Poppy Cedes

Yup, so, had a new subway adventure today. I was walking down the stairs into the station with a hot coffee in one hand and a lack of Physics in the other, and I stumbled twice then fell down the stairs. My left hand palm and my left forearm took the visible brunt of it, but I’m feeling unpleasantness in my middle finger and shooting pains at random in my wrist, elbow, and shoulder.

I was a bit stunned so I stayed sitting at the bottom of the first set of stairs. One person ran back up the bottom set of stairs to ask me if I was ok, another person was walking down the stairs I was on and asked me if I was ok. New Yorkers are kind at heart. I’m sure their internal dialog was less kind in some way, but who cares about that part, it was very nice of them to ask. I told them both I was fine, just stunned. It’s not my first time falling down stairs unexpectedly or being stunned from something I didn’t understand was happening to me until after I was on the ground, so it was nice to have that familiar feeling back.

The best part about the whole situation is that I watched hot coffee fly up into the air, then fall directly back down on the lid of the cup. As I got up to go I sucked the coffee off the top of the lid and went on my way down the next set of stairs, through the turnstile (which of course ate an extra fare from me to stick that nail in the bad day coffin), then carefully down the remaining staircase. Since I had nothing to clean up my bloody palm or scraped arm I just held it close to myself on the train then picked up alcohol swabs at Duane Reade when I got into the city. (Perhaps now is the time to tuck some of those swabs into my bag for future incidents. Yes, yes.)

And so I’m back to rookie status in the subway. :)

Life could be much worse. I just like telling you my stories.

I will very soon be blogging on a much more regular basis but for now I’ll dump my brain onto you.

Happy birthday, Vahid!

On the way to work this morning I almost finished the book I was reading. Rather than being able to enjoy another book down I was sad that I would no longer be in its world. It wasn’t a great book, moved between tenses, both historically and pronounally, too frequently for my taste. When I finally told myself to just please get over this I found the ending to be the best part of the book and was really glad I stopped letting my eyes scan the page as I lamented the book’s passing.

At work I learned that Chris Livingston passed away. I don’t know him and I don’t know what happened, but a lot of people I care about knew him and were very sad because of his passing, and I truly feel sad for my friends because they hurt in a way that I cannot help them not hurt. I can just sit by and say sorry.

Speaking of friends… I was all complainy last week that everyone pulled away from me after Avitaweekend, that no one seems to care about me anymore wah wah wah except a select few people. And then I realized I equally pulled away from everyone who was there and our culpability is shared. So, hi friends. I miss you and am thinking about you a lot even though we don’t get to hang out and party and eat meals and joke about whatever enters our minds.

And there are other friends who weren’t at the party who I felt were slipping away: One, I think, is trying to get me to be the bad guy and break ties. One wants me to be in her life but lunchtime is a very tough time for me to hang out (hi :). One I accused of ditching me but she didn’t and then I got busy and stopped writing her. After I write this post I’m going to respond again because I have stuff to say. Oh, and one friend told me something I wasn’t ready to hear and can’t quite reciprocate, for reasons that go far deeper than anything between us. I just have my trust issues and I try as hard as I can to offer as much trust as I can, but the end result is… a lopsided friendship with people. It’s the best I can do. I hope you continue to love me anyway. And then there’s this other friend who hangs out with me and is awesome and gets cupcakes with me and then she asks me how the cupcakes are and I tell her “I had one, it was ok.” heh. This amuses only me, doesn’t it. I love that I can be honest with her, is my point.

Back to today.

On the way home the same man was on the 4:45pm train as had been on that train Friday. He yells at the top of his lungs, “IF YOU LOVE YOUR FAMILY YOU’LL GIVE ME MONEY *pointing his fucking STARBUCKS cup at you* YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY?! YOU HATE YOUR FAMILY?! WHEN THEY DIE YOU WON’T CARE, YOU WON’T LOVE THEM! YOU DON’T LOVE YOUR FAMILY ENOUGH TO GIVE ME A PENNY *throwing a penny at an unsuspecting bench sitter* TAKE THE PENNY, I DON’T WANT IT, YOU FAMILY HATER!” It scares the shit out of some people, but even when he is standing directly behind me screaming his diatribe all I’m thinking is “I really should start screaming, ‘if you love your families you WON’T give me ANY money because you’ll save it for THEM and put food on THEIR table instead of THIS Starbucks fake motherfucker! What, WHAT!’” but I just smile and chuckle and keep it to myself and guard the scared people with my body. It’s what I do. I just don’t have appropriate fear levels for given situations, I’ve concluded.

