Strand bookstore. Giftcards. Starbucks. Things that start with the letter B. Puddles. New Literary Movement: Collective Santa. Hipsters: Gotta catch 'em all. Brooklyn. Silent Jew Parade. Subways. The Birds.
All part of my night.
Stay tuned, maybe I'll tell you about it.
Maybe.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I thought I might do an overview of my classes and teachers here at NYU, since I have nothing else to do because of this snow day thing. SO.
1) Literary Criticism.
I think I'm going to really like this class. Because of some weird glitch in the NYU system, our class has six people while the other Literary Criticism class held at the same time next door has over 20. So we have a general education class that is strangely intimate and... well, small. Although that does mean that we all have to talk more. And I'm always super nervous I'll say something stupid and the rest of the class will regard me as "the dumb one." Is that irrational? Maybe. Or maybe it's rational.
Anyway, the teacher's pretty cool. He seems young, though it's hard to tell when he has that Indie Hipster beard going. Well, maybe it's not a beard. It's sort of in the mid-stage between scruffle and beard. Buffle. Sceard. But he's super sweet and already knows our names. If I could find someone like him my age to be my hipster indie beareded best friend, I would probably be the happiest person ever.
2) British Literature I:
Ahh. The class where we learn about Beowulf. Yay.
Actually it's not that bad. I learned a lot of background about the text that I didn't know before (and that, incidentally, made the whole mess a lot cooler), like that it was actually an historical poem written several centuries after the events had taken place. And that for a long time nobody liked it because they thought it was a "fairy story" and not actually of any historical significance until J. R. R. Tolkien wrote a paper on it. And then everyone was like "Hey this is actually cool hooray!" Or whatever people said back in the first half of the 20th century.
So here's a little paragraph I wrote on the first day of classes about my Brit Lit teacher. I wrote it to keep myself awake in the sweltering hot of the classroom. Here it is:
"Never has a daintier man taught British Literature, and I suspect that's something to be said, considering the field. Although outwards he appears an average New Yorker (young, Jewish, homosexual) with a long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved shirt in two different shades of black. But his speaking is so precise, his posture so correct, that he seems as rigid and breakable as a glass miniature. There is not a sloppy move in this man's repertoire. Although I'd be afraid to even brush against him for fear he may break, I'd like to have a tea party with him and my teddy bear some day."
More soon! Oh, and I finally actually turned 20 on Monday. Let the decade begin!
1) Literary Criticism.
I think I'm going to really like this class. Because of some weird glitch in the NYU system, our class has six people while the other Literary Criticism class held at the same time next door has over 20. So we have a general education class that is strangely intimate and... well, small. Although that does mean that we all have to talk more. And I'm always super nervous I'll say something stupid and the rest of the class will regard me as "the dumb one." Is that irrational? Maybe. Or maybe it's rational.
Anyway, the teacher's pretty cool. He seems young, though it's hard to tell when he has that Indie Hipster beard going. Well, maybe it's not a beard. It's sort of in the mid-stage between scruffle and beard. Buffle. Sceard. But he's super sweet and already knows our names. If I could find someone like him my age to be my hipster indie beareded best friend, I would probably be the happiest person ever.
2) British Literature I:
Ahh. The class where we learn about Beowulf. Yay.
Actually it's not that bad. I learned a lot of background about the text that I didn't know before (and that, incidentally, made the whole mess a lot cooler), like that it was actually an historical poem written several centuries after the events had taken place. And that for a long time nobody liked it because they thought it was a "fairy story" and not actually of any historical significance until J. R. R. Tolkien wrote a paper on it. And then everyone was like "Hey this is actually cool hooray!" Or whatever people said back in the first half of the 20th century.
So here's a little paragraph I wrote on the first day of classes about my Brit Lit teacher. I wrote it to keep myself awake in the sweltering hot of the classroom. Here it is:
"Never has a daintier man taught British Literature, and I suspect that's something to be said, considering the field. Although outwards he appears an average New Yorker (young, Jewish, homosexual) with a long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved shirt in two different shades of black. But his speaking is so precise, his posture so correct, that he seems as rigid and breakable as a glass miniature. There is not a sloppy move in this man's repertoire. Although I'd be afraid to even brush against him for fear he may break, I'd like to have a tea party with him and my teddy bear some day."
