November 23, 2008

Experiments and Omens

In one last-ditch effort to blend into the neighborhood that is Williamsburg, I forewent washing my hair today. It was an inspired decision brought on by a combination of laziness and the odd looks I get at El Beit, a coffee shop on Bedford Avenue, for having obviously freshly washed, extremely wet hair. Where skinny black jeans had failed before, my slightly greasy hair succeeded. Though my super-smooth french press coffee didn't necessarily taste any better (it's pretty damn good to begin with), it was nice to not be stared at for maintaining basic hygiene.

Alas, this experiment will come to an end for two reasons. First, my head itches, and I have very little tolerance for discomfort of this nature. Second, I'm moving to greener pastures this Friday, where, yes, coffee shops still serve sustainably grown, organic, fair trade coffee in wasteful paper cups with plastic lids and cardboard sleeves, but where everyone appears to be freshly showered by 11:30 AM! They also appear to hold steady jobs, or at least feel obligated to appear friendly and ready for the day. In addition, these new neighbors of mine stay thin not by chain-smoking and shivering in the cold outside the eight hundred bars in the neighborhood, but by going to the gym, or, running outside. Perhaps the best thing about my new apartment in what is probably the second most yuppie part of Brooklyn, is that it's on the top floor, so I wont have to worry about crazy upstairs neighbors who throw combination stomp-karaoke-furniture moving parties at 2:00 AM each Wednesday. (I should mention here that my current sublet is actually quite nice, and my three roommates even nicer. It's just that the neighborhood is so not my speed - as you can see.)

There were, however, a couple odd omens this morning when I went to pick up my keys. First off, the G train arrived much too quickly, which made traveling to Bergen Street so easy as to catch me off guard. Then there was a crazy pigeon just hanging out on the exit sign above the platform. I assume he wanted the F train and was a bit irked by the abnormally efficient G. Then one of my favorite restaurants, Miriam's on Court Street, was on fire. OK, I didn't actually see any flames streaming from windows, reaching for the cold winter sky. But I did see three giant fire trucks, and many, many handsome firemen coming out of Miriam's, telling everyone everything was "OK now." Finally, when I went into a cute little bakery to have a pumpernickel bagel, there was an Andy Warhol look alike (face, clothes, hat, everything) sitting in the corner. He told me that he'd never seen me there before. And I said, "Well, I'm new to the neighborhood."

November 19, 2008

Congratulations to Karin & Ryu!


Amidst all of the craziness that has been my life over the past year, I've had a few really wonderful events to look forward to. Coming back to America, though unplanned, was nice. Eric and Katharine's wedding was a fabulously joyous event, and just this past weekend I celebrated the wedding of two more very wonderful, very dear people: Karin and Ryu. They had the kind of wedding I hope to have. It wasn't a crazy, aspirational wedding with doves and ice sculptures. Oscar de la Renta didn't design her gown (though I'm sure Karin might have liked that). And it wasn't held in some nineteenth-century mansion.

What made it so perfect was that everything was "them". It was held on a farm in Florida (where she's from); they chose every single song on the playlist at the reception; they did a cute little first dance; there was a bag pipe player during the ceremony (who doesn't remember the bag pipes at Convocation?), and they seemed genuinely happy. They even found ways to incorporate each of their faiths and backgrounds into the ceremony (their children will be Colombian/Japanese/Eastern-European/Jewish/Catholic). Also, they made the wedding party take pictures in front of the (very plush, very fancy) port-a-potty trailer. Personally, I enjoyed that part. Please don't knock the fancy port-a-potty trailer - there are mints inside. The cutest part was when Karin's parents took the stage and sang a little song they had written for the happy couple. I hope someone puts video of that on YouTube! And Ryu's dad already started putting on the pressure for grandkids during his toast!

Congratulations to Karin and Ryu!

November 13, 2008

A part of my vote on November 4th was for Michelle Obama, a woman I am quite proud to have in the White House for the next four years. (I imagine that this is how my grandmother felt about Jackie Kennedy.)

This is an interesting interview of an author of an unauthorized, but still quite glowing, biography, Michelle. (At least the last few chapters I read in a Barnes & Noble on Court Street were very positive.) She does an excellent job of making Mrs. Obama the illustration of the post-civil rights era (if that really exists in these Prop 8 days is another question) and culmination of many of its goals, if its primary goal was to have more Ivy League educated young women from the South Side of Chicago, that is.

http://www.democracynow.org/2008/11/13/michelle_obamas_biographer_on_the_nations#

If anyone is wondering what Democracy Now! is, they should know that it's what people who listen to NPR say they actually listen to, so that they don't have to admit to being an "NPR listener," because that might make them sound "too, too," as Grandma likes to say.