And directly after Repeat Man we got a new lady charging through the car not holding onto anything screaming that she didn’t want any money, “no pennies, no nickels, no quarters, no dollars” (guess dimes don’t exist in Crazy Town) but that Jesus hates us. Which reminded me that my favorite word for today that I made up but probably already exists is Jeez-ass, which I wrote to Partner in Crime in response to some message he sent me about the sad state of affairs back home within our common location. Cryptic much, yup. But … Jeez-ass! Isn’t that lovely? It is.

It was a rare occasion tonight. Because I was going to the store I chose to turn off my music and walk from the train to the store, listening instead to the sounds of the city so that I would remember to go to the store. When I took out my earbuds I was still riding the last leg of the train and I was reminded why I love the train so much. Perfectly quiet humans listening with me to the soothing sound of the train.

In the store a woman didn’t realize she was blocking the entrance to the store and the hand carts. When she realized she was doing this she scooted herself to the side to let a soldier in his desert fatigues pass by then she stood up and handed me a hand cart. I was so surprised, I burst out laughing, smiled, and said thank you. And then I heard her continue her conversation en español and wished I had at least “graciad” in return. (No s’s. Gracia.)

On the way home I watched a little girl in a tiny little dress and coat skipping along next to her mom while she sang Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi at the top of her lungs. Cutest version EVAR. I laughed out loud.

A little further along my path home 3 teenagers were spanning the entire width of the double-wide sidewalk. I was walking with no earphones toward them with three grocery shopping bags chock full of heavy items and my work bag slung over my shoulder. I slowed down a little bit, but they parted just enough for me to turn sideways through, and as I did one of them dared to test out his manlihood on me by saying, “heeeeeey, Miss [inaudible].” He couldn’t quite keep that courage level going as I pushed through him and his friend to continue on my way. I… think I might possibly be intimidating. In Vermont the only men who cat call at you are your friends. In New York City you’re not A Real Man if you don’t cat call by 12. It’s an interesting culture difference. I wish I had said something like, “nice try, we’ll give it another go on Tuesday *wink*” or something funny but I just spent a little too long trying to decipher what he had said after “Miss”. It sounded like Hershey, but we all know I’m not Hershey. I’m all vanilla and stuff.

The word count was at 1179 before this line. I think that’s pretty good. Can’t wait to see you all more consistently again. :)

PS – Ripley says hi!

I had an irrational thought in the middle of the night Monday in my AC bed that the woman that one of Dawg’s friends is smitten for and about to marry is the bat shit CRAZIEST salesperson at my job. I was all ready to confiscate Dawg’s phone and call said friend in the middle of the night just to ask him his girlfriend’s last name. I resisted, but then this morning I had mulled over the idea of walking up to Bat Shit Crazy and asking her what her boyfriend’s name is. Dawg told me this can’t be the case, that his friend’s girl works in NJ, but… I’m not convinced until his friend shows me the proof that this fine lady isn’t the crazy lady at my work.

I WILL NOT REST!

Ok, yes I will.

Anyway.

Today was my first day in Manhattan during United Nations play time!!! whee!!!!! and I definitely noticed a security difference. I saw lots of extra police, and some guy carrying a Fed Ex package almost get mauled by a German Shepherd, and the cop holding the leash of said dog smirk at the guy. I did not care for that even a tiny bit.

I had something else to blog about that was on a more positive note but I totally forgotted it! :(

Still trying to remember.

Nope, not coming to my mind.

