I gave my 2 weeks notice today.

While I'll miss getting paychecks (but only over Christmas), I will not miss my current miserable working condition of being in a stupid place with an incredibly rude and self-important GM.

Meanwhile, Life Goes On.
I have come to realize that I am not the aimless type, wandering around doing odd jobs just to get by. Despite my fondness for this type of lifestyle (thanks, Kerouac) and maybe even once entertaining the idea that I liked the idea of wandering around in search of whatever it is that people search for while wandering around, that I could be that person, I am not, in fact, that person.
And... I haven't ever been.
Romantic? Yes, I am. In theory. Kinda. In books and all.

Anyways.

What I have come to realize is that I do not want a "job."
I am actually searching for a "career."
While I am not looking for complete security and comfort and a home and stability, etc. I want to know that I am in a mutually beneficial relationship, both giving and receiving. I appreciate seeing the fruits of my labor, not in monetary terms, although it is nice, but I like knowing that I am doing something worthwhile and something I like.
Which consequently, means I have an awesome degree that I will actually be using, because I DO NOT BELIEVE AT ALL that you have to work just to get by - I do think that I can be doing what I like and want to be doing, while also maintaining the flexibility of being able to pick up and go, because that is what my career lets me do - asks me to do - wants me to do.

I recently got a degree in a subject that lets me philosophize, wander around foreign countries and museums alike, read endlessly both classic literature with important academic yet everyday insights and the books that are always on discount at Barnes and Nobles because nobody else cares about the Religions of the World and their Famous Places or the methodology behind cultural assimilation, attend dance classes and performances alike, and have a solid understanding of the human body, mind and human rights issues across the globe, and write papers on the stuff I spent hours on the internet, in the library/lab/field/abroad or wherever I want to be, researching.

yayy anthropology!



On another note, I actually spent some time outside of work and interning yesterday to see a sunset from my rooftop, and to document the work I have been doing with my internship (meaning, I work for an amazing dance company with a beautiful vision and the interdisciplinary and multifaceted works of art produced make me a very proud intern.)

Thanksgiving 2011

It's Thanksgiving night and I'm watching a special on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which I watched earlier this morning from my couch in Brooklyn.
This year's parade was the 85th year of the parade.
It's a special featuring all of the hosts, since its first broadcast in 1932(?), a history of the special day, and all of the memories that come with the Macy's Day Parade - all of the marching bands, all of the Rockettes performances, all of the rockstars and Broadway stints, the balloons and the floats and the movies and tv shows that have mentioned or given a cameo to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, all of the times it has been cancelled because of using the balloon rubber during WWII, or almost about to be cancelled due to Sept.11, and of course, the weather.
And somewhere along the way, someone stated that the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is one of those things that you always have important memories attached to - something you always remember.

And I love that. Because I don't think I thought about it until every single one of those hosts tonight mentioned it. I mean, I know that I always associate the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and post dog show with Thanksgiving, and turkey and family and picking up pecans in Bishopville and trampoline jumping when I was smaller and the day after Christmas tree buying with my family and
strangely enough, Susan's house at the kid's table and after dinner walk around Converse Heights, but I never really thought about it - I never really put it all together.
Now I do have a new, and very distinct and meaningful memory associated with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade... I will forever remember Thanksgiving 2011 as the Thanksgiving I lived in NYC by myself, and made tomato soup and an apple cranberry crisp at 2 in the morning and slept late enough to have to watch the Macy's Day Parade on television and ran to my roof to see if I could hear the parade from Brooklyn and read China Boy in the coat check closet while hearing people outside my banishment closet eating and enjoying their time with their loved ones.

Luckily, it didn't kill me, and now I'm stronger.
Thanks to all of my family and loved ones, whose support and advice and love and strength truly got me through this holiday without being physically by my side.
I know it was hard being together, and hard for us to be apart.
You are in my heart and thoughts each and every day, but especially... especially today.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving and I absolutely cannot wait to see you all at Christmas.

A wise woman told me once, "Wherever you go, there you are."



