madly\deeply

td 5 boro bike tour

42 miles through the five boroughs of new york city. started in battery park, manhattan. up through financial district, 6th ave. to and through central park to the bronx, west towards queens. went down fdr, onto queensboro bridge at 59th., through long island city in queens. through verrazano bridge to staten island. festival at staten island, then took a ferry which such delays that overall, i arrived back on the upper east side after three hours on the line. 

i was 90% going to go out the night before. good thing i realized that coming home at 3am from partying may not be the greatest idea if i was going to do a 42-mi. bike tour at 9am the next morning. i wasn’t sure exactly how “successful” i would be for it, overall. i hadn’t trained at all; unless you count training as peddling a bike on the gym for about half an hour a couple times in the weeks previous. i wasn’t scared of not being able to finish or not performing “well” - at least, not until the night before. i consider myself to be in decently good shape, compared to the average person in new york city anyway. 

i rode through most of the tour by myself. i only knew one other person who was biking as well, the person who initially told me about this tour and the lotto. he had done it last year and had a great experience. we tried to meet in battery park at the start of the race, but that didn’t happen. he got there a bit later than he thought he would, and by that time it was too hard to get around crowds, especially being that everyone had a bike in tow. 

i met him and his friends (one of who i knew) in the bronx area, the first rest stop. luckily we all started around the same time. my pace was slower than theirs. not surprisingly, because these guys were actual bikers. they own their own bikes, and try to bike every week (one of them every day, even). also, one brought a special camera that he placed on his handlebars which took a photograph every 30 seconds. needless to say, he documented very much. 

riding through the car-less city was an amazing experience. it was almost noiseless at some points, through highways and wide avenues and atop bridges, that normally would be heavily clad with honks. it was windy but silent over the queensboro bridge. i could only feel the pant in my chest, my legs cycling and my brain willing myself to go on and my body’s mind vehemently opposing.. the voice inside my head was deafening.

the verrazano was the most difficult path; the intensity of going uphill and for that length of time was a challenge. 

the week before the event, i was tempted to back out because i didn’t have a bike. i didn’t want to buy one. i borrowed marilyn’s. trekked back from elmhurst with it; quite a feat. 

proud of myself to pursuing and partaking in the lovely challenge. 

“What Do I Do with My Life?”

The relevant question in looking at a job is not What will I do? but Who will I become? What belief system will you adopt, and what will take on heightened importance in your life? Because once you’re rooted in a particular system — whether it’s medicine, New York City, Microsoft, or a startup — it’s often agonizingly difficult to unravel yourself from its values, practices, and rewards

If you’re successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and opportunity can lock you in forever.

There’s a powerful transformative effect when you surround yourself with like-minded people. Peer pressure is a great thing when it helps you accomplish your goals instead of distracting you from them.

(Source: Fast Company)

“I’ve Got Your Number” - Sophie Kinsella

alright, time to write. 

i finished reading “i’ve got your number” by sophie kinsella today in a Subway sandwich stop in Williamsburg, BK. of course, at a Subway (i think i eat there three times a week) - but in the middle of BK? yes, as an unemployed woman (woman?!), i am doing a bit of exploring while i still have my residence conveniently located in manhattan.. anyway. 

poppy wyatt is the protagonist in the novel. she is a light-hearted, people-pleasing 29-year old who has “struck gold” in the beginning of the story by “scoring” the “perfect” husband. in actuality, he’s a self-obsessed, commitment phobe who is also trying to find value in all the wrong places. poppy is not career driven; she chooses to remain in her company because she works with her best college mates (how does a person grow if not experiencing new people and places??). her fiance, magnus, is a somewhat esteemed professor, thus pretty much fully immersed in the world of intellectual academia. however, somewhat deviating of traits typically found in that cohort; he is a womanizer. poppy finds out at the end of the novel that he had been engaged three times prior to asking for her hand (further smack: he used the same ring). 

what this book made me think about, is how the reader can understand the black and white. you know from reading the protagonist’s innermost thoughts that of course that man is no good for her. of course he’s cheating. of course you should marry sam roxton instead; there is abundantly more chemistry there in those dinky texts!! 

yet, if someone, or if i were reading my thoughts.. i’d know what i need to do too. how i should really think about these guys that i’m dating, and what i need to do next for my career. that’s why we go to our friends for guidance; they are more likely to clearly and somewhat objectively understand our situation. understand what’s best for us and where to go next. 

but for now, i don’t know. which is why i need to write more. 

