Ra cooked dinner tonight at her massive apartment in Brooklyn (or last night, depending on how you define the hours prior to midnight when you have not yet gone to sleep). I type massive because it is by my brainwashed Manhattan standards. As I sat at her kitchen table sipping wine, her boyfriend Brad walked in with his overnight bag and a fitted baseball cap cocked to the side. There was something familiar about the way he sauntered in, walked up behind Ra at the stove, knelt his 6'4" frame slightly to kiss her hello, and strolled back to her bedroom to put down his stuff. The familiarity of it made something tighten inside my chest. I'm not sure who it made me miss - Terrence or Rickey. Even now, I'm not even really sure whether Brad actually had on a hat or if I just recall it from my own memories of tilted baseball caps - a mannerism that Terrence and Rickey share. But I am beginning to think that part of me will just always exist in that place, where I see the past and the present simultaneously.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Bryant Park By Day & Night
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query "Ra". Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query "Ra". Sort by date Show all posts
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Pajamas & Couch Night
Ra and I went to a lounge in Chelsea for Happy Hour on Thursday night, where our good friend was DJing. After turning down a promoter's complimentary dinner starting at 10pm on Little West 12th Street followed by drinks and dancing at a nearby club, we were both back in Brooklyn and Harlem respectively before nine o'clock and asleep by ten.
We had ambitious hopes for a Friday night out, but you know it's been a long, hard week when two 20-something New Yorkers pass up another promoter's complimentary dinner in the Meatpacking District and a table at Tenjune. Or maybe we're getting over the clubs, restaurant openings and velvet rope parties that are so exciting when you're new to the city. Or maybe we are unwilling to admit that we can't party in our late-20s like we did in college.
Friday afternoon we were comparing text messages we had received from promoters inviting us to various clubs in attempt to lock down a plan that we both knew we would likely bail on later. By the time I left the office, we were texting each other and relieved that we both felt the same way. All for pajamas and couch night? Say, "Aaaaaaaah."
Besides, Iris had to attend a Fashion Show in Brooklyn, Tasha is out of town for a wedding, and Mayra - though she vowed to continue with an active night life as long she can still fit in her club clothes - is in the uncomfortable phase of the first trimester of her pregnancy. Tonight, however, we're gathering at Ra's apartment in Brooklyn for a house party. Wine and hard liquor for all and Virgin Bloody Marys for Mayra. Full report tomorrow.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
All Stops Through Brooklyn
My secret service buddy and I met at Coffee Shop at 8:30pm for a drink before stopping by Trader Joe's Wine Shop on East 14th Street and Union Square Wines & Spirits on Fourth Avenue and beginning our trek to Brooklyn for Amanda, Gina and Ra's Party at the Penthouse (a.k.a. their fourth floor walk-up in Crown Heights).
To alleviate the stress of MTA-imposed, maddening commuter delays, we decided it would be hilarious to take a picture of me swigging a bottle of Drambuie at all the subway stops where we had to wait/transfer due to weekend construction on the A/C line. There is now an impressive slide show of photos in my digital camera featuring me in profile guzzling the golden elixir next to signs for Union Square, Fulton Street, Broadway Nassau Street, Nostrand Avenue, Utica Avenue (because Brooklyn-bound trains were running express with Manhattan-bound trains running local for all bypassed stations), and Kingston-Throop Avenue.
"Given your role with the United States government," I said, "Let's get the legal issues out of the way ..."
"Let's not say illegal. Let's go with ill-advised," he replied.
We both had a pretty good buzz going by the time we arrived at the Penthouse, where the party was already well-underway. However, thanks to an ill-advised mix of Drambuie in transit, Vodka Soda upon arrival and some sugary mix during two rounds of Flip Cup, I was in Ra's bed and asleep by 1am while the party continued well into the night.
I wish I had more fun times to include in my Saturday night report, but I don't know what else happened. End of post.
To alleviate the stress of MTA-imposed, maddening commuter delays, we decided it would be hilarious to take a picture of me swigging a bottle of Drambuie at all the subway stops where we had to wait/transfer due to weekend construction on the A/C line. There is now an impressive slide show of photos in my digital camera featuring me in profile guzzling the golden elixir next to signs for Union Square, Fulton Street, Broadway Nassau Street, Nostrand Avenue, Utica Avenue (because Brooklyn-bound trains were running express with Manhattan-bound trains running local for all bypassed stations), and Kingston-Throop Avenue.
"Given your role with the United States government," I said, "Let's get the legal issues out of the way ..."
"Let's not say illegal. Let's go with ill-advised," he replied.
We both had a pretty good buzz going by the time we arrived at the Penthouse, where the party was already well-underway. However, thanks to an ill-advised mix of Drambuie in transit, Vodka Soda upon arrival and some sugary mix during two rounds of Flip Cup, I was in Ra's bed and asleep by 1am while the party continued well into the night.
I wish I had more fun times to include in my Saturday night report, but I don't know what else happened. End of post.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Two Years Down; A Lifetime to Go
Today marks my first two years living in New York City. But that anniversary is secondary. Five years ago today. And the 3rd has fallen on a Sunday again. At this exact moment five years ago, that darkness did not yet exist for me. In another 12-13 more hours, his father would be calling to tell me that he was dead.
I'm still creating coincidences and searching for that connection, which logic tells me does not exist. But as August 3, 2008, drew closer, I was helping plan a baby shower for Mayra, and Natasha invited me to attend a Yankees game - a first for both of us - made even more special by the location of our seats.
Natasha and I spent the three days before Friday's game, bouncing around our apartment, giddy about the idea of sitting in the first row behind home plate for our first-ever Yankees game - and one of the last to ever be played in The House that Ruth Built. We giggled continuously and said corny things sporadically, like "Home plate, baby!" while passing each other in the kitchen. One evening, I walked in the apartment and called out, "Is there a home plate ticket holder in the house?"
And as Mayra's baby shower approached, I became increasingly busier with last minute preparations and shopping for gifts on her registry. Ra and I met at the Toys "R" Us in Times Square after work one evening and wandered aimlessly in the babies section. Sifting through the endless options of bottles, diapers, teethers and care kits was overwhelming, to say the least. I highly recommend it as an effective form of birth control. As we were exiting the store with our purchases (including a large, boxed high chair), Ra - slightly frustrated by the complicated shopping spree - mentioned that we should probably catch a taxi to my apartment. I replied that we probably wouldn't be able to catch a cab in Midtown at that hour, to which she exclaimed in horror, "Oh no! What are we going to do?"
I looked back at the genuine expression of repulsion on her face, her body hunched by the weight of Toys "R" Us shopping bags, and we both died laughing. Unable to catch an available taxi from 44th and Broadway, we ended up taking our first pedicab ride.
Mayra and Melvin's baby shower was a traditional Dominican shower, which included a lot of friends, food, music, dancing and alcohol. I ran around Midtown on Saturday morning, trying to find some of the last things I had forgotten to purchase for her shower games. And then there was the commute from Midtown to 111th Street in Queens, the set-up for the party, and Melvin's reassurance that we had plenty of time because Dominicans are never punctual. But what about all of the invited Americans, Ecuadorians, Puerto Ricans, and those who bubble in "other", I wondered? So many things to keep my mind occupied. And of course, I found more moments to add to my memory montage when Mayra was in the middle of opening her gifts and suddenly began to cry. We all knew it was partially her eighth-month hormones, but we also knew how overpowering it can be to feel so incredibly loved. As Melvin laughed and began to console her, his own eyes welled up and a few tears spilled over.
And this evening, Natasha and I are painting our living room and kitchen. Spiced Butternut and Autumn Orange while we order Thai take-out and sip Pinot Noir. It's the combination of the big and little things, after all, that make life go on.
A Year Ago Today: One Year At A Time
Two Years Ago Today: Temperaturely Speaking ...
I'm still creating coincidences and searching for that connection, which logic tells me does not exist. But as August 3, 2008, drew closer, I was helping plan a baby shower for Mayra, and Natasha invited me to attend a Yankees game - a first for both of us - made even more special by the location of our seats.
Natasha and I spent the three days before Friday's game, bouncing around our apartment, giddy about the idea of sitting in the first row behind home plate for our first-ever Yankees game - and one of the last to ever be played in The House that Ruth Built. We giggled continuously and said corny things sporadically, like "Home plate, baby!" while passing each other in the kitchen. One evening, I walked in the apartment and called out, "Is there a home plate ticket holder in the house?"
