Archive | April, 2014

Going With the Flow

24 Apr

Hey Kiddos!

Sorry for the break. It was Passover, then I was dying from the flu, then it was more Passover, then I took a nap, then I got lazy and watched 3 episodes of Law and Order SVU. I hope your Passover/Easter/Pagan Spring Rituals went well. 

 

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                                Especially you Jesus!

 

Passover was odd this year, as it was split up between my parents house in Queens and my in-laws in Teaneck. It’s very strange having the holidays not in my own home. It’s like a little bit looking-glassy. You’re doing basically the same things you’d be doing in your own home but the tunes are a little….off, the sweet potatoes are little sweeter than your mom makes, the synagogue is still the same throng of Jews but with different faces. It’s just another reminder that things have changed and will continue to change and that’s OK because that’s kind of the message of Passover anyways, go with the flow. Or rather, if there are Egyptians chasing you, go with the flow until the flow decides to split on its own. 

I do feel older this Passover though. Especially since my sister-in-law, who’s 17, had a steady stream of fellow high school junior and senior girls stop by with bits of gossip about prom, SATs and summer internships. My prom was SIX years ago! I danced to Chris Brown’s Forever! That might as well be Savage Garden to these kids (but seriously, what happened to Savage Garden?) 

Ari and I walked his sister to a party on Monday night at a senior girl’s house. It was a bunch of kids hanging around a fire pit in the backyard and it actually made me miss college a little bit (except the bon fires they have in Maryland were either post-Duke game riots or if someone left their ramen on the stove too long. One of the only actual bon fires I went to had a few chairs thrown in because they had run out of logs. When I mentioned to the hostess that that probably wasn’t the safest idea, she pointed to a few guys drinking Natty Light AND playing beer pong and said “Oh, it’s OK, those guys are volunteer fire fighters.” ‘K)

We left and I was feeling nostalgic so I pointed to a park we were passing on the walk home and suggested we hang out on the swings for a bit. Ari warned me that it was closed after 9 p.m. I looked at the empty monkey bars and the lack of fence and scoffed. He followed me while I climbed the swingy bridge and leaned over the slides.

“It’s amazing how much upper body strength the kids who climb these things all day have,” he mused with one hand on the high metal rungs that connected one platform to the rest of the playground structure. “I wish I could go back to my little kid self and say never stop swinging on those bars!”

“Never stop growing!” I yelled.

“Well, no. You have to stop growing or your heart would just quit.”

Suddenly a car was pulling into the park. It was the cops.

“RUN!” I yelled at Ari, starting towards the swings.

“I can’t! My ankle is sprained and also, just stop.” He walked towards the car.

A lone officer leaned out, “Everything all right…?”

Ari walked over and pointed at me, “I told her the park was closed. She didn’t believe me.”

Selling me out. I knew I should’ve left him to the cops alone.

“Well yeah…it closes at nine,” the cop nodded.

“She’s from New York,” Ari said, both of them looking at me.

“I do what I want!!” I yelled at the cop and ran off to the side walk. The cop shrugged and drove on. To catch more playground delinquents. 

 

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                 “No one tells me where to play, ya heard?”

 

We walked away from the park and laughed. Maybe we weren’t that old after all. 

Except for the next day when Ari was lying down on his bed. Hand on his chest. His diaphragm had been spasming and he had taken that to mean his days were over.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said seriously, half sitting up. “If I die -“

“If?”

“If I die early,” he finished. “I want you to remarry.” 

“Okay,” I said. He laid back down. 

“If I die early,” I continued, “I don’t want you to remarry. I want you to throw yourself on the funeral pyre.”

“Yeah…I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see,” I shrugged and went back to my book. 

 

 

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I guess we can always throw some chairs     in there or something.

Adventures in New York. First stop: Harlem

10 Apr

It feels so good to write again. 

When I don’t write for a while, it feels like I’m underwater. And when I start typing, it feels like I can breathe again. (Although full disclaimer, I rewrote that sentence like 6 times until it sounded right, and then I remembered why writing is awful and annoying. But I’m okay now, because I think it came out all right.)

