(sub)urban jungle

I was lucky enough to take some time off around the July 4th weekend and went home for several days. Home to where there is no cell phone signal, where I wake up to birds in the morning instead of garbage trucks. Where I’m more likely to see a groundhog than another person and my parents insist that I take a late afternoon nap on the deck before dinner. That, plus the free flowing lemonade, fresh corn, grilled chicken and salmonella-free tomatoes (thank you Pete’s Produce) made for one of the best weekends I’ve had in a while. (Not to mention a certain Pixar robot named Wall-E who has captured my heart.)

If you asked where I grew up, I’d say Philadelphia, because it’s more likely you’ve heard of the city than the surrounding suburbs. My parents only live 40 minutes outside the city, but you’d think it was hours away. That’s the great thing about Pennsylvania. The terrain transitions from urban to suburban to country in less that 50 miles. My second high school was boxed in on four sides by corn fields. When Hurricane Floyd hit my junior year, students got called home to bail out the farm. There is still a grange building. And I love it.

Even though I’m living just enough for the city right now, I’m craving suburban life like I crave Rita’s mango water ice as soon as the temperature gets above 70. Someday when I have a very nice camera and maybe a photography class I’ll take some pictures that will do my  home justice. But in the meantime, I will just be missing home.

  

10 Things that make it* better

1. hot pink toe nail polish

2. key lime cookies

3. the weather clearing up in time for NY Philharmonic in the park (hopefully)

4. netflix in the mail

5. saving the NYmag crossword puzzle

6. getting my dad on the phone instead of his voicemail

7. crossing off the last item on the to-do list

8. making plans to visit B

9. starting a new book

10. Ben E. King

 

*And by ‘it’, I mean life.

tagged-I’m it.

Kristy tagged me for this little questionnaire a while ago, and since I haven’t had time to write anything original, this will have to do.

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
January 1998 I was in eighth grade at Strath Haven Middle School. At the time I was ‘dating’ this kid Chris (who my parents called ‘Chicken Legs’). I probably had rehearsal for the musical (Cinderella).

2. 5 things on my To Do list today?
Well beyond things I have to do for work, not much. Everything has already been checked off.

3. What snacks I enjoy…
Anything sweet. I have a horrible sweet tooth.

4. What would I do if I were to suddenly become a billionaire?
It’s scary how easily this list comes to me: 1. Nose job (don’t judge) 2. Pay off my student loans 3. Buy my parents a new house 4. Buy back all the houses I’ve lived in (I’m pretty sentimental) 5. Donate. But I’m not really sure where to. Maybe my high schools? Definitely not GW, they don’t need any more of my money. My sorority, definitely.

5. 3 Bad Habits
Biting my nails, twirling my hair, lying.

6. 5 Places I’ve Lived
Wallingford, PA. West Chester, PA. Andover, MA. Washington, DC. London. New York.

7. 5 Jobs I’ve Had
Parliamentary intern, camp counselor, newspaper intern, public affairs intern, assistant manager at an ice cream parlor.

8. 5 Things People Don’t Know About Me
I’m scared of the dark. When I was little, maybe 7 or 8, my neighbor and I broke into her locked house (it was surprisingly easy). I have Hannah Montana on my iPod. I sleep with the TV on for company. I smoked my first cigarette (it was a clove) in tenth grade on the deck with a girl on my street. This one counts because I don’t think she knew it was my first one, and I never really told anybody. I don’t smoke anymore.

so busy

Hoping to come up for air sometime this week, until then…

Up every mornin just to keep a job
I gotta fight my way through the hustling mob
Sounds of the city poundin in my brain
While another day goes down the drain

But it’s a five oclock world when the whistle blows
No one owns a piece of my time
And there’s a five oclock me inside my clothes
Thinkin that the world looks fine, yeah

Tradin my time for the pay I get
Livin on money that I aint made yet
I’ve been goin tryin to make my way
While I live for the end of the day

Do the Panic

Besides being the title of a great song by one of my favorite bands (Phantom Planet), the title of this posts reflects my current mood. I call it the 3pm panic. I feel like it must have something to do with my digestion, or something, that I always get a panicky feeling around the same time every day.