And as Mayra's baby shower approached, I became increasingly busier with last minute preparations and shopping for gifts on her registry. Ra and I met at the Toys "R" Us in Times Square after work one evening and wandered aimlessly in the babies section. Sifting through the endless options of bottles, diapers, teethers and care kits was overwhelming, to say the least. I highly recommend it as an effective form of birth control. As we were exiting the store with our purchases (including a large, boxed high chair), Ra - slightly frustrated by the complicated shopping spree - mentioned that we should probably catch a taxi to my apartment. I replied that we probably wouldn't be able to catch a cab in Midtown at that hour, to which she exclaimed in horror, "Oh no! What are we going to do?"
I looked back at the genuine expression of repulsion on her face, her body hunched by the weight of Toys "R" Us shopping bags, and we both died laughing. Unable to catch an available taxi from 44th and Broadway, we ended up taking our first pedicab ride.
Mayra and Melvin's baby shower was a traditional Dominican shower, which included a lot of friends, food, music, dancing and alcohol. I ran around Midtown on Saturday morning, trying to find some of the last things I had forgotten to purchase for her shower games. And then there was the commute from Midtown to 111th Street in Queens, the set-up for the party, and Melvin's reassurance that we had plenty of time because Dominicans are never punctual. But what about all of the invited Americans, Ecuadorians, Puerto Ricans, and those who bubble in "other", I wondered? So many things to keep my mind occupied. And of course, I found more moments to add to my memory montage when Mayra was in the middle of opening her gifts and suddenly began to cry. We all knew it was partially her eighth-month hormones, but we also knew how overpowering it can be to feel so incredibly loved. As Melvin laughed and began to console her, his own eyes welled up and a few tears spilled over.
And this evening, Natasha and I are painting our living room and kitchen. Spiced Butternut and Autumn Orange while we order Thai take-out and sip Pinot Noir. It's the combination of the big and little things, after all, that make life go on.
A Year Ago Today: One Year At A Time
Two Years Ago Today: Temperaturely Speaking ...
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Top 10 Favorite Cullowhee Memories
One week from today I will be leaving for New York City! Here, in random order, are my Top 10 Favorite Memories from college and the place I will be leaving behind:
The Battle for the Old Mountain Jug
Some question whether or not the mountain rivalry between Western Carolina University and Appalachian State University is a true collegiate football tradition or a clever 1970's marketing ploy, but for those of us who took down the goal posts in Whitmire Stadium in 1998 following Western's first win over ASU in 13 years and subsequently left one of them on the Chancellor's front yard, it will always be a favorite, genuine and unscripted college moment. Sheer joy. True bliss. Solidarity among thousands. Whenever I think of that moment, I will forever have an image in my head of Tokii and me, linked arm in arm, racing onto the football field and screaming as the goal post fell and narrowly missed both of our heads.
Summer in Park Place
As much as we hated it at the time, we love to laugh about it now. The summer that Jessica, Daphne, Shameika, Dominique, Travis and I all lived in a two-bedroom (single-wide) trailer in Park Place will always be one of my most unforgettable and vivid memories. This was not just any trailer. It was undoubtedly the worst trailer in the world. To briefly describe it, there was a hole in the living room floor under the stapled-down carpet that everyone used to stumble over; mesh netting was duct-taped, thumb-tacked and stapled over the windows (a quick fix by Travis after the landlord continued to ignore our requests for new screens); a system of box fans in different windows served to facilitate airflow through the trailer in the absence of air-conditioning (it was basically a metal box sitting in the sun); the hard water, which smelled of sulfur, left an invisible film on your skin after showers and was unsuitable to drink (ask Dominique about the time he accidentally made a pitcher of Kool-Aid using the tap water); about half a dozen stray cats lived under the trailer (which was my fault because I kept feeding them); there was a wasp nest with an indestructible force field and super, incredible-hulk wasps above the back door; we woke up to our neighbor's Mexican music on full blast every morning at a quarter to eight; there was only one bathroom so we all got to know each others' scents a lot more than any of us would have liked; a crack head showed up on our doorstep one day when I was home alone and tried to sell me a boom box and a box of cassette tapes; I slept in one bedroom, Jessica and Shameika slept in the other, Daphne slept on a couch, Dominique slept on a futon, and Travis slept on his 6x1' military cot. Dominique and I used to ride around in my little, green Saturn or hang out in Burger King just to be in an air conditioned environment. Late into the night when he and I were the only ones left awake, we'd watch infomercials about exciting products like the Revostyler, the Perfect Pancake and steak knives. And after Travis moved out, Dominique was the only male with four women, who would all go on their period at the same time. I think that may have been the closest we have come to hell. But there is no other group of people with whom I'd go to hell and back ... again.
Hide & Go Seek in Hunter Library
Hunter Library, on the campus of Western Carolina University, is the largest library west of Charlotte. In the basement there is an endless sea of enormous bookshelves and study cubicles with group meeting rooms along the perimeter. I will never forget playing Hide & Go Seek with my girlfriends and a bunch of the players from the Men's Basketball team in the basement of the library during my sophomore year. You know it's a big library, when there are over half a dozen 6'6"+, 250+ pound dudes running around and nobody can find anybody else.
The Brothers I Never Had (besides my real brother)
Dunston, Jon and Pat were three of my best friends from my college daze: sledding and snowball fights in the winter time; summers at East Laporte; riding aimlessly around the Cullowhee-Sylva-Dillsboro triad; do-da-do-da-do by the track; dragging furniture into the elevator in Walker Hall, sitting in the chairs and waiting for someone to call the elevator to their floor; educating me on Sports Center; hanging out at the airport or on a random mountainside; showing me my first porno film; taking care of a puppy that my freshmen roommate and I adopted and illegally housed in our dorm room. BJ was initiated into our little clique later and never failed to make us laugh with his impersonations of Bernie Mac. They were the brothers I never had - in addition to my nearest genetic match, David.
Coco Cherry
The greatest hamster to crawl the Earth - or to ever run on a stationary wheel - went by the name of Coco Cherry. His first name was Coco because I love to name animals Coco. And his last name was Cherry because his eyeballs looked like cherries. He was the illegal dorm room pet of Helder 350, the room Tokii and I shared our junior year. We bought him in Greensboro (the same night that Jagged Edge spotted our clique in the mall, and gave us free tickets to their concert during A&T's Homecoming) because he was the only hamster we have ever seen who would chase your finger if you dragged it along the bottom of his cage and would crawl into your open hand on his own. His only flaw was that he had really bad gas - unless Tokii and I were always placing him to blame. He had a long, happy hamster life and ended up living out the remainder of his days at my parents' house while I was out of the country. I did not get to honor him with an appropriate hamster burial because I was studying abroad in Spain when he died, but I believe my parents buried him in the backyard. It was either that or they sent him to the happy farm where all of our other pets have gone.
The Night I Met Rickey
Rickey and I saw each other on campus for the first time when he approached our parked car near a short row of commercial buildings - jokingly referred to as the Cullowhee Shopping Strip - and flirted with my friends. I knew by the way he peered curiously at me in the back seat that he liked me immediately. We were formally introduced later that evening on the University Center Lawn during Valley Ballyhoo, a welcome back event hosted at the start of each fall semester. I was a sophomore and still dating my high school sweetheart at the time, and Rickey and I would not end up dating until almost a year later. However, the way he genuinely approached me that night and the perseverance and sweetness in which he pursued me over the following months was so remarkably sincere that we became inseparable almost immediately after the distance between WCU and UNC-Wilmington ended my three-year relationship with my high school boyfriend. Rickey and I dated for almost four years ...
He died unexpectedly in Augusta, Georgia. One of the hardest things for me to deal after his death was my foolish immaturity following an argument that we had two weeks before he died. That would be the last time we would ever speak. My biggest regret is that I tried to make him suffer after our last fight by ignoring his phone calls. I foolishly wanted him to really fear that he was losing me for good. The morning his father called to tell me that Rickey had died, I saw his number appear in my cell phone. Just before I decided to answer the call, I remember thinking to myself, Ok - I'll talk to him now...
