Crossed of the list

For weeks, I've had a long list of things needing to be done on my *new* PC. I bought it in mid- July to play City of Heroes, which I did only a couple of times from this machine. The first item on the list was get reliable Internet access to it. It's wireless card barely reached the base station and it liked to drop connections, if it even connected, and take forever to load. I've been toying with all sorts of complicated ideas to run wires in non-seeable places to fix this. Of course I haven't been trying that hard since its been SIX weeks of poor to shitty Internet access from the PC.

Until today. Sometime last week I realized that I have cable jacks in my bedroom and I might be able to move the base station in there, making it close enough to place nice with the PC. And I did.

And it worked. My PC happily connects faster than my iBook. And now the long list of upload and download chores is complete.

Yippee!

While I've spent most of the day staring at this computer screen making my wrists hurt, I wasn't quite as reclusive as I planned on being this weekend. Friday, I bailed on my lists altogether to go meet Susanne & Seth for beer.

Saturday morning yoga was great. We only did a few poses and the instructor gave in-depth explanations on how to do them right and how to know you were doing them wrong. I liked that since I don't know much yoga. Plus we got to use lots of props, which makes it easier to bend my inflexible, weak body around.

Saturday night I watched Outfoxed. Everyone should watch this. Expect to be horrified and furious, and learn why its important to not allow the fourth estate to continue to be handfed information by the government.

I've been on the "journalism is dying" soapbox for years (since I got my BA in Journalism actually), but watching this was a good fucking reminder that I shouldn't just sit back and watch our media be overrun by conservative corporations whoring themselves out to the government.

This morning, my friend Dallas and I went to his friend's house to read the NY Times and have breakfast. Since I haven't even been keeping up on news lately, I was actually excited about reading the paper. I like the group reading because I don't get as distracted and we swapped stories from different sections. (side note: I think the independent newspapers do a much better job of remaining objective and critical than the 24-hour news stations. The NYT has its faults for sure, but it's not inherently screwing people.)

I also made a trip to the local nursey, The Great Outdoors, to get some plants to
spruce up my front walkway. I have a surplus of cool pots since I terribly neglected the plants TK left in my care. (I thought I was taking good care of them, but they died pretty suddenly and all at once - Stupid Texas sun). I'm excited about the Night time Jasmine I got. It gest fragrant at night.

Since then I've been at this not comfortable, not uncomfortable desk. I've logged 9 hours and I'm tired. My to-do list isn't complete, but at least its a new list of stuff that can languish for weeks.

Uneventful

So I promised myself that I would post here at least twice a week. Seemed reasonable considering I go places and do stuff. At least two things a week should be worthy of some of my writing time.

Not this week. This has been just a week. I've gone to work. Saw some people, went some places and then came home. It felt like a good week though. Balanced on the people vs alone time front.

I'd hold out for exciting events this weekend, except my plans are a long list of household and computer chores. I'm going to yoga tomorrow for the first time in ages, which I am excited about.

Brian and I are going to Austin Yoga School to take Iyengar Yoga, a type of Hatha yoga. I may be in way over my head since this school seems to be for serious yoga folk,
of which I am not. I'll let you know.

wistful

It seemed appropriate to land at the airport in rain tonight, as if it was the right ending to this weekend. I got in my car (for once, I remembered where I parked it) and sat in the dark listening to the quiet rain. I was grateful to be back in my car, to be negotiating the slippery roads with my clutch, tires and brakes - a combination that usually involves me skidding
when I start.

I'm wistful for something I can't put my finger on.

The thing about New York City is that it has everything. Over the course of 3 days, I had a $2 bagel and $65 a person brunch (nothing is cheap at the Plaza). I heard more languages than I recognize. I got a massage, heard a classical quartet, went to the Whitney Museum, and saw a copious number of sex shops. I wandered the crowded streets of Chinatown, the coffee shop laden streets of the Village and the quiet greenery of Central Park. It rained (while in Chinatown). It was a gorgeous fall day (while in the park).

I am constantly astounded by the overwhelming number of food options. There isn't a nationality not represented in an affordable close-by eatery regardless of where in the city you are. (Presumably this hold true in most of the boroughs too, but I haven't been to any of those since I was a kid, so I won't even pretend I know what I am talking about).

