iPod Nation... March on

I'm now the proud owner (read: slave) of a totally adorable, irresistable, technologically impressive iPod Shuffle. Her name is FRANKi and she does a very good job of keeping me from sleeping on the subway. Which is quite a feat. It's a lifesaving task, really - falling asleep on the train can result in all sorts of nasty happenings (I know a guy who knows a guy who woke up at the end of the line w/o shoes or a wallet, and he's not a chick so one can only imagine what could have happened).

All of FRANKi's wonderful attributes aside, I feel this strange (read: slightly disturbing) kinship with literally about 40% of my fellow subway denizens. Lately there are more sets of little, white earbuds hanging out on the train than homeless guys smelling like week old morning pee. It's a bizarre change of pace, I assure you. It's crazy to sit there first thing in the morning and mentally tally all the money spent by one car's worth of people on iPods of all types. The original Big Daddy. The Mini. The Shuffle. The new Mini. Lots of dough there, folks. Makes me feel slightly developmentally retarded in that "I didn't get in on the dot com stock boom, either" kind of way.

Sniffle

Being sick is no fun. Well, taking cold medicine and getting that floating head feeling is kind of fun, but it's still no picnic. Home from work today with a scratchy voice, runny nose and a cough. Don't like it. Well, like being home from work, but don't like being sick.

Got up, took some medicine, got dressed, went to the bookstore, had breakfast at a great little diner - the morning was great except fo the part about being sick. Got stuff to make a killer chicken soup this afternoon. Hopefully that will make me all sorts of better. A little natural remedy in a pot.

Big snow storm headed this way. Started with flurries about an hour ago. Big, fat flakes - good ones. Supposed to get 10" when it's all said and done. I love snow. Perhaps public transportation will be so messed up tomorrow that I won't have to go in then, either. Man, that would be fantastic. I could spend the day with the girls, drinking tea, watching movies, afghans aplenty on the couch.

Creation

Crocus Top. My latest creation. It's cotton knit with spandex for great stretch. The photo doesn't really capture the lime green and bright orange fabric very well, but it's vibrant to say the least. Double layer of orange, double layer of green. The cowl halter attaches at the nape of the neck, then it's bare to the shoulder blades where the orange cuts straight acorss the back. Tres sexy, no? Thank goodness the creative vibe is not completely squashed by sub-freezing temperatures and snowstorms. Building a collection is a process that can't be dependent upon good weather. No designer in New York would make a damn thing if it were.

Public Art

The Gates - if you haven't heard by now, is a huge public art project by Christo and Jeanne-Claude installed in Central Park here in New York. It cost more than $20 million to create, which seems like a paltry pennance compared with the more than 25 years the husband-wife artist team took to fully visualize and plan their creation. The pair took no sponsorship for the project, all funds were raised independently and the city of New York didn't pay for a dime of it... but the city is walking away with a huge paycheck. All proceeds from the sale of merchandise related to The Gates will be donated to the Park - talk about the power of art (and people wonder "what good does art really do, anyway").

I took this picture last Saturday. I love the color of the fabric and the texture. The photo doesn't do it justice. Saffron - what a gorgeous name for such a savory color. The rip-stop fabric caught the sunlight and created this sparkling grid fluttering in the wind above me. People say that art effects them in many ways, and this piece really took hold of me that morning. It was cold, below freezing, and the puffs of hot breath that wafted up from my lips as I looked at the material floating above made a kind of steamy curtain that I peered through. It was quite a morning. I was lucky enough to have great company and beautiful weather that day. It really lived up to all that I looked forward to in the months leading up to the installation. I'm glad to have not been disappointed in the way that only an over-hyped spectacle can disappoint. It was beautiful and I feel lucky to live here in the time that it was here. They start the disassembly tomorrow morning and then it will be gone as quickly as it came. Christo and Jeanne-Claude will move on to the next project and New York will move on to the next big topic of public conversation. I'm sure something very important like politics or hemlines will be on the radar screen soon.

Accompanied Solitude

A month ago my household experienced a tragedy that has changed parts of all of us in ways that we may never truly understand. A friend was killed - murdered by a 19 year old with a stolen gun - and her absence is so painful that many other things seem not only insignificant, but rather frivolous. Things like my day to day activities that I ramble on about here in this blog, for example. The knowledge that "life goes on" is strangely comforting and sickening at once. Comforting because it's true - life continues all around me even though people near me are halted in so many ways - and sickening because when something so terrible happens it's almost impossible to devise a strategy to cope with the life that must (and certainly does) continue. My friends are dealing with the most shocking and horrific emotions they will ever face and I am swallowed up by their grief as well as my own.

