Posts Tagged ‘Clinton Park’

Just Me, Myself, And I

May 20, 2016

Although.

Baby.

Wish you were here.

We might have some stupid fun.

My place in New York is so freaking sweet.

Seriously.

I told my host if he ever thought about leaving he’d better let me know.

It is cavernous and gorgeous and art, oh all the art he has.

Oh.

Look.

My art date, artist date with myself, is already happening.

The space is a big old warehouse in Clinton Park.

Super high ceilings, big windows, I can tell there’s going to be some ridiculous light in here come morning.

He’s a photographer and traveler and bicycle guy.

My kind of fellow.

There’s an awesome dog that has already become my new best friend, a three legged cat, yes, that’s right, he’s got a tripod cat, and an organic market around the corner.

Plus.

The promise of the best coffee in New York come morning.

I am not exactly at home, but I feel right at home.

And I am super stoked for my new adventure.

This new, New York experience for me.

I caught an Uber from JFK.

Although, dude, you were hella sweet, but you got to lay off the cologne, whoa man, and I got the very broad, huge hint that I should definitely be going clubbing this weekend, preferably Saturday, hint, hint, nudge, nudge.

Yeah.

It was a lot cheaper than I thought and I will probably do the same back to the airport come Monday morning since my flight out is at 7:30 a.m.

The travel here was good.

I woke up retarded early though.

An hour before I needed to.

And I had the hardest time falling asleep.

I was a bit anxious.

Travel sometimes does that to me, I can get worked up with the organizing of the stuff and things and forget that I am going to have fun.

I am definitely having fun.

I have already had a really awesome conversation with a new friend in Brooklyn and gotten some great tips for my time here and I’m stoked that I get to stay in this big, open, well lit, art filled space with animals and coffee and photographs and old fixed gear bikes.

“My dad, that’s his fixie, he’s 86, and he still rides,” my host explained pointing out the various bikes he has.

We talked some shop, some travel, some New York, lots of art talk, just exactly what I need.

Super happy.

Well taken care of and excited for the rest of the adventure.

Plus!

I ran into a girl friend at SFO.

We were on the same flight, one aisle apart and caught up on all things school and travel and it was super sweet to get to reconnect with someone I hadn’t had a chance to catch up with probably years.

The flight was great.

I feel all jacked up and excited to be here.

Which really is the only problem, the only fly in the ointment, I’m on West Coast time and I want to get up early and get out there and have my New York experience.

I’m super proud of myself.

I know how that sounds.

But I am.

It means a lot to me that I am doing this.

Shall I let you in on a secret?

It wasn’t my idea.

It was my travel partner to Paris who came up with the idea.

“We should do New York, do the museums there too,” he told me, my heart already so broken down and sad.

Sometimes God gives you exactly what you ask for.

“Hey God,” I remember saying one day, probably the last week that I was in Paris before I moved back, “the next time I am here I want it to be with someone I am in love with.”

Haha.

Fuck you God.

Maybe I should have said, someone who can reciprocate love back to me.

Do you have any idea how hard it was to be in Paris with a man that you’re in love with and not kiss in every side street possible, to sleep in the same bed and not touch?

Heart breaking.

Hello Tinder.

Hello fuck the pain away.

Hello do another inventory.

Hello there, pulling into the parking lot at the 7-11 at the corner last Wednesday.

Yeah.

Didn’t see that one coming did you?

I don’t always write about things that happen in my life, you’d be surprised, I am transparent as all fuck on this blog, but not always.

No.

Not always do I put it all out there.

Sometimes things never come out, sometimes it things just get pushed aside because other things are happening.

I was still feeling the after affects, the glow, the good feelings of a date I had recently had with someone I’m rather working a little crush on.

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Suffice to say I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I like a guy.

That’s all.

And then.

This other guy, my inventory guy, my leave him alone amends guy, my no more friends on facecrack guy, my he stopped subscribing to my blog guy and we don’t do the deal in the same places guy, in the parking lot.

Just there.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him.

He’s been popping up in the rear view mirror here and there recently.

