Pardon the Interruption

Ahh train stories. They never get old and they never end. People do really strange things on the train and it’s quite entertaining. When I was staying in Brooklyn, every morning on the way to work this one man would get on at the same spot and I would hear:

“Please pardon the interruption but I am sick. I just got out of the hospital. I am sick. I am not physically sick or mentally sick. I am sick for money. [Some rambling about health care and not taking a shower]”

Then this “sick” man proceeded to walk all the way through the car saying “Can anybody help me. Can anybody help me? Can anybody help me!” 

He would get off at the next stop. 

Of course he was not the last person I’ve witnessed asking for money on the train.

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A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

New York City is full of people. Lots and lots of people. Totally shocking right? The absolutely wonderful part of living with all of these people is not having them touch you on the subway, but the abundance of diversity. I grew up in a pretty ethnically diverse city…it was kind of the definition of a “melting pot”. The people I grew up with were mostly biracial and multiracial. My childhood friends definitely looked like the rainbow coalition. I went to college in a not so diverse city. In fact my school had a very small percentage of people of color which was kind of a culture shock for me. As a result, I surrounded myself with people who looked like me. My circle of friends looked less like Fruity Pebbles and more like Coco Pebbles.

I was excited about moving to a more diverse place again to expand the color of my friendships. What I love about the diversity in NYC is that everyone is PROUD to be who they are. They don’t try to blend in, (or assimilate). They are out and out proud that they are different than you. Not just in culture but style as well. It’s so amazing to see. and soak in. I even planned to go to the West Indian Day Parade just to soak up the awesome, but unfortunately it was raining and I didn’t want to soak up the water.

Although all of this cultural diversity is great, I didn’t really comprehend the existence of ethnic enclaves. Of course I heard of China Town and Little Italy, and Spanish Harlem but I guess I honestly thought they were more of a myth. I quickly got over this naive thought during the first time I was searching for apartments.

This is AfroPunk

This post is also a day late and a dollar short, (ironically “Too Little, Too Late” just began playing on my iTunes), but oh well.

Last weekend, I made the journey to Brooklyn for AfroPunk 2013. I had been excited for the festival for a whole month. My outfit, hairstyle and outfit had already been planned. I had no idea what to expect, I was just excited to attend rocking a AfroPunk-fitting outfit and possible spot a celeb or two. I was even more excited that my bestie in my head Questlove was one of the scheduled performers.

There’s Something About Today…

Today I woke up and changed my hairstyle 5 times. This is after I spent an hour before bed pre styling it. I ended up pulling it into my everyday bun.

Today when I threw on the dress I had been planning to wear all weekend I realized it would be too hot. I changed outfits 4 times and still went to work covered in lint.

Today when I walked down the winding and cluttered hallway in this shared apartment I knocked over my roommates fake plant that for some reason was in a vase with water. In my hustle to wipe up the mess and get out of the door I forgot that yesterday I made 5 sandwiches….and of course I didn’t even remember to take one to work.

Today I had to wait 25 minutes for a train only to have to stand the entire 40 minute commute home.

Despite the variety of troubles I encountered…today also marked something more joyous.

You’ve Got Great New York Bagels

Three stars for you if you can catch the reference.

From all of the shows and movies I watched set in New York, I got the idea that New Yorkers liked bagels. It didn’t seem too odd of a staple food item. I mean, bagels are good. They’re versatile, you can toast them, slather on butter, or cream cheese. You can even make bagel sandwiches for breakfast, lunch or dinner. They’re also portable, so I assumed busy New Yorkers loved them for their “grab and go” capability. I’ve always liked bagels, but I never loved them. To me bagels have always been a cute way to eat bread and that’s about it. But now? Oh, now I see the light that shines through the middle of those glorious clouds of sunshine.

To Move and Be Moved Pt. 2: House Rules

Although moving is the definition evil, it’s all (sorta, kinda) worth it when you have a place to call your own and to call your home. When you are forced to move to a place you still have to call someone else’s home. Well, the suck factor of moving escalates.

When I moved to the “crash pad” that also happened to be in Brooklyn, I was in the middle of a real “you don’t actually live here” situation. All I expected was a place to sleep, a place to eat, a place to shower and at least one outlet where I could plug up my malfunctioning computer and get to the internet. What I actually walked into was a palace worth over a $1 million, (yes I looked it up), that I’m pretty sure appeared on an HGTV show. I didn’t know it was possible to own four floors in a brownstone in Brooklyn. I also didn’t know I would be in a space with a family of five and a dog. So needless to say this former broke college student and current broke college grad did not quite feel welcomed in this space. The family was nice enough but the fact that in two weeks I never received the WiFi password or  heard from them once I left a Thank You note with some Thank You dollar bills sealed that feeling. I spent most nights out exploring the city, having dinner, searching for WiFi and scouring Craigslist for a place to stay.

To Move and Be Moved Pt. 1: (Un)settling Down

There are very few things that I absolutely, utterly, down in the pit of my soul despise. Actually, that’s not true, there are a lot. But I am only going to name three.

1. Being so hot that my sweat glands turn into faucets and just pour out salty water from my face. (Yes, I realize that was disgusting but I know you now have a great visual).
2. Being abruptly woken up out of my sleep. My mom has been on the receiving end of many “What do you want?”‘s on mornings when I have asked to her to make sure I was awake. And my alarm clocks, my poor poor alarm clocks, deserve worker’s comp for everything I have put them through.
3. Having to move and never feeling comfortable.