Monday blues



Monday didn't start out so bad. But then it suddenly plummeted. I'm sick of pretending to be stupid to soothe people's egos. I shouldn't have to do that. I have got to start looking for a new job, although I won't be able to leave until next year. Oh well. One day at a time.



On that note, maybe I don't have to pretend. Yesterday, I locked myself in my own apartment. It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd locked myself out, but no. I possess a degree of stupidity far more developed than that. I was trapped in the little receiving area, if you will, between the main front door, and the door leading to the apartments. See, our apartment is on the top/third floor. On the second floor are two doors - the inner door, an easy turn-the-key-in-the-doorknob affair, and the bigger, meaner main door, which requires a special key to open or close. Before one gets to the main door, there is a small, 3x5-foot area, which is where I was when I realized I'd left my keys upstairs. Oh, no big deal, I thought, I'll just run upstairs and get it. It'll be an extra five minutes but I've got time. Unfortunately, I'd only managed to pivot when my left arm slammed the door after me in effect eliminating entry or exit. I calmly examined my purse in the hopes of there being an extra key, but of course I haven't had one made. I paused for five minutes to laugh at myself, until I realized that the people outside could see me because the main door is made of glass reinforced with squiggly iron. I thought I'd wait it out until my sister takes the trash out, which could be at 10 pm or the next morning. I took out a pen from my purse in the hopes of discovering a hidden talent for opening doors with a spring, but I didn't want to destroy the pen. So I thought I'd write a message, using the undestroyed pen, that I could slip under the door to the people in the car outside to ring the doorbell, but it seemed too cheesy. Finally, I started banging the inner door against its frame, hoping to make enough noise to get my sister to come down and investigate. The funny thing was, throughout the whole thing, I never shouted out a hello or a help. I just kept banging the door, like a desperate mime. After about ten minutes, my downstairs neighbor came to my rescue and while flashing him a sheepish grin, I swore to myself I would never ever again curse him (in my mind, of course) for not taking in the mail.



This weekend we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean, featuring the wonderful endearing Johnny Depp whose performance was a scene-stealer. After the movie, we had lots of time left, so we headed over to the Sam Ash music stores and oggled the pianos. My sister got a couple of Christian rock fakebooks, and I found a wonderful little thing called The Acoustic Guitar White Pages, a stand for my guitar, and some picks. Some of the songs in the tab collection were ones I'd tried to play when I got my first guitar in high school, and I was delighted to find Jeff Buckley's Lover, You Should Have Come Over and that I-learned-the-truth-at-seventeen song.



In sports-related events, I watched the Little League World Series championship game yesterday. It's way better than watching the grown-ups and their super serious games. I guess it's different when it's not a matter of livelihood. The team from Japan won against the team from Florida 10-1. When the little Japanese kids ran to bow to the Japanese God of Baseball, it was so beautiful I wish I could take a picture. You know how Amelie collected all these sort of heart-wrenching, inexplicably hopeful, joyous clips? A clip of those kids running to the god of baseball should be there.



{Almondy Many, Poundsign}

Lights out guerilla radio



At about 4:15, when the lights went out, I was calmly sitting at my desk. The generator took over but couldn't support the whole system so the lights were flickering. Co-worker Mark thought they were about to burst into flames or something horrible. I was the only one with a working light and was quite calm, at least until boss Dan said it was a city-wide blackout plus Canada, Detroit, etc. I knew getting home would be a problem, so at 5:00 I was ready to get out of there. Unfortunately, I work for a company that cares more about the business than its employees, so I ended up working overtime until 7:00 to get money out in time for the fed extension. We had to go up to the fourth floor, where they had electricity, so we had to go against the flow of people streaming down from the upper floors. Our floor's deputy fire marshal was holding open the doors to the emergency exits; he had to go home to Westchester, but had to stay to get everyone out.



Outside, a Downtown Alliance guy said I could take the ferry at Pier 11 to get to Bayridge, but I decided to stay with the group walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. That was a good decision because a lot of the people who tried to get on the ferries had to go back and walk over the bridge anyway. Four of us walked down Broadway, and split up with the people from Queens, who decided to walk back to a stop where they could get a bus to midtown. One of my co-workers, Sandy, had a heart condition, so we had to walk at a leisurely pace and stop every couple of minutes.



Earlier that day, we had gone to a class in another building (which I had a hard time looking for, so I had existing blisters from walking all over Lower Manhattan looking for the damn building). It was ironic that we had taken a cab back to the office that morning as Sandy couldn't walk far because of her heart condition, and now she was going to have to walk the mile-long bridge. I normally walk quite fast and it would have taken me about thirty minutes, but I didn't want to split up with my co-workers as I didn't know my way around downtown Brooklyn.



On the bridge, some people were walking fast. A few slow. Some people had bikes and inline skates. The tourists, who had camers with them, had a ball taking pictures. I saw a camera crew or two, and a news chopper. Some people were sitting on the benches, like it was any other hot day in New York. Pier 17, however, was virtually empty. A couple of people were walking on the car part of the bridge. Finally, a van pulled over and picked them up. Mostly, people were calm and just doing what they had to do. Pictures of the blackout here, here and here.