November 12, 2008

The Yes Men

On my commute this morning I nearly knocked over a young woman handing out the New York Times. I briefly considered taking one, realized that I didn't have 35 cents readily available and figured I'd read it online. Underground, I saw the above the flap photograph of two helicopters flying over a mountainous region away from the setting (rising?) sun, with the headline "Iraq War Ends." Really?!?? Was Bush trying to steal Obama's thunder? Perhaps Michelle's amazing, power red dress made W. realize that he was no longer in charge and so he should try to be her new favorite person by ending the "dumb" war.


Fake New York Times cover


Oh, but how I was fooled! When I emerged on 1st Avenue I saw a pile of these fake papers. Too thin to be the real thing, too progressive even for the Salzbergers, too much fun for the morning edition, it had other hopeful headlines proclaiming a true cost plan to reflect how much environmentally unfriendly products damage society, a recall of all gas guzzling cars and, my favorite, that Harvard Business School would be closing its doors. (Sorry Matthew! You really belong in education, anyway!) It's turns out that it was produced by an organization called The Yes Men, which is a name I happen to love and find pleasingly ironic.

I don't usually like being tricked but this little hoax brightened my morning and made this very hectic, whirlwind day that much easier.

November 11, 2008

Flattering Criticisms, New Silly Neighborhoods

Something I had forgotten but rediscovered today is that New York breeds a certain kind of restlessness in me. I've been sick for three weeks straight and really should have spent this holiday in bed, surfing the internet and reading Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen. My favorite part so far is when the narrator, Leo, discusses an argument he has with his "authentic" wife, Rema:
But I did tell Rema that her response was ludicrously out of proportion. She must actually be worried about something else, I said. She had an endogenous mesallaiance, I concluded. She said she didn't know what a mesallaince as, or what endogenous was, and that I was arrogant, awful, a few other things as well. I liked those accusations and found them flattering and thought she was right.
What if all everyone liked the accusations you threw at them? What if they were grateful for the criticisms and harsh words? Maybe, just like Leo, we should find it flattering when people point out our flaws. It shows a kind of caring - an negative sign of affection. I don't think anyone outside of a book would really ever feel that way. And as an overly direct yet ridiculously sensitive person, I certainly don't, even though I'm always relieved to hear the absolute, complete truth. Well, I'm relieved after I cry a little.

That was sort of a tangent. What I really set out to talk about was my restlessness today, and how I worsened a slight cold by wandering in the freezing cold in one of the silliest neighborhoods known to man. I won't name it because I'll probably end up moving there (I'm awaiting landlord approval as I type), but you should know that it's in Brooklyn and it even has a really ridiculous name. It also happens to be the neighborhood my grandmother literally landed in when she migrated from Puerto Rico. She remembers the boat docking and then walking to a cousin's house near the water. They stayed for a little while and then moved to the neighborhood where I'm currently subletting, Williamsburg. Apparently, there were more (possibly better) cousins to hang out with over here. It's sort of a big decision to not live in Fort Greene, which I loved and still has a lot going for it. Unfortunately, the few times I've hung out there over the last three months I felt myself slipping into the same funk of last August, and, well, that's just not going to work this time around. Banish the funk!

Anyway, I wandered all over the new neighborhood and checked out the synagogue, perused the menus of a Japanese restaurant that makes a decent tuna avocado roll, purchased Dayquil and Nyquil at a gigantic RiteAid (one of three within like ten blocks; I told you the neighborhood is ridiculous), and bought a cup of coffee at a tiny cafe with a talkative proprietor with tons of opinions on art (thumbs up to Van Gogh and Basquiat; thumbs down to Jackson Pollock!) and who tipped me off to a Berber-speaking waitress at one of my favorite restaurants (which is run by his brother). I really hope she speaks the same dialect I do, and that I can actually remember some! And that she doesn't think I'm totally crazy for wanting to order falafel plates in Tashlheit. Maybe she'll be flattered, actually.

And by "aggressive" do you actually mean assertive?

This New York Times article was interesting to read post-election.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/11/us/politics/11south.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

There are still people who find the idea of African-Americans as assertive, equal partners in society as frightening as they did fifty years ago. Only now it's not necessarily about equal access to schools or jobs (except that it actually is even though there are laws governing that sort of thing) it's about the most basic respect on the street. Who moves to the right when you're about to run into each other? Who gets to speak up at town halls? The people interviewed in this article use the word "aggressive" a lot to describe how blacks will act now that we have a Preseident-Elect Obama. It reminds me in many ways how assertive women are often labeled bitches or Jews too pushy for doing very similar things they're male or gentile counterparts do all the time. And I'm actually quite worried about how this will play out in more rural areas, where even as recently as this year we've heard stories of forced confessions under police beatings and horrific lynchings of black adolescents simply for being "too aggressive" in schoolyard skirmishes. Yes, we've elected our first African-American president, but we still have a great deal of work to do.

