Knowing the Un-constructed Self

If you notice me sitting alone and pursing my lips with the air of far away thought, chances are I am either doing it on purpose because I want you to think I'm a thoughtful person, or I'm imagining myself doing a song and dance routine to "When I'm 64" at a famous actor's 32nd Birthday. I don't know which actor it is and at the end of this scenario his handlers give me a check and I go home without ever meeting him. Everyone agrees that I am adorable and many people try to hire me for future events and possibly a Disney pilot but I refuse because, like all truly humble talents, I am not interested in the Show Business lifestyle. I just did it this once as a favor.

This is not a fantasy. It is not an unfulfilled dream. I do not enjoy dancing by myself in front of others and although I do enjoy singing this is actually entirely unrelated. This is not something I want for myself. The imagining of this event just pleases me, and like all things that please me it dominates my inner world entirely and with very little warning. This is not the kind of thing that I would ever mention to anyone in conversation and I do not feel that it defines or even reflects my personality in any meaningful way. I bring it up because I feel it is my bloggerly duty to expose my low-stakes secrets for the sake of discussion.

 When no one is paying attention to me I usually am thinking about the people I care about or I am thinking responsible thoughts like what do I need to accomplish today? or what do I want for myself in the long run? or even occasionally what do people think of me? These are self-aware thoughts that I think when I am actively engaging in my own life and in the world around me. These are the thoughts thought by the version of myself that I choose to send out into the world. However, when I stop paying attention to myself and let my brain do what it wants, I am usually thinking things that would look and sound like complete nonsense to anyone other than me.  These kinds of thoughts are hard to keep track of because like dreams, I can usually only process them retroactively.

This is all just a fancy way to discuss what happens when we "space out", but I think it would be really fascinating if we could accurately expose these sides of ourselves to each other. It's impossible, though, because in even beginning to discuss these kinds of thoughts we are actively sanitizing them and re-working them to make sense to someone else. The description of my kitchy little vignette isn't really accurate. It can't be. It's never really exactly the same and it's not like I'm closing my eyes and thoughtfully imagining the details of the event. It just pops into my head and there it is. The bit about about it being a 32 year old actor's birthday party came in later versions and as stupid as it sounds I can't edit that out. It's in there and it will stay that way until something changes. It's also not the only thing that ever pops in. I happen to remember it because its recurring and it can sometimes be triggered by  the song coming on my ipod in shuffle mode. I'm pretty sure I also spend a lot of time thinking that I must remember words in Spanish that I learned while watching Pan's Labyrinth. If I actually end up remember any they do not stick.

Thinking about this kind of thing for too long makes me a little squeamish and like my brain might suck itself into a vortex of some kind so I'm going to stop now.

When My Heart Finds Harry Connick Jr.

Most people do not share my enthusiasm for Harry Connick, Jr. When I bring him up in conversations about music people tend to look at me a little sideways, like I've just admitted to having a puppet fetish. People think of him as the Christmas guy, or that guy who kind of sounds like Frank Sinatra. I'm not going to launch into my whole thing about why he's great but I will say that I have 4 or 5 of his non-holiday albums, some of which are albums of Jazz standards, some of which are original compositions in which he sounds approximately nothing like Frank Sinatra and I enjoy them thoroughly and un-ironically.  Furthermore, I generally appreciate his existence as a human being. I even went to see him on Broadway in "On Clear Day You Can See Forever" despite its very tepid reviews. Anyway, his career and his pretty, pretty face are not what I'm trying to write about today. It is less than a week before thanksgiving which means that soon I can start listening to Holiday music, specifically my HCJ albums which, besides the Ella Fitzgerald classics, are pretty much the best  seasonal schmaltz out there. I am looking forward to getting drunk in flannel pajamas and listening to all of "When My Heart Finds Christmas" in my parents basement as I struggle to wrap oddly shaped boxes in fancy looking but very cheap wrapping paper that I will inevitably buy on a whim at TJMaxx.

