The best way I can describe the Turks & Caicos beaches is to compare the ocean to blue kool aid and the sand to flour (in both texture and color). These edible analogies inevitably led me to thoughts of food and I wondered if there was cookie recipe that called for flour and kool aid. Perhaps such a recipe would allow me to re-live and savor my vacation on a very small scale. When I plugged the two ingredients into google, my first result was a play doh recipe. Remember play doh? The smell of it? The way it would crumble after sufficient air exposure and solidify in tiny pieces on and in between the carpet fibers…?
…but you weren’t allowed to play with play doh near the carpet, were you?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were a lot of things you weren’t supposed to do when you were little.
You weren’t supposed to treat your brother like a science project. Physically speaking, feeding him your mom’s poinsettias (highly poisonous) or the Reeses Pieces (he is allergic to nuts). Psychologically speaking, seeing if he would believe in either the friendly monster that travelled through your home’s plumbing system or stuffed animal dogs that talked (he believed in both). Nor were you supposed to promote him to your personal assistant delegating the “hard” questions for the supervising adults to him. Perhaps more importantly, you weren’t allowed to sell your gently used toys to him.
You weren’t supposed to write on the walls… even if it was a nice message… in pencil…on the bottom of the wall. For instance, “I love you Mom and Dad.”
You weren’t supposed to unzip the bean bag chairs with your next-door neighbor and dump all the beans on the basement floor; nor were you allowed to let her cut your hair.
You weren’t allowed to take off your sweater at the school dance if you were wearing a spaghetti strap shirt.
You weren’t allowed to pet the kitty’s eyes.
But you did all of this anyway.
We all broke the rules when we were little and we still do now. The difference is that when we were younger, we knew the moment we broke a rule: it was a matter of right and wrong, black and white. We felt ashamed, rebellious, empowered, embarrassed.
As I grow older, the rules change and become less and less clear. Perhaps this is because, for the most part, I alone hold myself accountable for following the rules. Maybe I allow some of the lines to become blurry and grey, or maybe I drew them that way. In the end, the consequence of a broken rule is the same: it is that fallen piece of play doh that permanently settled in between the carpet fibers; a lasting reminder of where we weren’t supposed to be. Like our transgressions, these pieces vary by size, but stay with us forever.
So, what do we do? We make resolutions, we promise we won’t repeat our mistakes, we vow to be better people. We gain perspective. We learn from our mistakes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Playing in the sand in Turks and Caicos reminded me of how quickly things can change: one minute you have a castle, the next minute – it’s gone and your feet have disappeared. No matter how sophisticated your sculpture is, it will be gone the next morning. But by the same token, all the things that seemed unbearable today will look different tomorrow morning. The ocean never fails to remind me of how small we all are… what a little part of the world we each represent. Nevertheless, I still believe it’s important to learn from my mistakes, to do the best I can and to hold myself to a certain standard – the rules I believe in – even if others don’t…
…or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s smarter to drink the kool-aid and believe that everything will work itself out and everyone will get what they deserve in the end (right, Lindsay?)
20 January 2010
28 December 2009
New York, New Year
An email from Urban Daddy (a subscription for emails with the latest steals & deals in NYC):
Lacking Resolve
Introducing Your Anti-Resolutions
Soon it'll be a new year, but what hasn't changed is the fact that you live in a city of excess. A city of temptations. A city of two-gallon cocktails. Here are a few suggestions to help you kick off your season of indulgence, before the nagging desire for improvement creeps in. You must resist it…
Just when I was getting into meaningful holiday spirit – researching charities and volunteer programs; identifying ways I can be a better person to myself and others in 2010 – I receive the message above from Urban Daddy. Is it really harder to be a good person in New York? As New Yorkers, everything is at our fingertips and an “I can do better” affectation manifests itself within each of us – whether it’s a job, price, seat on the subway, relationship, meal, grade, club, performance or any combination of the above (and the list goes on!). In this city of endless opportunity and possibility, we believe there is always something tangibly better around the next corner. So, not only do we want instant gratification (which is remarkably almost always possible in New York) but we want the best of everything. Who else in this country (or the world) lives like this? Is this the fundamental reason that New York has placed dead last in Science magazine’s study “ranking of happiness levels by US State”? Not only are we last, but we are #51 in a country of 50 states. Ok, yes – the study includes Washington D.C. – but 51? That’s just rubbing salt in the wound. Are we the least happy because there’s so much to do, achieve, buy and see in New York that we are perpetually unsatisfied?