I'm feeling quiet as I try to stomach this idea, and get my bearings together on my life, figure out some sense of routine, of normalcy, and as I gear up for my first holiday by myself here in NYC. I'm not looking forward to it, but I do believe I'll get through it. I bought potatoes, and smothered in cheese and butter, and paired with some asparagus, they should keep me content for a bit.
I also bought some spaghetti, so that's an option, should I decide that is what I would rather have.

I am fully aware that Sister Schuberts will be eaten in my name at the kids table, and I hope that someone keeps up my stealthy tradition of stealing turkey while nobody is looking. That would just be delightful.

I'm thankful for the time that my family gets to spend together, and I'm thankful that even if we can't all be together, we are in each others hearts and minds, and that we will always have each other, no matter what. I'm thankful, most of all, for the strength that I see in each and every family member, and I'm thankful for the love that we all share, for the love that I constantly feel.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Glee.
Glee makes me happy.
It makes me laugh, and dance around my room in my underwear. It makes folding clothes, and cleaning up a cheerful event. It is one of those little things that while fake and unrealistic, is charming and hopeful and lifts my spirits by transporting me to a happy place.

On that note, my friend Lisa from Elon just got the part of Sandy in the national tour of Grease.
Yay Lisa!! So excited for big (and slick) hair, leather jackets, dance numbers in poodle skirts (and high heels!) and songs that I know every single word of.
I'm so proud of my talented and amazing friends.

Tuesday

Free days turn into busy days in light of the upcoming Gala and 10th anniversary performances of Shen Wei Dance Arts.
Luckily, I feel useful, and like I have friends there. Not best buds, but I trust them, and we have fun together.
Today, I was given 2 gifts - one physical, the other verbal.

"If the motherland is not united, I have no will to go to work."
A replica of a popular old notebook from early Communist China, I love my new empty little notebook, with the image of a family on the front, and old musty brown pages, with the communist star at the corner of each page, it was a gift from Shen Wei and his assistant Stephen, who have recently returned from China.
Somewhere along the way I guess they heard I liked to write, and that I take notes obsessively, and that I carry 2 notebooks around already - one for thoughts and quotes and choreography and music, the other for random stuff, like grocery lists and directions and things to do.

The other gift was a comment made by one of the Shen Wei staff, as we were talking about what comes after December... of course, I am welcome to stay and continue to work with them. But I would easily be able to find a paying arts admin job, and that I had a whole office of references should I need them to vouch for me.

As I am in a strange transitioning area in my life (does it ever stop?), knowing that I have support from people I have freely pledged my time to, despite some mishaps along the way, is a positive thing that makes me extremely happy for the chance I have been given to work with this company.

Monday

Monday. Today was a decent day.
I completed and sent off a job application.
I did useful things at SWDA.
And work was slow.

Sunday was also a decent day, for which I am glad, because I think the explorative Sunday run after depressing lonely morning pancakes around my new neighborhood made me feel better about my past week-long tunnel vision to the subway to SWDA to work to home late to sleep and up early to do it all again without any personal/academic/mental/physical/workforce/intellectual/friendship gain and merely in the daily grind of making it all work living life just to get by resentfulness and the tiny bit of fresh air, dance class and reading in the banishment closet at work helped me breathe a little bit. A very tiny bit. I can't explain why, yet.

I've been back in NYC for a week and a day now, and tomorrow is my 1st day off. Think of it as my Saturday. Friday will be my Sunday.
Thank God.

I think I will spend the day at the Museum of Natural History. Which I think is a magnificent way to spend a Tueserday. A day spent in an amazing museum, next to Central Park, and I can maybe do a little Christmas shopping too, because all of that superhappyholidayinNYC stuff is popping up everywhere and I think I can probably find something cool on a Tueserday, no?

A nice family from Florida (I mean, they asked me, what are you? Gamecock or Clemson fan?... nostalgia) gave me their 4 unused CityPass booklets, and I now have free access to the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Museum of Natural History, MOMA, and a few other awesome places that I have always wanted to visit, for the next 9 days.

Yay, for Tueserdays.