HCJ is like my own personal Santa Claus (an idea which was never encouraged in my house except when my parents needed to evade the "did you get me that____ that I asked for??" question). Although I listen to him year round there is a certain nostalgia specifically surrounding his Holiday music that I find comforting. For people with more of an anchor in tradition I can imagine this is how they feel about angels and mangers and shit. Keep in mind here that I'm not even vaguely Christian in any meaningful sense of the word. My family celebrates both Xmas and Hanukah (spelling varies so I'm going with one that looks most reasonable to me) in my house because Holidays are actually a lot of fun when no one makes you go to Church or read out loud in Hebrew and I suppose we figure "why the hell not?". For more thoughts on why we need Holidays in the winter you can refer to my post "Important Dates in February"

I'm pretty much done talking about this now so I will leave you with a couple links to just a song via youtube and video of a live performance. I usually hold off until after Thanksgiving but I'm going to make an exception here. The second video has a little chatting at the beginning because his charm and good looks add to the total experience.

1- Must Have Been Ol' Santa http://youtu.be/AQliZiSCDYQ Live version of same song: http://youtu.be/HnyPNaobneg
2- Please Come Home For Christmas (Live) http://youtu.be/nSSAMehLUA8
3- A song that is usually unbearable, done better by HCJ. http://youtu.be/rMUHj8xJ



P.S Mariah Carey and her ONE stupid song can suck a dick.

Tipsy Face Making

Well, It's official. I've run out of things to write about.

Not really. To be honest I was really pleased with how I did my makeup and hair tonight and usually I'm too lazy to really do it at all so I went ahead and indulged my vanity and made today a photo blog.

Without further blathering, I present An evening with Emma: In Pictures.

Hi! Good to see you! You had a rough day? Ok. I'm listening.

I've stopped listening because I noticed myself in the mirror.

Can we pause for a second? I'm really excited about my new gloves. True story. 

Ok... I see you're really intent on discussing your issues here.

 I'm trying to listen but not...quite...getting there.

Can we talk about my gloves some more?

No? OK fine. Whatever.

I'm just going to think about something I like while you talk.

mmm....cheese.

I want some cheese.

You have some cheese??!!

I'm so stoked.

Can I have some? Please?

In the kitchen? On the other side of the house?

Can you go get it?

Thaaaaank you.

 Oh fuck you. This is SWISS cheese.

Who the hell keeps swiss cheese as a snack?

OK I GUESS Swiss can be OK.

But I expected more from you.

Now I realized I'm really hungry.

Oy.

Are you sure you don't have like some fresh Mozz. on you?

Oh...we were talking about YOU?. Was it important?

Ok OK. Go on.

Mmmmhmm...yup....riiiight. OMG yeah...totally....

What was that about wine?

You have some?

 Rosé? Yeah um, I think I'm gonna get going. 

Some Final Political JibberJabber (100th Post!)

Please excuse me while I purge my mind of all political musings so I can go back to not writing about politics at all for the next 3 years. 

We had a Presidential election recently. A lot of people are happy with the result. A lot of people are not, and those people are in full swing curmudgeon mode. Apparently I have some Republican friends on facebook and I'm seeing a lot of harsh language. "We're fucked!"... "There goes the economy"... "The liberals don't realize that they're celebrating their own demise"... "America died today". I'm sure there would have been equally stupid and hyperbolic statements made if the vote had gone the other way (for that matter, there were some pretty stupid and hyperbolic things said in favor of the outcome. I may have let a few rip myself). I get it. There is equal camaraderie in celebration and lament. When your guy loses you feel like a loser so you'll probably be quick to cover lost ground by predicting future failures of the other side so when the time comes (and it always does in one way or the other) you can feel superior again. Or you actually believe that whoever is in charge is personally responsible for everything that has gone wrong in the last four years or will go wrong in the next four. Because you're a mega dum dum.

