Saturday, May 27, 2006

More Than I Expected

As a former bartender and waitress, I’m very familiar with cutting fruit into small slices in an assembly-line fashion at 8:00 on Friday nights. Tonight, though, while I was doing so, it was for an entirely different purpose.

I posted earlier tonight that I would be spending my evening doing a homeless outreach. As I anticipated, I returned home with a newfound appreciation for how fortunate I am. What I didn’t expect, however, was to come home with a newfound appreciation for the self-created communities that are often ignored, very much marginalized, or viewed through the lens of eyes wrought with naïve misconceptions – including mine before tonight. These are the communities that people without homes in our city create for themselves.

The trepidation I felt before we left the church tonight, when I was being read the “rules” – don’t close your eyes if anyone asks you to pray for them; always keep your partner in sight; remove all jewelry and leave all electronic devices back in the van – was replaced by an incredible feeling of respect for the men we met. I thought I would enjoy the company of the other participants in this group, and I am doubtlessly going to be participating with this group on their monthly excursions, yet I had no idea that I would be introduced to new groups, new communities, probably those who have it hardest in this city, and to be so excited to see them again next month.

After preparing sandwiches and a fruit punch (for which I was responsible for cutting the above-mentioned fruit) at a school/church in Queens, a van filled with people that I had just met (except for the friend who brought me there) took off for locations in Manhattan that one would ordinarily consider to be chi-chi. Madison Ave, Park Ave, and Lincoln Center were all among the destinations. At each pre-designated location we would stop, and at the outset I saw only the most expensive restaurants and buildings fronted by white-gloved doormen, yet within certain corners or under the outdoor overhangs of certain churches, I was introduced to communities of homeless men who had lived in these exact spaces for obviously a long time. The veterans in the group I was with were familiar with the homeless gentlemen we encountered, and the two parties greeted each other by name and chatted like old friends while our party passed out sandwiches, fruit punch and prayers. Being a newbie, I was fairly quiet, except for one stop at which one of the men was wearing a Boston cap, and we engaged in an in-depth and intriguing conversation about, of course, the Red Sox. At the beginning, his buddy remained lying there on the white pavement stairs, cursing out the Mets’ bullpen and how they had blown yet another Pedro start. He was listening to the game on his earphones. Eventually, he sat up from his sprawled out position and the three of us began discussing Pedro, the Sox, the Mets, the damn Yankees, and the Hall of Fame.

I am not in any way minimizing the all-too-serious situation of homelessness in the city of New York. What I am saying is that I am in awe of the way that these men (I only met men) have been able to create their own worlds and communities – and maintain much of their sense of selves and interests – while trapped in the shittiest of situations.

This night’s worth of cutting fruit was infinitely more meaningful than the ten (gasp) years of time I did it with regards to my livelihood. Tonight, I did it with regards to our humanity.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Another Type of Friday Night

Tonight I’m heading off to Queens to do a homeless outreach with a friend of mine and her church group. It’s been one of those things I’ve been saying I’d do for a while, but other things have always crept up: the notion that I should be staying in and doing homework, the occasional out of town visitor with whom I want to spend time, the “catching up” on life that I tend to like to do on Friday nights.

This morning I woke up with all of those “other things” looming in front of me, but honestly, if I cannot make 5 extra hours that I probably waste during the entirety of the week or the weekend to do something else, then my life is either way too busy (which it is not) or way too incorrectly prioritized.

It's actuallly great to be able to put on jeans, sneaks and a hoodie on a Friday night, by the way. I hope that when I return home at midnight I will have a newound appreciation for the facts that I have schoolwork to do and papers to write, an agenda for this weekend to schedule for a great friend visiting me from California, and yes, an unmade bed of my own to lay myself down in.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Make New Friends, But Keep the Old...

Yes, I was a girl scout. Just in case anyone is wondering, the rest of that song goes "one is silver and the others gold." It rhymes.

Lately, I have been re-assessing my friendships. It has been a hard thing to do. I have been blessed with amazing friends, and I love them all, but I have also realized that I have changed and grown, and so have some of them, and some of these changes have moved us into different directions. As such, I have had to let go of my idealized visions of what some of these friendships were and accept these relationships for what they are now.

