J F M A M J J A S O N D
I recently discovered that if you list the first letter of each month of the year on one line, you'll see JASON! Needless to say my son thought this was awesome.
Dark Night
8 years ago
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Same place, only smaller
Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm obsessed with New York City. I absolutely love the place. I used to think that New York was the "world" that was not Tallahassee. In New York, you can see and do anything. And living in New York represented what my life could have been if I'd chosen a different path. Don't get me wrong, I love my path and I love Tallahassee, but I've lived here basically my entire life and I'm a restless and curious spirit. I want to see more. I need to see different.
So when I went to New York for the first time, I didn't know what to expect, yet I had so many expectations. I expected different.
During my first trip, I was looking around for souvenirs. I didn't want the "standard" souvenir—you know, the Statue of Liberty cigarette lighter or the "I Love NYC" t-shirt-kinds that were everywhere—I wanted something unique. After all, NYC has everything. Why would I want something mass produced and available on every corner?
One day, while walking around the Upper West Side, I happened upon a Goodwill store and went inside. I immediately noticed a pillow on the shelf. I had never seen such a thing! It was hot pink and had a furry (yarn'y) kind of surface. The pillow was perfect for my daughter's room and it was only $2.99! It was kind of big, however, and I wasn't sure how I would fit it into my already full suitcase, but I bought it anyway. To me, this pillow represented the uniqueness of NYC. I could never find such a thing in Tallahassee.
A few weeks after I returned home, I was in a Target store and saw the same exact pillow! My heart sank into my stomache. The pillow wasn't unique at all. It was a product of a CHAIN STORE.
On my second trip to New York, I was even more determined to find something original and I did!—or at least I thought I did. I visited the week before Christmas and there were many bazaar-type craft shows around the city. At one in Bryant Park, I found this totally cool purse. Now, I'm not the type to have more than one purse. I use one purse until it literally falls apart. But this purse was so neat. It was made of recycled paper, but it didn't feel like paper. The man working the booth said his wife made the purses and gave me their business card. I gladly paid $25.00 for it. This purse was my "unique" souvenir. This purse was my "different."
A month after I returned to Tallahassee, I saw the exact same purse in a bead store of all places and, to make matters worse, it was $5.00 cheaper.
I'll eventually find something unique and different to bring home from New York, because New York is different. But having my bubble burst made me realize that New York is not the "world" that Tallahassee isn't—Tallahassee is the world too, only it's smaller.
So when I went to New York for the first time, I didn't know what to expect, yet I had so many expectations. I expected different.
During my first trip, I was looking around for souvenirs. I didn't want the "standard" souvenir—you know, the Statue of Liberty cigarette lighter or the "I Love NYC" t-shirt-kinds that were everywhere—I wanted something unique. After all, NYC has everything. Why would I want something mass produced and available on every corner?
One day, while walking around the Upper West Side, I happened upon a Goodwill store and went inside. I immediately noticed a pillow on the shelf. I had never seen such a thing! It was hot pink and had a furry (yarn'y) kind of surface. The pillow was perfect for my daughter's room and it was only $2.99! It was kind of big, however, and I wasn't sure how I would fit it into my already full suitcase, but I bought it anyway. To me, this pillow represented the uniqueness of NYC. I could never find such a thing in Tallahassee.
A few weeks after I returned home, I was in a Target store and saw the same exact pillow! My heart sank into my stomache. The pillow wasn't unique at all. It was a product of a CHAIN STORE.
On my second trip to New York, I was even more determined to find something original and I did!—or at least I thought I did. I visited the week before Christmas and there were many bazaar-type craft shows around the city. At one in Bryant Park, I found this totally cool purse. Now, I'm not the type to have more than one purse. I use one purse until it literally falls apart. But this purse was so neat. It was made of recycled paper, but it didn't feel like paper. The man working the booth said his wife made the purses and gave me their business card. I gladly paid $25.00 for it. This purse was my "unique" souvenir. This purse was my "different."
A month after I returned to Tallahassee, I saw the exact same purse in a bead store of all places and, to make matters worse, it was $5.00 cheaper.
I'll eventually find something unique and different to bring home from New York, because New York is different. But having my bubble burst made me realize that New York is not the "world" that Tallahassee isn't—Tallahassee is the world too, only it's smaller.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Seeing Red
Two years ago, the white paint on our front door began to peel revealing the dark grey metal surface underneath. We removed as much of the paint as we could easily peel and planned to scrape the rest off and repaint it. But nothing else happened and the door has been grey with white flakes ever since. Painting the door became one of those "we will get to it soon, but not this weekend"-type projects.
Another home in our neighborhood, very similar to ours, had the same paint-peeling problem. The owners painted their front door red and it looked really nice. I decided that I wanted a red door. David was less than enthusiastic about my color choice but relunctantly agreed on the condition that it would be repainted if it looked bad. He painted the door last week while he was home with the kids during spring break. Every time I'd call and ask him how the door looked, all he would say is, "It's Red."