 No one gets to have everything they want from the American Government. We're too big and too diverse for that to ever be a reality. I feel bad that there are people who truly believe that God is going to destroy America because we elected Obama. I mean, I wish everyone who thinks that way would just GTFO already and go manage their own affairs in a corn field somewhere, but its kind of adorable how terrified and angry they are. I want to stick a pacifier in their mouths and put them down for a nap. Being backwards and ignorant doesn't make your emotions any less real.  I wish there was a place for those people where they could feel safe from the wrath of a disappointed* God. I imagine that the possibility of being smote at any moment is a really scary reality to live with.  I mean lets be honest I basically do exactly what I want every single god damn day A)because I just don't give a fuck and B) my general agenda pretty much lines up with things that are legal and don't interfere with anyone elses business. I get that what SOME people want to do is run around screaming at everyone trying to get them to understand that we're going to hell if we don't shape up. That's basically not allowed. I mean, it is, freedom of speech and all,  but if that's how you're spending your time the whole "pursuit of happiness" bit of being an American is kind of bust. Pursuit of not going to hell is probably a joyless undertaking when you have several hundred million godless heathens mucking up your chances.

Religious fanaticism aside I understand that a lot of people actually believe that a Republican President was the only way to get the economy back on track** and were willing to overlook social issues that they might have otherwise swung left on. They might have been right. We'll never really know.  I have observed though that many Republicans start taking a hard party line earlier on in life because their parents don't employ the same "find your own way" tactics as often liberal parents. So you get these creepy, baby faced, suit clad young republicans yammering on about business interests. Not to say that the liberal youths don't spout their own fair share of bullshit but it's harder to picture their daddy's hand up their butts while they're doing it.  I lost track of this thought.  Something about  deeply ingrained ideology not being the same thing as clairvoyance.

I could be completely off about this but this year I feel like the more reasonable right wingers were straining a little to fully back their candidate. This is the party of Michelle Bachmann and Rick Santorum. Romney really was the corn kernel in that pile of turds. More than ever it was just an issue of we DON'T want Obama. Fair enough. I just don't believe that anyone  actually LIKED Romney as in...yeah man he's just a really solid guy. I trust and respect him on a personal level***. He kept adjusting his stance and flashing that shit-eating grin and it must have been disconcerting for someone trying to find a foothold in the shifting landscape of GOP politics. Obama can be kind of a drip sometimes but the man has swagger and his supporters support the CRAP out of him. From what I remember, which isn't much ( I was 16 and had bigger fish to fry), John Kerry had a similar ick factor to Romney's going on in his campaign. Icky guys finish last.

Social media is notoriously inflammatory and we could probably all benefit from taking a moment to ponder the cyclical nature of government so we're not all horribly disappointed and disproportionally excited four years from now when we're exactly back where we started. I really hope that doesn't happen but as long as the Rick Santorums of the world still garner support we're going to have a lot of push back on any attempts at making social progress stick. He's managed to convince his minions that not forcing other people to adhere to Christian doctrine is somehow an attack on their religious freedom. He might be a wizard and that is some serious shit. So let's just take a breather and remember that no matter who won the election we can't, and won't, get exactly what we want and even if we do there's probably going to be a whole lot of very sneaky and unsettling things going on among the people we have chosen to run our country. Also the middle east. That shit is crazy and we should all be worried. Also Europe. And probably Russia too. South America seems OK maybe? Except for the drug violence. I don't know. We're all going to melt in the fire rain anyway.

* A disappointed God is much scarier than an angry one.

**Personally I think it's abortions. Lots and lots of abortions. And mandatory anal intercourse.
*** I actually do hear this a lot about Obama from people more politically active than I am

Disasters Of Varying Degree

Today is Thursday, October 25th I have a full day to myself. I  worked the previous ten days in a row so I could get home to Vermont for a few days. I took four days off because I thought I might need Thursday and Sunday as full travel days if I was going to take the train. I was able to get a ride up Friday morning though so today is a free day to do some laundry, unwind, and generally get my shit together.

I woke up at 8 AM ready to deal with ten days of laundry. I had a plan. 2 hours for laundry and then off to Target to buy some sort of fancy device to clean the wood floors in my apartment and maybe a small dresser to store the clothes I planned on bringing back from Vermont. This is going to be my most efficient laundry excursion EVER I thought as I separated my delicates. I'm even going to do two separate loads so my tights don't get all tangles up in my jeans.

 I loaded my giant bag of normal laundry on one shoulder and my satchel of underpants on the other and I headed out the door, confident in the fact that I had two bags worth of weight on my shoulders which  meant that I had my purse with me and am ready to go. Obviously.