Sunday

Despite my deep hatred for my new job and everything that it stands for, as well as an extreme dislike for some of the individuals that I have to work with, there are good aspects of it.

As in - Today I needed a break. Like, a breather from this last week of getting back to NYC and goingogingoingoingoingnewjobinternshipdanceworkworkwork but I was still called in to SWDA, I still took a dance class and I still had to go into work and I got there and was banished to the coatcheck room, which might just be my new heaven, because banishment to the coatcheck room equals hourly pay + tips + reading. I was told that I can't lean on the door, but I can sit and read a book.
So I did.
I got some Allyn time, where I did something I wanted to do, as in sit down and read an awesome book.
Be friendly and give patrons corresponding tickets for their NYC shopping spree crap.
And I got paid for it.
And I had very little interaction with the people I extremely dislike.

So, yea... Despite my deep hatred for my new job and everything that it entails... I'm glad coat check exists...?

Friday

It's late Friday night and I'm sitting all alone in my empty apartment. I've had quite the day, emotionally, mentally. Lots of questions, inner debates.

There is this song that I listen to sometimes... ok, a lot... it's the kind of song that makes me both extremely happy and can bring me to tears at the next second.

I don't know if it is my love of the fiddle, or the way it reminds me of how much I love contra dancing and the swing of being in a wonderful, giving, supportive community that shares many of my ideals and way of thinking and living, or maybe it is because it reminds me in its nuances, the collaboration, and conversation between the different instruments of everyday life of what it means to make it through a day, of the various things that occur, or because it can simultaneously bring everything I can even possibly feel to the surface, happiness and the thought of hearing such good music and being thoroughly impressed and in awe at the musicians' different talents and voices, and sadness at reminding of all the things that I love, but can't always have. 

it's just that kind of song for me.

The first time I heard it I stood in the living room, staring in amazement, full of happiness yet close to tears, just swaying because it somehow reminded me of why I love to move, why I love to wake up everyday - I feel hopeful when I hear this song. Things will be alright.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-31e8Nlujw

Thurdays

This morning, on my way to my internship, I watched a Buddhist monk try, failing, to swipe his metro card at Union Square.
The machines are down, and have been for several days.


This afternoon, after both my internship and my dance class, and before going to work (did I mention I got a job!? yay for $$$... even if I am just a hostess with an icky GM), I was sitting on the R train on the way back to Union Square scarfing down my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and grapes that I had packed for my lunch/dinner when a woman jumped on the train, claiming she had multiple sclerosis, and a 12 yr. she was raising alone in a shelter. I listened as I ate, until she said she accepted anything - money, food, or drink. I looked down at my half-empty Tupperware dish and after a minute of debate, held out the other half of my sandwich, and the remaining bunch of grapes.
But she never came my way.

Should I have chased her down?

Some Fall Reflections

It's a weather confused Friday in Inman, SC as I prepare to return to NYC for the 3rd time in 2 months, (I tell ya, this place seems incredibly resistant to my presence in the city!) and on the fridge are two postcards, side by side.
One says, "Portland, Oregon," held up by a SHIFT computer key magnet. The other says, "New York," held up by a dancing monkey in a hat magnet.

It's funny the decisions we make in our lifetime, the paths we choose, the things we decide to pursue and the reasons why. Of course there will always be the times where we wonder to ourselves, did I choose correctly? Is it worth it? Am I doing the right thing? And the times when we think about all the things we aren't doing because of the path we chose (I am very guilty of this, it seems I will never be completely satisfied with where I am at any chosen moment, always wanting to be everywhere at once, doing everything I possibly can... I suppose you can say that I'm an experience junkie...) and it all comes down to what we decide to do with what we have given, with how we have set ourselves up, with what we give ourselves.

When I left NYC the last time, I was confused about being able to come back, which at the moment, was the only thing I could think about - When and How do I get back here as soon as possible?
And my wise friend Marianna said, "You just have to hold what you want in front of your face like a carrot."

And I thought... I have a bunch of carrots. Like, a lot of carrots.