And honestly, having held on to past versions of certain friendships has probably kept me, at times, locked into viewing an image of myself - their image of me - that is part of my former paradigm and not my present. Yet sometimes the draw to what is comfortable has been easier to fall back upon than embracing the challenge to reach out to new people whom I have just met, people who know me for who I am now and with whom I connect now.

That said, I am so, so incredibly fortunate to have some of the most amazing old friendships from elementary school, high school, college and beyond, friendships that will hopefully forever be an integral part of my life. These friendships are with people who have grown and changed too, but with whom I have somehow grown and changed in similar ways and with whom I still connect with on the most real, intimate level. These are people I love unconditionally and whom I would do anything for.

You change and grow, many of your friends change and grow, and after a period of time, letting go of the 100 percent trust you have placed in certain people is necessary in order to clear some emotional space either to become closer with other current friends or to let new people into your life. In that way, I can't see these changes as sad, just as realistic and as allowing me to spend my time and energy with the people who are best suited for me, and vice versa, as we exist now.

More Random Thoughts

which ran through my mind while I walked two blocks to get my breakfast this morning...

1. One weather related comment: it's May. And not just the beginning of May, but late May, late enough in May where I start checking my ATM receipts to make sure that I have enough money in my account to cover June's rent and still have some to spare. Therefore, I should not be COLD when I leave my apartment in a wool sweater, jeans, and sheepskin-lined Ugg slippers. I'm not pining for the humidity-laden days of the summer; I just feel that it's inappropriate to actually be considering wearing a scarf in late May.
2. I am an absolute sucker for any woman who is older than I am and who calls me "honey" or "sweetheart." That's an automatic dollar tip in the tip jar for anyone working in the service industry and an automatic "feel good about yourself" time for me for at least an hour. I don't know why I feel comforted, like someone's looking out for me - but it's true.
3. However, when a random strange man on the sidewalk tries to touch my shoulder while saying "hey honey, can you do me a favor," I have a huge problem with that. I don't care if he's lost or broke or just fell off of the third floor of a building - don't touch me.
4. I guess I'm an optimist, but number three is not enough to counteract the good vibes of number two, even if I am cold wearing a wool sweater, late in the month of May.

Just Some Random Thoughts

1) I was the most fortunate 20-something in the world this weekend. On Sunday morning, I woke up to bright sunshine in Philly, on the opposite couch of my oldest and dearest female friend in the world, in the home of my oldest and dearest male friend in the world who was sleeping upstairs in his room (these are both friends I grew up with in Rhode Island), on the heels of one Sox win and with another tailgate and game just hours away. At that moment, I thought I could not be luckier right now.
2) The conversation I had with my mother (the most amazing woman in the world) last night reinforced the notion that I am not just a 20-something, but an adult. Sometimes that means that the roles reverse and that I am here as a listener for her when she needs someone to talk to, and not simply vice versa. She said that she felt badly about telling her kids when she’s not feeling so hot, but I think it is a wonderful thing that she can. My mom has given so much to me and my brothers in her lifetime; she has listened to all of my shit (and god knows I’ve told her my share of shit); there is no reason she should feel badly for talking to me about hers. If anything, I am so glad that I can give back to her some of the listening time she has given to me. And if she feels like she can talk to me, and to my brothers, then that also means that she has done a damn good job in raising us to be solid human beings in whom she has confidence that she can confide in.
3) OK, that last sentence was a grammatical nightmare. Too early to even know how to fix it. Caffeine, kick in, please?
4) I finally figured out how to set my VCR so that when I come home from class in the late evening, the Sox have been recorded from the first pitch of the game. I know I should upgrade to DVR or something so I don’t go through the nightly 9 pm dilemma of “ok, do I peek at the score now and ruin my chances of enjoying this game, or do I let the rest of the game go by and then watch it in the morning?” However, since I fall asleep and wake up to Sports Center or ESPN News, and since I get the Boston.com report in my email inbox every morning, there is virtually no chance that I will not know the score. So I’m still working on this one.
5) Summer Intensive Courses mean just that. Intensive. This also means a hell of a lot of work in a short amount of time. I should have listened to my advisor before thinking that I could go away every weekend and still maintain a fairly normal weekday schedule. Not the case.
6) At times, I am still in awe of the fact that I will be teaching children for the rest of my life. I love school. I always have. Now, I will be “doing school” forever, feeling the excitement of the fall and the inevitable relief of the spring every year, and trying my hardest to pass on my love of school to kids? What could be better?
7) Since 7 is my lucky number, I have to come up with one more random thought. I call 311 almost every night to deal with noise from the “restaurant” next door to me - the restaurant that is not, in fact, a restaurant, but instead a bar to which back of the house restaurant workers go after their shifts end at the various restaurants at which they work. I have complete respect for the industry, since I waitressed my way through college every summer in RI and bartended my way through a couple of years of figuring out what my “real job” would be in New York, but seriously, when the joint’s speakers sit directly against my bedroom wall, that line of respect sort of slides to the side of self-preservation (and the desire for a good night’s sleep). Hence my nightly calls to 311.
8) And one for good luck. Wright vs. Wake tonight. Let’s have those two W’s equal a W for us tonight. Wake deserves it.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