And now an attempt to balance the negative with the positive (a personal struggle for me in my day-to-day life): Why are these traits positive and what good has the city of excess cultivated in us as individuals and as a population?
We know what we want when we want it. So nine times out of ten, we will get that promotion or that seat on the subway. The upside: we are perseverant and we achieve our goals (both long-term and short-term).
We live in a city of overstimulation with excessive and intense exposure to everything. Yes, this makes us difficult to please, but the good news is that we have high standards, and for the most part, we are educated, cultured and open-minded.
I could go on but I want you to continue reading my blog in the future.
Regardless of your state of residence, level of happiness and more importantly without regard to whether or not your level of happiness correlates with your state’s ranking, vacation is invaluable. No matter how long, far or exotic, vacation is always refreshing and offers new (or renewed) perspective. Tonight, Liz (a native Texan and one of my very best friends in the world) pointed out that New York is one of the few places you can go entire day (and sometimes multiple days) without having a single conversation with anyone. Occasionally, this is awesome. Other times, incredibly depressing. New York is one of those places that you are almost always surrounded by people, and these crowds of people can range from twenty to two hundred (or sometimes even more). As human beings, we are innately social creatures: nurturing relationships, investing time and attention in others, and allowing others to invest in our minds, bodies and souls. This is one of the most pronounced ways we differ from animals. So to be in such close proximity to hundreds of people and to have little to no contact with any one person can certainly be depressing. Ironically, New York can be one of the loneliest places in the world.
And once again, an attempt to balance the negative with the positive: I AM LEAVING FOR TURKS & CAICOS IN FOUR HOURS! I am looking forward to relaxing on the beach, enjoying the sun, adopting a new perspective and ringing in the New Year. Restarting my most important computer: my mind and body.
I recently read that it is important to write like you are writing for another person because next year, you will be a different person…
See you next year.
Lacking Resolve
Introducing Your Anti-Resolutions
Soon it'll be a new year, but what hasn't changed is the fact that you live in a city of excess. A city of temptations. A city of two-gallon cocktails. Here are a few suggestions to help you kick off your season of indulgence, before the nagging desire for improvement creeps in. You must resist it…
Just when I was getting into meaningful holiday spirit – researching charities and volunteer programs; identifying ways I can be a better person to myself and others in 2010 – I receive the message above from Urban Daddy. Is it really harder to be a good person in New York? As New Yorkers, everything is at our fingertips and an “I can do better” affectation manifests itself within each of us – whether it’s a job, price, seat on the subway, relationship, meal, grade, club, performance or any combination of the above (and the list goes on!). In this city of endless opportunity and possibility, we believe there is always something tangibly better around the next corner. So, not only do we want instant gratification (which is remarkably almost always possible in New York) but we want the best of everything. Who else in this country (or the world) lives like this? Is this the fundamental reason that New York has placed dead last in Science magazine’s study “ranking of happiness levels by US State”? Not only are we last, but we are #51 in a country of 50 states. Ok, yes – the study includes Washington D.C. – but 51? That’s just rubbing salt in the wound. Are we the least happy because there’s so much to do, achieve, buy and see in New York that we are perpetually unsatisfied?
And now an attempt to balance the negative with the positive (a personal struggle for me in my day-to-day life): Why are these traits positive and what good has the city of excess cultivated in us as individuals and as a population?
We know what we want when we want it. So nine times out of ten, we will get that promotion or that seat on the subway. The upside: we are perseverant and we achieve our goals (both long-term and short-term).
We live in a city of overstimulation with excessive and intense exposure to everything. Yes, this makes us difficult to please, but the good news is that we have high standards, and for the most part, we are educated, cultured and open-minded.
I could go on but I want you to continue reading my blog in the future.
