JOURNAL ENTRY
as I exited from the South Ferry station this morning, I thought this: Yikes, What an unfortunate birth mark on that guy... ...and wooah, wait... someone ELSE with a birthmark in the same place?? what are the odds? they must... be related, I guess. jeez, right in the middle of the forehead, even... that's gotta suck. what the..?!? no way... ANOTHER person with the same... Ohhhhhh...... wait. it's Wednesday, isn't it? Ash Wednesday.
Ya. I hadn't had coffee yet. In pre-caffinated states, 2 + 2 sometimes equals "something-more-than-3-i-think"
Is Ash Wednesday even observed anywhere else? I think I've seen a grand total of 5 people in my life, outside of NYC, with the ash mark on their forehead. Seriously... what is it with NYers that they're all Catholic-holiday-observant? It seems more like that once a year blind obligation of paying taxes than it does any kind of devout adherence to religion. Catholics, Jews, whatever - everyone just seems way more into the calendarized formalities of their religion here. I think it's awesome. These are the things us agnostics and athiests are often jealous of. Everyone's familiar with the stereotype that Jews envy Christmas, but for those opting for faith in the demonstratable, we miss out. Then again, maybe a big ash mark on your forehead isn't really something to envy.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Overheard things D.M. has said lately:
(actually - I should mention that over the past few weeks, I've grown to really like DM 'cause she's hilarious-by-accident, her NY accent is "un-fuggin-be-lieeev-able", she's shockingly generous in that New Yorker kinda way, but mostly I've gained oodles of respect for her because she is the ringmaster of the scariest freakshow house full of malcontents you would ever be misfortunate enough to meet (a totally irresponsible, constantly rebounding alcoholic husband and a rebellious, back-talking daughter who, and this is just a guess, is a very thin condom away from pregnancy. - and of course... 6 cats)
- [on the phone] my cousin just told me about a great wine she just had... she said it's a fruity red wine [pause] No, it's not sangria....
- [on the phone] ya, they threw Lauren (DM's daughter) off the bus today [pause] because her MetroCard was empty. [pause] ya, well they did. [pause] I'm telling you, they Did. [pause] her MetroCard ran out. [pause] yes. it ran out.. they've done it to her twice already. [pause] what did i just tell you? Her MetroCard Ran Out. [pause] ya [pause] it ran out, she said.
- [to me] I love mythology... it's everywhere in ... like, our world today... [pauses, thinks] ... like Poseidon... like they name ships after him. or Hermes, you know.. the FTD logo? THAT's Hermes.
- [to me] my daughter had this guy friend years ago, you know, they're in school and such... this guy is failing his mythology class or whateva.. I sit him down, I say... watch this [makes motion signifying pushing a VHS tape into player] ... I turn it on, he starts watchin'... boom... all of a sudden, he knows all the gods of mythology! He's like "thank you, oh my god, i would have totally failed that class!" it made me feel great. [I ask what movies she gave him to watch - she gets pensive look, stares at floor trying to remember... i know.. I KNOW she is going to say Clash of the Titans, but I dont want to believe it... i then ask:] "...Clash of the Titans?" [she gets Eureka!-look on her face, points at me forcefully] That's IT!! That's the one!! what else..? i dunno... Jason and the Argonauts? things like that, you know.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
I thought this only happened in commercials.....
Oh, the gods, why. Why? Sick. again... a cold, or flu maybe? Why cant I ever tell which type of sickness I have? All I ever know is that I get shivers, a fever, stuffed up and miserable. No, this is not what happens in commercials.. although, of course it does.. but that's not what I'm talking about.
Friday, I was set to fly out to Irvine for a memorial service for my mom. Or, about my mom. Or in commemoration of my mom. My dad has arranged the ticket with his frequent flyer miles so everything was set. For the first time, maybe ever, I had packed appropriately. Two days worth of clothes, a book and my first ever book on tape (though it was actually a 3 cd set). I was sick as hell but prepared to ride out the misery in coach, hopefully unbeknownst to my fellow passengers and then, family and friends on the California side. I got out of work at 3pm, walked up to the A train, rode it with delirium to the Air-Train at Howard Beach and boarded that for JFK. I sat on the train, half asleep, thinking about how much I hate connecting flights. There's not an 'arrival' to look forward to, it feels like there's only more travel. As we approached JFK, I figured I should double check that I would be flying on American Airlines and perhaps the print out I had brought might even list the gate I should be going to. I unfolded the paper, turned it right side up to view it, and promptly saw, right next to the date, the letters "L" "G" "A". 'odd, my returning flight must be coming back to LaGuardia' - read it. d-e-p-a-r-t-i-n-g. Under "departing". Departing flight FROM LaGuardia TO Chicago TO Irvine. 'wait.. I'm sick, my eyes may be messing with me'. LGA. no. please no. 'ok wait... close your eyes... open them.. it'll say JFK.. it will, really'. LGA. great. this is... so so soooo something that would happen to me. Time: 4:17pm Flight time: 5:00pm departing from .... check again.... yep, LGA.
I get into the American Airlines line, hoping they'll be able to get me to Chicago in time for the connecting flight. The line is 30 people deep. I talk to the first ID-screener person standing in the lines, who checks to schedule to see what flights are going to Chicago or LA. the earliest departure is a 6pm flight going to Chicago which will not put me there in time for the connecting flight, and an 8pm flight to LA that might be sold out or an available 10pm flight. I call my dad from the line. How do you explain such a thing? How do you possibly justify not looking at the print-out BEFORE going TO the airport? (these would the same questions that answer why it's taken me almost a week to write about it). I somehow explain to my dad what happened and mention my cold/flu which I know as I'm saying it, is a really weak rationalization for why I've gone to the wrong airport. My dad, somewhat in shock, suggests I see what arrangements can be made by the airline but suggests that since I'm sick, if I want to cancel the trip, that it's ok. I tell him thanks, but I'll see what I can do and call him back. I wait in the line. I inch my way forward in the line. It's getting later and later. I feel no better. None. I still cant believe I'm at the wrong airport. I call my dad back. I feel very small. Smaller than a bread box. Smaller than a mouse in a bread box. Smaller than the bread the mouse who's in the breadbox ate. Maybe smaller. I tell him what the lady told me and begrudgingly ask if it's ok if I take him up on the offer to not go. I feel like an ass. I cant believe I'm not going. I know I need to be there for this memorial. this absolutely sucks, I feel like I'm letting everyone down. My dad says it's ok, but I dont feel absolved. I am guilt incarnate.
I leave the airport. I get on the Air-Train. I leave the Air-Train. I get on the A train. I leave the A train. I get to my door, I open the door. Flapjack is staring at me. As if he knows. He gives me that look. He knows. I know he knows.
I swear,... I really thought that only happened in commercials.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Snow, glorious snow..... and Pictures of... finally. These were from the last blizzard / snowstorm we had but they could just as easily be applied to this one we had the past few days.
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