Well, I’ll tell you something else then. I’m pretty sure no one from VT is reading my blog anymore, but I just wanted to say (HIDE YOUR EYES IF YOU’RE EZA) that I got a late birthday present for EZA finally after resolving that I would not be able to return to VT before the snow flew, thus missing his August 25 birthday party. The gifts are on the way to me, and when they come to me I’ll package them up and send them off.

Gift 1 is already with me:

(That bottom box is his. The middle box went to my favorite salesperson who gave me a hug for it. The top box went to Dawg because he asked for it and I love him with all my heart.)

Gift 2 is a book EZA really needs to read because I’m confident he will come visit me and I know he will be interested in this subject:

Gift 3 is just way cool and any 7-year-old would love this:

I don’t know if I’ll add anything else, but probably at least a card. Love that little guy to tiny pieces and back. *sniffle*

Ok, off to have a party with @Rachel316 and @missbritt and @MsBatman! LATER!

Oh, hahahaha! I am totally writing in Sybil style (right?!) but I just remembered what I was going to write about. I’ll make that a whole notha post, k? k.

Happy whateverdaythis is, chicas and fuertes!

It’s been a while since I’ve talked about any subway adventures, mainly because everything is old hat to me now, but today something different happened.

I was sitting on the E train bench reading my book with my earphones in when two women, a man, and a little girl of 2 or 3 came to stand in front of my area of the bench. The man sitting next to me got up and, because the little girl didn’t want to sit down, the two women sat one on top of the other while they discussed events of their lives and what they would do once they got to Union Turnpike. And then, all of a sudden, the little girl turned to me and touched my book with her hand and I looked into her beautiful tan eyes and what I saw was love, compassion for all, and happy curiosity. The emotion of this hit me so hard that my eyes welled up with tears. I gave her a smile and said “hi,” she gave me a smile and said nothing, and I went back to reading my book. She didn’t want to sit, she just wanted to lean against me and hang out, so she did. And then at one point she bumped my book by mistake and turned around to look at me with sad, sad eyes and said “sorry!” and I shook my head with my big, sappy smile and wet eyes and eeked out, “no worries.” And then it was her stop and she was gone.

I wonder how long it will take me to forget her. Or will I remember her forever because of who she made me think of when I looked into her eyes? (Rhetorical, rhetorical.)

Had a rejuvenating evening with my boy and am feeling a lot better. Just in time for my monthly Tuesday-Wednesday with just me and the girls while Dawg goes off to learn Kumbaya a little bit more than the month before. (Thank you, Mom, for asking.)

The red line of DC Metro had a pretty bad accident Monday during the start of rush hour. I rode that line while I was there. The article also references a 1982 accident at the Woodley Park-Adams Morgan station, the starting point of the red line that B and I rode on. I feel all Final Destination all of a sudden. I’m not absolutely certain, but I’m guessing that NY Metro was assessing the situation in DC, which caused my ride home to have long delays for no apparent-to-us reason. I appreciate that, in retrospect. Always good to make sure not every Metro system is a target of something at the same time.

Ok, that was nice and cheery. Let’s change the topic to SpaceTweep! I am an editor there, thanks to Jenny! Did you know she and her husband work for NASA? They do. And they rock.

Aaaaaaaand, yes, I’m riding the NYC Metro (that’d be the subway) today. Go, me!

It all started with an email from my boss after he was away for a week, up through yesterday. It was titled “is everything ok?” and said “if anything is wrong please tell me.” I thought it was a JOKE because I had emailed him updates the whole time he was gone and I said hi to him when he got in and said hi to me, so I laughed it off and didn’t answer it. And then HE FORWARDED IT TO THE DIRECTOR AND CC’D IT TO ME AND COMPLAINED THAT I DIDN’T ANSWER HIM. The director had to read the email 5 times, still didn’t understand, then called my boss and asked him what the hell that was about. I emailed the director saying “I have no idea how to respond to that.” There are many theories as to why my boss did this, and none of them are good. He avoided me for the rest of the day, until the very end, when we had a regular discussion about work stuff. *shrug*

A few choice nuggets happened between this first incident of the day and 5pm when it was time to go home, including someone daring to ask me “what DO you know?” when she asked me where someone was who sits on the other fucking side of a wall because YO I AM SUPPOSED TO KEEP TABS ON MY CO-WORKERS AND ASK THEM WHERE THEY GO IF THEY LEAVE THEIR DESKS JUST IN CASE CRAZIES COME ASK ME WHERE THEY ARE, along with so many other incidents that at one point in the day I actually googled “phases of the moon” only to learn that the full moon was actually on May 17 so I really had no explanation for why so many crazies were trying to insert themselves into my life. I’m pretty sure the count was up to 10 by 5pm, just at work. I didn’t go anywhere all day, brought my lunch.