When Randy and I were walking through Chinatown yesterday, attempting to find a lunch location before the onslaught of rain, I witnessed one of the things I love about the city. Two cops yelling at a cab driver to stop blocking traffic as an old lady was trying to get in. And then they yelled at some ladies crossing the street in front of traffic, muttering something like "Don't
worry about those moving vehicles" -- a nice way of saying "Hey you fucking moron, get outta the way." Everyone in the city has an opinion and doesn't think twice about sharing it with you.

Every time I visit this city, I know I've only scratched the surface. I am only a visitor here, even though I'd like to think I am connected to this city in some meaningful way. A a suburban Jersey kid, I am more attached to it than someone growing up in most of the 50 states, but that doesn't mean it's my city. Not like DC or Austin or even London, where I lived for 4 months.
Being from New Jersey means much of my attitude hails from NY. But that doesn't make me less suburban then all the rest of the American suburbanites. It means I curse more, and have better fashion options.

I can't imagine I'll never live in NYC, but I can't imagine moving there either. I like being able to find quiet, solitude, and lots of outdoors stuff. I've become a much less of a city-person since leaving DC and that is a really good thing. I bike, camp, hike, albeit I could do all of them more.

But I miss the languages, and the food, and of being informed about what off-Broadway shows are opening this week (as a theatre geek in high school, I was well informed on this topic). And so I am wistful for a city I have never called home.

The Surprise

Click here for pictures

*Again, you should pretend I posted this when I wanted to (10:30 pm Saturday night) but didn't because it was $25 for Internet access*

We ambushed my mom in the hallway of the Plaza. We were supposed to meet up in the bar, but as we were walking there we saw her in the lobby. She didn't see us, so we managed to hide behind a wall. My dad saw us (my "oh shit" face must have been hilarious) and distracted her while we hid. After she walked by, my sister and I came out behind her and said "Surprise" with my grandparents right behind us. For a second, she didn't say anything and then she started yelling. It was great. She got teary eyed and kept hugging us. See NYC photos of the "Surprise face"

By 6:15 p.m. we were drunk in the bar. Grandparents included. We had delicious dinner at an Upper West Side restaurant and then dessert at the Plaza. My chocolate mousse cake was so good I moaned. Loudly. I think the woman at the table next to me heard.

The Plaza is amazing. There are chandeliers in the elevators. There's ornate gilded gold and impressive intricate woodwork as far as the eye can see. When I arrived, I dashed through the lobby to ensure I didn't see my parents (I got here 15 minutes before they did), but since then I've gotten a chance to check it out. Built in 1902, the Plaza exudes a kind of elegance and
wealth that modern shine can not.

My sister and I are both stuffed with food, booze and wine and are hanging in our room watching the Olympics. It's 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday night in NYC. But this is a comfortable bed so its worth spending some time in it.

Low Key in NYC

*Apparently, Internet access at fancy hotels in NYC is expensive so you should pretend i posted this when i wanted to, which was noon on Saturday*

So I'm in NYC, hours away from the "surprise" for mom. My father, sister and I have arranged a complicated set of calls to and from my Dad's cell phone to communicate about arrivals at the hotel without letting my Mom know. I, perhaps, will have a broken toilet that I need help with to justify several calls to Dad's cell where I'll whisper "The grandparents have arrived and are
checked in."

Until then, my friend Randy and I are on a mission to get him a Eurail pass before he leaves for France tonight. I only have to make sure I don't run into my parents on the streets of New York. Good thing they like the fancy midtown streets, while I'm heading to SoHo.

So far the "friends" part of this trip has been less racous than usual NYC expeditions, but low key is still a good time. I met Randy at Penn Station yesterday, where a 30 minute wait is less scary than it used to be. We headed to my hotel, which is a sparkly new Hilton - a black phallus rising high into the skyline - right next to Ground Zero.

My room overlooks Ground Zero, a huge area that easily goes 6 or 7 stories below street level. There is some activity in there (one corner has some construction going on) but mostly it looks like storage space for a future construction project.

We headed up to his friends' place in Chelsea to pick up some stuff Randy left when he was here last week. Souris and Silvio have a cool apartment with a very tiny elevator that took us there. I heard scary stories involving the word "stuck". I am sure Randy will tell you all about it in his blog.