I'm Just a Girl

I haven't really had much to write about lately - what can I say; I've been going out a lot, I've put on what feels like 100 pounds (ok, that's an exaggeration, but...) and I've been watching a lot of baseball during my week of "vacation" before my summer courses start. Life is good.

So, as I sit here watching end of the ridiculously high-scoring Yankees game (I taped the Sox game while out to dinner with a friend tonight so I could watch it in the morning) I realized that the only slightly annoying thing about my past two nights was that every time I spoke about baseball with any males other than my friends, I was automatically counted out.

What do I mean by counted out? Last night, for example, I was out at a bar, talking baseball with my best guy friend in the world, and some random college kid interjected. This was fine. Except for the fact that the kid continually talked over me, and only with my friend, after having piped into our conversation, not even making eye contact with me. And then tonight, I was out with a girlfriend, and while she was in the restroom and the Yankees game was on in the background and I was talking to some nice guys who were watching the gameabout general stuff - teaching, jobs, what-not, etc., a very give and take conversation - as soon as I made a comment about the pitching going on in the game (well, at least Shawn Chacon is proving himself to be just that, Shawn Chacon) it was like I had stepped across some line and had blackballed myself. Yes, I'm a little girl, I'm probably a pretty girl, but I'm also a girl who happens to be a baseball fan. So why is there some unwritten rule that I can't talk about the game with men?

Fuck. I just jinxed my team (a natural thing to think when you're a Sox fan) by speaking negatively about the game. Jorge Posada with a walk-off HR for the Yanks.

Hopefully the die-hard Yanks fan who owns the dry cleaning establishment I frequent will engage me in some sort of discussion about the game tomorrow - as, of course, I'm picking up my pink skirt!!!

Monday, May 08, 2006

In The Presence Of Real Beauty

My two great-aunts are the sisters of my late grandfather, my mother's father. I adored Grandfather more than I could ever write about, and in my late night dreams, he still appears and is alive as ever and I adore him as much as ever and when I wake up, I am first comforted and then saddened. Today I took a trip to his living sisters' house in the Bronx, the house in which they have lived for 56 years, the house in which they have formed and carried out their lives since they were essentially my age and inside of which is stacked with tangible artifacts from their lives. My Zizis are omni-present in all of my memories of family gatherings – one as the dynamic, gregarious one; the other as the calming, modest one. They are both beautiful, and they are elderly, and although they have each been married to different men, the rapport they have between the two sisters is actually that of a couple who has been married for, well, over 56 years. And their wisdom is collectively far beyond that of two 80-something women, and it is inspiring, and it is humbling, to recognize their strength and to want to take it all in and to hear their stories of working at Macy’s in the 1940’s or of coming of age in an Italian community in the Bronx in the 1930's and to read yellowed, proudly preserved newspaper articles in which they are mentioned and - oh, my god - I am simply in awe of them as people.