So, we’re at 5pm now and the elevators aren’t working and the fire warden gets on the building-wide intercom to tell us there has been a false alarm so it will be several minutes before the elevators are working. So a bunch of us go back in our office space to go down the stairs and that “cool” girl I mentioned before who doesn’t understand about work friends starts bitching at me for not holding the door for her and I fall into the trap, trying to explain that she wasn’t even AT the door when I was near it and she turns to her sister-in-law who also works there are starts high school name calling me, loudly saying I’m crazy and need prozac and that what I say doesn’t matter while I’m walking in front of her. I get to the closest stair landing and I yell at her “we are NOT friends. GO. GO!!!!!” and I give her the “don’t you DARE fuck with the Poppy” look and point down the stairs. And she and her SIL walk on by, not daring to say anything more to me. When we get street level I put in my ear phones and say nothing to anyone around me, just walk off to my own sunset.

And all this waiting to get down to the street makes me late to the train which turns into missing the first train that shows up 10 minutes after I get there because it’s just too jam-packed, but the next train arrives directly on its heels and I get a seat on that one. And we’re going, going, going, and we get to Queens Plaza and there is a huge THUD and people start scattering and other people start exiting the train and I look over and see a woman yelling out the door and then a few minutes later I see a Metro worker calling in whatever happened (it sounded like someone fell down, but who knows) and then we’re on our way and I get home a half hour later than life would normally allow me, not bad not bad, but then I’m supposed to walk up the 4 flights of stairs to the apartment, find my bank card that I left in my jeans pocket this weekend, and walk a city block down and a city block over to the bank to get money that I promised to give to Dawg, since it’s rightfully his, that he needs for 6am tomorrow, but I am so done with the day and so exhausted emotionally that I can’t even stand to think of going back down the stairs… so I check my cash stash and, look what I found!, exactly the correct amount that Dawg needs!

Oh, and there was an incident at home with the smoke alarm, and Georgie got locked in the bedroom, and when she finally got out she sat on my lap and she pushed out a big, fat, juicy TEAR from her eye. SHE CRIED! MY BABY CRIED! Broke my heart. I can’t even explain…

While sleepily riding the pole into Manhattan I heard sneezing through my earphones — petite, surprised sneezes that I thought were a woman’s. At the next stop I opened my eyes out of courtesy for those getting off then on the train and saw a man sitting in the seat next to the door trying his very hardest not to sneeze anymore. One got away from him and I stared politely (there is such a thing) to see if he had a tissue; he did, but it was the most pathetic, busted ass tissue I’d seen in a while, used about 20 times too many, and a long string of nose glop stuck between his nose and his hand. I started quietly giggling and reached into my bag. As the train came to a stop I walked over to the man whose eyes were closed, tapped him on the arm, and handed over my package of travel-sized tissues. He nodded and took the package then I hopped off the train, my 7 Ave / 53 St stop.

I am the angel of tissues. :)

That was a good joke, wasn’t it?

Saturday was DAVE YORK 2!!!!!!!!!!!! So, here’s how the day went from my perspective: I woke up at 8:30am, didn’t really take to it too kindly because my knees hurt so much from kneeling on concrete the day before, ate some bacon, went back to bed until 2pm, showered, got ready, then left with Dawg to the train station. We took the J to the E then rode to 42nd Street where we got Starbucks and took A LOT of photos.

Then it was Dave York 2 time at the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square! In attendance from L to R around the Hard Rock table: Poppy, Dawg, B E Earl, ETinNY (he has no blog :( but here’s a photo!), Robin, Sparky, Whitenoise, Dave2, and Cissa!