Which doesn’t surprise me, we live blocks away from each other, I’m surprised more that we hadn’t run into each other sooner.

The first time was a few weeks ago and I was scootering to the Inner Sunset to do the deal with my person and go over said inventory and I was wearing a dress, ha!  I packed that same dress for tomorrow’s date with me, myself, and I in Brooklyn, and I was also dressed up for a first date, with the aforementioned I might be working a crush guy, and I was light.

So light.

My skirt fluttering out behind me, the sun warm, the air kissing my face and I was lane splitting and then I noticed, white SUV with the alma mater sticker and hey that’s the same as, oh, shit, that’s him.

I lane split.

He turned his wheel.

I blew by.

And that’s what it was like.

No animosity or upset.

I had moved on.

I felt so light and free and removed from it all.

All the drama and story and emotional upheaval.

Gone.

I raised my hand, waived, and scootered on my way.

So when I crossed in front of his car pulling into the 7-11 parking lot and there was nothing there to dramatize, it was just a hey how are you.

“Your hair looks great,” he said.

“Thanks,” I think I said, but really, I don’t think I acknowledged the compliment.

Rather I kept going.

“I won’t keep you, good night,” I said and walked away.

No drama.

No story.

Nothing.

Freedom.

Gratitude.

Thanks God.

I’m free.

Free to be me in New York.

Free to say, to acknowledge, this wasn’t my idea, but damn I am so glad I ran with it.

Free to be happy.

Free to pursue and be pursued.

Free to go get my art the fuck on.

I’m in New York.

Fuck yeah baby.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

School’s Out For Summer!

May 16, 2016

I’m done!

I’m done!

I’m done!

Take that Psychodynamic Lacanian theoretical paper, I see you, raise you a parental confrontation, a castration complex, and further, you can’t squash my jouissance.

Ha!

I slay you paper dragon.

“That was fast!” my friend in cohort text me back after I gleefully texted her to let her know I had finished my Psychodynamic’s paper.

It was.

And still I am surprised at how fast I can write.

It doesn’t always mean it’s good, I’ve some modicum of humility, not much, but some, but it does mean that I am capable of doing the work in an efficient manner.

And.

Not to put too fine a point on it.

I had done the reading.

I had taken good notes in class.

I participated in class.

So when I needed to review the material and I did not know what I was going to write on, I did not in fact, write on the topic that I was going to, I google searched it and there were too many theoretical papers already out there.

So.

I used an experience from my youth and wrote about that.

I actually thanked God after the paper was finished for being able to use the traumatic event to write a positive piece.

I am amazed.

Constantly.

By how the wreckage and dreck of my past can be put to use.

“Carmen,” a famous writer once told me, “most writers would kill to have the material you work with.”

Meaning that I have lived a lot of life and have had a lot of experiences.

Some of them dramatic, traumatic and packed with pain.

Pain that I have been able to turn to something else.

If not gold, a kind of beautiful word garden that I can pick and choose what I will present in this bouquet of meaning and language.

I love poetry and words and sonnets and prose and sex and eros and flowers and life and apples and culture and French and travel and all these things add up to something, more than who I am and all of them inform me and build me and shape me.

I am so many things.

I am over the moon to be finished with my first year of graduate school.

I am officially a second year student now.

I am proud of the effort I put in and aware that I did not do any of it on my own.

It was with joy and humor that I spoke with one of my friends today from my cohort.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, so and so and I messaged and text and I know people are skyping, I’m totally fine with going over the take home with you.”

We did it together.

I had already turned in my final but I was more than willing to help my friend.

And when I think about all the help I had getting through this first year I am blown away with gratitude.

Friends who bought me groceries when I had to go down in hours at work and I hadn’t gotten my financial aid disbursement yet.

Friends who let me study in their living room when there was a kid’s birthday party here at the house with some many children it was like being inside a bouncy house trying to study.

Friends who bought me readers from Copy Central.

Friends who gave me rides to and from classes.

Friends who commiserated with me about the amount of work involved and how they did it, my nurse and doctor friends, my lawyer friends, my fellows in cohort.