Regardless of your state of residence, level of happiness and more importantly without regard to whether or not your level of happiness correlates with your state’s ranking, vacation is invaluable. No matter how long, far or exotic, vacation is always refreshing and offers new (or renewed) perspective. Tonight, Liz (a native Texan and one of my very best friends in the world) pointed out that New York is one of the few places you can go entire day (and sometimes multiple days) without having a single conversation with anyone. Occasionally, this is awesome. Other times, incredibly depressing. New York is one of those places that you are almost always surrounded by people, and these crowds of people can range from twenty to two hundred (or sometimes even more). As human beings, we are innately social creatures: nurturing relationships, investing time and attention in others, and allowing others to invest in our minds, bodies and souls. This is one of the most pronounced ways we differ from animals. So to be in such close proximity to hundreds of people and to have little to no contact with any one person can certainly be depressing. Ironically, New York can be one of the loneliest places in the world.
And once again, an attempt to balance the negative with the positive: I AM LEAVING FOR TURKS & CAICOS IN FOUR HOURS! I am looking forward to relaxing on the beach, enjoying the sun, adopting a new perspective and ringing in the New Year. Restarting my most important computer: my mind and body.
I recently read that it is important to write like you are writing for another person because next year, you will be a different person…
See you next year.
17 December 2009
miracle on 52nd street
Yesterday, I saw my cousins John (6) and Ethan (4). It’s so much fun to be around kids this time of year because they truly believe in Santa Claus and all the magic of the Christmas season. Not only do they believe in Santa’s magic but in their minds, reality and magic coexist: After engaging them in the standard line of Christmas questioning – what do you want for Christmas this year? How many days until Santa comes? Did you write a letter to Santa? – Ethan asked me why he couldn’t just pick up the phone and call the North Pole to tell Santa what he wanted. Why did he have to write a letter? John told me that all Emma (his 8 year-old sister) wants for Christmas is to see Santa. I wonder how long before Emma learns that Santa isn’t real. How will she find out? Will she keep up the façade for her brothers or will she accidentally (or intentionally) let the truth slip?
I remember I was in school when I first learned that Santa wasn’t real. I don’t remember who told me or how old I was. What I do remember is that when I confronted my parents about the existence of Santa, my dad delivered a lengthy speech about the history and modernization of Santa. I’m not sure if I was far too young to know that Santa didn’t exist or if my dad was utterly determined to keep the magic alive. We are talking about the man who overnighted an advent calendar to my office this year so I would have it ON December 1. I’m also not sure if he had this story prepared knowing this day would come, or if it came naturally (lawyers have an answer for everything, don’t they?). My dad convinced me that as the world’s population grew, it became impossible for Santa to visit every house across the world in one night. And so, the exhausted and over-worked Santa started a corporation. There were many Santas and they all drove trucks. From that point forward, I fell asleep looking outside my window waiting for the “Rockville Centre Santa” rather than falling asleep in my bed listening for that magical, omnipresent Santa like the normal children.
There must be children (and probably adults) who actually put letters to Santa in mailboxes all over the world. What happens to these letters? Are they thrown away? Are the letters returned with big yellow stickers that say “return to sender” and if so, do parents scramble to hide the returned mail? Do U.S. postal service workers open these letters en route? Do they bring their favorite letters home to share a laugh and a smile with their friends and family? Although there is no person by the name of “Santa Claus” living at the scrawled address: “North Pole,” is it a felony to open his mail? It’s not addressed to the mail carrier. And is there anyone who has come upon a child’s letter that has been moved to send that child a response or even a gift “from Santa?” Or would that be creepy?
If there was a Santa – the omnipresent, magic Santa (not the Santa-by-ordinance) -- I wonder what my letter (or as Ethan suggests – phone call) would request? I think that writing a letter to Santa a good exercise for everyone – even for presumably rational and established adults. I am going to write Santa a letter before Christmas Eve. I’m not sure I will post it here or put it in the mail for fear some postal service worker will read it or send a return letter/gift because I for one would find that creepy. Is that cynical or safe?