My laundromat is right across the street from my apartment but the crosswalk situation is insufficient to say the least.  I wait for a break in the traffic and sprint across, leaving a trail of socks behind me. No time to go back. I get through the doors of SUPERWASH and quickly claim one 3 load washer and one 1 load washer. I  recently put $20 on my laundry card so I'm feeling rich as far as laundry funds go.  I load the washers. I reach to my side to get my wallet out of my purse. But there is no purse at my side. In a panic I search the floor but I knew in my gut what I had done. I left my purse in my room. Which meant that I don't have my keys, wallet, phone, work pass, or my little note card where I have important numbers written in case I lose my phone. 

My first instinct is to run back to my apartment and bang on the door for a while even though I know no one is home. Then I run back to the laundromat and frantically search through anything with a pocket to see if I can find any cash. Fruitless. I consider throwing up. A small thought passes through my head.  I am never getting back inside. Things will never be OK again. I shake it off and review my options. I can go sit in front of my apartment until someone comes home. For 8 hours. I can walk to work in Manhattan and see if they'll let me in so I can use my computer. But you need an ID to get a guest pass. And it's 6 miles away.

My main concern is that I am supposed to go to my boyfriend's place in Manhattan tonight with all of my stuff for the weekend in Vermont and right now I'm not sure when I'll be able to do that. I need to get in touch with him, and hopefully with my landlord as well so I could find out when I can get back into my apartment. Just as I begin weighing the meditative benefits of sitting in one spot for eight hours it occurs to me that the Brooklyn Public Library is somewhere at the top of Prospect Park not far from me up Flatbush Avenue. I'm pretty sure.  

I start running and continue to do so for what is probably only a 1/2 mile but feels like 2. Luckily I'm wearing workout clothes, as I tend to do on Laundry day, but I am wearing no makeup and had no way to tie my hair back. The weather is compliant but on the chilly side so by the time I reach the Library my face is blotchy read and my hair is slicked back with the kind of sweat that can only be excreted during panicked sprinting. 

Good news! There are free computers with internet!

Complication: You need a library card. I don't have one.

Good News! You can get one on site!

Complication: You need an ID.

Good News! You can buy a guest pass for $2.

Complication: I have no money. The ornery slag behind the counter is not sympathetic. I understand her position but I am reasonably distraught. I go outside and sit on the elaborate stoop next to a tiny, pointless fountain.  I am presently enraged at its very existence. I cry a little for lack of a better idea. I remember that there are real homeless people and decide to pull it together. I reluctantly slump back down Flatbush Ave, dragging my feet and humming "empty chairs and empty tables" from Les Mis, which feels appropriate. It isn't.

There's still no one home. I shuffle down from my third floor walk up for the third time today. I  have no idea what time it is. Could be 10 AM could be 3 PM. I've been operating in a state of Emergency and have completely lost track of time. I get back downstairs and just stand outside of my apartment for a few minutes. I realize that I left my laundry sort of strewn in front of my chosen machines so I decide to check on it. Still there. No one seems to be complaining. I notice that is internet offered on a computer in the corner. $1 for 10 minutes! No Change. Cash only. I just need to get some money and everything will be OK, I think. I still have no wallet, no ID, and no phone on which to call a friend (though to be honest I probably wouldn't call anyone. I'm a wimp like that). Maybe, if armed with enough information, the bank will give me some of my money. I know there's a TD around here somewhere. I do everything by direct deposit but I could have sworn I saw one right near the park on...Prospect Park South? Southwest? Ocean Ave? Definitely near one of the corners.