 

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                   “I WROTE A SENTENCE! I CAN DO ANYTHING!”

 

Work was actually pretty great yesterday. I’ve been told that in the “real world” your superiors won’t praise you for doing your job. You should just hope for not being called out on being incompetent. And just focus on laying low and soaking it in when you’re new. Then once you know what you’re doing you can shine. Today, I am happy to say that I was BASICALLY INVISIBLE! And I am so happy. It was the first time in about 3 weeks that I didn’t have some sort of emergency where I needed someone to save me. It was quiet. It was neutral. It was a tad boring. But good! Progress!

Yesterday was also free ice cream cones day at Ben and Jerry’s, so I hope you took advantage of that. 

I’m only working three days this week. Monday, my husband (that word is so awkward. I never used boyfriend when I started seeing Ari, I said “Oh, uh this guy I’m dating”, can I call for a motion to be able to use the phrase “This guy I’m married to.” That feels a lot more natural) and I stayed in like non-productive members of society and watched Pulp Fiction and SNL all day. Then we went to a fancy restaurant for no special reason. Because we’re young and impulsive, and hey who needs to pay rent anyways? You can pay rent when you’re dead! Says people who don’t understand how rent, death or phrases work.

 

Today was not a work day. I had some things to do since I lost my wallet on the subway last week (it’s black and it has my license in it, if you find it.) The universe deemed it not necessary to return it to me. So I decided to finally get a new license and go to the DMV. This meshed perfectly well with an idea that I had been thinking about since apparently writing specifically about my job doesn’t seem like a good idea and writing about married like seems like writing a blog about how it feels to win the lottery, no one wants to read that.     

 

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…In that they both cause you to have more money…and looser morals.

I had been thinking about writing more about living in NY. My other blogs, when I was in London and this one largely took place in Maryland, I decided that I would write about interesting things to do in New York City, center of the universe. I had ordered these books off Amazon like “Forgotten NY” and “Odd NY” to find some hidden gems. First stop: Harlem. Second stop: Harlem DMV.

Okay, the DMV wasn’t really part of the tour, but it was the closest one and I needed a new license. Plus, I had never been to Harlem. I’ve always been one of the people Louis CK describes in this video. That I would get to Harlem and get stabbed in the face. But I know that’s silly, I could get stabbed in the face anywhere! Especially by my own hand. Because we got crazy sharp knives as wedding presents and I keep opening packages towards me instead of away. 

So I flipped through my Odd NY book and found that right on 125th there was an abandoned subway tunnel where the “subway mole people” used to live in the 70s, 80s and 90s before Guiliani shipped them off to a homeless farm! And there was cool old graffiti and probably some exposed needles.

 

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                         “Fun!”

Unfortunately, I didn’t read the actual description of the tunnels until I was on the train heading south.

 

“Intrepid urban explorers can access The Freedom Tunnel through a semi-hidden entrance in Riverside Park

at 125th Street. You do so at your own risk (meaning, don’t sue the city, or these authors, if you get clobbered,

rolled, or sexually assaulted). Once submerged, watch out for discarded needles, not to mention the Amtrak

trains that hurtle along the tracks. Oh, and keep your eyes peeled for menacing types.”

 

Needless to say, I decided that maybe today was not the best for face-stabbings, getting sexually assaulted OR confronting “menacing types.” Maybe I will do the Freedom Tunnel after I do all my other NY exploring. 

The book had other cool things, like voodoo shops in the Village, climbing clock towers on Broadway, exposed mummified bodies on Cabrini and the Mermaid Parade on Coney Island. I’m sure I could get face stabbed on any of those as well – the joy of NYC!

But Harlem was actually really nice. There are a couple of things I noticed:

1. You can see the sky more here, since there aren’t a lot of super tall buildings.

2. The buildings that are there are old and beautiful. Some even dated back to 1891, according to some of their dedications. They were so pretty that it was almost sad to see the bottom floor housing a Wendy’s. But what do I know? Maybe when it was built it had the 1891 equivalent of a Wendy’s. Although, it wouldn’t be called Wendy’s since that name was only popularized in 1904. It would be whatever the 1890 version was…so…Mabel’s? Evelyn’s?