Thankfully, I'm 22.
It's weird to have to remind yourself of your age, but really. Everything happens for a reason, and I have to remember that just because I am not doing absolutely everything right at this moment, like I want to be doing, I have a bunch of carrots in front of my face that represent both things to do and the amount of time to get them done.
The other thing I have to remember is, "Do not put off until tomorrow that which you are willing to die without having done," and I should have no problem achieving everything I have set myself to do.
No worrying necessary.

Here are some things my friends are doing, things that help keep me motivated to keep chasing all the things I want, and to not settle, to never settle.

Olivia Rae James' blog - she is traveling and having a blast in Europe.
http://www.olivia-rae.com/

Jesse and Natalie's blog, as they travel around Sri Lanka as US Ambassador's with Training for Trusteeship:
http://storiesfromthedustyroad.wordpress.com/


That said, I had a wonderful restful time at home.
I love home, and I am most thankful that I can always come back.

Some scenes from SC:

My sunny happy home

My Tree

My Bottles

 My curious and then tuckered out kitty baby

My favorite Charlestonians, Brooklyn and Kyle

My Charleston

My Suz

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone"

Monday

I wish I had a camera to document all of the things that I am seeing, hearing, doing.

Just today - a regular Monday, so many things happened.

I saw the restaurant from Seinfeld. It is 3 blocks away from my apartment. 

Ran through Riverside Park, past the benches where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan meet in You've got Mail.

Created a cover letter and press kit for my internship, and doing a whole lot of proofreading (apparently I'm pretty decent at this... while I can't find documents hiding in the computer files, or create a dual-layer DVD, or do picture things in photoshop and indesign, I am damn good at describing the work of Shen Wei and recreating really bad previous press kits in favor of edited and revised, may potentially accurately describe the company and earn us money documents.) Yay for doing real work.

Stopped to listen to a cellist playing for Music Under New York - he was lovely.
http://www.mta.info/mta/aft/muny/
They audition to be in this program, to showcase their talents and abilities for the crowds that do not stop to hear them play. I was a little self-conscious standing there by myself in the busy bottom section of the Grand Central station, one of the places in NYC that fully exceeds all expectations of my NYC romanticism, but I couldn't pass up the moment to hear this wonderful man play one of my favorite instruments in one of the places that I could stand in all day and gaze around me in wonder at the history behind this city and the people that built it. Blows my mind. Everyday.

Also, because it reminded of videos and stories of famous musicians who play in public spaces and nobody bothers to stop and listen because they 1.) don't care 2.) don't have decent taste in music 3.) I'm not sure there is a 3rd and I refused to be that person. That said, I've given money to a cellist, a mariachi band, a violinist, an accordian player(!!) a man playing very loud steel drums from Trinidad (he yelled to me, "I'm from Trinidad!"), a Chinese man playing some very bizarre looking Chinese instrument and it was beautiful, and an opera singer in the park.
I'm gonna have to quit soon, or I really will be poor.
And even though I'm apparently a walking target for charity street team people, I have yet to give money to the Homeless Issue, Amnesty International, or Children International. I also once refused a girl selling chocolate to raise money for school but then the lady setting next to me on the subway and I exchanged looks and both ended up buying chocolate bars. The lady said she couldn't in conscience let her walk away, since she had 2 kids in school. I... am just a sucker for that kinda thing. And for chocolate. I also do not give money to people preaching to me in the subway. That is when I stick my nose in my book and stop looking around.
Seriously, that's why nobody looks at anybody else around here - otherwise begging individuals beeline for you. While not new, as I experienced a lot of this in India, it is on a very different scale.

On that note, I had Indian tonight with 2 acquaintances that I met during my study abroad time in India. Although we were all in different groups, etc. it was nice to see them, share what's been going on since we were all in India, and just see familiar faces. Of course, I promptly filled Riane in on everything, down to the haircuts.

And last but not least, (and this was the highlight of my day. Literally, I smiled all during my shower.)
I filled my roommates in on the value of an oven.
We have one, but no pans to use because they don't have ovens in India or China.
They just don't use them. So my roommates don't know what to do with one.