... Losing him that way with so much left unsaid - just losing him at all - was nearly unbearable. Sometimes I go back to that moment in mind. Just before I answered his father's phone call. To a moment when everything in me knew that I was about to speak to Rickey. When hearing his voice still felt familiar. And I wish for that feeling. That feeling of knowing that I am about to talk to him. I don't know if I'll ever get over the fact that I can't anymore. That no matter what I do, his absence is permanent. That I can't change it. That I can't go back. That I'll never see him or talk to him again. That every day, his existance becomes more and more distant in my memory. That if I live to be 70 years old, he will still be 27.
I do know that now, when I forgive someone, I forgive them without any games or stipulations. I'll never play around with time again.
The Pretend For-Real Marriage of Daphne A. Moore & Kevin Garnett (The Newly Weds, Season Going-On-At-Least-Five)
I don't know when they were married exactly, but I recently found an email from 2002 regarding this blessed union, so this serves as direct evidence that this charade has been going on for at least four years. Daphne Moore, the self-proclaimed Daphne Moore-Garnett, has been living an imaginary life in which she is married to Kevin Garnett, #21 of the Minnesota Timberwolves. It's almost like having an imaginary friend with a mild case of borderline stalking. Yet despite the fact that my boyfriend's best friend plays for the Kings, our sorority sister's ex-boyfriend plays for the Wizards, another friend's brother plays for the Warriors, and two members of our college circle dance for the Bobcats, she has never had a chance to meet him and inform him of their nuptials. How can something so beautiful be so sad?
Ms. Sue Ella
My best friend Tokii is a master of impersonation. She is a gifted actress, who will soon begin her fourth year as a drama student at The Juilliard School of the Arts in Manhattan. Give her 30 minutes and she can mimic most - if not all - of your personal idiosyncrasies. Those nearest and dearest to her, and some random bystanders from time to time, have had the pleasure of meeting one of her alter egos, Ms. Sue Ella. Ms. Sue Ella is a combination of several ghetto-fabulous women, including a former coworker of Tokii's who always ate beanie weenies and Spam during breaks. It was always a pleasure to run into Ms. Sue Ella in one of the residence halls, especially when we were on RA duty. We've got several encounters on videotape!
Flipping for Directions
My current boyfriend Terrence and I started dating after I had graduated from WCU and had joined the university as a member of its staff. My closest friends, and even my family, were initially concerned that I was using Terrence to fill the void created by Rickey's death. I even tried not to worry about that, too. But our friendship eventually became the relationship we have today, and both of us believe that it would not have developed so deeply had it not been for a classic case of the right place at the right time. The summer I graduated from college, Terrence and I used to pass the time by jumping in my car (when gasoline was less than $1.50 a gallon) and flipping a quarter to determine whether to take a right or a left at each intersection. Our 25-cent (plus a tank of gas) adventures led us to a giant chessboard in Dillsboro, a hidden dirt road along a beautiful area of the Tuckaseigee River, and the train and bus wreckage purposely leftover as a tourist attraction from the movie The Fugitive, among other places. Well, we went to college in a place where a Super Wal-Mart is downtown.
Unbreak My ... Splat!
Another cameo from Tokii makes the Top 10 Favorite Cullowhee Memories. Our clique will recall a particular night when she and I were on RA duty. Since we couldn't leave our post in the RA station, our friends came over to hang out with us in the lobby of Scott Hall. While sitting on a couch, I used a video camera to record Tokii as she strutted atop a coffee table, singing Toni Braxton's Unbreak My Heart to the camera as if we were shooting a music video. Through the lens, I recorded Tokii's sexy rendition of the sultry verse "unbreak my ..." and then a nanosecond of sheer horror crossed her face just before she disappeared from view. I immediately panned down to the floor, where Tokii had fallen at my feet between the coffee table and the couch and was laughing uncontrollably. The tone and volume of surrounding laughter on the video is sharp and piercing, yet contagious, endearing and characteristic of my girls. I will love them always.
The Battle for the Old Mountain Jug
Some question whether or not the mountain rivalry between Western Carolina University and Appalachian State University is a true collegiate football tradition or a clever 1970's marketing ploy, but for those of us who took down the goal posts in Whitmire Stadium in 1998 following Western's first win over ASU in 13 years and subsequently left one of them on the Chancellor's front yard, it will always be a favorite, genuine and unscripted college moment. Sheer joy. True bliss. Solidarity among thousands. Whenever I think of that moment, I will forever have an image in my head of Tokii and me, linked arm in arm, racing onto the football field and screaming as the goal post fell and narrowly missed both of our heads.
Summer in Park Place
As much as we hated it at the time, we love to laugh about it now. The summer that Jessica, Daphne, Shameika, Dominique, Travis and I all lived in a two-bedroom (single-wide) trailer in Park Place will always be one of my most unforgettable and vivid memories. This was not just any trailer. It was undoubtedly the worst trailer in the world. To briefly describe it, there was a hole in the living room floor under the stapled-down carpet that everyone used to stumble over; mesh netting was duct-taped, thumb-tacked and stapled over the windows (a quick fix by Travis after the landlord continued to ignore our requests for new screens); a system of box fans in different windows served to facilitate airflow through the trailer in the absence of air-conditioning (it was basically a metal box sitting in the sun); the hard water, which smelled of sulfur, left an invisible film on your skin after showers and was unsuitable to drink (ask Dominique about the time he accidentally made a pitcher of Kool-Aid using the tap water); about half a dozen stray cats lived under the trailer (which was my fault because I kept feeding them); there was a wasp nest with an indestructible force field and super, incredible-hulk wasps above the back door; we woke up to our neighbor's Mexican music on full blast every morning at a quarter to eight; there was only one bathroom so we all got to know each others' scents a lot more than any of us would have liked; a crack head showed up on our doorstep one day when I was home alone and tried to sell me a boom box and a box of cassette tapes; I slept in one bedroom, Jessica and Shameika slept in the other, Daphne slept on a couch, Dominique slept on a futon, and Travis slept on his 6x1' military cot. Dominique and I used to ride around in my little, green Saturn or hang out in Burger King just to be in an air conditioned environment. Late into the night when he and I were the only ones left awake, we'd watch infomercials about exciting products like the Revostyler, the Perfect Pancake and steak knives. And after Travis moved out, Dominique was the only male with four women, who would all go on their period at the same time. I think that may have been the closest we have come to hell. But there is no other group of people with whom I'd go to hell and back ... again.
Hide & Go Seek in Hunter Library
Hunter Library, on the campus of Western Carolina University, is the largest library west of Charlotte. In the basement there is an endless sea of enormous bookshelves and study cubicles with group meeting rooms along the perimeter. I will never forget playing Hide & Go Seek with my girlfriends and a bunch of the players from the Men's Basketball team in the basement of the library during my sophomore year. You know it's a big library, when there are over half a dozen 6'6"+, 250+ pound dudes running around and nobody can find anybody else.
The Brothers I Never Had (besides my real brother)
Dunston, Jon and Pat were three of my best friends from my college daze: sledding and snowball fights in the winter time; summers at East Laporte; riding aimlessly around the Cullowhee-Sylva-Dillsboro triad; do-da-do-da-do by the track; dragging furniture into the elevator in Walker Hall, sitting in the chairs and waiting for someone to call the elevator to their floor; educating me on Sports Center; hanging out at the airport or on a random mountainside; showing me my first porno film; taking care of a puppy that my freshmen roommate and I adopted and illegally housed in our dorm room. BJ was initiated into our little clique later and never failed to make us laugh with his impersonations of Bernie Mac. They were the brothers I never had - in addition to my nearest genetic match, David.
Coco Cherry
The greatest hamster to crawl the Earth - or to ever run on a stationary wheel - went by the name of Coco Cherry. His first name was Coco because I love to name animals Coco. And his last name was Cherry because his eyeballs looked like cherries. He was the illegal dorm room pet of Helder 350, the room Tokii and I shared our junior year. We bought him in Greensboro (the same night that Jagged Edge spotted our clique in the mall, and gave us free tickets to their concert during A&T's Homecoming) because he was the only hamster we have ever seen who would chase your finger if you dragged it along the bottom of his cage and would crawl into your open hand on his own. His only flaw was that he had really bad gas - unless Tokii and I were always placing him to blame. He had a long, happy hamster life and ended up living out the remainder of his days at my parents' house while I was out of the country. I did not get to honor him with an appropriate hamster burial because I was studying abroad in Spain when he died, but I believe my parents buried him in the backyard. It was either that or they sent him to the happy farm where all of our other pets have gone.