By shear intuition and force of will I find a TD Bank. I end up walking almost the entire parameter of the park but I eventually get there, even stickier and blotchier than I was at the Library. I have my social  Security Number! I know my last five purchases! I even know that somewhere in my account number there is a 9 and probably a 7! The teller shrugs and lets me withdraw $20. I even get a free key chain. I decide that instead of going back to the Library for free internet I'm going to use the pay internet at the Laundromat so I can also do my laundry, which has now been sitting in a pile in front of the washers for several hours. Not a frugal decision, but a logical one, I think. After all I still don't know when I'll be able to get into my apartment. Might as well get something done. First though, I need a McChicken sandwich ASAP. Because I live in a neighborhood which I lovingly refer to as hood-adjacent, there is a McDonalds right next to my laundromat (as well as a Popeye's, Wendy's, Dunkin' Donuts,  and BurgerKing). I inhale my sandwich and use their bathroom which luckily is a normal public restroom and not one of those get-the-key-from-the-manager-and-navigate-a-series-of-complicated-locks situations. I cry a little more for no specific reason.

I scrap my idea of doing two separate loads. I have limited funds now, so it all (barely) goes into one double-load washer. I determine that it is only 1 PM (seriously?)  and set about writing as many emails as possible in a ten minute span to maximize my dollars. My boyfriend gets back to me quickly. My landlord eventually (three dollars  later to be exact) does and lets me know I can get back in at 5:30 and that she will meet me.

I switch my laundry into the dryer and I wait. I watch public access news which is mostly just warnings about a Hurricane that's supposed to be hitting next week. I fold my laundry very slowly and carefully. I wait some more. Finally it's 5:30 so I head over to my apartment building. The front door, which has been broken since I moved in, has apparently been fixed since I last checked earlier today. Now not only am I locked out of my apartment, but out of the whole building. I sit on my laundry bag and sulk. It occurs to me that my landlord might have thought I meant that I was locked out of the building and will be meeting me down here. But now a nice lady is offering to let me in as she leaves. I can go put my stuff my the door and then check back down here every few minutes. If she goes to the door she'll see my stuff and assume I'm near by. It's going to be OK.

An hour later, after dozens of trips up and down three flights of stairs, I have given up and taken up residence on the landing in front of my apartment. I can hear through the door to my apartment that someone is trying to buzz up.  I hop up and run down stairs and open the door to my surprised roommate who obviously wasn't expecting a live person to open the door. "Good timing! I'm locked out too!" She looked even more baffled. "Of the apartment, I mean. Did laundry today. Left my purse. Landlord never showed up to let me in". I don't know my roommate very well and she's not sure how to respond to my manic demeanor.  It doesn't matter though because within minutes I am INSIDE my apartment hugging my purse and laughing like a deranged child. (It turns out my landlord thought we were meeting in the laundromat and left a key at the desk. She's cool. No hate).

I quickly gather my belongings and head uptown to meet my boyfriend and next morning we drive to Vermont and have a lovely, relaxing weekend. I realize that my horrible stressful day really wasn't so bad. Everything is going to be OOOOKay!

In the car on our way back to NYC we hear on the radio that subways will be shutting down at 7 PM in preparation for the coming storm so we decide to go straight to his place instead of bringing me to Brooklyn so I wouldn't get stuck there alone.

Five days later, exactly a week after I spent the day locked out of my apartment I am still in Manhattan because I literally can't get to Brooklyn at all because of flood damage and general hurricane induced metropolitan chaos. Not mine, but entire neighborhoods are under water or have been destroyed by fire. Lower Manhattan (where I work) has no power. I've been working from home, watching disaster television and cringing at the horrible scenes of destruction. It is a legitimate disaster. The moral of the story here is that if you lock yourself out of your apartment and get too dramatic about it your city will probably be destroyed by a Hurricane just to make you feel guilty. I'm thinking of having my keys surgically attached to my body.

An Invitation To Steal My Laundry

I like the idea of simplifying my style and in turn simplifying my life. My job is not fancy and simplicity can be really fucking badass when done correctly. If I had a lot of financial freedom maybe I would donate my entire wardrobe to charity* (excluding exercise and lounge clothes). I would buy a few pairs of dark wash Levis, a bunch of soft v neck T-shirts, some tank tops, some long sleeved T's (I'm thinking Uniqlo for all of this) and any necessary warm weather layers. Good boots, a few pairs of awesome sneakers, and a real leather jacket would be essential to this plan so the sum total would rack up pretty quick. I would buy dresses and shorts and fancy things as I need them as the weather changes and for events and whatnot.