More soon! Oh, and I finally actually turned 20 on Monday. Let the decade begin!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
A Night on the Town
It's very hard to get into anywhere when you're under 21 in New York.
I found this out yesterday night. I texted Rachel, saying that it was our first Friday night in New York and we should probably do something since we're young and fabulous. Or something along those lines. Anyway, she agreed (once she woke up from the very popular College Afternoon Nap) and we chose to meet on 3rd Avenue and 8th Street. This was a mistake. Let me tell you a little something about New York - if you travel on the same street for a while, at certain points it will be called something else. This is the case with 8th Street and maybe even 3rd Avenue (I don't know, I don't remember things) at the exact place where we wanted to meet. So for a few extra minutes, Rachel was left in the cold while I walked back and forth trying to figure out where my GPS was telling me to go.
But eventually I found her. We were very excited about the grand adventure we were about to undertake and quickly looked up a jazz club that my roommate had suggested while huddling inside a restaurant pretending to look at drinks. It turned out that the jazz club was on the west side of Manhattan. Since subways are hard to figure out, we decided to walk there.
It was a very enlightening trip. Our conversation resembled our first one:
Rachel: "You just made a Hercules reference! I'm so glad I met you! I love Hercules!"
Alison: "You love Hercules?!"
Rachel: "Yeah, I love Disney Movies!"
Alison: "IUCHXIOAB:WOIAUOWIHK)(^^&E%$@!!!!"
(In case you were wondering, that's the word for pure excitement.)
Also, in case anyone was wondering, Rachel was super impressed by my plan to be all the female Disney characters in order of appearance. I am finally getting the admiration that I deserve for my commitment to Classic Disney. Thank you Rachel.
In any case, although our conversation was super exciting (and involved many more topics than just Disney movies, I promise) it was super duper cold and evil outside and it was a long, long walk. By the time we hit the Hudson River, we knew we'd overshot our destination. Rachel, who was leading our small parade of adventure, felt bad for leading us astray. I assured her that though we were not at our destination, we were much closer than we would have been if I was leading the troops.
So we doubled back. In the cold. We finally found The Fat Cat and could see the warm interior full of checkers and jazz. We were so excited - our first real club.
Bouncer: "We need to see some identification confirming that you're over 21."
Alison: "Ah... we're... not..."
Bouncer: *shakes head with a disgusted look on his face*
Back into the blustery (VERY blustery) cold we went, still optimistic about the possibilities the night held. We stopped for soda/water at a tiny restaurant (called Two Boots because it was a mixture of Italian and Louisiana style food. Get it? Cause both places are shaped like boots?) and decided we were in heaven as long as this place had heat and seats. But then, our pitiful adventurous souls caused us to look up under 21 clubs on our iPhones, and like fools we decided to brave the night to find a new venue.
I think it was even colder then.
To make a long story short, we stomped all the way across town -- again -- and finally found a bar/club called "Say Wha?" that Allen Ginsberg had apparently frequented. We were super excited, got our seats... and then were told that if we were not over 21 alcohol drinkers we had to pay twenty dollars if we wanted to stay there and listen to Jamaican renditions of Usher's OMG. This was much more than the cover charge of Fat Cat ($3) and the cover charge told to us on the Say Wha? website ($10). We decided it was time to go.
We ended the night on my bed, watching the Office on television while my roommate slept beneath us. Though our night of grown up partying never really got underway, I would still say that last night was a success. I got to walk around the West Village for the first time, go to a club where Allen Ginsberg apparently listened to crappy Jamaican music (really, I sort of doubt that), and I found another person who loves Disney movies as much as I do. What else can one ask for in a night out? It was well worth the Hypothermia. Probably.
I found this out yesterday night. I texted Rachel, saying that it was our first Friday night in New York and we should probably do something since we're young and fabulous. Or something along those lines. Anyway, she agreed (once she woke up from the very popular College Afternoon Nap) and we chose to meet on 3rd Avenue and 8th Street. This was a mistake. Let me tell you a little something about New York - if you travel on the same street for a while, at certain points it will be called something else. This is the case with 8th Street and maybe even 3rd Avenue (I don't know, I don't remember things) at the exact place where we wanted to meet. So for a few extra minutes, Rachel was left in the cold while I walked back and forth trying to figure out where my GPS was telling me to go.