After birthday extravaganza we headed to the East Side (lower) for drinks. At Union Square we were subjected to Maroon 5 top 40ness:

How’d they get the piano down there?

We had drinks at Jack’s but they kept fucking up everything so that we would leave. We took the hint rather than trying to tell them how to do their jobs and left to Coffee Shop Bar where I decided I needed a chorizo quesadilla for my fourth beer of the night, a Newcastle. After the Coffee Shop Bar we all went our separate ways, hugging goodbye, then everyone else jumped on a Q train while Dawg and I took the N to the E to the J home.

I have had no time to edit all the photos included in the links above because Sunday was WRESTLEMANIA. So, I’ll get around to it when I get time, but enjoy them sideways for now.

PS – HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my Gramma!

A few weeks ago Dawg forwarded me information from HARO requesting that people who had recently moved to New York City be in a group photo for a prominent publication. Some demographic info and the reason why I moved here were all that were asked for, so I answered it and thought nothing more of it. And then the emails started flying… and I got the invite to be in a group photo on the cover of New York Magazine. The shoot was originally planned for “Friday, 4/3 or Sunday, 4/5″. And then it was Friday at an unknown time, unknown place. And then it was Friday at 1pm at an unknown place. I asked work for Friday afternoon off. And then it was 5pm on Friday at Pier 59 Studios. But because of the number of changes I decided to keep my afternoon off and that way if the time changed again I could show up quickly, but since I had the afternoon off all to myself I made plans with myself that could be ditched at a moment’s notice if necessary.

You know how I talk about the subway a lot? Well, I decided that I would go to the MTA Transit Museum in Brooklyn (yah, I didn’t know it was in Brooklyn either until I read the subway map while sitting on the downtown R train) and look at the history of the subway. I’m a very visual person, so reading the history wasn’t what I focused on. I instead focused on the trains’ evolution, how the trains used to be a bit more of a personal and cozy experience, but how over time they have become more durable and accomodating to more life circumstances, sacrificing the comfort they once provided. And then a bunch of 4-year-old kids wearing subway shirts all ran down the stairs screaming and I laughed my head off at them and went back upstairs to take a few photos at which point my camera battery conveniently died. It was so tragic.

I left the museum, back to street level only to discover that there was a torrential downpour in Brooklyn. I scurried the few blocks back to the Court Street station and got back on the R to Manhattan. I hadn’t eaten lunch yet so I decided I would treat myself to lunch at Times Square. When I arrived I looked around for The Place that I wanted to eat at, although I had no idea what place that would be, I just knew I’d find a place that tickled my fancy, and then I saw it: The Brooklyn Diner. I ate there once before with Dawg the weekend of Brittcon. In case no one ever noticed, I love New York City diners, especially the high-end diners. This diner has $17 bacon cheeseburgers on its menu. And guess what I ordered? Bacon cheeseburger deluxe (pickle, onion ringlets, and fries included) with a side of mayonnaise. Oh, and a fountain soda Coke. While I waited for my food to arrive I checked my email to make sure the photo shoot time hadn’t changed again. I kept feeling in my heart like it was going to be changed to 3:00pm, so I was really anxious to see a new email from the New York Magazine photo shoot organizers when I was sitting down to eat at 2:45pm. But the email was just confirming the same details as before, as well as letting us know which stage at the pier to report to. So, I took my time eating my burger and leaving silly comments on a few blogs, then enjoyed a cup of coffee while I zoned out.

When I was done with my meal it was almost 4pm so I ducked into Duane Reade and bought the cutest little brush for my frizzed out hair then hailed a cab to take me to the Chelsea Piers. Of course I was there at 4:30pm so I sat at the cafe inside Pier 59 and drank a Coke over ice. Then it was time for the shoot. We all got in lines by first name, gave our name, got a nametag, filled out a questionnaire, then got our individual photos taken. At his point it was back to waiting and waiting and waiting until the photographer was ready for the shoot. I went back to the cafe while we waited and called Dawg to tell him I was bored then texted my mom that I was at the shoot and wished she was there with me.

