The French have balconies, New Yorkers have fire escapes. Naturally, each has its appeal, but as I woke up to the diabolical sounds of pigeons fighting on the fire escape, the answer was obvious.
Getting ready under 5 minutes might seem like Mission Impossible, but I have perfected the art of procrastination in the morning. Would it really kill me to wake up an hour earlier to enjoy the comparably cool mornings? No. But I also wake up earlier than the average American, and requires much less maintenance.
We can only be so perfect.
I've almost forgotten the kids were going back to school, and the train would be packed like sardine cans again. I stood in front of the Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan poster, silently thanking my noise canceling headphones for drowning out the neighboring voices. A young boy was wearing a full suit, pocket square and all, while his father was giving him a Ted talk. The boy nodded solemnly at each passing sentence, and wiped his forehead stealthily. I don't blame ye, little fellow. It was 84% humidity, and only 7:40 in the morning.
The train swung through the tracks in the nick of time, before we both melt into a puddle. I miraculously secured a seat, and turned on Spotify to look for the song of the hour. The feed recommended me a new playlist called Life Sucks. I feel like I shouldn't take it personally. After all, just because it coincided with my current mood, it didn't have to ring true. But who decided "River Flows in You" belonged in the Life Sucks category? The song was a goldmine, you can literally waltz to it. And who decided to include two of Avril Lavigne's lesser known songs in a sea of fifty, then decided to throw in a cover of Avril's most popular song, Complicated? I clicked the cover, mostly out of spite, and proceeded to murmur inside my head some more about the poor choice.
Half an hour on the train can pass by in a blink of an eye, or in agony. A group of girls chattered with glee, their school uniforms pressed to a tee. I looked at them with a sense of ...what, dread, contempt, jealousy? Jealous of their youth, contempt for their sense of carefree, yearn for their friendship?
It was none of these things. I found myself smiling at their unabashed joy, as if I was part of the bubble.
Until it was time to get off the train, and join the sea of commuters.
--
The Good Place is honestly one of the best shows. Highly worth a watch. I ought to feel guilty of binging through half of the season in one setting, but at 20 odd minutes per episode, it's a treasure chest.
My motto these days is "I can make that." For instance, why are silk pajamas so shockingly expensive? It almost makes one want to take a class, and make her own. Surely the labor, and the materials do not cost $500. I'm looking at you, Olivia Von Halle.
Though I probably won't make shampoo, or conditioner, for that matter. Lesson learned from accidentally using shampoo as my body wash earlier. They were most definitely not interchangeable.
With that said, I ended up making wontons in the boiling heat. Guess this means I have to wake up earlier tomorrow to eat them, huh.
Wednesday, September 5, 2018
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Week 36
I've tried and failed to keep a diary all year. For reason unbeknownst to me, I've been putting it off rather blatantly. I suppose that's my brain signaling me that life hasn't been worth documenting lately. What is there to capture, when I've been sucked into the limitless void of confounding routine, with no way out? So what if I can no longer remember what I did on April 17th, or what I ate on the first Wednesday in June?
That, in short, would be terrifying. Hence why I am hastily jutting down random musings during my subway ride.
There's something inexplicably powerful about missing your subway by mere inches, and that's what awaited me this morning. The next train was two minutes away, but felt like an eternity in the agonizing morning rush. I stood idly looking at the giant posters that took up the center view, and looked for my own marker. It took me longer than I'd like to admit that my Beyonce & Jay Z Cartier poster disappeared. Goodbye, getting off perfectly in front of the staircase, hello, test subject #1.
You'd think my motor skills would kick in, and guide me to the right one effortlessly, but all I saw were a slew of Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan posters, looking dumbfounded right back at me.
There are new shows and movies churning out weekly, you think they'd try to change it up a little for the commuters.
After months of subtle brain washing, I tuned into Jack Ryan during labor day weekend, along with millions of others who might have gone through similar imprinting. That, or we all find John Krasinski dripping with charm. The premise is straightforward enough. An ex marine who was honorably discharged from a terrible incident, had secured a desk job in the CIA shortly after. Unfortunately, the war followed him back from Afghanistan, in the form of lone suffering, both physically and emotionally. Still, John (or in this case, Jack) trudges on in his daily, insignificant analyst life, until one day, he finds an anomaly. The rest is history, and could be played confidently by any of the Chrises, or let's face it, Tom Cruise. As much as my unrequited love for John is, my sneaking suspicion that he seemed slightly off for this role grew as I clicked the next episode. Perhaps this was Tom Clancy's nod at John (another John!) Le Carre's diffident soldier, George Smiley, brilliantly portrayed by Gary Oldman. Perhaps the awkwardness is intentional. Or maybe John is simply not a method actor like Daniel-Day Lewis.
