patience & cookies

I was never so relieved to be back on a subway car as I was yesterday. Perhaps traveling back to NYC the day before New Years Eve wasn't the smartest idea ever, but a week in the suburbs proved itself a few days too long. I was anxious to get back to Brooklyn, despite new years eve invitations in Philadelphia. My father graciously drove me to the Trenton train station, where the ticket lines were long, and inexperienced travelers stood stupified at the vending machines. The ride was unbelievable crowded, and a loud family with obnoxious children stood next to me, constantly elbowing me and offering no apologies. They decided to loudly patronize and take malicious pictures of a passenger at the other end of the train. The father only laughed. I contained my disgust and tried my best to ignore them. After getting in to Penn Station, I ended up behind a French couple in line at the MetroCard machine. They stood there, with a long line behind them, looking over a subway map and not even touching the screen. I attempted to help (for purely selfish reasons, I'll admit), but language barriers left me completely frazzled and my impatience got the best of me. I suppose now they have a story about a real New Yorker confrontation to take home with them.

Upon entering a Brooklyn bound subway car my whole body relaxed. As I walked to street level, I sighed of relief; Being back in Greenpoint never felt so good.

My roommate is gone for the weekend, so I've been taking advantage of the empty apartment. The past two days have been filled with apartment scrubbing, errand running, and meal planning. Last night, after hitting up several grocery stories looking for ingredients for a vegetarian shepherds pie, and after not finding all of them in my neighborhood, I had to suck it up and head to the dreaded Union Square Whole Foods market.

For those who have not had the distinct pleasure of coming to this mega crowded mega market, let me indulge you in the hell that is the checkout line. There are 9 lines all together - four express, and five regular. Each line is represented by a different color, and when you have made your way up to the front of the line (I like to refer to this point as the "starting gate", as I feel like a race horse getting ready to gallop) there is a tv screen with colored rectangles corresponding with the color of your line. An automated voice calls the register number which you are to go to, and the number is displayed within the colored rectangles on the tv screen. When you see and hear a number in the color of your line, you check the sign below, telling you via arrows the location of the register you are to go to. There are 35 registers all together. Sound confusing? It is. I get high anxiety every time I step foot into that store. I try to avoid it at all costs.

After getting out of Whole Foods, I head down the street to the Trader Joe's Wine Store to pick up a cheap bottle of red to use in my recipe. As I walk towards the store, I stare dumbfounded at the fact that there was a line outside of the store just to get in. Thankfully the line moved quickly. It must be mentioned that the line at the Trader Joe's is just as bad as that of Whole Foods. It wraps around the entire store. It's advisable to go with another person; one person stands in line while the other person shops, and then you swap. It's absolutely ridiculous.

After my weary day yesterday, I decided today to make my favorite peanut butter cookies. Tomorrow perhaps I'll conquer the shepherd's pie. Tonight I will be bringing in the new year with a hot toddy, cookies, and a good book.

Not bad, not bad at all.





Listening to: The Static Age: Closing of the Year

change(s)

The past few days have found me holed away in my childhood bedroom with Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. This is a story I once thought I knew so well. Growing up I would constantly watch an animated VHS, a kind of Little Women introduction. It told the beginning of the story, introduced the main characters and gave one strong moral before ending. I couldn't stop watching it. At 11, the newest movie came out and I was mesmerized in so many ways. But, for some strange reason, although the actual book sat on my shelf from that time on, I never picked it up and read it.

When I came back to my parents house for holiday break last week, I decided it was time. I had waited long enough, hadn't I? Obviously I knew that the book would be different and hold many more details, but I am completely in awe about how much I've missed out on and how my opinions can be altered when presented with all the facts. The past few nights have been the kind where all I want to do is hide under my covers with my book and a flashlight, reading until my eyes can't stay open anymore. And that's exactly what I've been doing (well, minus the flashlight and my under-covers tent; such devices are for children, you see).

Last night I had a vivid dream that I never knew I needed. On display was a chapter of my life that had already ended, but was somehow trickling onto the fresh pages just now being written. I found myself in a confrontation that never had a chance to actually take place. Somehow, even after all this time, it gave me the closure I thought I had before, but didn't. Like the Little Women book vs. the movie, my dream vs. the memory brought forth all the details that are so easily overlooked or left out; ones that can be cut out to abbreviate the story, but that are essential to shedding the most light. And as I woke up, I felt the intense emotions and the racing of my pulse as if it had actually happened. And I sat up, and I smiled.

As Jo leaves her beloved home and Laurie for the big city, she places hard decisions in her wake and ventures out into the unknown, yearning to see what lay beyond. Her choice is controversial, but in the end it is exactly what she needed. Unlike Jo, I remain in the same city. But the thirst for change is there. Perhaps this is merely a temporary stop in my journey, but I shouldn't be so quick to overlook the details, as this stop is sure to prove itself important.

domestic envy

after a painless and surprisingly quick bus & train ride, I arrived in the philadelphia suburbs yesterday where I was picked up by an old friend. we grew up around the corner from one another, attending the same grade and high schools. we spent our days crafting everything from scrunchies to tote bags, obsessively rubber stamping/embossing and sculpting odd creatures and knickknacks out of sculpey. we fell out of touch for a while during college, but the past few years have found us closer than ever. i don't see her all too often, but when i do it's like we never missed a beat.

Our lives up until now have been quite opposite. She's married, lives in the suburbs, and has had stable jobs her entire life; I'm forever a Singleton, have lived in three different states, two different countries, and change jobs/professions just about every year. the past year has found our life paths becoming more alike than ever before. it's funny how suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, we reach an age where we realize not only what's important to us (or impulsive, in my case), but what's actually good for us. and when you set your priorities straight, despite where you live (the city, suburbs, or country), your lives somehow become a little more similar than you could have ever imagined.

She has an apartment that i revel in every time i visit. Last night was no exception. They hosted a small Christmas gathering, with decorations that only enhanced my vision of domesticity at it's finest, complete with Christmas tree and stalkings hanging from a fireplace boasting a roaring fire (thank you Costco Yule logs). I love my life, but sometimes taking a step back and relaxing in a different setting is exactly what I need.

Listening to: Banjo Or Freakout: White Christmas - Stereogum