3. There is art. Everywhere, Here is some art. And some weird things I saw as well. 

 

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Seen outside TJ Maxx. Is that new couple wearing kippas? Why do these children look            so judgmental?

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        I think this is trying to say that Michael Jackson is Jesus.

 

So Harlem is cool. Yes I didn’t do anything but walk along 125th. And I didn’t go to the face-stabby, rape Theme-park. But it’s interesting. And there’s a Gap Factory store. I would definitely go back there. 

The DMV was boring. But actually pretty efficient, if you were wondering. You had a ticket. They called your number (two hours after I got there but still…) Waiting for your number is like the most boring, most painful game of Bingo. Except you know when they’re going to call your number. And it’s in two hours. And the man next to you smells like an old taxi that caught fire. But I have an interim license. So I don’t have to bring my passport to bars anymore. 

Oh, and another thing about Harlem. it smells really good. Mostly because of the street vendors selling, like oils that smell like different things (such as Vanilla, Butt Naked, Barack Obama, Orange Blossom, you know, normal things). But also because there are like 40 Popeye’s on each corner, and I was totally jonesing for some Fish and Chips. So that’s how I spend the rest of my day. 

 

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Have a lovely night my ducklings!

I Change Shapes Just to Hide in This Place but I’m Still I’m Still A Danimal

6 Apr

So I flirted with Wix a little bit, thinking it was smarter to start a new blog from scratch then just pay the stupid 80 bucks to get my domain name back from WordPress but who am I kidding? I barely have time to take the wrapper off my Klondike bar before I bite into it. I’m back!

 

 

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My WIX post described what I’ve been doing these past few months, but really the most important thing is that I live in Washington Heights now with my husband of 27 days (in your FACE Kim Kardashian) and totally have a real job! With money! And consequences!

I can’t really talk about work but I can tell you valuable lessons I have learned so far working for a legit company (disclaimer, these lessons probably apply to all jobs, and situations and life. Basically do the opposite of what I do always)

1. If you don’t know who someone is, and you just met them, don’t say “I’m not sure if I’ve met you yet, there’s so many white men who work here that I can’t tell them apart.” Because that person might be your superior. Just don’t say shit like that to anyone. Ever.

2. If you forget your badge in your bag when you go for lunch and security has to call your boss to come sign you in, don’t bitch about how tight security is and say “It’s not like a have a gun in this cardigan or anything!” Don’t say ‘gun’ to security.

3. Maybe wait at least a week before suggesting to your new office mates that you all get matching Jerseys.

As for apartment living, it’s weird not being in my dorm at UMD. I was confused as to how one makes friends when one is not in school. I kind of stand outside my apartment waiting for my neighbors to come out so I can say hi to them. One neighbor, Alice, has a big dog named Mitzy. I met her husband/boyfriend/male friend the other day when he was leaving the apartment.

Me: Oh, that’s Mitzy right?

Dude: Yeah…

Me: Hi, I’m Aviva. I live over there. I met Alice.

Dude: Oh, hey. I noticed there was a new welcome mat. There used to be a really nice old couple who lived there. I liked them.

Me: Um…I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to them.

Dude: Oh well, they used to have a Boston Terrier. Do you have a dog?

Me: Ah, no.

Dude: Oh…Okay bye!

So, friendship is a work in progress.

I did however make friends with the wine guy down my block. My mom says she doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

 

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                Trick question, wine is always a good thing.

 

Ari and I threw a Wine and Cheese party for a few friends we just met and to celebrate wine and cheese. I went to the store down the block and remarked to the guy how good his selection was.

Wine Guy: Oh yes, well we are always getting new wine in stock and adding new kinds.

Me: Well, haha I drink a lot of wine!

Wine Guy: *Looks down at the 8 bottles I’m buying*

Me: Oh! Ah, this isn’t for me…it’s for my friends…I have…friends.

WG: Sure, sure. Well, I’m sure I’ll see you again then!

So to recap: Wine guy, more friendly than neighbor.

 

Now that you’re caught up I will continue to post! Hopefully! Unless some wine or cheese catch my attention…

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