We got delicious crepes around the corner, and then took off for the Village on a Eurail pass and new shoe expedition. It was wholly unsuccessful and we pretty much wandered around the West Village for 90 minutes until we were hot, sweaty and tired. My cute "I'm in the city so no flipflops, shorts or tank tops" outfit looked significantly less cute after being in the humid
heat. Think really obvious sweat stains on a shirt that is draws attention to my boobs. (Yes, such a thing is possible even for a no-boobs girl. It's about nipple definition)

Randy and I went to dinner with my friends Billy (of the high school years) and Marilena (of the scandalous college years). Joe's Shangai in Chinatown was packed and loud. Not wanting to waste precious table space, they sat us with another couple to fill the 6-top table. 12 seconds after sitting, waiters were asking us what we wanted. Clearly their patrons are regulars and
don't need to do things like read the menu. For much of dinner I was dodging my head around the ass of a waiter who seems to be perpettually right behind me.

The food was delicious. We got red bean pancakes, scallion pancakes and pork and crab sticky buns for appetizers. All of our entrees were yummy. Mine was a bit of tactical nightmare, but the fried noodles were worth it.

There were entirely too many conversations happening around me to concentrate on mine and I was desperate for a "quiet bar" after dinner. Ha! NYC is many things. Quiet is not one of them. So we ended up at Billy's drinking wine. And I was in bed at midnight, I think. No drinking mojitos until 4 am for me.

But I got to catch up with friends I haven't seen in a while and that's better than cocktails and thumping music any day of the week.

waterlogged

i had an awesome weekend. it was all about water. i went camping at pace bend with a bunch of friends saturday.

this trip involved much less cliff jumping for me than last time. the water level had dropped so low i couldn't safely climb up the little cliff (a whopping 13 feet) and i wasn't jonesing to jump off the "big" cliff. i did managed to climb up the little cliff once. note: water goes into all sorts of uncomfortable places when you hit the water spread eagle.

this trip was much more sophisticated than my usual trips. we had a camp fire where food was cooked, including some delicious peach cobbler.

of course there was some drunken, naked night swimming (my favorite), and we even made some random new friends in the lake. we shared our funnoodles. they didn't share their beer (though in retrospect we probably didn't need more).

the glorious weather is still around so i didn't need to use my rainfly. it even got cool enough that i needed a sheet (in Texas August!) and i could see the stars while laying inside my tent. it was great.
sunday morning, it was so cool we didn't want to swim. i promised my friend brian, i would jump off the "big" cliff with him in the morning. but we didn't have to face our fear of the jump this time.

after a brief nap upon arrival back in austin, i went to barton springs with a couple of friends and spent the day hanging out in cold water and warm sun.

i had such a great outside weekend. next weekend, it's all about NYC. My dad is flying me home and putting the whole family up at the Plaza to surprise my mom for her 50th birthday. My mom is going to be shocked. I can't wait to see the look on her face. And I'll get to play with a bunch of friends on Friday. I hope to sleep little and stay out late.

From camping one weekend to The Plaza the next. What a rough life I have:)

someone else's summer

It's a record day in Austin. I walked out my door this morning around 11 am and it was cool and sunny. Probably about 75 degrees. Usually I walk outside at 9 am and am confronted with the oppressive heat of Texas summer. Typically, August days start at 90 degrees and head upward from there. Often, the steering wheel will burn you at the lightest touch.

But not today. Today was like summer somewhere else. Montana or Maine perhaps. It was sunny, yet breezy. I could bask in the sunlight without instantly sweating. It smelled like fall. It's been summer here since early May and it gradually gets hot until September, when the hotness starts to fade away. The visiting weather awoke my outdoor senses. It took all of my effort to drive my car to my office today, instead of pointing it to a park outside of town.

But I didn't stay there for long. (I love coming in ridiculously late and leaving ridiculously early). I had a 4:30 appointment. By 6 pm, I was done with work and appointments with nothing but good weather ahead of me.

I grabbed Amber to head to the Barton Creek Greenbelt , which has an entrance 2 minutes from my house. First getting into the woods was kinda magical. It was suddenly quiet with nothing but the sounds of the trail crunching under my feet and Amber's tags jangling. We had a great hike on a trail I've never been on. It was quiet, empty, and overgrown with vegetation. I had a
run in with an unusual bug (it looked like an orange flying cricket). Amber found some water to play in and another dog to boss around.

Really I should do this all the time. In fact, I am going to try changing my work hours to make sure I get out of there by 6 pm every night. There are too many things to do in the daylight here that I need to make part of a routine and not some special outing.

