking, of course...).

So this summer will be a celebration of NY (which has almost nothing to do with a big apple). Recession Thursdays in the financial district with all those in need of a morale boost. Jogs (slow walks) in Central Park from Strawberry Fields to the carousel. People-watching the beautiful families out for a stroll on the West Side Highway. Convincing those guys that always barbecue on the East Side highway near the baseball fields to give you a hot dog. Doing everything in your power to stand next to a D-list celebrity, only to make eye contact and pretend you're too cool to know who they are. Buying second-hand Pier 1 furniture on Craig's List and carrying it back on the subway from Brooklyn. Feeling superior to everyone around you in Times Square even though you should have known better than to go to Times Square. Going to the Opera. Going to the Opera and leaving halfway through to get burritos. And, my personal favorite... finding the best happy hours on the island.

So here is to your New York, which is not my New York... but that's why it's the best city in the world.

Just my luck.

After a stressful and whirlwind of a semester, I was very much looking forward to coming home to relax, run, and party with friends for a few weeks before work starts in June. I wanted nothing more than to hit the gym every morning, watch tv, read, and then head to local bars or to the city each night to meet up with friends. 

Well, at least I can do two of those things while elevating my leg on the couch. Yep. I broke my ankle. How? Well... I was being attacked by two mad dogs, so I hopped a fence... after I landed on the dumpster and jumped down a taxi came out of nowhere and ran me over... 

That's the real story. It is totally NOT true that I was walking to the train station in the rain and slipped on a west stone in the pavement. And it is NOT true that a guy who looks just like the obnoxious, skinny, blonde guy on How I Met Your Mother helped me up and I "walked it off" out of embarrassment. 

So anyway... no more running, no dancing, no walking, no wearing jeans or any decent-looking pants, no driving, no shopping, no high heels, no drinking - can't be drunk while operating my vehicle (crutches / swivel chair / hopping around on my good leg). Going to be a fun time! 

And that is all the complaining I will do. That's IT! Done. Now it is time to be positive and focus on recovery and figuring out how to live a normal life with one leg. I have to move into a new apartment. Get oral surgery. Start work. Commute to work. Walk around at work. Get myself to meetings at work. Figure out how to hold something while walking - i.e. lunch at work. Not completely destroy my other leg while hopping around on it. And, lastly, stop worrying myself to the point of sickness that I will never be able to run at full strength again. Oh, and cancel my entry into the NY marathon. 

Positivity starts now. (I'll post when I find the bright side). 

Dear MTA - We are no longer friends.

If you're anything like me, it's not stepping off of the sidewalk and hailing a cab that gives you that "I am such a New Yorker" feeling. It's being able to casually tell your friend "Oh, where are we going? Oh, easy. I can just take the -- and transfer to the -- at -- and it's right there." 

When I take the subway it's like "Take that New York! I can navigate you for $2!" It's like being one step ahead of the game, like a true New Yorker.

Well, New York MTA. You've officially kicked my ass. Congratulations. You win. 

As some of you may know, I live in the Financial District, or as people cooler than me call it - Fi-Di. Despite its rep as the financial center of the city - and, dare I say, the world - it is only accessible from ONE subway station. 

And for the past THREE weekends the 4, 5 has not been running. Since I'm a newbie to the area, I learned this the hard way, as my fabulous friend Andy can attest to (when I arrived at his apartment in tears). 

 The worst part is... I was in my this-will-look-super-cute-at-the-trendy-bar outfit... which is never the this-won't-look-skanky-on-the-subway outfit. SO, after walking 5 blocks to the subway, then another two blocks underground, I, along with a dozen European tourists, tried to make sense of the hand-written "service changes" note inconspicuously taped to the wall, with an arrow pointing to the J. The note conveniently forgot to mention that you first have to take the A to Chambers to catch the J. Three trips around the station - in my new black pumps, which are apparently too big - and I finally hopped on the A to 42nd, then took the N to 23rd and had to walk over 3 avenues just to find my friend in Gramercy. Estimated trip time? 80 minutes.

After sweating it out on the subway and dodging the creepy looks, all the while trying to walk in my big shoes without looking like I was already drunk at 9 p.m., I finally made it. But my love affair with the Subway is over. I gladly took a $15 cab home, as if I were... I cringe at the thought... a tourist.

But at least I maintained some semblance of New York knowledge by yelling at the driver when he tried to take Bowery instead of FDR drive =)

Why love New Yawk?

I often wonder, what is it about this city that keeps us coming back for more? Why is the New Yorker - the fearless, trendy, subway-riding, taxi-hailing, overzealous city slicker - afraid of what lurks beyond the boroughs? We prefer our over-priced, undersized one bedroom apartments to backyards, picket fences, and the deed to a house. We devote our lives to maintaining a suitable living environment given less than ideal living conditions...

So why do we call these bustling streets home? (This question is not rhetorical). I think I'll make a list. (Add to my list!) 

And continue it indefinitely, since there will always be another reason to love this city... 

OH, by the way, read this article from the Smithsonian Magazine for some always welcomed New York pride: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/mytown-newyork.html

1. There is nothing that cannot be found here: Horseback riding in the Bronx, Ethiopian food on Macdougal St. & weekend barbecues on the FDR Drive (If you're sneaky, sometimes you can snag a hot dog)
2. Breaking the mold = fitting in
3. The New York Marathon (which I will hopefully run one day...)
4. Need a vacation? Little Italy!
5. Poetry slams on the Lower East Side
6. Every blink of the eye in the West Village is like flipping pages of a J. Crew magazine
7. Political protests in Union Square (except at 6 a.m. on a Saturday)
8. Cheap (& clean!) fruit vendors