I remembered hearing that red doors were good luck but didn't know why, so I looked it up on the internet and found out that it's feng shui. According to feng shui, if your front door faces south you are supposed to paint it red. It's weird because there are four homes in my neighborhood with red doors (including mine) and they all face west. What's up with that? Weirder still is that the feng shui colors for west-facing doors are white and grey!
Regardless, I'm happy seeing red.
Another home in our neighborhood, very similar to ours, had the same paint-peeling problem. The owners painted their front door red and it looked really nice. I decided that I wanted a red door. David was less than enthusiastic about my color choice but relunctantly agreed on the condition that it would be repainted if it looked bad. He painted the door last week while he was home with the kids during spring break. Every time I'd call and ask him how the door looked, all he would say is, "It's Red."
I remembered hearing that red doors were good luck but didn't know why, so I looked it up on the internet and found out that it's feng shui. According to feng shui, if your front door faces south you are supposed to paint it red. It's weird because there are four homes in my neighborhood with red doors (including mine) and they all face west. What's up with that? Weirder still is that the feng shui colors for west-facing doors are white and grey!
Regardless, I'm happy seeing red.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Phyllis Doesn't Make Appointments
This morning I went to meet with my art advisor Phyllis because the "Art Tools and Equipment" class I want to take this summer is already full and today is the first day I can register. I needed Phyllis to get me into that class.
Phyllis is an older woman, very cool, who is definitely overworked and probably underpaid. Her office is, at best, the size of a closet. Actually I think it was a closet at some point. Anyway, Phyllis doesn't make appointments. She works from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. most days of the week and you just have to show up and wait your turn.
Knowing this from previous meetings, I decided to arrive early to beat the crowd. The Fine Arts Building parking lot is being demolished and a new parking garage is under construction. In the meantime, there is nowhere to park, so I drove around campus looking for a parking space for 15 minutes before finding one right across the street! How lucky.
I walked into the advising office. I was the only one there. Lucky again! I could hear Phyllis talking to a co-worker, so I sat down and waited. It was about 9:50. Shortly afterward, two girls showed up and sat down on a tiny couch. The waiting room was slightly bigger than her office; just enough room for a small couch and chair. Phyllis was still talking, so I began chatting with the two girls about majors, etc. Then an older man in a suit walked in. He asked if we were waiting for Phyllis and we all said yes. Then he said, "Well I have an appointment for 10:00." We three looked at each other. Then I said, "Phyllis doesn't make appointments." The man stared at me for a few seconds in disbelief. Then he opened his notebook and pointed to something and said, "See, I have an appointment." I didn't say anything. I was thinking about what I was going to do if he tried to get in before me! Luckily he acknowledged that he was there on behalf of his daughter and said he would wait outside the door (there was no more room in the waiting area).
Shortly after that, I went in to see Phyllis. While I was in her office, the phone rang and Phyllis excused herself to answer it. She told the person on the other end of the line that she would be there until 3:00 and to come anytime. After she hung up she mentioned how funny it was that a person would call her from just outside the building. I asked her if it was a man who said he had an 10:00 appointment. She chuckled and said yes, but that she didn't make appointments. I laughed and said that I had just spoken to that man and told him the same thing.
She said, "Good for you," and then got me into the class.
Phyllis is an older woman, very cool, who is definitely overworked and probably underpaid. Her office is, at best, the size of a closet. Actually I think it was a closet at some point. Anyway, Phyllis doesn't make appointments. She works from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. most days of the week and you just have to show up and wait your turn.
Knowing this from previous meetings, I decided to arrive early to beat the crowd. The Fine Arts Building parking lot is being demolished and a new parking garage is under construction. In the meantime, there is nowhere to park, so I drove around campus looking for a parking space for 15 minutes before finding one right across the street! How lucky.
I walked into the advising office. I was the only one there. Lucky again! I could hear Phyllis talking to a co-worker, so I sat down and waited. It was about 9:50. Shortly afterward, two girls showed up and sat down on a tiny couch. The waiting room was slightly bigger than her office; just enough room for a small couch and chair. Phyllis was still talking, so I began chatting with the two girls about majors, etc. Then an older man in a suit walked in. He asked if we were waiting for Phyllis and we all said yes. Then he said, "Well I have an appointment for 10:00." We three looked at each other. Then I said, "Phyllis doesn't make appointments." The man stared at me for a few seconds in disbelief. Then he opened his notebook and pointed to something and said, "See, I have an appointment." I didn't say anything. I was thinking about what I was going to do if he tried to get in before me! Luckily he acknowledged that he was there on behalf of his daughter and said he would wait outside the door (there was no more room in the waiting area).
Shortly after that, I went in to see Phyllis. While I was in her office, the phone rang and Phyllis excused herself to answer it. She told the person on the other end of the line that she would be there until 3:00 and to come anytime. After she hung up she mentioned how funny it was that a person would call her from just outside the building. I asked her if it was a man who said he had an 10:00 appointment. She chuckled and said yes, but that she didn't make appointments. I laughed and said that I had just spoken to that man and told him the same thing.
She said, "Good for you," and then got me into the class.
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