And when I got home, I skateboarded. All by myself. No prodding IMs from Nathan required. I did the loop around my condo complex. It has a fun little hill. I managed to mostly swerve my way down it. I fell once.

Now I am at Bouldin Creek Coffeehouse, doing the computing outside thing, after making myself excellent dinner on the grill (buffalo burger and salad with yummy homemade dressing).

Tonight, I might try sleeping with the window open. It's a lovely thought - A midsummer breeze to lull my achy body (lots of rock hiking and a jarring fall) to sleep.

prickly

Yesterday was a day that was meant to be great fun. Activity-wise it was. Troy, an old friend, was in town. We went hiking with Jacob and our dogs and then we swam (alas, not at Barton Springs). Troy and I went to a picnic at a friend's house, then chilled on my patio bullshitting, and Jacob came over to join us.

Yet, all day I was on edge. I felt over-scheduled and cramped for time. I was frustrated with my dog (who pissed in my house) and I had a short fuse with Jacob, and since we're still navigating our friendship, post a serious 4-year relationship, this ended up clouding my mood.

It's not often I get overwhelmed with the desire to be alone. Usually it's easy. I say "later" and leave my friends doing whatever fun thing we were already doing. But a houseguest meant I couldn't curl up on my couch with a book like I wanted. (Well I could've, but didn't want to)

Hanging out with Troy was great. He's an enigmatic person I've known forever. There is no one else quite like him, and we always have interesting conversation. Last night was no different: we covered polyamory, rating systems for whether someone is attractive, the lines between friendships and sexual relationships, and his trips to Burning Man.

Yet every trip to go pee, I thought to myself, I could just go to bed right now and that would be great. Troy and I were doing OK connecting, but Jacob and I were not. I was argumentative and easily annoyed all day and I took it out on him and had fake smiles for everyone else. I hate that shit. Don't get me wrong, I had fun yesterday. I met cool people at the picnic, and our hike on the Green Belt was great. But ever time I thought I was on the recovery road to "Fun and Happy," I got sucked back into "Prickly". And I really prefer to be prickly and alone.

A large part of me wants to blame it on PMS. However, I am not typically subject to hormone-related mood swings so it feels like an excuse (though more than one person has remarked that I might be more prone to them then I think). But damn, I was overly-sensitive and really had to work to go with the flow. Maybe it was just a case of waking up on the wrong side of the
bed.

Now, I am blissfully alone in at my place listening to a new CD I just bought, and I plan on treasuring that until I meet a friend for drinks, another social commitment in an overly-committed weekend.

Sk8te or die

Almost daily I get an IM from my friend Nathan at work asking if I want to go out to skate. My favorite is when he sends the imperative "Sk8te or die," instead of asking if I want to go since I usually have a "reason" I can't. Often, it is improper footwear.

I started skateboarding when I got back from Montana. Lulu was gracious enough to lend me her skateboard and I've collected a loaner from Nathan too. He's an excellent teacher. If it wasn't for him, I would've given up already. He's really patient and knows when to instruct and when to just let me fiddle about.

Today was the first time I went out in 2 weeks. I didn't go at all over vacation. I was tempted to ask some neighborhood kids if I could borrow one of their boards, but I suck and a 12-year-old boy would have had a field day making fun of me.

Usually the first 10 minutes of skating in the parking deck with Nathan are terrifying. The skateboard feels totally foreign. I wobble and can't figure out where my feet want to go. The second 10 or 20 minutes are great. I get more confident. I go down the hill, manage to do some slight turns, and hop around on the board. Sometimes these 20 minutes breaks last 40 minutes cause I am having so much fun.

However, today was different. It took me all of a minute to get comfortable on the board, my feet seemed to know where they wanted to go and my turns were actual slices down the hill instead of a straight shot down that varies by 4 degrees because that's all the turning my scared knees can muster. Nathan helped me nail the turning movement and I can zigzag comfortably. I can't wait until we go out again tomorrow.

Of course, I still suck. I'm scared of the speed. I usually jump off the board halfway down the hill because I am going too fast and turning too slowly to reduce my speed. I don't do such a hot job of pushing off once moving. I push, wait until I am almost stopped and push again.

And I ain't anywhere near an ollie, which supposedly is the sign of being comfortable on the skateboard. But I've got nothing but time to practice, and every time I go out I improve dramatically so I don't care if I suck. Soon I'll get myself to the skate park to try and pick up hot skater boys with my skills.