What the show deviated from the usual superhero doesn't always wear a cape gag, is that it tried to humanize the villains. It spends a good chunk of the episode giving the anti heroes a solid back story, and it goes on retorting that no one is merely born as bad; it is the environment that will ultimately change a person. Family and friends can turn into foes with one move, enemies will unite under the same cause. Despite an astounding amount of research suggesting otherwise, we humans are rather complicated beings, with convoluted emotions and behaviors that can be triggered, or manipulated. I can only hope the writers stay afloat.
---
This afternoon, as I try to shuffle three bags of groceries under my seat, a mother and son duo sat next to me on the subway. It was 92 degrees, but felt like 100. Even in the midst of air conditioning, I felt the boy's heat immediately. As he fidgeted with his US Open memorabilia, I marveled at how much heat a tiny little human can emit. Surely his mother, who sat in the beating sun for hours, felt the same? I glanced at her curiously under the guise of massaging my sore neck, and watched her yap away on her giant phone. And I finally caught it. The here one second, gone the next micro expression of dread, when she gestured her son to sit still with her hand, the other still firmly attached to her phone.
I swallowed a smile. It's impossible not to be affected by the heat, no matter who you are.
That, in short, would be terrifying. Hence why I am hastily jutting down random musings during my subway ride.
There's something inexplicably powerful about missing your subway by mere inches, and that's what awaited me this morning. The next train was two minutes away, but felt like an eternity in the agonizing morning rush. I stood idly looking at the giant posters that took up the center view, and looked for my own marker. It took me longer than I'd like to admit that my Beyonce & Jay Z Cartier poster disappeared. Goodbye, getting off perfectly in front of the staircase, hello, test subject #1.
You'd think my motor skills would kick in, and guide me to the right one effortlessly, but all I saw were a slew of Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan posters, looking dumbfounded right back at me.
There are new shows and movies churning out weekly, you think they'd try to change it up a little for the commuters.
After months of subtle brain washing, I tuned into Jack Ryan during labor day weekend, along with millions of others who might have gone through similar imprinting. That, or we all find John Krasinski dripping with charm. The premise is straightforward enough. An ex marine who was honorably discharged from a terrible incident, had secured a desk job in the CIA shortly after. Unfortunately, the war followed him back from Afghanistan, in the form of lone suffering, both physically and emotionally. Still, John (or in this case, Jack) trudges on in his daily, insignificant analyst life, until one day, he finds an anomaly. The rest is history, and could be played confidently by any of the Chrises, or let's face it, Tom Cruise. As much as my unrequited love for John is, my sneaking suspicion that he seemed slightly off for this role grew as I clicked the next episode. Perhaps this was Tom Clancy's nod at John (another John!) Le Carre's diffident soldier, George Smiley, brilliantly portrayed by Gary Oldman. Perhaps the awkwardness is intentional. Or maybe John is simply not a method actor like Daniel-Day Lewis.
What the show deviated from the usual superhero doesn't always wear a cape gag, is that it tried to humanize the villains. It spends a good chunk of the episode giving the anti heroes a solid back story, and it goes on retorting that no one is merely born as bad; it is the environment that will ultimately change a person. Family and friends can turn into foes with one move, enemies will unite under the same cause. Despite an astounding amount of research suggesting otherwise, we humans are rather complicated beings, with convoluted emotions and behaviors that can be triggered, or manipulated. I can only hope the writers stay afloat.
---
This afternoon, as I try to shuffle three bags of groceries under my seat, a mother and son duo sat next to me on the subway. It was 92 degrees, but felt like 100. Even in the midst of air conditioning, I felt the boy's heat immediately. As he fidgeted with his US Open memorabilia, I marveled at how much heat a tiny little human can emit. Surely his mother, who sat in the beating sun for hours, felt the same? I glanced at her curiously under the guise of massaging my sore neck, and watched her yap away on her giant phone. And I finally caught it. The here one second, gone the next micro expression of dread, when she gestured her son to sit still with her hand, the other still firmly attached to her phone.
I swallowed a smile. It's impossible not to be affected by the heat, no matter who you are.
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