[Time passes]

Time has passed, cuing that scene in the Harry Potter movies where the seasons change from fall to winter to spring with nothing of significance happening in the plot except Hedwig flying across the courtyard. Only in our plot, loads has happened, which accounts for the blog hiatus. I’ve thought about writing many times, but never got around to actually posting. I have a few things I want to write about, but I’ll ease myself in with hit list.
• I wonder how much environmental impact it would have if we started doing little things like not using straws and using mugs instead of paper cups at work.
• Indiana Jones was amusing but definitely not a big-screen must. If you haven’t seen Iron Man, see it. Robert Downey Jr. was made for this.
• I’ve been watching a lot of home design shows. This has two effects: 1. I want a house more than ever and 2. I am increasingly unhappy with how the apartment looks. I can save you hours, days, weeks and even months of watching HGTV by giving you The Secret to all these shows. The Secret is ...ready?... get rid of the clutter. It’s true. Watch any design show. Even if you don’t like the style of the new room, it looks a million times better than the original because there is simply less crud messing it up. Use this knowledge wisely. It may have cost me dearly to divulge it to you. Design on a Dime probably just put a hit out on me.
• Things I love today: photo booth pictures, walks in the woods, birds (especially owls), rainy days at the end of August, grass under my bare feet and mom’s Shredded Wheat bread.

NYM (hearts) Richard Serra

It has been a very weird day, even by New York standards. I woke up and discovered the water wasn't running in the bathroom, though mysteriously it was working in the kitchen. I waited it out a little, thinking that maybe they were doing plumbing work or something. But when the water still wasn't working an hour later, I called the Super. Here's where the day hits bottom: The Super tells me that a girl on one of the floors below me died, with the water running. Because it is a crime scene, they can't shut the water off in her apartment, so they had to shut the whole valve down. So no water in the bathroom until the police move the body.

I was pretty seriously freaked. I even woke up G to tell him. Then emailed my mom and sister. Then I waited. I occupied myself by posting some old NYMs to the blog (from the email-only days of NYM). Then after an hour, I couldn't take it any more. I had really, really wanted to go to the Richard Serra show at the MoMA and this was the only day I was going to have a chance to do it. But, due to my 80 levels of OCD, I cannot leave the house unbathed. So I got twitchy. I called the Super again. He said it might be another hour. The MoMA's hours of operation were dwindling away. I pitched a mini fit to G.

About 20 minutes later, the water came on. I hopped in the shower, eager to start my day. I was on the conditioner stage of my shower when I realized what an extremely insensitive git was being. I mean, someone died. She could have been killed, or had an accident, or (what I deem most likely) ended her own life. It is a real tragedy and I still can't seem to wrap my mind around it.

I headed out to the MoMA seeing and appreciating the world like I rarely remember to. I was thankful to be. And from there on I had a really amazing day. The MoMA is a wonderful, yet expensive place, so I don't go too often. But I really wanted to see this Richard Serra show; I am so glad I did.


Serra started with smaller sculptures, but now works in giant pieces of steel, creating environments you can walk through. He says he wants you to experience his pieces on a psychological level and I totally did. There is something very natural and cave-like about these large works. I'd even call them womb-like. Definitely feminine. If you go—and please do if you have the chance—walk close along the walls. The first time the angle changes and the wall starts to fall away from you, you have this overwhelming feeling of space and motion, even vertigo. All with slabs of metal! It's so simple and beautiful and powerful. I seriously almost cried while I was walking through Band on the second floor. The only other time I've been so struck by a piece of art is when I saw David in Florence.

Of course, I was/am probably emotionally ... er ... unbalanced. Well, more than usual. I hope, though, that wherever the girl from downstairs is, she can rest in peace. And I hope you can all find a bit of peace today, too.

Until next time ...

I dream of screens

I'm back in the city, and the pavement feels good under my feet...

CT was nice. It was good to spend time with my family and visit with B and A (G's brother and sister-in-law). We had an excellent Triviathon at their house with my teammates. I'll fill you in on that more later, when the casting call date comes up, but in short, I've entered a World Series of Trivia with people I hardly know. Why? I couldn't think of a reason not to. Anyway, casting is April 1. I expect hilarity on many deep and meaningful levels.

Despite missing CT, New York is already feeling like home. I really like my apartment, even though I *still* have boxes to unpack. (This is becoming a task of epic proportions, like Sisyphus with the boulder. Every time I unpack a box, I have to move other things to make room for it, therefore creating new piles of misplaced objects -- but minus the boxes!) The building is a pre-World War II building, which makes for character, somewhat low lighting and possibly lead paint. So when you come to visit, don't lick the walls a lot.

Unlike my last apartment, there is actually heat in this one. There's so much heat that I have to open the windows to make it less ... tropical. G has taken to bringing shorts whenever he comes over and I usually wear a tank top at home. It's that warm. Makes me worry about July.

But I ramble. Here's the thing: I would leave a bunch of windows cracked open to make the apartment more breathable, but the superintendent never put my screens in.

You'd think, hey, a relatively smart girl like me should be able to put in screens. Not so. Apparently these are super high-tech screens created by the government in the '80s so the Soviets couldn't scale the brick walls of my apartment building with their superhuman suction hands, rip off the screens and break through my windows to get all of that uranium that they were storing ... in my future apartment? (Another reason not to lick the walls. Much.) Between G and I, we have three college majors, two minors, a partially finished fourth major and quite a lot of educational debt. None of these things helped. Neither one of us could figure out how to get these screens in. G forced one in, upside-down and backward, I think. Surely, it is not secure enough to keep the suction-handed freaks out.

Until Tuesday, my chums ...