The Night I Met Rickey
Rickey and I saw each other on campus for the first time when he approached our parked car near a short row of commercial buildings - jokingly referred to as the Cullowhee Shopping Strip - and flirted with my friends. I knew by the way he peered curiously at me in the back seat that he liked me immediately. We were formally introduced later that evening on the University Center Lawn during Valley Ballyhoo, a welcome back event hosted at the start of each fall semester. I was a sophomore and still dating my high school sweetheart at the time, and Rickey and I would not end up dating until almost a year later. However, the way he genuinely approached me that night and the perseverance and sweetness in which he pursued me over the following months was so remarkably sincere that we became inseparable almost immediately after the distance between WCU and UNC-Wilmington ended my three-year relationship with my high school boyfriend. Rickey and I dated for almost four years ...
He died unexpectedly in Augusta, Georgia. One of the hardest things for me to deal after his death was my foolish immaturity following an argument that we had two weeks before he died. That would be the last time we would ever speak. My biggest regret is that I tried to make him suffer after our last fight by ignoring his phone calls. I foolishly wanted him to really fear that he was losing me for good. The morning his father called to tell me that Rickey had died, I saw his number appear in my cell phone. Just before I decided to answer the call, I remember thinking to myself, Ok - I'll talk to him now...
... Losing him that way with so much left unsaid - just losing him at all - was nearly unbearable. Sometimes I go back to that moment in mind. Just before I answered his father's phone call. To a moment when everything in me knew that I was about to speak to Rickey. When hearing his voice still felt familiar. And I wish for that feeling. That feeling of knowing that I am about to talk to him. I don't know if I'll ever get over the fact that I can't anymore. That no matter what I do, his absence is permanent. That I can't change it. That I can't go back. That I'll never see him or talk to him again. That every day, his existance becomes more and more distant in my memory. That if I live to be 70 years old, he will still be 27.
I do know that now, when I forgive someone, I forgive them without any games or stipulations. I'll never play around with time again.
The Pretend For-Real Marriage of Daphne A. Moore & Kevin Garnett (The Newly Weds, Season Going-On-At-Least-Five)
I don't know when they were married exactly, but I recently found an email from 2002 regarding this blessed union, so this serves as direct evidence that this charade has been going on for at least four years. Daphne Moore, the self-proclaimed Daphne Moore-Garnett, has been living an imaginary life in which she is married to Kevin Garnett, #21 of the Minnesota Timberwolves. It's almost like having an imaginary friend with a mild case of borderline stalking. Yet despite the fact that my boyfriend's best friend plays for the Kings, our sorority sister's ex-boyfriend plays for the Wizards, another friend's brother plays for the Warriors, and two members of our college circle dance for the Bobcats, she has never had a chance to meet him and inform him of their nuptials. How can something so beautiful be so sad?
Ms. Sue Ella
My best friend Tokii is a master of impersonation. She is a gifted actress, who will soon begin her fourth year as a drama student at The Juilliard School of the Arts in Manhattan. Give her 30 minutes and she can mimic most - if not all - of your personal idiosyncrasies. Those nearest and dearest to her, and some random bystanders from time to time, have had the pleasure of meeting one of her alter egos, Ms. Sue Ella. Ms. Sue Ella is a combination of several ghetto-fabulous women, including a former coworker of Tokii's who always ate beanie weenies and Spam during breaks. It was always a pleasure to run into Ms. Sue Ella in one of the residence halls, especially when we were on RA duty. We've got several encounters on videotape!
Flipping for Directions
My current boyfriend Terrence and I started dating after I had graduated from WCU and had joined the university as a member of its staff. My closest friends, and even my family, were initially concerned that I was using Terrence to fill the void created by Rickey's death. I even tried not to worry about that, too. But our friendship eventually became the relationship we have today, and both of us believe that it would not have developed so deeply had it not been for a classic case of the right place at the right time. The summer I graduated from college, Terrence and I used to pass the time by jumping in my car (when gasoline was less than $1.50 a gallon) and flipping a quarter to determine whether to take a right or a left at each intersection. Our 25-cent (plus a tank of gas) adventures led us to a giant chessboard in Dillsboro, a hidden dirt road along a beautiful area of the Tuckaseigee River, and the train and bus wreckage purposely leftover as a tourist attraction from the movie The Fugitive, among other places. Well, we went to college in a place where a Super Wal-Mart is downtown.
Unbreak My ... Splat!
Another cameo from Tokii makes the Top 10 Favorite Cullowhee Memories. Our clique will recall a particular night when she and I were on RA duty. Since we couldn't leave our post in the RA station, our friends came over to hang out with us in the lobby of Scott Hall. While sitting on a couch, I used a video camera to record Tokii as she strutted atop a coffee table, singing Toni Braxton's Unbreak My Heart to the camera as if we were shooting a music video. Through the lens, I recorded Tokii's sexy rendition of the sultry verse "unbreak my ..." and then a nanosecond of sheer horror crossed her face just before she disappeared from view. I immediately panned down to the floor, where Tokii had fallen at my feet between the coffee table and the couch and was laughing uncontrollably. The tone and volume of surrounding laughter on the video is sharp and piercing, yet contagious, endearing and characteristic of my girls. I will love them always.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Sex and the City: The Movie ... Life and the City: The Reality
There are two movies in which I will readily admit to crying. Steel Magnolias when I was 9-years old and Sex and the City: The Movie when I was 28.
It was everything I thought it would be in a New York that is almost everything I had hoped for. Our plan was to avoid the larger opening-weekend crowds by purchasing advanced Saturday, 10am tickets at Loews 84th Street 6 on the Upper West Side. To secure good seats, we arrived early just in case, but we discovered that even 40 blocks north of Times Square was not a haven from the masses. At 9:15am, there was a line for the ticket counter and a line for the cinema. Groups of girls, who all had the same idea. Some prepared better than others, unpacking bagels and cappuccinos as they took their seats.
Ready and willing to overlook any of the movie's flaws for another chance to watch the next chapters of their lives unfold, my eyes began to well up as soon as the familiar theme song announced the opening credits. I looked around, feeling embarrassed in the darkness and saw the silhouettes of other 20-somethings wiping their eyes. A remix of the show's theme song continued, and the voiceover of Carrie Bradshaw reintroduced each of the characters one by one. All of my friends were crying by the time she got to Miranda.
Even reviews by male critics are giving the movie its share of kudos:
You want to know about “Sex and the City: The Movie”? Here’s the bottom line: It’s going to be a very, very big hit. I saw it on Saturday night at a private screening. Women wept, cheered. It’s the Neiman Marcus catalog on steroids. Read more
Well, not all men.
Sure, the SATC lives are not exactly the lives that my friends and I currently lead and had once imagined before we arrived in New York. But we see versions of ourselves in them. And though our realistic visions are not entirely adorned in Gucci or Chanel (but rather sprinkles here and there), our relationships are mirrored just as richly. For our clique and hundreds of cliques all over Manhattan, this is our New York. As the movie ended, Ra stretched her arms around us and cried, "I love you girls." I began to ball, but tried to disguise it in the darkness by laughing.
Rather than allow ourselves to be completely taken in by the fairytale of happy endings, where all of us achieve everything we've ever wanted, we enjoyed it for what it was: a movie. We knew that the reality of New York City waited just outside the cinema doors, but we had to let ourselves be swept up in the moment, and we embraced it.
A new line had already formed outside of the entrance as we emptied the theater, crying and laughing and temporarily seeing New York through rose-colored glasses. There were a few sprinkles of men gazing about reluctantly and obviously bewildered by the effects of estrogen mixed with SATC. But mostly women huddled together, anxiously anticipating their moment with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. On our faces, they could see that the movie was going to be everything they were hoping it would be.
And so we left the theater and walked out onto Broadway, proud to be the ultimate cliché. Spring in New York. Cliques of girls leaving Sex and the City: The Movie. Heading to brunch. Arms linked. Laughter through tears. Friendships in full bloom.
"... But “SATC” is also not a pratfall comedy. It has nothing in common with “The Devil Wears Prada,” for example. While the caricatures in that film were hilarious, the people in “SATC” are drawn more seriously, perhaps more richly. Also, we know them, and they know each other. They are not competing among themselves for anything. Rather, they are moving forward as a single organism with four personas, for survival.