One might argue that I could easily just reduce my current wardrobe down to staple items and donate everything else. For those of you who don't know me, though, the type of style listed above would be a pretty radical departure from my usual habit of being either entirely overdressed for most situations or dressed in a manner that makes me look completely insane. I can't look at what I have and willfully give any of it away. It would have to be everything all at once or else I'd never be able to do it. Furthermore I don't have a lot of sensible basics in my wardrobe that aren't cheap crap from Old Navy that only hold up because I wear them so infrequently. I have about 5 pairs of jeans but none of them are nice enough to build a whole vibe around. The replacement wardrobe would have to be NECESSARY or else I could never rationalize the purchase and I'd end up coming to work in athletic gear every day, which would only work if my co-workers promised to nominate me for What Not To Wear.

Here's the thing: I have a $250 gift card to Macy's that I won at work so I think I could actually pull this off aside from the boots and sneakers. I just don't think I can let my weird little wardrobe go. It's kind of irreplaceable in a discontinued due to lack of popularity kind of way. Then again, nothing I own was particularly expensive or unique. I have some cool designer pieces that I found in thrift stores or on sale but a lot of them are ill-fitting or actually a size too big and I do intend on losing some weight (eventually) so I might as well get rid of them now. My thrift habit has also left me with an annoyingly high ratio of items that are dry-clean only. I've never been to a dry cleaner and I don't intend to start now. Most of these items have a weird smell from the at-home dry cleaning kits I've subjected them to. I wouldn't mind making a point of not owning ANY dry clean only items form here on out. I need to come to terms with the fact that I'm just not fancy enough. A related snag to my plan is that I think it's kind of a dick move to donate dry-clean only items to charity. I would try to sell them to a consignment shop like Second Time Around but...that's where I bought them to begin with and I doubt I'd get much for them.

 I typically put off doing my laundry as long as possible so on any given laundry day a solid 85% of my wardrobe is out of commission. Right now my laundromat is literally across the street from my apartment and where I used to sit there with a book for the full 2.5 hour process with my foot on my cart and my eye on the machine, I now go back to my apartment and watch things on Hulu. I'm hoping that one of these days the dryer will catch on fire or my laundry will be accidentally carted off by someone else or that it will be straight up stolen by some rad chick who's been eyeballing' my duds.


*Nina if you're reading this I can't give them to you because then I'll still see them when I come home and it would just be too hard. It's nothing personal. It has to be charity.

The Existential Backlash of Building a Wardrobe

First, a series of pictures:

These are boxes from Ikea. Inside are the components of my new wardrobe.

Below: My old wardrobe

Before starting the project. I am...less than stoked.

Before building begins I need to make some floor space. The solution is visually disturbing.

There just isn't enough space.

Daunting.

 What my bed looks like on a good day.

Gettin' organized.

Done!

An organized wardrobe makes getting dressed fun. Excuse the bras.

So I built a wardrobe. My room finally looks like a reasonably organized young adult lives there. So now what? For the last three months I've spent most of my free time finding an apartment, moving in and out of various spaces, keeping track of my shit and slowly collecting the necessary components of a comfortable life. Now I'm kind of done with that, which feels profoundly weird.  I'm collected and comfortable albeit a little short on cash thanks to all of the trips to Ikea and security deposits and the alarming rate at which I destroy socks, tights, and the soles of my shoes. But the thing is when I finished my wardrobe and went about reorganizing everything I felt  that I had everything I need. I'm simultaneously thrilled and slightly unnerved by the fact that I can relax and go about the business of living. I'm not new anymore. I'm not worried about what comes next. I'm free to spend my free time skulking around Prospect Park looking for hip famous people and work on my tan (this is a joke. I don't get tan). To be honest I still haven't found a doctor or a dentist or changed my residency or the address on my checks so I'm not fully, technically, or even remotely done establishing myself in New York, but that will all get done. In the meantime I'm having a little bit of trouble processing meaning in my life now that I'm settled. That sounds serious but it's just a dramatic way of saying that I need to work on my social life. So call me if you know me and you live in Brooklyn because I really don't know what to do with myself. I don't have much money to spend on outings but I can help you build things from Ikea.