Nomad no more! The Easter edition.

After starting off the 3-day weekend at an unsatisfactory slow pace which consisted of twelve and fourteen hour hiberntation sessions (all those late night blog posts finally caught up with me), I was finally productive today.

I went property hunting today and saw a place that I am going to make an offer on and that I actually really liked: location, price, size, oh and price. It feels a little surreal and I'm not sure I want to have them necessary accept my offer right away because now it feels like it's happening too quickly. But I definitely plan to make 3 offers on 3 different apartments (coops and condos) this week and get some price negotiations under my belt. (I learned today that I can make offers and negotiate without having signed a contract. Not that I'm trying to waste anyone's time by making offers on 3 apartments, but hey, it may happen, sucks to be a seller).

When I saw the beautiful bargain today, why didn't i want to immediately jump on it? I quickly remembered the following:

• I have lived in 3 different countries.
• Within the US, I have lived in 6 states. 3 of these 6 states were an occurrence of the past two years.
• Even when i lived in NY, we would move to a new apartment on average every two years.
• And within NY, I have lived in 3 different cities.
  

Even though I don't plan to live in the same place for 30 years, the thought of a 30 year mortgage, that's more years than what I have been alive is ... what's the word? Terrifying. Daunting. Overwhelming. And then again, exciting and anxiety-causing.

memories, the good and the bad

I recently rediscovered a collection of pictures that i had not gone through in a very long time. I take many pictures (thank you digital cameras) and sometimes they are of odd things that I'd be embarrassed to admit to. Cliche goes that pictures are worth a thousand words but for me it's more like a thousand memories.
















I remember everything. Sometimes I remember too much (which makes forgiving hard...whoa what a tangent). anyway, i usually am told i have good memory for remembering minuscule details or obscure events. I can't necessarily agree with this blanket statement due to many not so insignificant moments that i cannot always easily recall. But I did surprise myself recently.

In particular, there was a batch of college pics that brought back a lot of forgotten moments. I stared at the pic and it's like I suddenly became a detective of my own past.

• I remembered when I got that haircut or that it's when I first started styling my hair differently and was still learning. What I thought about it. What inspired it. How some reacted to it. What I thought of the new attention.
  
  
• Something about the pic told me that I was still growing into my own skin. Body language, maybe.
  
  
• My eyebrows. They've undergone many transformations. I looked at the pic and remembered who had last plucked them and what a big deal it was that they so "thin" then. Though I look back on them now and they still looked too bushy, and in nearly every picture , they are always uneven.
  
  
• Weight fluctuations. I never notice weight changes on others unless it's drastic. I'm an even worse gauge to myself. It is never until time passes and a "before" and "after" pic exists that I can bring myself to agree with other's comments on my +/- 8 pounds. Back then clothing losing their fit could've meant that I was in college doing my own laundry.
  
  
• The price of every article I had on, possibly where it was purchased and whether or not I found it on sale. Money was tight then and every cent counted a lot so every purchases was meaningful. I remember a friend reminding me of my budget, which I had disclosed to her, for one particular semester long after I had forgotten about it. I had twenty bucks a month to spend on clothing.
  
  
• I looked for clues in the things that were photographed beside me. The posters I had on the wall, what had become of them? Some of the random desk supplies that I still own. The other miscellaneous items that appeared in the photograph, some were lost in my numerous moves, or I had outgrown them and given them away.

Aside from the obvious visuals of the photograph, there were certain images that reminded me of happy times and not so happy times. It's in the smile, the setting, the posture. I also look at some pictures and can see my naiveness of that time and it makes me cringe. Ahh, growth.

this crazy place

My (temporary) roommate saw a homeless man talking on his cellphone.

you are who you be with

I'm an insomniac so this means one more post tonight.

Dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres. Spanish proverb that translates into "Tell me with whom you walk and I will tell you who you are" or "A man is known by the company he keeps."

I went to a birthday this past weekend and ran into more than a few college people who I haven't seen since graduation. College sometimes seems like ages ago though it has barely been three years. Among the mini college reunions of that night there were two that struck a nerve with me.

Let's set the stage with the fact that this was a party. People were dancing. In particular, there was a group of guys off to the side who were free-styling, breaking, and pop-locking it. I walk over to Class Clown who is watching the crowd. I ask him why he hasn't joined at least the dancehall group, I mean, this was something I regulary saw him do in our college years.