But eventually I found her. We were very excited about the grand adventure we were about to undertake and quickly looked up a jazz club that my roommate had suggested while huddling inside a restaurant pretending to look at drinks. It turned out that the jazz club was on the west side of Manhattan. Since subways are hard to figure out, we decided to walk there.
It was a very enlightening trip. Our conversation resembled our first one:
Rachel: "You just made a Hercules reference! I'm so glad I met you! I love Hercules!"
Alison: "You love Hercules?!"
Rachel: "Yeah, I love Disney Movies!"
Alison: "IUCHXIOAB:WOIAUOWIHK)(^^&E%$@!!!!"
(In case you were wondering, that's the word for pure excitement.)
Also, in case anyone was wondering, Rachel was super impressed by my plan to be all the female Disney characters in order of appearance. I am finally getting the admiration that I deserve for my commitment to Classic Disney. Thank you Rachel.
In any case, although our conversation was super exciting (and involved many more topics than just Disney movies, I promise) it was super duper cold and evil outside and it was a long, long walk. By the time we hit the Hudson River, we knew we'd overshot our destination. Rachel, who was leading our small parade of adventure, felt bad for leading us astray. I assured her that though we were not at our destination, we were much closer than we would have been if I was leading the troops.
So we doubled back. In the cold. We finally found The Fat Cat and could see the warm interior full of checkers and jazz. We were so excited - our first real club.
Bouncer: "We need to see some identification confirming that you're over 21."
Alison: "Ah... we're... not..."
Bouncer: *shakes head with a disgusted look on his face*
Back into the blustery (VERY blustery) cold we went, still optimistic about the possibilities the night held. We stopped for soda/water at a tiny restaurant (called Two Boots because it was a mixture of Italian and Louisiana style food. Get it? Cause both places are shaped like boots?) and decided we were in heaven as long as this place had heat and seats. But then, our pitiful adventurous souls caused us to look up under 21 clubs on our iPhones, and like fools we decided to brave the night to find a new venue.
I think it was even colder then.
To make a long story short, we stomped all the way across town -- again -- and finally found a bar/club called "Say Wha?" that Allen Ginsberg had apparently frequented. We were super excited, got our seats... and then were told that if we were not over 21 alcohol drinkers we had to pay twenty dollars if we wanted to stay there and listen to Jamaican renditions of Usher's OMG. This was much more than the cover charge of Fat Cat ($3) and the cover charge told to us on the Say Wha? website ($10). We decided it was time to go.
We ended the night on my bed, watching the Office on television while my roommate slept beneath us. Though our night of grown up partying never really got underway, I would still say that last night was a success. I got to walk around the West Village for the first time, go to a club where Allen Ginsberg apparently listened to crappy Jamaican music (really, I sort of doubt that), and I found another person who loves Disney movies as much as I do. What else can one ask for in a night out? It was well worth the Hypothermia. Probably.
Friday, January 21, 2011
New Friend
I made a friend today. Her name is Rachel (not to be confused with the first Rachel I met here, the one with the shaved head who turned out to be a Philosophy professor) and our first meeting can basically be summarized as this:
"I like to read!"
"No way! I like to read!"
"You like books?!"
"I love books!!"
"LET'S BE FRIENDS!!"
And now I have someone to go to bookstores and libraries with. Are these the wild years of my youth? The answer is: Yes.
"I like to read!"
"No way! I like to read!"
"You like books?!"
"I love books!!"
"LET'S BE FRIENDS!!"
And now I have someone to go to bookstores and libraries with. Are these the wild years of my youth? The answer is: Yes.
Adulthood
It looks like my plan to be a responsible adult is already falling through.
I cut it pretty close getting to my orientation this morning, partly because I didn't want to get out of bed and partly because I had to wander around Washington Square Park five times before I could find my building. It was all very exhausting. As soon as I got back I had to take a long nap. Which subsequently almost made me late for the next part of orientation because I didn't want to get out of my bed. Again.
I also planned to be a neat and clean and organized adult. That hasn't exactly happened yet. My desk is pretty much coated in hats and scarves and gloves and anything else I threw on there that didn't quite make it to the trash can on the other side of the room.
But I did go to the gym the other day! They almost didn't let me in because I wasn't registered for classes yet (what a silly rule... how could I not be a student if I have a pass?) but I went! AND I exercised! Like a responsible adult! (True, the whole reason I went was because my roommate was going, but I can't do adult things all on my own, can I?)