I remember I was in school when I first learned that Santa wasn’t real. I don’t remember who told me or how old I was. What I do remember is that when I confronted my parents about the existence of Santa, my dad delivered a lengthy speech about the history and modernization of Santa. I’m not sure if I was far too young to know that Santa didn’t exist or if my dad was utterly determined to keep the magic alive. We are talking about the man who overnighted an advent calendar to my office this year so I would have it ON December 1. I’m also not sure if he had this story prepared knowing this day would come, or if it came naturally (lawyers have an answer for everything, don’t they?). My dad convinced me that as the world’s population grew, it became impossible for Santa to visit every house across the world in one night. And so, the exhausted and over-worked Santa started a corporation. There were many Santas and they all drove trucks. From that point forward, I fell asleep looking outside my window waiting for the “Rockville Centre Santa” rather than falling asleep in my bed listening for that magical, omnipresent Santa like the normal children.
There must be children (and probably adults) who actually put letters to Santa in mailboxes all over the world. What happens to these letters? Are they thrown away? Are the letters returned with big yellow stickers that say “return to sender” and if so, do parents scramble to hide the returned mail? Do U.S. postal service workers open these letters en route? Do they bring their favorite letters home to share a laugh and a smile with their friends and family? Although there is no person by the name of “Santa Claus” living at the scrawled address: “North Pole,” is it a felony to open his mail? It’s not addressed to the mail carrier. And is there anyone who has come upon a child’s letter that has been moved to send that child a response or even a gift “from Santa?” Or would that be creepy?
If there was a Santa – the omnipresent, magic Santa (not the Santa-by-ordinance) -- I wonder what my letter (or as Ethan suggests – phone call) would request? I think that writing a letter to Santa a good exercise for everyone – even for presumably rational and established adults. I am going to write Santa a letter before Christmas Eve. I’m not sure I will post it here or put it in the mail for fear some postal service worker will read it or send a return letter/gift because I for one would find that creepy. Is that cynical or safe?
about my blog
I never thought that I would start a blog. Over the years, family, friends, teachers and colleagues have similarly suggested that I blog. I suppose I lead a fairly interesting life: I’m 23 year-old NYU graduate with a degree in English who works at a hedge fund. I have been told that I give good advice (I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best guide for myself) so that was another blog-suggestion.
I’m not exactly the type of person to want to publish my thoughts on life and life experiences nor do I have an adventurous occupation or pastime to share with my readers. Moreover, for the most part, my friends and family are based within an hour radius of my Upper West Side apartment so this is not one of those keep-in-touch-and-I’ll-keep-you-apprised-of-my-life-in-a-far-away-land blog either.
So, why am I writing a blog?
I’m not sure. My “dream-job” is to be a high school English teacher or a novelist when I grow up (eventually), so maybe this will help me continue to exercise my introspective muscles and my writing skills.
And maybe, just maybe, I will learn something new about myself, work, New York, my friends, my family – life in general – with each entry. I once read that your education begins where what is called your education is over. So let’s see if that’s true.
Hopefully, I will have a following or at the very least, the occasional reader. I’d imagine it would be rather embarrassing to blog for no one. The purpose of blogging as opposed to keeping a journal (which I will still continue to do since I can’t share EVERYTHING with you) is for others to read, consider, and possibly respond to your thoughts and experiences. Right? So if I don’t have followers (or the occasional reader), I think I will consider this a failed endeavor and log off.
But until then… please read!
I’m not exactly the type of person to want to publish my thoughts on life and life experiences nor do I have an adventurous occupation or pastime to share with my readers. Moreover, for the most part, my friends and family are based within an hour radius of my Upper West Side apartment so this is not one of those keep-in-touch-and-I’ll-keep-you-apprised-of-my-life-in-a-far-away-land blog either.
So, why am I writing a blog?
I’m not sure. My “dream-job” is to be a high school English teacher or a novelist when I grow up (eventually), so maybe this will help me continue to exercise my introspective muscles and my writing skills.
And maybe, just maybe, I will learn something new about myself, work, New York, my friends, my family – life in general – with each entry. I once read that your education begins where what is called your education is over. So let’s see if that’s true.
Hopefully, I will have a following or at the very least, the occasional reader. I’d imagine it would be rather embarrassing to blog for no one. The purpose of blogging as opposed to keeping a journal (which I will still continue to do since I can’t share EVERYTHING with you) is for others to read, consider, and possibly respond to your thoughts and experiences. Right? So if I don’t have followers (or the occasional reader), I think I will consider this a failed endeavor and log off.
But until then… please read!
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