At 6:45pm we were finally called into the studio for the group photo. We were arranged in a pie wedge-ish fashion and shown an inspiration photo — as in, a photo of people we were to emulate. I am not sure I can tell you the rest of the details of this part because I did sign some form and didn’t actually read it, but let’s just say that hilarity ensued and I personally was moved around the room so I’m not sure where to look for me in the published photo. Oh, and my knees hurt from kneeling. And I taught two girls how to handle a pompous, inconsiderate, money-grubbing asshole, but I’m not confident they were ready to absorb the knowledge quite yet. And I laughed my head off at a girl who had a very similar Harlem experience to my own from 1998. And I managed to laugh and smile and enjoy myself and enjoy my company without actually learning anybody else’s name or introducing myself or becoming fast friends because…

That’s me. I am quirky. And this city lets me be without making me feel bad about who I am as a person. And I hope you see a small speck of me on the cover of that magazine when it comes out. I’ll definitely tell you when to look for it if I get the heads up, but if there’s an issue about New York Newbies, that’d be the one. But for me this was more about reinforcing my love from a distance for the way this city works, and the way I effortlessly float into and out of aspects of city life but still maintain my quiet and reserved and peacefully crazy sense of self.

And then I went against Dawg’s suggestion of taking a train downtown to get to the J because that way makes all local stops so I walked an extra block or two up to 23 St (8 Ave) and I got a seat on the E train uptown and I put my earbuds in my ears and closed my eyes and rocked out all the way home.

The end.

And that’ll be 50 cents an autograph, thankyouverymuch.

PS – I am uploading museum photos but Faiqa posted this really sweet post about me so I’ve published my post since it seemed to capture the essence of her words about me. Faiqa’s approval makes me happy in my heart.

UPDATE: Now with photos! Brooklyn | Transit Museum. Aaaaand, as I mentioned, the camera battery died after that. BUT I am sure someday everyone with cameras at the event will post their photos.

I’m writing to you from my new-to-me work laptop! Back to lapping it! Yee!

Tuesday morning’s subway experience: I passed up an E train to to take an F. I sat down in a seat and one woman sat next to me while another woman sat on the bench to my side. I noticed they were together, so I offered my seat to the woman on the bench to my side. She mouthed, “are you sure?” to which I said, “no worries!” and hopped up to change places. And, then, suddenly I was next to a man who smelled like pee who kept scooting his butt closer to me in his sleep. I knew he was there when I chose my seat. I chose to switch positions with the woman whose friend was sitting next to me. I chose to sit next to that man. And then as soon as another seat freed up and the two women scooted over one seat to their left I chose to return to my original seat. (I never said I was a saint. Someone else said that about me!)

In the afternoon Mena came over to see me to ask me if I’d go to Dean & Deluca to pick up cupcakes after work for our respective honeys. I waited an extra 40 minutes past the time I had planned to go home and walked with her to the W 56 Street store. We spent about 20 minutes picking out cakes and cupcakes (I chose two pieces of death by chocolate cake, 1 vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting, and one red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting) and getting our items packaged and paying for them, then we walked to the 57 Street station and took the train to Canal Street where we sat on the platform waiting for a Z train which would have stopped at each of our stations, but a J train arrived first so I said bye to Mena and hopped on the J train to 111 St. When I got off the train I noticed firefighters at the end of the platform holding crowbars. I walked past them and went down the stairs (111 St is an elevated station) then street side I saw several emergency responders and two fire trucks.

When I finally did get home I set the bag of cakes and cupcakes on the counter and went into the hallway to kiss Dawg … and then I heard a big crash. Ripley, unbeknownst to me, was in a very bratty mood, so she decided to knock the bag over to the floor. I lost my cool. I started crying and screaming and being really pissed off that my beautiful cupcakes I had not even shown to Dawg yet were on the damn floor. Still in their containers, but squished. RUINED! I never did take pictures… but later we ate the chocolate cake and made little happy noises with our mouths.

I took a photo of my bruised leg for my brother but I’m not exactly sure where it is right now so I’ll have to put that up a different day.

That’s all I feel like sharing for now. Happy fish of April!