One of Those Days

This perfectly describes my day. That is all.

Introducing Cassandra. Or Maybe Juliet. Or Sabrina?

Did you have a really common name growing up? I definitely did. Not only was I never the only Katie  in a class, I went all through grade school being one of two "Katie S."'s, and we were always in the same class.

If that weren't bad enough, by the time I got to college there were TEN Kate/Katie/Katherine's on my floor in the dorms. Including my roommate. Yeah. That happened.

So while I feel like being one of many encouraged my adolescent desire to change my name, I also think it is really common to want to change your name in your early teens. The feeling of wanting to be someone else, and that maybe, if you had a different name you'd actually be that other person. Someone cooler, or more feminine, or whose actually been to France and talked to boys.

I always saw myself as a Sabrina or a Cassandra - those girls sounded like they knew how to wear eyeliner and skirts and were probably from Europe.

What would you have named yourself at thirteen?

The Truth About Being an Adult

My mom loves the idea of living in a city. When we talk about it, she loves the idea of being able to walk everywhere and being close to parks and having so many options for everything around you. Not that those perks aren't true, but I tell her you don't get to walk everywhere, you have to walk everywhere and you're close to parks because no one has any outdoor space at home and there are so many options because there are that many people using that many resources.

The idea is more romantic than the reality. I feel the same way about being a grownup

Growing up in the suburbs I was so anxious to be an adult. I couldn't wait to get to call my own shots, to decide what I wanted to do and when I wanted to do it. I'd move away (check!) and live in a big city (check!) and do what I wanted with my money (sort of check!). Because we all know being an adult is not all it's cracked up to be.

Sure I can eat cake for breakfast and spend all my money on lipgloss and earrings, but when you have to buy groceries and pay for the internet, it looses it's appeal.

One part of being a grown up that always leaves me feeling like a hapless adolescent is finding services like a hairdresser or a doctor. How exactly do you go about finding those people? I haven't gotten a haircut in a year because I have hairstylist paralysis - and the cut a year ago was an impulse on vacation!

I have, however, solved the doctor problem but only because of the internet. ZocDoc is my go to since I don't have to call and talk to anyone, I can book an appointment online, and they check if the doctor takes my insurance. AND they have reviews like Yelp.

What are the things you find the least romantic about being an adult?

The Self-Improvement List

I stumbled across this amazing blog and it reminds me that I've always wanted to be able to draw. I suppose I can draw acceptably well. Not WELL, mind you, but my dogs look like dogs (as long as we aren't trying to depict a specific breed - "Dog" is as good as it gets.).

My list of things I wish I could do well is pretty arbitrary:
Draw and watercolor
Play the piano
Sew clothes
Speak Spanish
Play tennis
Host dinner parties
Play the guitar
Juggle
Accessorize outfits
Blog

Some are really talents, but for the most part I just need to pick a project and start practicing!

Maybe I'll quietly start one or two. I love a new project but am really intimidated by all of these - the people in my life are so good at them (sisters and husband, I'm looking at you!) that the bar to entry seems high. 

Get Out of Town

The past year has been a real nose-to-the-grindstone, all-work-and-no-play sort of year. I started a new job, Ben had professional exams (a lot of them!), and we had some debts to pay. So all our money and all our time was spent on things we had to do and not things we wanted to do.

Suddenly, it feels like the clouds have parted and the year-and-then-some of no fun has come to an end. I have antsy energy and a desire to start a million new projects all at once. The one I am starting right away is leaving town - I am leaving the city every weekend from now until it snows. I don't even know where I'm going!

Anywhere but here. I'll keep you posted...

What I think about on the Subway

Two days of subway observations.

I sit on the train facing backwards. The lights slide by the windows like a sci-fi movie warp speed. The train is full and for the first time in weeks I look at the faces of people on the train with me. The absurdity of the whole situation strikes me and I have to suppress my giggles. The car is full, I can see I to the car behind us and that car is full too. We are all silent. No one even sees me looking the full in the face because we have trained ours selves to look through people. We are hurtling at top speed - no seat belts! -  towards very important jobs. In all likelihood we are all heading to grab a cup of coffee and to see what's happening on the internet since we left it yesterday. But we all take it so seriously.

Another subway morning, this time contemplating death. I'm not religious, I don't believe in an afterlife. If you ask me, this is it. The only thing we leave behind is traces and objects, and those slowly fade and break and then it's truly over. I miss my grandparents. I try to call up very particular details about them. Butterscotch pudding and lotto tickets and wearing the sweatshirt that said "Nana" in puff paint that I made when I was four until she died. I like to print pictures and use film so there is an object. That one day someone will look at them and say "Look how young they were. They look so happy." When I'm at flea markets I love to look through the pictures for sale and imagine their lives. I have a file folder full of the ones I can't resist, other peoples long ago vacations and little happinesses.

Queens, the forgotten burough

Today we took a giant bike ride in Queens. The purported purpose was to go to the Queens Museum, which is in the middle of Flushing Meadows Corona Park*.

We ended up finding a previously-unknown wetland preserve (Turtles! Nature!), a Colombian Independence Day parade and dance party (Stilt-walkers! Children in costume!), and a really nice, newly-reopened museum (Art! A GIANT model of the entire city!).

*This must be the worst name for a park in the history of the world. It sounds like a euphemism for the sewage treatment plant of  New York City.