The major element that has been underlying my past few months has been this shift from the mentality of a "young person," one who is present-oriented, to one of an "adult" - realizing that I have a future and that I am consistently shaping that future with my decisions or non-decisions. That notion was reinforced today. As much as I have loved these two women since my childhood, today we spoke for an entire day, together, as adults, and I felt like an adult who was truly able to exchange life experiences and at the same time (like a kid) who was wanting to just deeply soak in their wisdom. For the first time I felt like I could relate to some of the challenges they have faced, emotionally and mentally, and speak freely as an adult who also has faced challenges in her 29-year old life. Their physical bodies may be aging to the extent that they cannot walk without assistance, but their minds are so sharp, and with the time that they have had to spend reflecting, their insights into life are incredible.

I have said this before, but I will say it again: I have an amazing family. And I am so fortunate to have them and their histories still present and alive. We spoke about their stories, and the conversation was catalyzed by my opening up about my feelings about my father and his side of the family (not only do I not communicate with my father, of my own volition, but he does not communicate with his side of the family, out of probably his own craziness), and we spoke about their perceptions of him as a young man - perspectives I could never possibly have had. (Hell, I wasn't even born then.) I know that at the age I am now my amazing, beautiful, incredible mother had had me and was about to pop out my brothers, and the sheer acceptance my great-aunts had granted my father because he was my mom's husband and the support they both quietly and overtly gave her throughout her years with him was, again, inspiring to hear.

Maybe I can't encapsulate the wonderful day I had in a simple entry, but I can record it. The two sisters are - again, like an old married couple - very dichotomous in their perspectives right now; one thinks she "should have been more" (but she did so MUCH!) and the other is more reflective, full of faith, and simply desiring and peaceful about "passing the torch" (and SHE did so much!) and I love both equally and only hope that as an 80-something woman, I can be that absolutely amazing. I love them so much and I am so fortunate that I can take an hour on the subway and spend an afternoon with my Zizis. Our society is not right in that we don't give enough respect and credence to those who have lived full lives before us; and while I continually endeavor to avoid political positions in this blog, MY GOD are we missing so much when we ignore the wisdom and the insight of those who have gone through it. Fundamental human nature doesn't change, and at the least, definitely not within a century, and the personal connections with and to family liaisons cannot be denied.

I talked to my mother after I returned home tonight and she said it was "a beautiful thing" that I had gone up to visit them. I think it's the opposite: I think it's a beautiful thing that I have the opportunity to visit them. More than a beautiful thing. I was drawn to tears when I returned home, because they are truly, truly beautiful. I am the lucky one. I was in the presence of real beauty.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Not Just Mundane

OK, so it's been a long time since I've posted anything. Deep thoughts have given way to day to day life. I feel that I've moved into a different place in my mind, so from here on in, perhaps - perhaps is the key word - what I write will be more optimistic, and for a while, perhaps again, more mundane.

But dealing with the mundane and perceiving it in a positive light is exactly what I've had to do recently, so in a way, I will still be writing about what's going through my mind. I have stopped harping on the past; I have stopped being afraid of the future; and the combination of the both is actually huge for me. In order to do so, though, I have had to focus on the now.

So now, I have just finished final exams/projects/presentations, and I have been "going out" more than I had been in the recent past. This is a good thing - it means I feel okay enough about myself to put myself out there, and I know that sounds generric (one of the words I can't spell, along with jewelry, judgement and commitment - there's a 50 50 shot that I get any of those four words correct at any given time) so I guess this is simply a reintroduction to me. I've recently been reintroduced to me.

And yes, finally and again, I really like me. I didn't for a while, or, rather, I didn't like the circumstances I felt were consuming me, or, more accurately, the mind that was ruling me that was consumed by thoughts of circumstances that I allowed to consume me. I would continually ask myself - how could I be so outgoing and happy-go-lucky in the situations I would encouter people, and have the above described reputation, yet feel like absolute shit when I was home, by myself, be it night or day?

What goes on inside my head is powerful. Maybe that's all it is - to have a great feeling about yourself inside of your own head. We're only our own companions for the entirety of our lives; that is the only thing that is guaranteed about this life. So I had to get back to where I felt like I was a good companion for myself.

Lots of things I could, and will, talk about - school, boys, baseball, and what to watch on TV when you're up all night. For now, though, this is just a little, mundane post to get me back into the swing of blogging.

Because finally, I've gotten back into the swing of things in real life.