I cut it pretty close getting to my orientation this morning, partly because I didn't want to get out of bed and partly because I had to wander around Washington Square Park five times before I could find my building. It was all very exhausting. As soon as I got back I had to take a long nap. Which subsequently almost made me late for the next part of orientation because I didn't want to get out of my bed. Again.
I also planned to be a neat and clean and organized adult. That hasn't exactly happened yet. My desk is pretty much coated in hats and scarves and gloves and anything else I threw on there that didn't quite make it to the trash can on the other side of the room.
But I did go to the gym the other day! They almost didn't let me in because I wasn't registered for classes yet (what a silly rule... how could I not be a student if I have a pass?) but I went! AND I exercised! Like a responsible adult! (True, the whole reason I went was because my roommate was going, but I can't do adult things all on my own, can I?)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Good News! (Cigarette Juice)
Today was much better. I got to sit in a classroom and listen to what NYU is all about, the classes I have to take, etc. Which was nice. I got to fail a Spanish placement test and write a strange essay about my "struggles and triumphs with the English language." Hopefully I did what they expected me to. It was sort of hard to tell.
But the best part was getting to meet people. There were no doors, so they couldn't hide from me when I tried to talk to them. And - surprise surprise - they weren't opposed to talking to me! I didn't even have to bring them brownies or knock on anything. It was pretty exciting.
But the best part was getting to meet people. There were no doors, so they couldn't hide from me when I tried to talk to them. And - surprise surprise - they weren't opposed to talking to me! I didn't even have to bring them brownies or knock on anything. It was pretty exciting.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Loneliness
Oh, blog. There's so little to do when you don't have anyone to talk to. Aside from roaming the city, trying to look like I have a place to go, I haven't been able to do anything of value with my time here. Granted, it's only been two days, but if I want to become The Me I'm Meant To Be while in New York, I feel like I have to get cracking and get myself out there!
But I digress. I did have a pretty nice meeting with a boy who went to my high school. He was a year older, but he took a year off before college (a wise choice) and is now a theatre major in the Tish school. Which is pretty amazing. I was intimidated by how mature he was. He could go on and on about his favorite plays and playwrights. I did a lot of hemming and hawing to make it seem like I was familiar with his theatrical favorites. He seemed so driven, so focused. He knew what he wanted to be and how to get there. His schedule was filled with activities that immerse him in what he loves the most. And I, I'm just floating along. As I always have been. Grabbing at whatever seems most promising without a real goal in mind. Can one ever become great this way? Or am I destined to stumble through life without meaning, without eventual finality and accomplishment? I'm not sure. But I know that I have to make SOMETHING of my life, if only to ensure that my final moments will be spent with a smile on my face, remembering all the great things I've done and contributions I've made to the world at large, instead of with the bitter tears of a life that could have been useful but was not.
Anyway, back to my day. It was mostly spent inside my cell-like room, shifting positions only when I became too stiff and uncomfortable to remain as I was. My roommate breezed in and out, reminding me of what I wish I was - a real New Yorker with real New York things to do. But instead I sat inside and watched Adventure Time and Hawaii Five-0.
Finally around 7:00 I became fed up with my room and bundled up to go out. The streets are so different at night, the inky night air shot through with zaps of light from colorful signs down the street and pools of soft luminescence from streetlights above. You're never truly in the dark in New York. There's always a light only a few steps away.
I couldn't get myself to go into any of the shops today. I always feel like I'm imposing, especially if I'm not planning on buying anything. The shopkeepers look up so hopeful, assessing your buying ability with their eyes. Poor things. I wonder if they can tell how poor I am just by looking at me. I swear the man at the restaurant today knew I was going to order the cheapest thing on the menu. I could almost hear him sigh when I told him, "Water is fine, thank you." Tonight I trotted along with my Vanity Fair under my arm, completely intending to stop somewhere for dinner (my ill timing resulted in the dining halls being closed before I even left my room tonight.) However, every time I locked eyes with someone inside a pub or cafe, I kept moving on. For all my wishing I had friends, I was shy about becoming a part, even a footnote, in another New Yorker's life. Well, tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will not spend part of the night reading an article on Julian Assange by the light of a streetlamp in Washington Square Park. Tomorrow will be different because tomorrow I have orientation. Tomorrow, I will talk to people. Tomorrow, I will make friends.