"Are you kidding me? Those kids are like sixteeen. I can't do that anymore." So there I stood confused. I may joke around with everyone about how turning a quarter of a century means memory loss, dentures, and thinning hair, but by all means, I don't mean it. Class Clown sounded so defeated I couldn't bare to stand near him. I pressed him on the issue to make sure I hadn't misunderstood his statement. Indeed, he truly believes that at 25 he is physically unable to do something he did at 23.

I then wondered if Class Clown's state could have something to do with the fact that he is now a father, but that's a senseless excuse. It's not like he physically had the child. I would have accepted a reason like "I'm tired because I am the parent of an infant." But never, "I can't do things like that at twenty-five." Soon after, I distanced myself from him and reached out to someone else I haven't seen, Class Clown's BFF.

The BFF has no children, check. (I gotta stay away from those low-energy people now so they don't drag me down). But he was also watching the crowd and not up to his old ways of dancehall stardom. I asked him why he wasn't dancing, as I tried not to gawk at how much more muscular he's gotten. His response? "I'm too old for that. Those are kids." We'll I'll be damned! Needless to say, I did not seek them out to keep in touch; I wish them well with their defeated selves.

what can you spare?

As I was leaving the train station I saw a man standing to the side of the stairs. At a quick glance I thought he was waiting for the wave of people coming down the stairs to subside but then I realized he was speaking to everyone that passed. As I got closer this speech turned from "canyuspersumchainpleez" to "can you spare some change please. Can you spare some change please for food."

I didn't give him change, nor did anyone around me but when I walked passed me he nodded and said "how are you?" My automatic response was to look him in the eye, crack a smile and say "I'm fine. How are you?" As soon as I said this I thought of how foolish and maybe even considerate I was being. Here he is, begging for money for food. I think I have a good shot at guessing how he is doing.

"I'm good. Thank you," he said as he smiled back at me and then returned to his chant of "Can you spare some change please. Can you spare some change please for food?"

sensitive news

I got some sad news yesterday. A friend's status update on Facebook that alarmed. He's usually a high energy and optimistic person but his status message seemed gloomy. I immediately sent him a text (something I don't usually do) that read "baby whats wrong?" (something I don't usually say but something told to act with lots of tlc). I wasn't expecting a response of "my brother's been in a coma for two weeks."

A lot went through my head. For one, I know his brother is "sick", though I was never sure what this meant, I never pried to ask for details, and I don't think now is the time. (I have a slight inclination to think it may be cancer?I can only say this with 50% certainty. )High Energy has mentioned in the past regular hospital visits that his brother had were maybe monthly. My impression was that this was some follow up to something that was under control.

I didn't know how to respond, my first reaction was to respond with "your family is in my prayers" but this would not be true. I don't pray. High Energy knows this by now, he's known me for five years. I didn't want to come across as generic and fake at a time like this so I just told him that I'm here for him, though I felt kind of helpless not being able to say something that he (as a devout Christian) would find more meaningful.

I'm curious to know more of the situation and I've been thinking about him a lot. He recently just accepted a promotion so he now lives in a different state altogether about a thousand miles away from home. I start to cry just thinking of what he's going through.

Gitter Done

I know I always have a list of things I want to accomplish:sowing classes, working out, cooking more, grad. school, learning to swim, the list goes on. My list always grows, and things magically fall off, which is entirely differently than being crossed off.

Instead on being hard on myself for letting things fall of the list, I'm going to temporarily choose to ignore them and focus on the things I have gotten done. I am not in a sad mood and in need of cheering up, I just suddenly feel like not being so hard on myself.

Things I got done:

1. An hour's worth of gre/gmat math exercises. Area is pi*(radius squared).Circumference is twice pi*radius, or pi diameter. Turns out you can't use a calculator on this test, not that this has anything do with geometry, I just felt like pointing out a big difference between grad school and college entrance exams. I don't necessarily like standardized tests but a nomad's gotta do what a nomad's gotta do.
2. Last week I finally completed a jewelry box from recycled materials. See the pics below.
   
3. I have not shopped. I will make it to Spring.
4. I took out the trash and recyclables. Kitchen stench is now gone.
   
5. I did laundry, have not ironed. I believe I have not turned my iron on all year.
6. I blog. I should probably count this towards my gre prep work, except that what i write isn't always cohesive, so does it count? I blog as I think, I don't think in cohesive chunks. I think at random in many directions at once.
   