What’s kind of interesting in “SATC” is that no villain is set up for the women to overcome. No one is standing in the way of each woman’s happiness except themselves. I kind of liked that. The formula is gone. Carrie is not vying for Big’s attention with a rival. Samantha is not shooing off Smith’s girlfriends. The problems are in the relationships, not outside of them. It’s refreshing."
It was everything I thought it would be in a New York that is almost everything I had hoped for. Our plan was to avoid the larger opening-weekend crowds by purchasing advanced Saturday, 10am tickets at Loews 84th Street 6 on the Upper West Side. To secure good seats, we arrived early just in case, but we discovered that even 40 blocks north of Times Square was not a haven from the masses. At 9:15am, there was a line for the ticket counter and a line for the cinema. Groups of girls, who all had the same idea. Some prepared better than others, unpacking bagels and cappuccinos as they took their seats.
Ready and willing to overlook any of the movie's flaws for another chance to watch the next chapters of their lives unfold, my eyes began to well up as soon as the familiar theme song announced the opening credits. I looked around, feeling embarrassed in the darkness and saw the silhouettes of other 20-somethings wiping their eyes. A remix of the show's theme song continued, and the voiceover of Carrie Bradshaw reintroduced each of the characters one by one. All of my friends were crying by the time she got to Miranda.
Even reviews by male critics are giving the movie its share of kudos:
You want to know about “Sex and the City: The Movie”? Here’s the bottom line: It’s going to be a very, very big hit. I saw it on Saturday night at a private screening. Women wept, cheered. It’s the Neiman Marcus catalog on steroids. Read more
Well, not all men.
Sure, the SATC lives are not exactly the lives that my friends and I currently lead and had once imagined before we arrived in New York. But we see versions of ourselves in them. And though our realistic visions are not entirely adorned in Gucci or Chanel (but rather sprinkles here and there), our relationships are mirrored just as richly. For our clique and hundreds of cliques all over Manhattan, this is our New York. As the movie ended, Ra stretched her arms around us and cried, "I love you girls." I began to ball, but tried to disguise it in the darkness by laughing.
Rather than allow ourselves to be completely taken in by the fairytale of happy endings, where all of us achieve everything we've ever wanted, we enjoyed it for what it was: a movie. We knew that the reality of New York City waited just outside the cinema doors, but we had to let ourselves be swept up in the moment, and we embraced it.
A new line had already formed outside of the entrance as we emptied the theater, crying and laughing and temporarily seeing New York through rose-colored glasses. There were a few sprinkles of men gazing about reluctantly and obviously bewildered by the effects of estrogen mixed with SATC. But mostly women huddled together, anxiously anticipating their moment with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. On our faces, they could see that the movie was going to be everything they were hoping it would be.
And so we left the theater and walked out onto Broadway, proud to be the ultimate cliché. Spring in New York. Cliques of girls leaving Sex and the City: The Movie. Heading to brunch. Arms linked. Laughter through tears. Friendships in full bloom.
"... But “SATC” is also not a pratfall comedy. It has nothing in common with “The Devil Wears Prada,” for example. While the caricatures in that film were hilarious, the people in “SATC” are drawn more seriously, perhaps more richly. Also, we know them, and they know each other. They are not competing among themselves for anything. Rather, they are moving forward as a single organism with four personas, for survival.
What’s kind of interesting in “SATC” is that no villain is set up for the women to overcome. No one is standing in the way of each woman’s happiness except themselves. I kind of liked that. The formula is gone. Carrie is not vying for Big’s attention with a rival. Samantha is not shooing off Smith’s girlfriends. The problems are in the relationships, not outside of them. It’s refreshing."
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I Know How You Like [It]
Regarding a clean bathroom, that is the sweetest thing a man can say to a woman with undiagnosed mild OCD. I called Terrence this evening to let him know that I could not find the XXXXL items from Foot Locker that he wanted me to bring to England. I had been to two different Foot Lockers in the city and could only find up to XXXL on the days that I went.
“That’s because all the short dudes, who don’t really need them, want to wear big clothes,” he said. At 6’9” with a 7’1” wingspan, clothes shopping can often present a challenge. After some brief chitchat regarding my travel preparations, I said, “Let me call you later so I can enjoy this pedicure.”
A few minutes later, he called me back, “Are you ok?”
It is generally easy to gauge my moods, but I was reminded of how he can read me like no one else can – even from across the Atlantic Ocean, “Just a little stressed.”
“Why?” he asked. I replied that I was just trying to wrap up everything at work, run my own errands and get the list of United States items he had requested [e.g. Texas Pete hot sauce, a framed photo collage of me (a belated-Christmas/birthday present per his specific request, which I have felt like a total narcissist creating), Lupe Fiasco and Cassidy’s newly-released CDs, in addition to the long-sleeve thermals].
“Let those be the last of your worries,” he said, “If you can’t get it all, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your pedicure and relax. I’m going to go clean this bathroom (he shares a 4-bedroom house with three of his BBL teammates).”
“Don’t forget to scrub under the toilet seat,” I laughed.
“I’ve got this,” he replied. “I know how you like the bathroom to be. I’ll call you later.”
I spent the rest of this evening at my apartment with Ra (a shoe designer from Orlando) and Mayra (an international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor from Ecuador by way of NC – yet another Carolinian up here), who came up to Harlem to enjoy cheap manicures and pedicures, a large bottle of Trader Joe’s wine and take-out while I packed for my trip. At some point during the random girl talk, Mayra said in her gorgeous South American accent, “I am so glad I found good friends in New York. I was so afraid I wouldn’t.”
I thought of my blog and all the young, unmarried women like us, striving to make it in New York City because we couldn’t find the life we wanted anywhere else. Queue cliché quote from my favorite episode of “Sex and the City”:
"It would be childish of us to deny that our lives weren't changing. But for this night, none of us were going anywhere. That's the thing about really good friends and a really great Manhattan."
~ Carrie Bradshaw
New York knows how I like it.
“That’s because all the short dudes, who don’t really need them, want to wear big clothes,” he said. At 6’9” with a 7’1” wingspan, clothes shopping can often present a challenge. After some brief chitchat regarding my travel preparations, I said, “Let me call you later so I can enjoy this pedicure.”
A few minutes later, he called me back, “Are you ok?”
It is generally easy to gauge my moods, but I was reminded of how he can read me like no one else can – even from across the Atlantic Ocean, “Just a little stressed.”
“Why?” he asked. I replied that I was just trying to wrap up everything at work, run my own errands and get the list of United States items he had requested [e.g. Texas Pete hot sauce, a framed photo collage of me (a belated-Christmas/birthday present per his specific request, which I have felt like a total narcissist creating), Lupe Fiasco and Cassidy’s newly-released CDs, in addition to the long-sleeve thermals].
“Let those be the last of your worries,” he said, “If you can’t get it all, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your pedicure and relax. I’m going to go clean this bathroom (he shares a 4-bedroom house with three of his BBL teammates).”
“Don’t forget to scrub under the toilet seat,” I laughed.
“I’ve got this,” he replied. “I know how you like the bathroom to be. I’ll call you later.”
I spent the rest of this evening at my apartment with Ra (a shoe designer from Orlando) and Mayra (an international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor from Ecuador by way of NC – yet another Carolinian up here), who came up to Harlem to enjoy cheap manicures and pedicures, a large bottle of Trader Joe’s wine and take-out while I packed for my trip. At some point during the random girl talk, Mayra said in her gorgeous South American accent, “I am so glad I found good friends in New York. I was so afraid I wouldn’t.”
I thought of my blog and all the young, unmarried women like us, striving to make it in New York City because we couldn’t find the life we wanted anywhere else. Queue cliché quote from my favorite episode of “Sex and the City”:
"It would be childish of us to deny that our lives weren't changing. But for this night, none of us were going anywhere. That's the thing about really good friends and a really great Manhattan."
~ Carrie Bradshaw
New York knows how I like it.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
"Things I Love" Thursdays - Gallery Shows
Ra and I attend the "Seen on Audio" art show sponsored by 55DSL in collaboration with Sound of Art. It featured interesting pieces of art crafted from recycled objects found in the streets of New York City. The music-inspired pieces were shown with the aim of complimenting the tone of the new 55DSL Fall Winter 08 collection LOWNOISE HIGH QUALITY in their Soho store.