While that extreme grief is playing itself out there are other things going on in my life that are difficult to deal with, too. They are certainly smaller, less important, but they exist nonetheless and I'm not sure how to muddle through some of them. I feel completely selfish for even worrying about issues that are so comparatively tiny, but the thing about life going on is that life really does go on - the happy parts, the sad parts, the goofy parts, the parts that let you know you're still alive - and I know that our friend would be one of the first to remind me of that. So, when I'm chastising myself for getting sad that the man I'm crazy about is moving to the other end of the country, that I hate my job, that I'm lonely more than I've ever been and how-dare-I-be-so-selfish-and-wallow-in-my-own-self-pity, I need to remember that this is part of my life and if I am sad and angry about something, well damnit, I'm sad and angry about it. Just because it's a tiny little thing in the scope of this whole life doesn't discount its validity at this moment. Just because it's not the death of a loved one doesn't make it untrue. Just because it's not the kind of pain that makes you feel like you're the one really dying doesn't mean you shouldn't feel it.

I feel it. I feel the sadness and the anger. Is it the kind of sadness and anger that invades you when your friend is killed? No. Is it still sadness and anger? Yes. I feel it. I'm alone a lot and I've realized that it's the kind of alone that comes even when in a room full of people. Alone doesn't have to mean lonely, but lonely is what I feel a good portion of the time lately. I'm dealing with it as best I can, but I'd love to talk to someone about it and sort of get it out of my system, off my proverbial chest. Unfortunately, this guilt I have about my "insignificant" problems prevents me from confiding in my roommates a whole lot because they have enough on their minds and hearts without listening to me jabber on about how I'm lonely and upset because my long distance relationship is about to get longer. So for now I write about it, and I talk about it when it's bothering me so much that I can't hold it in. Significant or not, pain is pain and everything is relative. Nothing should be shoved aside and dismissed for fear of its relevance.

Playing Pissed Off Patient

Had to pay for the doctor's appointment yesterday out of my own pocket and hope to be reimbursed. I should say - I WILL be reimbursed, or there will be some major bad stuff going down in the HR department of my company. Yeesh. $150 for the worst gyno exam ever. All I'll say is that you're not supposed to be sore after a pap smear. Yep - sore.

Happy note - got an iPod Shuffle and it's made my commute to the office so much more enjoyable. It's the closest I'll get to having a soundtrack for my life. It's great.

Playing Doctor

I have a doctor's appointment today and the problem is that my health insurance company has no record of my existence. The benefits department at my office doesn't have any answers for me. I've been paying for the health care coverage for more than a month, so why I'm not assigned an ID # or even entered into the system is beyond me. All I know is that if I get to the doctor today and I have to pay the full visit cost and submit a reimbursement after the fact I'm going to be one pissed off corporate grunt. I also know that I want to quit my job in the worst way. I wake up with headaches almost every weekday because my sleeping body feels the anxiety of the coming work day. Not a healthy thing.

Day 1

I live in Brooklyn. I'm 27. I'm a designer by blood and desire and a corporate schlub by necessity. Soon I hope to change that. Designer only. No more corporate schlubbery. One day. One day not too far from this day. I will break free and no longer be a spoke in the wheel. Good gawd may that day come quickly.

I'm short. I like cheese, but my digestive system doesn't. I'm funny - sometimes in a witty way and sometimes in a way that makes you think I've got a few screws loose. I am a sucker for a fabric store and notions of any sort. I always think that random handful of sequins in the clearance basket will someday grow up to be the trim on the most fabulous dress I have yet to make. I have a great affinity for footwear and will never own only that which I need.

I made the move to NYC in December and it's been a good ride so far. But, sometimes I feel rather alone in this big city all by myself. My love for this place is peppered with bitter drops of sadness that only reveal themselves at my weakest moments. I think that's pretty typical. Not sure if that's something that ever truly goes away. All New Yorkers carry with them some sort of conflict. It's a badge of courage, honor, stubbornness - whatever it is it's stamped into you the day you cross over the bridge, come through the tunnel, glimpse that Gotham skyline.

I'm figuring me out. I'm figuring New York out. I'm figuring life out little by little. This is the strange chronicle of that trip.