The Flight from Conversation

There are so many great things mentioned in the NYTimes article that I recently finished. I actually started reading it two days ago, got through half and Tweeted it, yes, before finishing. I’m glad I came back to it though.. how frequently I bookmark and email articles to myself to read, only for them to be lost to my mind forever. 

“Human relationships are rich; they’re messy and demanding. We have learned the habit of cleaning them up with technology.”

“We use conversation with others to learn to converse with ourselves. So our flight from conversation can mean diminished chances to learn skills of self-reflection. These days, social media continually asks us what’s “on our mind,” but we have little motivation to say something truly self-reflective. Self-reflection in conversation requires trust.”

“And why would we want to talk about love and loss with a machine that has no experience of the arc of human life? Have we so lost confidence that we will be there for one another?”

“We think constant connection will make us feel less lonely. The opposite is true. If we are unable to be alone, we are far more likely to be lonely. If we don’t teach our children to be alone, they will know only how to be lonely.” 

“Most of all, we need to remember — in between texts and e-mails and Facebook posts — to listen to one another, even to the boring bits, because it is often in unedited moments, moments in which we hesitate and stutter and go silent, that we reveal ourselves to one another.”

(Source: The New York Times)

a shade of purple @ FIT

Last Wednesday, I visited the Museum @ FIT. The photograph above is actually not part of the museum; it’s part of a student exhibition on display near the entrance of the school. 

The exhibition focused on colors and what each means, and students expressed their representation in a fashion sense. Purple, green, neon green, bright orange, fuschia, etc. 

The shade of purple above (it actually may be fuschia) was my favorite. A color of the whimsical and free-spirited. I think the representation was done wonderfully. Light, thin, unbound materials, natural wood painted purple. There is minimal dress on the woman. Her skirt is actually a cage, and the birds are on her, outside the cage, showing their need to be free from the confines. They even found a matching purple Longchamp bag with birds on it :) 

My next room should be in this color. Wherever that room may be… 

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

I saw this movie yesterday with Janice at the IFC Center near Washington Square Park. It was Janice’s idea, as I hadn’t even known this movie existed. She said that she had come to know of this movie through friends and acquaintances, via Facebook. 

I knew that this movie was about sushi. I knew that it was about an old man who made remarkable sushi in the bottom of a subway station in Japan. He charges minimum $300 per course per person, and reservations must be made at least one month in advance. There are no appetizers, no fancy drinks. Just sushi. Twenty pieces per person. 

Thoughts on the movie? It actually left me an overall sad feeling, kind of empty - no, not empty, but rather more to be desired. The videography and directing and especially the score was great, set to a mix of contemporary and modern classical music, and the course menu was actually referred to as, “the concerto.” 

The movie centers around 85-year old Jiro who actually dreams of sushi. More specifically, on how to improve his techniques so that his dishes are even more delicious than they already are. He uses only the best ingredients. He and his staff have cultivated relationships with supreme specialists in the areas of tuna, octopus, salmon, rice and so on. The process of what to do with these food items is a complete other story. To say that everything has to be perfect is an understatement. To give you an idea, an apprentice washes the fish for ten years before even touching the egg batter. 

Jiro had to take care of himself since the age of seven and subsequently realized that he needed to not only succeed but exceed in a profession for him to be happy. He knew from understanding deprivation that he had to work hard and remain disciplined, never wavering in his determined mentality as well as process. It became his life mission to succeed professionally. He was pushed to do an “about-face” with his elementary school “troublemaker” ways. And, he loved sushi. Once he realized his passion, there was no turning back. He has been essentially doing the same thing every day for a very long time, only changing in making improvements to his sushi masterpieces. 