7. I have not been wasteful with food. I even ate my chicken stew gone flavorless disaster.
8. I went property hunting!! This deserves its very own blog but it's extremely late, I am overdue for bed and just had to put it out there. I have officially kicked off my "Nomad No More" © project. I hope to be in a place to call my own by the end of the year. Yes, this is crazy, I just moved here, one can probably argue many reasons why I should wait till I get more settled, but I am kicking this off now. Even if I don't make it by end of year, I will be extremely prepared for when the time comes for my thirty year commitment. Although I have only viewed one property, I spoke to a bank and was pre-qualified for a loan and am doing more research on loans, properties, neighborhoods, the works. Currently extremely overwhelmed, excited, and anxious.

The Jewelry Box:
Materials

Procedure















Finished Product

who needs a book? talk to strangers.

I've been carry the same copy of The Outsiders in my bag for over a month and I'm still on the first page. I can't bring myself to read on the subway, let's see how much better GRE flash cards fare. I'm too busy watching everyone on the train, what they wear/listen to/read/say/do/react. Maybe I'm just too easily amused but people to me are funny and interesting subjects to observe.

The Young Guy:
He sat across from me and was well dressed and well groomed. His attire suggested employment at an uber conservative firm: tie, two-toned button down, silver bracelet on the right hand, black and silver watch on the right, . He's definitely dressing the part but one thing gave away his youth. He was wearing black Puma sneakers with his suit. They weren't worn in that "I'm trying hard to be trendy by surprising you with sneakers on my feet as I wear a suit" way. I contemplated asking him if he actually wore them all day. I thought to myself that maybe this was the guy equivalent to those professionally dressed women in sneakers subway, many who have obviously switched out of their too-high black pumps. He was carrying a large bag but it wasn't bulky enough to suggest that his shoes were in it. Maybe he changes into his "good" shoes when he gets into work. Or maybe he really does wear those on his feet all day. Although classy plain black and on the "dressier" side of footwear, they are definitely sneakers a mismatch to his overall look.

Another thing I noticed about the young guy was that he was leafing through paper copies of pictures. They were in those pharmacy envelopes you used to get before digital cameras became a commodity. I wondered if he had used film or maybe used the photoprocessing machine to makes prints off of his flash memory card. Something about the red envelope that the pictures were in made me think that the latter wasn't the case. I wanted to ask him about that too.


The Conspiracy Theorists:
They sat on the same bench as me, side by side, to my right. It was hard to not hear what they said to each other, despite the fact that they were sitting right next to each other. I think everyone did as I did and pretended to not hear them. Both men got on at different stops, they're at the very least acquaintances who were catching up with each other on what the current state of America is. What was amazing to me was not how crazy and lacking their logic was about the current state of things. Instead it was how they at one point would finish each other's sentences. How could A know what B was about to say when A made no sense? It was mind-blowing to hear two people converge on the same points that had little or ill fact substantiating them. While on the topic of famous assassinations, A, or maybe B?, stated that Obama has too fair of skin to worry about being targeted by an assassin. According to A, or maybe B?, Obama would need the complexion of a darker African-American. Again, the both agreed. Again, I wanted to talk to a stranger on a subway (for someone that grew up here, I am such a newbie sometimes). Just like I wanted to ask Young Guy about his shoes and photo processing, I wanted to ask A, or maybe B?, what about Bob Marley? Was he not a fair skin black man who was assassinated? This would have been very poignant considering that A, or maybe B?, was wearing a Rasta hat.

What a tangent that was, so back to the original topic: books, was it? I got a library card yesterday.

cleaning out my closet

I haven't bought any new clothing since Jan18, I found the receipt to prove it. March just kicked in and I'm wondering if I can make it to the official start of Spring before I succumb to retail. I should also add that after more than six months I finally went to the Salvation Army two weeks ago to donate clothing I've outgrown, whether in style of fit. I go back and forth in using this to rationalize needing to buy a few items for replenishment purposes.

I found the most eye-opening item in my closet over the weekend. I've been in my apartment for just over two months and I had never lifted a panel on the shelf. I was desperate to move in so maybe skimmed too much on the pre-move cleaning because there was a pornographic DVD with a very illustrative cover. Funny enough, this is not the first time this has happened to me. I lived in a different apartment a year ago that had designated storage units separate from the apartment. After getting the storage key I quickly rummaged through for anything that could've been of value (it was my first apartment). I found a broken VCR and a vibrator. At least this prior tenant remembered to take the tapes with her.