But now that they know lots of new things about the kitchen (like tomatoes and onions don't have to go in the fridge, bread stays fresher longer in freezer, you can put left over veggies/sauce/soup/fruit/meat in the freezer and use them again later, but the big freezers are not only for bodies, green potatoes are poisonous and you can make pizzas and cookies and cakes at home in the oven) I think they may just open a kitchen/bakery.
It was fun to see them so excited about being able to use an oven - they just never had anybody show them how to use it and now they want to have family dinners where they make things in the oven!

I hope tomorrow is just as interesting!

A new romance

 I ran across an article recently in Garden and Gun - "Redefining the Southern Belle" - that touched me. I had to share it. So I did. With my roommate. I read it. Then we all read it together. And then we talked about what it means to us, now that aren't on our own stomping grounds, to be Southern women. Now that we are out of college. Now that we have had encounters where people are interested or amused or bewildered or disrespectful of our backgrounds, our style, our accents, and our easy smiles. Now that we have learned to respect and appreciate where we are from.
We shared our experiences with each other.
And we did it while eating a plate of chocolate chip cookies in our underwear and the windows open.

It isn't something I thought I would talk about - at least not as freely as I have learned that I am capable of, once I get started. Rambling is not something new to me. Just the topic. I'm still feeling out my thoughts on the matter.
Anyways, we all agreed that it isn't something that we ever thought we would talk about. It wasn't until college that we came to value our history, our backgrounds, as Southern women.

And now, as we all sit in boiling hot apartment above a noisy street in New York City, listening to the drips and the sirens and the door slams and the traffic, feeling like dainty giants in our miniature apartment with our easy bake ovens and shared closets and no doors, and attempts to fulfill our dreams and hopes and wishes, chasing what seems attainable only in the "best city in the world", chasing lives as artists of various respects (metal works, dancer) and in various degrees, we speak of what it means, how it feels, and what will come of our transitions from lives we once detested and couldn't wait to get away from, to being proud, and yes, even a bit defensive of that life which we've (un?)willingly left behind. From tales of rude comments ("You are from SC? You speak English really well!") to invaluable words of wisdom from grandmothers (If you are uncomfortable in a new situation, the other person probably is, too. Step out, make the effort to speak to them - if you make them feel better, you'll feel better), we came to a bit of a conclusion that we couldn't seem to say properly... we are Southern. And we are capable of a great deal.
And maybe that's why we are here, in a tiny apartment above a busy city eating cookies in our underwear. We've got something to say, to show, to do, to be. And although this may be our first great springboard, we wouldn't have been able to launch if not for our backgrounds.
We look forward to people asking us where we are from. We have a lot to share.

We never really finished the discussion - just trailed into other topics, like ghosts and fine art and pixie hair cuts and the early morning run we are *going* to take/deciding to jump up and down for 20  minutes for the cardio that we missed out on this morning and tiny apartment yoga. And I'm not sure how she felt/feels about our conversation tonight, but I'm glad we talked. A bit aimlessly, and about nothing in particular, but it sure was nice to revisit what makes us unique in this big big pond.

Here is the article, and although I can't attest to all of the things the writer talks about, she sure said some of the things in just the right way:

http://gardenandgun.com/article/new-southern-belle?page=0%2C0



*provided we don't turn off our 6:30 am alarms... again.