The launch event included free booze and samples of Wine Cellar Sorbet, which we thoroughly enjoyed. Moreover, small gallery shows are one of my favorite ways to enjoy the creativity of New York City's artists. We were particularly drawn to a piece by SOA Artist M. Tony Peralta. It is entitled "Childhood Soundtrack".
"Things I Love" Thursdays are inspired by "I Love New York" (BNY, February 14, 2007).
A Year Ago Today: Psycho End to Summer Movies
Two Years Ago Today: Literary Commutes and All Right
The launch event included free booze and samples of Wine Cellar Sorbet, which we thoroughly enjoyed. Moreover, small gallery shows are one of my favorite ways to enjoy the creativity of New York City's artists. We were particularly drawn to a piece by SOA Artist M. Tony Peralta. It is entitled "Childhood Soundtrack"."Things I Love" Thursdays are inspired by "I Love New York" (BNY, February 14, 2007).
A Year Ago Today: Psycho End to Summer Movies
Two Years Ago Today: Literary Commutes and All Right
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Over & Over Again
I keep running into the same guy all over New York.
He used to promote nightclubs - which is how we met - and now works in event marketing. We became "facebook friends" months ago, but recently we've been running into each other in real life in the most random places. Once at 135th and Broadway, on a weekend just before I moved out of Harlem, when I was taking old clothes and shoes to donate at a local threft store. Another time on my way to a spa appointment near Madison and 34th Street during a lunch break.
And then last week, instead of going straight to the office, I had an early doctor's appointment. As I was walking down Ninth Avenue from my apartment, I paused to check out the brunch menu at a restaurant called Orchid. I was lifting my sunglasses off my face to get a better look when I heard a voice, "That's it. I know you're following me."
I started to laugh before I even turned around.
And a few weeks ago, my roommate and I were out strolling around Hell's Kitchen one evening, exploring our new neighborhood and collecting take-out menus, when a voice from my college years in North Carolina called out, "Katie!"
My R.A. from my freshmen dorm was sitting at the first table inside of a tiny, attractive hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. I had not seen him in over five years.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: No post
He used to promote nightclubs - which is how we met - and now works in event marketing. We became "facebook friends" months ago, but recently we've been running into each other in real life in the most random places. Once at 135th and Broadway, on a weekend just before I moved out of Harlem, when I was taking old clothes and shoes to donate at a local threft store. Another time on my way to a spa appointment near Madison and 34th Street during a lunch break.
And then last week, instead of going straight to the office, I had an early doctor's appointment. As I was walking down Ninth Avenue from my apartment, I paused to check out the brunch menu at a restaurant called Orchid. I was lifting my sunglasses off my face to get a better look when I heard a voice, "That's it. I know you're following me."
I started to laugh before I even turned around.
And a few weeks ago, my roommate and I were out strolling around Hell's Kitchen one evening, exploring our new neighborhood and collecting take-out menus, when a voice from my college years in North Carolina called out, "Katie!"
My R.A. from my freshmen dorm was sitting at the first table inside of a tiny, attractive hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. I had not seen him in over five years.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: No post
Saturday, August 02, 2008
My First Yankees Game
The Former SNL Actor got Natasha four tickets to the Yankees game versus the Los Angeles Angels on Friday night and told her to invite two girlfriends. So she brought me and Iris.
The Yankees didn't win, but I had my first MBL hot dog. I couldn't help but wonder if the secret was in the sauce or in the stadium. And beer had never tasted so refreshing.
"Katie," the former SNL actor said, leaning across Natasha after the fifth inning, "You're going to love this."
The Yankees grounds crew came out to rake the infield mid-game and performed their traditional YMCA routine as they worked. I had to take a second and appreciate the moment. We were sitting in seats that the three of us would never have even dared to search for on Ticketmaster. The crowd was singing along, my friends were laughing, my beer was ice cold.
I added the moment to the montage of memories that I plan to play in my mind the moment before I die, right after me and Ra struggling to shop in Toys "R" Us for Mayra's baby shower, and right before Tasha screaming at Natasha and me to "work those thighs" as we ran up the stairs to catch a Manhattan-bound A train on the elevated platform at 111th Street in Queens.
Below: Waiting for the game to start ... and glad that the three of us stopped waiting for our lives to start (in Idaho, North Carolina and Arizona respectfully) and found each other.
The highlight of the game: Iris throwing the ball back to A. Rod.
A Year Ago Today: Uppity Executives
Two Years Ago Today: No post
The Yankees didn't win, but I had my first MBL hot dog. I couldn't help but wonder if the secret was in the sauce or in the stadium. And beer had never tasted so refreshing.
"Katie," the former SNL actor said, leaning across Natasha after the fifth inning, "You're going to love this."
The Yankees grounds crew came out to rake the infield mid-game and performed their traditional YMCA routine as they worked. I had to take a second and appreciate the moment. We were sitting in seats that the three of us would never have even dared to search for on Ticketmaster. The crowd was singing along, my friends were laughing, my beer was ice cold.
I added the moment to the montage of memories that I plan to play in my mind the moment before I die, right after me and Ra struggling to shop in Toys "R" Us for Mayra's baby shower, and right before Tasha screaming at Natasha and me to "work those thighs" as we ran up the stairs to catch a Manhattan-bound A train on the elevated platform at 111th Street in Queens.
Below: Waiting for the game to start ... and glad that the three of us stopped waiting for our lives to start (in Idaho, North Carolina and Arizona respectfully) and found each other.
The highlight of the game: Iris throwing the ball back to A. Rod.
A Year Ago Today: Uppity Executives
Two Years Ago Today: No post
Monday, September 01, 2008
My Main Cast
It took me almost a year to find the close circle of friends that I now have in the city. Last July-September, I began hanging out regularly with a few woman in Manhattan. Because of our diverse ethnic backgrounds, we once jokingly called ourselves "The United Colors of Benetton" and personalized a Disney fairies image that now hangs in some of our offices. The name for our clique never really stuck - not that we've ever tried to label ourselves as if we were some sort of girl band - but the group has gradually updated itself since the initial Cast of Characters post to encompass a beautiful group of women that I am proud to call friends.
Hallmark should make a card that reads, There are 8 million people in New York City, and we found each other. I'd buy one for all of them.
In alphabetical order:
Debasha - the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Iris - the fashion designer / personal shopper extraordinare
Jackie - the cocktail waitress who receives $100 tips from Jay-Z for counting his cash
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor
Natasha M. (Tasha or T) - the film and TV voiceover/actress and the best "Sex and the City" Tour Guide ever
Natasha S. (Natasha) - the finance executive and fabulous roommate dubbed by the Former SNL Actor: "A White Girl Who Swallowed a Black Girl" (check her out from behind and you'll see what he meant)
Ra - the shoe designer and footwear guru
Other main characters (around and about NYC):
Bobbi (Tokii) - the best friend from college, whose acting career takes her in and out of the city
Annisha - the publishing marketer
Candice - the flight attendant
Cassie - the Connecticut-based nanny, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker
Gina - the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
A Year Ago Today: September Sunrise
No Title for Last Night
August's Sunset
Two Years Ago Today: VMAs, Mass Celebrity Sighting and Almost TGIF
Hallmark should make a card that reads, There are 8 million people in New York City, and we found each other. I'd buy one for all of them.
In alphabetical order:
Debasha - the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Iris - the fashion designer / personal shopper extraordinare
Jackie - the cocktail waitress who receives $100 tips from Jay-Z for counting his cash
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor
Natasha M. (Tasha or T) - the film and TV voiceover/actress and the best "Sex and the City" Tour Guide ever
Natasha S. (Natasha) - the finance executive and fabulous roommate dubbed by the Former SNL Actor: "A White Girl Who Swallowed a Black Girl" (check her out from behind and you'll see what he meant)
Ra - the shoe designer and footwear guru
Other main characters (around and about NYC):
Bobbi (Tokii) - the best friend from college, whose acting career takes her in and out of the city
Annisha - the publishing marketer
Candice - the flight attendant
Cassie - the Connecticut-based nanny, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker
Gina - the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
A Year Ago Today: September Sunrise
No Title for Last Night
August's Sunset
Two Years Ago Today: VMAs, Mass Celebrity Sighting and Almost TGIF
Monday, May 26, 2008
Unforgettable Day Weekend
Terrence left on Saturday morning to spend a few days with his family in Atlanta before joining friends in Ohio to play on Kevin's Gus Macker team in Zanesville. But there was no time for me to be sad following the end of his two-week visit because I had Saturday afternoon coffee and shopping in Soho, Saturday night dinner plans at Wild Ginger in the West Village, Sunday afternoon brunch at Roberto Passon in Hell's Kitchen, and a Memorial Day Weekend harbor cruise Sunday evening with various combinations of my best girlfriends.