But I digress. I did have a pretty nice meeting with a boy who went to my high school. He was a year older, but he took a year off before college (a wise choice) and is now a theatre major in the Tish school. Which is pretty amazing. I was intimidated by how mature he was. He could go on and on about his favorite plays and playwrights. I did a lot of hemming and hawing to make it seem like I was familiar with his theatrical favorites. He seemed so driven, so focused. He knew what he wanted to be and how to get there. His schedule was filled with activities that immerse him in what he loves the most. And I, I'm just floating along. As I always have been. Grabbing at whatever seems most promising without a real goal in mind. Can one ever become great this way? Or am I destined to stumble through life without meaning, without eventual finality and accomplishment? I'm not sure. But I know that I have to make SOMETHING of my life, if only to ensure that my final moments will be spent with a smile on my face, remembering all the great things I've done and contributions I've made to the world at large, instead of with the bitter tears of a life that could have been useful but was not.
Anyway, back to my day. It was mostly spent inside my cell-like room, shifting positions only when I became too stiff and uncomfortable to remain as I was. My roommate breezed in and out, reminding me of what I wish I was - a real New Yorker with real New York things to do. But instead I sat inside and watched Adventure Time and Hawaii Five-0.
Finally around 7:00 I became fed up with my room and bundled up to go out. The streets are so different at night, the inky night air shot through with zaps of light from colorful signs down the street and pools of soft luminescence from streetlights above. You're never truly in the dark in New York. There's always a light only a few steps away.
I couldn't get myself to go into any of the shops today. I always feel like I'm imposing, especially if I'm not planning on buying anything. The shopkeepers look up so hopeful, assessing your buying ability with their eyes. Poor things. I wonder if they can tell how poor I am just by looking at me. I swear the man at the restaurant today knew I was going to order the cheapest thing on the menu. I could almost hear him sigh when I told him, "Water is fine, thank you." Tonight I trotted along with my Vanity Fair under my arm, completely intending to stop somewhere for dinner (my ill timing resulted in the dining halls being closed before I even left my room tonight.) However, every time I locked eyes with someone inside a pub or cafe, I kept moving on. For all my wishing I had friends, I was shy about becoming a part, even a footnote, in another New Yorker's life. Well, tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will not spend part of the night reading an article on Julian Assange by the light of a streetlamp in Washington Square Park. Tomorrow will be different because tomorrow I have orientation. Tomorrow, I will talk to people. Tomorrow, I will make friends.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
A New New Yorker
Two days ago I arrived in New York City, a transfer to New York University. Yesterday my parents left and I, a few days shy of twenty, marked this as the true beginning of my ascent to adulthood. Now I am truly on my own, living in a busy city in the REAL WORLD (as opposed to the candy-coated suburbs I've lived in for the first two decades of my life.) But I think it's a bit too early to call it a rip-roaring success. You see, I have very few acquaintances in New York and even fewer friends, so my first day (today) with no parents about mostly involved me getting up at noon, sloshing through the freezing rain to the NYU ID office, and sloshing happily through the streets until the water soaked all the way through to my underwear. After that, I arrived home to 2nd street only to find that my newly acquired NYU ID did not work the way an NYU ID should. Which is a pity because, unlike the pictures on all other forms of identification I own, I thought I looked pretty good in my photo. But, the photo gods couldn't let me have this one, and tomorrow I have to slosh back to the NYU ID office to get a new one. Again.
I wouldn't mind being holed up in my dorm room so much if the kids in the other dorms would come out and talk to me. But, alas, I guess there's some rule here in New York that you don't open your door to strangers, because when I knock on the steel doors of my new neighbors with homemade brownies in hand and a smile on my face, nobody will open up and take my damn baked goods. I'm ok with limited human interaction, but NO human interaction can get a girl down. Still, I can't complain. I'm (hopefully) meeting someone from my high school tomorrow. And I have an entire batch of brownies all to myself.
I wouldn't mind being holed up in my dorm room so much if the kids in the other dorms would come out and talk to me. But, alas, I guess there's some rule here in New York that you don't open your door to strangers, because when I knock on the steel doors of my new neighbors with homemade brownies in hand and a smile on my face, nobody will open up and take my damn baked goods. I'm ok with limited human interaction, but NO human interaction can get a girl down. Still, I can't complain. I'm (hopefully) meeting someone from my high school tomorrow. And I have an entire batch of brownies all to myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)