today I watched some schoolkids try to cross the road, indulging in the freedom given to them by the parents to cross the road without them, without hands clasped. looking both ways, backpacks strapped to their tiny bodies, a few false starts prompts the tallest, and presumably the oldest girl, to utilize the Law of Life that states that The Oldest Born is the Most Wise and Therefore the Most Responsible by throwing her arm across the chest of the smaller children in her care, halting them from plunging headlong into the nonexistent traffic of Logan St. the same motion my mother does when we try to cross the road now, or when she brakes too fast in the car, a last ditch effort to save me from being propelled forward out the windshield. the same motion I do to my purse, cat, or vase of flowers that have the privilege of sitting in the front seat and therefore closest to being thrown out the front windshield when I (and I often do) brake too quickly.
And I remember that lesson, the lesson of How to Cross the Street.
I remember the day Mom asked me to go get the mail and I walked out the door, down the gravel driveway, across the road to the mailbox, to turn around and retrace my steps back to the house. Handing the mail to my mother, she looked down and said, "you didn't look both ways before you crossed that street." to which I responded with "but I used my ears and I didn't hear anything, and there was nothing in my periphery either," a new word that Carlos had recently taught me in Nutcracker rehearsals meaning to be able to see things out of the corners of your eyes without turning your head around to look and this meant nothing to my mother. She just gave me the look that all exasperated individuals use that says "you know better."
and now I'm my own crossing guard, deciding when it is safe to move forward, or better to stay put, or even when just to inch out a little bit further to see around that bush that nobody has bothered to trim back. it's the small lessons that get you through life.

the past few days have been a whirlwind of lessons learned, emotions double checked, feelings of jubilation with an undertone of relentless fear - of picture taking and hand shaking and food and dancing and long walks on the beach and long nights spent awake worrying about all of the animals and human beings that do not have shelter during big thunderstorms and conversations pertaining to adultish things that you talk about and deal with after one graduates, like What's Next and dealing with stress and benefit plans and insurance and gaining credit and aging and illness and dependency and death and loss and there are things I'm scared of and am not sure I can learn how to deal with, not sure I can make it through and there are many things out there that I can't imagine my life without, yet so many things that I can't imagine would affect me at all, as if the same Laws of Life don't apply to me, in certain situations.
And tonight my heart hurts. tonight my heart aches so badly for things that I can't believe, that I can't comprehend, for things that I don't want to believe, and that I don't want to understand. and I don't know if it is the child or the adult in me that wants to take everything and everyone I love and wrap them in a giant bubble and tie it to my wrist, so that I can keep them safe from the hard lessons, the pain, the uncertainty, the Laws of Life, to float up above my head where I know I can keep them all safe.

time

wouldn't it be great to be a camera on the bottom of the sea?
maybe a camera, an old camera, real retro, except not the 70s type
to represent age
because the sea is old
wouldn't it be great to be a camera on the bottom of the sea?
maybe a new one, that was riding on a yacht and was carefully placed in a baggie after it took bites out of time, freezing moments
carefully placed and sealed in a baggie so it doesn't get wet.
cameras are the things that matter these days
but that camera is air-sealed in that baggie on the bottom of the sea and wouldn't it be great if that camera was somehow even set with a timer and was just shooting picture after picture of the great sea
of what has shaped the earth
the old and the new combined
and then one day, years later when the sea has dried up and a man who was stranded on an island is trudging to his salvation across the great vast area that was once the bottom of the sea
maybe he was tumbling because i would assume there are many inclines and such
so is the bottom of the sea full of mountains?
wouldn't it be great if he found that camera in its baggie, dry as could be, and took it with him and had the camera opened and out came all of those pictures from years ago
releasing those time fragments and spitting out those images, the people stumbling from the camera, taking off their sun visors gingerly, pulling modestly at their swimsuits, feeling out the ground and the sea pictures melted - yes, melted - and turned from figurative sea pictures to the literal sea and snapshot after snapshot flowed out of the camera and the sea went right back into its hilly cavity and filled the earth all back up with water.
and time 

time was refilled

The small things so amazing sometimes.

When is the last time you just clicked through the speeds of your ceiling fan, click speed 1, pause and relish the slight breeze, your face lifted up towards the sky, click speed 2, and you can hear it now, a methodic whirring you can feel in the center of your being, it soothes the spot in the middle of your brain, behind your closed eyes, feel it as it seeps down your shoulders, picking up your hair and whirling it about, click speed 3, and it is really moving, trying its best to cool you down, it gets between your fingers, tracing the life lines of your palm,
and you want to share this bliss, this mystical moment of serenity.

You relax, a deep sigh, your shoulders drop a half inch and you rub the goosebumps on your forearms in delight. You smile. You're happy.

It is time for me to pick this up again.

Hope you don't mind.