Dinner on Saturday with all the usuals was relatively tame, but attributable to all-you-can-drink mimosas, bellinis, bloody marys and screwdrivers at Sunday brunch, there now exists photo documentation of me holding my dress over my head amongst some young Naval sailors in Times Square. I would love to depict myself as truly outrageous and free-spirited, but for the benefit of accurate memorial recordkeeping, I have to add that we began our Sunday morning sunbathing in Central Park and I was wearing a string bikini under my dress. So it wasn't as bold as it may seem, but with or without the panties, either version is a shameless salute to Fleet Week.
To celebrate Iris' birthday, we rounded out Memorial Day Weekend with a harbor cruise around Manhattan, a hook-up courtesy of a good friend who was DJ'ing on a yacht. Later, we were joined by Ra, Debasha and two of Iris' old roommates at a comped table at Club Home with one of our favorite promoters.
On a Hudson River party cruise, featured below from left to right:
Natasha (Natasha S., a newbie to NYC), Jackie (a new friend of Cassie's), Iris, me
Dinner on Saturday with all the usuals was relatively tame, but attributable to all-you-can-drink mimosas, bellinis, bloody marys and screwdrivers at Sunday brunch, there now exists photo documentation of me holding my dress over my head amongst some young Naval sailors in Times Square. I would love to depict myself as truly outrageous and free-spirited, but for the benefit of accurate memorial recordkeeping, I have to add that we began our Sunday morning sunbathing in Central Park and I was wearing a string bikini under my dress. So it wasn't as bold as it may seem, but with or without the panties, either version is a shameless salute to Fleet Week.
To celebrate Iris' birthday, we rounded out Memorial Day Weekend with a harbor cruise around Manhattan, a hook-up courtesy of a good friend who was DJ'ing on a yacht. Later, we were joined by Ra, Debasha and two of Iris' old roommates at a comped table at Club Home with one of our favorite promoters.
On a Hudson River party cruise, featured below from left to right:
Natasha (Natasha S., a newbie to NYC), Jackie (a new friend of Cassie's), Iris, me
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Divinity in Edible Form
I have found the omelette of my life. The holy trinity of Sunday breakfast is a combination of eggs, cream cheese and smoked salmon. It's divine existance thrives within the quaint exterior and exposed brick walls of a Tuscan steak and wine bar on Seventh Avenue. Svette VII's Il Bastardo on the corner of 21st Street features a weekend brunch menu that stole our hearts and has been infinitely dubbed our Sunday brunch spot.
I will now spend six days a week in agonizing anticipation of Sunday brunches with my girlfriends - not yearning for the fellowship and conversation of my closest friends - but craving Il Bastardo's omelette with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Not to mention that the $15 all-you-can-drink Champagne, Mimosas, Bellinis, Screwdrivers and Bloody Marys have solidified its high echelon within our Sunday brunch clique.
Phone Photo Op - My Omelette with cream cheese and smoked salmon ($9.00) and Debasha's Eggs Benedict with Maryland Crabcakes ($12.00) and monster Mimosa
Ra joined me on today's city walk after brunch. En route to our starting point at Broadway and 14th Street, we passed by a film crew and browsed the real estate listings in the window of a Citi Habitats office. The latter gave both of us the remarkable urge to bang our foreheads through the glass or dig our eyeballs out with forks smeared with hot sauce. I don't know how else to describe the self-deprecating thoughts and suicidal tendencies sparked by New York City real estate prices.
Phone Photo Op - Film crew on Seventh and West 20th
I will now spend six days a week in agonizing anticipation of Sunday brunches with my girlfriends - not yearning for the fellowship and conversation of my closest friends - but craving Il Bastardo's omelette with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Not to mention that the $15 all-you-can-drink Champagne, Mimosas, Bellinis, Screwdrivers and Bloody Marys have solidified its high echelon within our Sunday brunch clique.
Phone Photo Op - My Omelette with cream cheese and smoked salmon ($9.00) and Debasha's Eggs Benedict with Maryland Crabcakes ($12.00) and monster Mimosa
Ra joined me on today's city walk after brunch. En route to our starting point at Broadway and 14th Street, we passed by a film crew and browsed the real estate listings in the window of a Citi Habitats office. The latter gave both of us the remarkable urge to bang our foreheads through the glass or dig our eyeballs out with forks smeared with hot sauce. I don't know how else to describe the self-deprecating thoughts and suicidal tendencies sparked by New York City real estate prices.
Phone Photo Op - Film crew on Seventh and West 20th
Saturday, March 15, 2008
United Colors of Benetton
Tonight is Girls' Night.
Meet the cast of characters from my nightlife in New York City.
We're like the United Nations or a gang of Disney Fairies.
Clockwise from top (with fairy correlation):
Natasha M., (Tasha) the film and TV voice over/actress (the adorable blonde)
Ra, the shoe designer (the token Black hottie*)
Iris, the handbag designer (the gorgeous White girl with an ass)
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor (the Equedorian with the entire exotic package, including the sexy accent)
Me, executive assistant, blog author (the half Filipina/half White girl with long hair)
*Featured as the Token Black Fairy in our Disney remake and representing for:
Gina, the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
Debasha, the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Other main characters:
Tokii, the best friend, whose acting career takes her away from the city more and more and takes my heart with her wherever she goes (the next Tia & Tamara Mowry by appearance; next Angela Bassett by trade)
Annisha, the publishing marketer (the Caribbean beauty)
Candice, the sexy flight attendant (the Black Southern belle)
Cassie, the Connecticut-based, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker, hot nanny that I would never hire to be eye candy for my husband in my home, and one of the top five prettiest people I've ever seen in real life (Puerto Rican with a Southern accent - does it get any hotter than that?)
The most interesting part of the above list is that all of us, with the exception of Annisha (from Trinidad & Tobago), are from or have lived in North Carolina.
There aren't too many Disney references that can be applied to our unmarried-gals-in-the-city lives, but this blog is full of cliché Sex and the City quotes. Many of my cliché moments are inspired by the most important women in my life within the five boroughs ... although that area is quickly expanding to encompass the world.
Meet the cast of characters from my nightlife in New York City.
We're like the United Nations or a gang of Disney Fairies.
Clockwise from top (with fairy correlation):
Natasha M., (Tasha) the film and TV voice over/actress (the adorable blonde)
Ra, the shoe designer (the token Black hottie*)
Iris, the handbag designer (the gorgeous White girl with an ass)
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor (the Equedorian with the entire exotic package, including the sexy accent)
Me, executive assistant, blog author (the half Filipina/half White girl with long hair)
*Featured as the Token Black Fairy in our Disney remake and representing for:
Gina, the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
Debasha, the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Other main characters:
Tokii, the best friend, whose acting career takes her away from the city more and more and takes my heart with her wherever she goes (the next Tia & Tamara Mowry by appearance; next Angela Bassett by trade)
Annisha, the publishing marketer (the Caribbean beauty)
Candice, the sexy flight attendant (the Black Southern belle)
Cassie, the Connecticut-based, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker, hot nanny that I would never hire to be eye candy for my husband in my home, and one of the top five prettiest people I've ever seen in real life (Puerto Rican with a Southern accent - does it get any hotter than that?)
The most interesting part of the above list is that all of us, with the exception of Annisha (from Trinidad & Tobago), are from or have lived in North Carolina.
There aren't too many Disney references that can be applied to our unmarried-gals-in-the-city lives, but this blog is full of cliché Sex and the City quotes. Many of my cliché moments are inspired by the most important women in my life within the five boroughs ... although that area is quickly expanding to encompass the world.