Themes in the movie: work hard, always improve. Other focuses: the true art of making sushi, culture: tradition, family, succession. 

Another note.. there are no women in this. Nothing at all about the wife, though in one sentence it was stated that she is living. What is her role in the family? Has she helped, emotionally, or anything, with Jiro’s success? What was her hand in Jiro pushing his sons to forget about their own dreams and help build and maintain the sushi business? 

It is Japanese culture and tradition for sons and specifically the first son to succeed the father in his profession. This is Yoshikazu, the elder of two sons (who knows if there are daughters). His story in this movie is on the side, but also at the heart. He had wanted to be a racecar driver. Both sons wanted to go to college. Jiro persuaded them to stay and help out with the sushi business. That is also Jiro’s dream. 

Jiro said in the movie, “There are so many children these days who, after tough times, move back into their parent’s house. It’s when parents say stupid things like, ‘It’s okay, you can always come home’, that children become failures.’” 

It was a slap in the face to me (obviously given my current situation). 

Why I felt this was lacking.. 1) no women, and I’m sure women, at least the mom, played a role in this although I do realize the role women play in Japanese society, 2) the sons. It’s Jiro’s dream.. but what about theirs? 

Afterwards, Janice and I ate at MARUMI a few streets down from the movie center. I definitely have more of an appreciation for sushi now. I even ate a good bit of the rice and used chopsticks! 

(Source: magpictures.com)

The Morgan Library & Museum

yesterday i visited the morgan museum and library on 36th st. and madison ave. it was a relatively small museum and i was done in under three hours, and this was taking my time with to intake the beautiful artifacts. 

pierpont morgan was one of the most established financiers of his day, which was in the early 1900s. he played a huge hand in shaping the i-banking industry in our country (do we thank or curse him?), and was responsible for a large amount of capital that was brought in. at this time, america was still an emerging economy. in addition to being a well-known financier, he was an avid collector. his personal favorites were artifacts in renaissance style (painting to ceilings to furniture), as well as first editions of manuscripts and books, and other odds and ends such as a hefty collection of cylinder seals. 

aesop’s fables. mother goose. gutenberg bibles (?, says wikipedia, but i didn’t see these). picasso. charles dickens. beethoven. 

the best space was the library area. ceilings were high and there were special ladders to reach the upper-most shelves. there was also an area which stored the most precious items, which was vaulted with combination lock. 

somerset

i had a wonderful weekend with my best friend from high school in somerset. i felt like a self that i hadn’t felt in quite a bit and i felt good. it was like good old days. old, old days. 

[i had just written an entry and it deleted. thanks, technology!]

quick skinny: i hadn’t seen her since thanksgiving, though that time didn’t change us. rather, we had changed ourselves. our lives for the past couple of years had been almost polar opposites. she in turmoil during crucial medical school years, and i living the always everywhere, engaged but disengaged “typical new york city” lifestyle. 

the difference is even apparent with our housing situations. she has a large, soothing, pale-green bedroom with private bathroom that is the master bedroom in the four-bedroom house that she shares with graduate students. i painted my comparably small bedroom in a popping, lime green room, to the confusion of my two roommates with whom i share a two-bedroom-converted into three-bedroom apartment. sleepy suburb vs. the city that never sleeps. 

but, we are not SO different ourselves. or are we? that is honestly something that i’m trying to figure out. our similarities, our outlook on life and our values, have strung us together over the years. in personality, we are chill and we strive for better. the difference has been with execution. she does what she sets out to do, and for that she is a role model for me. she has tried to help me, to help me figure out how to get what i want in life and how to get there. she worries about me. she is a younger but wiser sister. 

pedicures with special massages. grocery shopping. spaghetti with beef. chex party mix and hypnotiq on the side. warm tea and ice cream bubble tea. in the rain. endless chatter. 

what i do know is that coming into a good friend’s arms, no matter the time or whatever rifts you’ve been through, should always feel like a certain bit of home. well, amidst all of my turmoil at least there’s one thing that i’m sure of.