November 9, 2008

True Story

I just got back from the BYFI Fall Forum, which was all about Jewish writing in America today. It's a topic that's been much-mulled over, and proclaimed dead by more than one person with way more credentials than me. But I found it kind of inspiring. There are three new authors whose books I'm definitely going to pick up: Dara Horn (BYFI '94!), Rivka Galchen (she grew up like me but in Oklahoma!), and Elisa Albert (she is vehemently NOT a Jewish writer). Little ideas for my own novel came to mind while I sat in the audience, but I think I'll leave them to rest in my notebook for now. Yes, characters will probably be based on you.

Oh, it's just a little chopped liver

Accidentally, I ate some chopped liver. This totally goes against my pseudo-vegetarian (aka pickiness) habits, which were developed in direct response to the massive amounts of meat I was forced to eat in Morocco. It's not that I had meat every day, mind you. It was expensive, and therefore a special treat. But because it was considered special and a yummy, nutritious treat to be savored it was served in heaping mounds with maybe a few olives thrown in. Entire chickens and rabbits just piled up on plates. I was grateful for the protein, but it's a little odd when you notice your neighborhood has far fewer sounds of clucking. So here in the states I've been sticking to fish (plants that move really) and tofu for my protein needs. I'm one of the few people who find the taste and texture of tofu appealing. So that's what I ordered at this little Asian place in my current Brooklyn neighborhood, and I just realized that what I was hoping was eggplant is actually liver. It's kind of like when I was presented with an entire rabbit to eat, I practically willed it to be chicken. It tastes like it!

Sorting it all out

When I was little my Uncle Oliver would throw me up in the air and catch me over and over again. It was my favorite game. It made me feel happy, cared for and exhilarated all at the same time. When Senator Barack Obama was declared the winner of Tuesday night's election, I felt all of these things. Finally, taking a leap of faith had paid off. All of a sudden a whole new world opened up. I shed a single tear, took some pictures with my friend Yaelle, called my mother, aunt and grandmother and texted everyone I knew. On the two hour ride through the subways to Williamsburg I saw the tired yet elated faces of my fellow New Yorkers. When I finally emerged above ground the riot police were blocking off Bedford Avenue while search helicopters saught stray "rioters" on side streets. Apparently, some people were a little too happy in this Obama stronghold.

Over the past few days a new feeling has settled in. When I was little the beach was my weekend hangout. My mother allowed me to swim alone, but always gave me a strict marker on my bathing suit that I wasn't allowed to go past. At the time Hawaii was one of those majestic places where you could see straight to the bottom of the ocean floor. It helped if you were interested in avoiding sea urchins and sharp rocks. Go out too far and you would injure your feet, or worse, get caught in a rip tide and be carried out to sea. On those rare weekends when my father was home he often decided that I needed to be toughened up. He would carry me much further out into the ocean, waaaay past my safety marker. So incredibly far, that I couldn't see through the water to the bottom (it helps to keep in mind that he was literally twice my height). I would hold onto him for dear life and protest quite loudly that he carry me back to shore. Sometimes he obliged me, but mostly he wanted me to explore and to see the world from a little further away. All I felt was the huge expanse of the sea ready to swallow me up, and take me away from everything I knew.

Those feelings of uncertainty, of the completely and utterly unknown are what have settled in. What does it mean to have an Obama presidency? What does it man to not have a Bush or Clinton in the White House? On a personal note, what does it mean to have someone like me in the presidency? Not just "like me" because he's biracial, but because he was raised by a single mother and his grandparents, plus he's well-educated, progressive, pragmatic and young. Yes, many of these things could describe President Bill Clinton, but, honestly I wasn't nearly as cognizant of his administration as I was of President George W. Bush's. The consequences of the latter presidency will stay with us for generations to come, no matter how amazing (or not) President Obama proves to be. I have high hopes for the next four (dare I say, eight) years, but I'm also full of the fear of the unknown. It's actually a positive fear in an odd way. That scared feeling you get when you sense your hopes are being raised, and you just hope to God that no one will bring them down, but you know someone probably will, so you hold back a little.

I thought that I would have carried the unexamined elation of Tuesday through at least today!

In other news: Williams beat Amherst in their 123rd match-up. I love my new job (more on that later). I love the new Trader Joe's in Cobble Hill (way more on that later). Karin and Ryu are getting married next weekend and I'm going to be a bridesmaid. (I bought gold shoes today - 30% off! I am so a recessionista.) I'm happy to be back in New York.

xoxoxo

November 4, 2008

Is anyone else incredibly nervous?

I've avoided TV and radio for the past three days (sorry, Rachel - you're still Rachel-tastic!), but all I can think about is tomorrow and the crazy consequences that are in store for our country if things don't go a certain (OK, my) way. Here's what I'm reading and watching to keep myself calm and hopeful:




and



Vote early and keep your fingers crossed. I'll be in Park Slope either celebrating or mourning. I have a special feeling about this one though.