Roommate got a new job that will be taking her to Philadelphia in the next couple months. I’ve become that bitter friend (but she doesn’t know it). I’m happy for her, but something good in her life is making me look at the lack of good in mine. I’m not miserable, I’m not unhappy, I just am. I’m bumping along, and lately that hasn’t felt like enough. A friend suggested making a list of what I want out of life, so that I can figure out how to get there. The problem might be that I don’t know what I want.

sidenote: Been listening to Michael Buble’s ‘Home’ a lot lately. I want to live in that song and inhabit every single note.

And I’m surrounded by

a million people I

Still feel alone

Let me go home

Things I’ve learned in the past week

I can live without sugar, but I absolutely cannot live without my mac.

Frozen grapes are a poor substitute for ice cream, no matter what my nutritionist says.

Despite the fact that it’s only the end of April, it’s apparently ‘too late’ to buy a summer trenchcoat.

These past (almost) two weeks without sugar have been trying, to say the least. I was hoping that by this point I wouldn’t want it anymore, but since I was weak on Saturday and had some frozen yogurt, I guess my sugar craving clock has been reset.  Needless to say, I’ve wanted a brownie sundae for 13 days now.

Finally

I’m sitting on my bed, reading Eat, Pray, Love (still) and I hear opera music wafting through the open window with the breeze. It is one of those transcendent moments with the planets align  and every molecule on the earth collects itself into perfection. I didn’t realize I had been waiting to overhear someone else’s opera, but I was. When I heard it, I exhaled, finally. Finally one of those images that plays in my head has occurred. I am reading in the quiet with the cool breeze, no sirens, and I am listening to opera. Of all the music I’ve overheard since moving to New York, this is the only time I’m not annoyed. And no one else seems to be either. There is no banging on walls, no cursing out the window to shut off ‘that damn racket’. Everyone seems to be happy on this particularly warm Saturday, to listen to someone else’s music. It is straight out of a movie. And I didn’t even know I’d been waiting. 

Often, it is more about the destination than the journey.

At least for me. 

I realized it on the way to the gym today. I ran into my roommate on the street, and reminded her that The Biggest Loser finale is on tonight. I haven’t watched it all season, but that’s OK because, for me,  the best part is seeing all the contestants skinny and happy. And realization hit me: I don’t care about the journey, I just want the end result. I don’t want to deal with working for something, I just want to know how it ends, I want it to be done. I run into this problem constantly. I’m a Libra, and we tend to start things without finishing them. And maybe it’s inherent in my astrological sign, or maybe it’s a symptom of the ‘instant gratification’ mentality so prevalent in ’society’. But either way, I often find myself unwilling to do the work needed to see the result I want. 

This brings me to the gym. (I was only a block away when I started on this train of thought.) For possibly the first time, I am following through. I am committed. I go three times a week and get my butt kicked. And in the spirit of commitment (and because I am genuinely afraid of my nutritionist) I’m going off sugar tomorrow. Who knows how long I’ll last. Hopefully at least a day. It will be, if nothing else, an interesting experiment, and topical, as well. Every week brings another study on diabetes and obesity and how we (Americans) are slowly killing ourselves. Count me out. 

I also started Eat, Pray, Love last night, which could have something to do with the zen I’m currently feeling. Even though I’ve not finished yet, I already love it. And having had the pleasure of meeting the author last year, I’m happy to recommend it to anyone and everyone. It truly is one book that lives up to all the hype. 

 

Dying of cuteness

via Jezebel:
Duckling Rescue

Oh Netflix, how could you?

Clearly, I spoke too soon:

In case you can’t see, that’s Once and Again up there, recommended for my viewing pleasure. Or in case I want to be so bored I poke my eyes out.