Monday, September 08, 2008
As Time Goes By
Tonight Natasha, Ra and I joined Mayra at her house in Queens for dinner a la Melvin, her successful chef boyfriend, who cooked up a feast and then left it on the stove for us while he went out with his boys. Mayra and Melvin have the best couch in the world. I have been looking for one just like it my whole life. I was sad to leave its lush cushions and comfy pillows, but Melvin was good enough to drive the girls back to our homes in Brooklyn and Manhattan since we had consumed several bottles of wine between the three of us by the time he returned. Mayra and her pregnant belly had sipped cranberry juice in envy as we downed glass after glass.
As we rode over the Queensboro Bridge, we happened to notice two pillars of light beaming from downtown and were reminded that 9/11 was again upon all of us. Seven years ... I can hardly believe it.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Beyonce Before Work
As we rode over the Queensboro Bridge, we happened to notice two pillars of light beaming from downtown and were reminded that 9/11 was again upon all of us. Seven years ... I can hardly believe it.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Beyonce Before Work
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday NYC Adventures
Saturday marked the impromptu start of a new tradition when Ra, crashing for a few days on our couch, woke up and said to Natasha, "What should we do today?"
After researching a variety of Saturday-in-New-York options via the World Wide Web, we decided to rent bicycles in Central Park. If you have never done this and have the opportunity to do so, I highly recommend it.
Oh, the places you'll go ...
After researching a variety of Saturday-in-New-York options via the World Wide Web, we decided to rent bicycles in Central Park. If you have never done this and have the opportunity to do so, I highly recommend it.
Oh, the places you'll go ...
Tune in next week for our next Saturday NYC Adventure!
A Year Ago Today: Times Square Mimes
Two years Ago Today: Real Estate Depression
Monday, October 06, 2008
Slices of Time
Returning to Western Carolina University was like going back in time. A group of us planned a trip for the 2008 Homecoming Weekend in a year that marks 10 years since we were freshmen.
I hear ghosts on that campus. Not necessarily of those who have died. But the sounds of our pasts. The ghosts of the younger versions of ourselves. We came face to face with memories from our college days and were intensely reminded of how much the university shaped the versions of ourselves that now exist.
I saw the younger me there. Sitting on "the bricks" between classes and sometimes skipping lectures on exceptionally beautiful days. Pretending not to see Rickey, the attractive new junior college transfer, walking down the street while I strategically sat where he would be sure to see me among those who congregated there daily. And then trying to appear nonchalant as I waited for him to walk up behind me and gently tug on my hair or tickle my side. Racing with him to step on the small plaque below the Alumni Tower. Seeing him saunter up the steps to the second floor of the University Center (UC) to visit me while I worked at the Student Information Desk. Photocopying our hands on one of the Xerox machines in Hunter Library. Opening a greeting card card while we ate Wendy's takeout on his bed in Leatherwood after he took me to see Hannibal for Valentine's Day. Refreshing the university's live web cam over and over again in my dorm room while he made different, silly poses in the shadow of the Alumni Tower.
I saw the younger me laughing at Tokii when she split her jeans while performing her trademark impersonations of Michael Jackson in Illusions; making silly videos while we were on RA duty in Scott Hall with "Ms. Sue Ella" and "Bernie Mac"; cheering for Monique during halftime of a basketball game; playing pool with Jessica in the old UC Game Room; going to Reid Gym after dinner to watch the football players play basketball; waving at Toya and Kori passing by in his SUV; cooking out during Valley Bally Hoo or Spring Fling; giving tours to new students at Orientation; watching SportsCenter with BJ, Jon, Pat and Dunstan; water gun fights in the summer; stomping through piles of leaves in the fall; sledding on Dodson Cafeteria lunch trays in the winter; accepting flowers that Rickey would pick off the UC Lawn in the spring.
The memories were all around us despite the vastly changing landscape of the campus. Helder Hall, where I lived my sophomore and junior years, is gone. A landmark of my past erased and replaced by a state-of-the-art cafeteria - complete with Starbucks. There is no where to relive my memories of Rickey sneaking a bowl of Tokii's cereal or diving into my closet in his boxer shorts. Or Tokii dancing in her bathrobe. Or Jonas and Jarvis benchpressing and curling Kamata in the hallway or asking a muffled, inaudible question and then yelling "Heeeyyy!" in your face. Or surprise birthday parties in the study. Or the night I stuck some forks in the third floor microwave. Or the snowball fight in the lobby. Or photo shoots in the hall. Or Kevin driving through the Helder parking lot in his tiny car, giving Terrence his debit card and telling him that under no circumstances was Terrence to allow him to spend the remainder of his refund check.
Those versions of all of us are there in Cullowhee, wholly defined by slices of time that exist one on top of another and are buried only by the passage of itself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Our Stomping Ground in Photos
The Alumni Tower looms over the University Center Lawn.
"The Bricks," which will be removed in the next phase
of campus renovations.
Where there were once two feet competing to stomp
on the plaque below the Alumni Tower...
We were moved when we discovered a bulletin board that Jan now maintains, a woman who is - and always will be - remembered as so much more than a "lunch lady" - who captures all of us in our younger versions semester after semester.
And a slice of time that we remember. Before the multimillion-
dollar renovations, a younger version of the WCU that we knew.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Subway Dancers
I hear ghosts on that campus. Not necessarily of those who have died. But the sounds of our pasts. The ghosts of the younger versions of ourselves. We came face to face with memories from our college days and were intensely reminded of how much the university shaped the versions of ourselves that now exist.
I saw the younger me there. Sitting on "the bricks" between classes and sometimes skipping lectures on exceptionally beautiful days. Pretending not to see Rickey, the attractive new junior college transfer, walking down the street while I strategically sat where he would be sure to see me among those who congregated there daily. And then trying to appear nonchalant as I waited for him to walk up behind me and gently tug on my hair or tickle my side. Racing with him to step on the small plaque below the Alumni Tower. Seeing him saunter up the steps to the second floor of the University Center (UC) to visit me while I worked at the Student Information Desk. Photocopying our hands on one of the Xerox machines in Hunter Library. Opening a greeting card card while we ate Wendy's takeout on his bed in Leatherwood after he took me to see Hannibal for Valentine's Day. Refreshing the university's live web cam over and over again in my dorm room while he made different, silly poses in the shadow of the Alumni Tower.
I saw the younger me laughing at Tokii when she split her jeans while performing her trademark impersonations of Michael Jackson in Illusions; making silly videos while we were on RA duty in Scott Hall with "Ms. Sue Ella" and "Bernie Mac"; cheering for Monique during halftime of a basketball game; playing pool with Jessica in the old UC Game Room; going to Reid Gym after dinner to watch the football players play basketball; waving at Toya and Kori passing by in his SUV; cooking out during Valley Bally Hoo or Spring Fling; giving tours to new students at Orientation; watching SportsCenter with BJ, Jon, Pat and Dunstan; water gun fights in the summer; stomping through piles of leaves in the fall; sledding on Dodson Cafeteria lunch trays in the winter; accepting flowers that Rickey would pick off the UC Lawn in the spring.
The memories were all around us despite the vastly changing landscape of the campus. Helder Hall, where I lived my sophomore and junior years, is gone. A landmark of my past erased and replaced by a state-of-the-art cafeteria - complete with Starbucks. There is no where to relive my memories of Rickey sneaking a bowl of Tokii's cereal or diving into my closet in his boxer shorts. Or Tokii dancing in her bathrobe. Or Jonas and Jarvis benchpressing and curling Kamata in the hallway or asking a muffled, inaudible question and then yelling "Heeeyyy!" in your face. Or surprise birthday parties in the study. Or the night I stuck some forks in the third floor microwave. Or the snowball fight in the lobby. Or photo shoots in the hall. Or Kevin driving through the Helder parking lot in his tiny car, giving Terrence his debit card and telling him that under no circumstances was Terrence to allow him to spend the remainder of his refund check.
Those versions of all of us are there in Cullowhee, wholly defined by slices of time that exist one on top of another and are buried only by the passage of itself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Our Stomping Ground in Photos
The Alumni Tower looms over the University Center Lawn.
"The Bricks," which will be removed in the next phase
of campus renovations.
Where there were once two feet competing to stomp
on the plaque below the Alumni Tower...
We were moved when we discovered a bulletin board that Jan now maintains, a woman who is - and always will be - remembered as so much more than a "lunch lady" - who captures all of us in our younger versions semester after semester.
And a slice of time that we remember. Before the multimillion-
dollar renovations, a younger version of the WCU that we knew.
A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Subway Dancers
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