My employers for being flexible and once a month letting me have off on Fridays so I could go to classes all day.

All the people who cheered me along the way and said, you can do it!

I did it.

Thank you friends!

I couldn’t, really, have done it without you.

That is not to down play the amount of work I did.

I did a lot of fucking work.

I showed up consistently, I didn’t miss a single class (which also helps me in writing the papers, let’s be honest, it’s a lot easier to stay on top of things if you are in the classroom, the importance of every class when it’s an intensive full time program taught on the weekend is huge), I did all my readings, well almost all of them, I may have missed an article here or there, but I really read all the books and texts and the majority, over 95% of the readers, I turned in every paper on time and I showed up for every project I had to present on time and prepared.

Yeah.

I know.

Fucking perfectionist.

“Now you can relax,” a friend text me.

Yeah.

Sure.

How though?

It’s going to take me a minute to unwind from all of this, I already know that, it feels very surreal to have all the work done when I consider that over the past year there was always something I had to be working on.

Going back to full time work is going to feel like a vacation.

Speaking of vacation.

New York in four days!

OMG.

I’m fucking going to New York.

I can finally get excited about it.

I have all my work done.

“That paper isn’t due yet, though, not for two weeks,” my friend text me when I said I was going to do the Psychodynamic paper today.

Yup.

Except that I will be in New York next weekend and I don’t want it over my head and I didn’t want to have to worry about carving out time after I got back from the trip either.

Although.

Heh.

I was a smart cookie.

I’m going to be coming back really early on Monday morning, flying out of JFK at 7:30 a.m.

What with the time change it will be 9:30 a.m. or something like that, and I asked off for the whole day from work.

Yup.

A full day to decompress from the trip and not force myself right back into the grind.

I’ll get to ease back in.

Super grateful I planned that out.

I have also made loose plans for the trip.

Friday I will get up and walk around Clinton Park, the area I’m staying in, grab some coffee and eat some breakfast and then make my way around Brooklyn.

I’m just going to wander.

I have an 8p.m. date with a friend to go do the deal in Williamsburg at Northside, so I figure  I’ll just mosey about Brooklyn all day Friday.

Hit the vintage shops.

Hit the coffee shops.

Wander around the Brooklyn Botanical garden.

Maybe pop into the Brooklyn Museum.

Go to book stores.

I’m very tempted to also hop over to Green Point and see if I can get into Three Kings Tattoo for some fresh ink.  I wouldn’t be able to get a tattoo that day, I’d have to go back after the consultation but they’re open late and I was thinking late Sunday I could get the work done.

It’s a thought, I have very tentative ideas about a piece.

I just like the idea of getting a piece done there, as I have in Paris now twice, it would be fun to add New York to the geographic map of my meandering travel life.

Then Saturday hit the city.

I want to go to the Guggenheim and the MOMA.

I know that’s a lot of museum to do in one day, but I’m on my own and I’m good company and I walk fast, I take the subway into New York, I hit the MOMA first, it closes earlier than the Guggenheim which will be open later, then onto the Guggenheim.

I drink lots of coffee.

I see art.

I buy notes books and take pictures of graffiti and get stickers.

I walk.

I soak it the fuck up.

I eat what ever I want.

Raw oysters.

I drink bubbly water till the cows come home.

I go do the deal somewhere if it makes sense to do so.

I plan on doing the new Whitney on Sunday and then walking the High Line Park and wandering around the little independent galleries around Chelsea.

If I decide to get a tattoo I head back over to Green Point and do that.

Part of me also wants to go to Coney Island.

But I’m not sure.

And I think that’s something to do with another person, ride the Ferris Wheel, go on the tilt-a-whirl, ride the Cyclone, seems like I would want a person to do that with.

Museums and walking about and exploring though.

That’s the deal.

That is my celebration.

I gave myself a trip to New York when I headed into the beginning of this semester.

I am so glad I did.

I am so excited to do this for myself.

I’m so grateful I made it through the school year.

Here’s to the beginning of my awesome summer vacation.

I have no idea where it’s going to go.

I just know I earned it.

And.

It’s going to be fucking awesome.

It already is!


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