Finally, at about 8:30, we got to the other side, where borough president Marty Markowitz was on a megaphone shouting, "Welcome to Brooklyn! Welcome home! We've been waiting for you since 4:30! Welcome back to the big time!" By that time, it was already dark. Usually, I carry around a flashlight. Of course, that particular day was just one of those days that I decided not to bring it. Walking around in the dark in downtown Brooklyn is not pretty. Plus, that day I had also decided to wear heels and my blisters had tripled in size and number. I almost took off my shoes (I saw two pairs of shoes and a shirt left behind on the bridge. Some people apparently just walked out of their shoes and shed their clothes.), but it was getting dark and I didn't want to risk stepping on broken glass.



My co-workers, who knew I didn't know the area, walked with me until we got to a working payphone. I called my cousin-in-law for directions on which bus I could take. First, we found a bus stop for Sandy. We stood around for a couple of minutes before somebody said the bus didn't have gas. We kept walking until we found a common bus stop. It was getting hard to see the signs. Policemen and a couple of good citizens lit flares, placed them on the road and directed traffic. My co-workers' bus arrived first and I told them to go ahead, because my bus was sure to come in a few minutes.



However, one of them decided to stay behind and wait with me. I reassured her I was going to be fine, but she firmly said, "I am not going to leave you alone in an unfamiliar place." My bus arrived in a few minutes, and I was able to get a good seat and some AC, finally. I had taken the bus going opposite of the direction I actually wanted to go because I figured it would be less crowded and I'd at least be able to get a seat, and as the bus circled back, I saw my co-worker leaning against a post nonchalantly. The sight of her alone and in the dark waiting for a bus at 10 pm got me worried more than the fact that my sister was stuck in an airport somewhere in Chicago. She at least was in a safe, well-lit place, and the last time I had talked to her was watching the news, which showed people walking barefoot over the bridge.



The bus crawled along 3rd Avenue, and the driver called out the stops once in a while, for the benefit of the passengers who couldn't see the signs. The Gowanus Expressway looked like a forest, the cars parked underneath thick concrete branches. I wasn't familiar with the bus route but the person sitting beside me was getting off at the same stop. A lady got on the bus with two women she had picked up on her way down from midtown. One of them was a tourist from Missouri, who was in New York for the first time. Other passengers teamed up to get to a common destination.



I had to cross two avenues to get to my block. On one avenue, a few young volunteers had flares and were directing vehicles and pedestrians. The other was dark and not very busy, so the occasional car zoomed past at quite a fast pace. I held out my phone, hoping the LCD would be visible in the dark, and looked very carefully both ways. I thought, "I haven't gone this far just to get hit by a car."



When I finally got home at 11 pm, some of the neighboors were out on their stoops with candles and lanterns. I opened the door to my apartment and found the flashlight where I had left it that morning. I kicked off my heels, took off my cardigan (I had completely forgotten about my cardigan and still had it on), grabbed my office phone list and some quarters and went out to look for a phone booth. I made a mental note to get one of those old phones that didn't require electricity. At the corner, I started walking towards the right, and almost fell into a ditch. Then I remembered the avenue was being repaired. I walked towards the opposite direction, trying to remember where I had seen a phone booth. I passed by a pub and a guy shouted, "Happy power outage!" and held out his beer. I had, however, spotted a phone and had too much on my mind.



First, I called my co-worker's house (she wasn't home yet) and then my cousin-in-law. He was waiting for my cousin who at last contact was somewhere in Queens. My parents had called from the Philippines, wondering if I had managed to get home. Finally, I called my sister's cellphone, got her voice mail, and figured she had probably caught a plane.



I went back home, didn't feel like dinner, collected candles and flashlights and batteries, set them on the coffee table and prepared to sleep on the living room couch. At about 1 am, my sister got home. Her 5 pm flight was pushed back a couple of times until she was finally able to get on a plane to La Guardia. The airport was dark and empty, but she had no trouble catching a cab and getting home.



The next morning, at about 5:30 am, I got a call from my boss, who had been up all night calling everyone and making sure we all got home safe. She started saying I should get in however I can, and that the company would reimburse expenses. I mildly interjected and said I had the day off. I had scheduled it weeks before, because I had planned a camping trip. I wasn't sure it was going to push through, but I sure wasn't going to work either way.



My cousin Josh, who was driving us, arrived from New Jersey and we were on our merry way at 11. We had to make a couple of stops and convoy with three other vans, so we got to Lake George at about 6 pm. My sister and I had no trouble putting up our tent, which we had tried, and failed, to put up in her room a week ago. Josh had to head back to New Jersey and had to be fed, so people started putting out food, but the people with the paper plates and utensils hadn't arrived yet so we asked around until we found some.



Camp was okay. Well, actually, it was too long a trip to make for too short a time. We had planned to go parasailing but weren't able to, because of a misunderstanding in the schedule. At least we got to go kayaking, which I loved. I remember we did a lot of eating. And I haven't gone camping in a long time, so it was okay. I wish we could have done more stuff, though. We got back yesterday at 7 pm, after seven hours. Rain followed us all the way to Brooklyn. And it wasn't just short drizzles. It was pouring. We made a wrong turn somewhere on I-87, and the GPS led us out of the expressway and back again, so we had to pay toll twice. Josh had been driving eleven hours, and had to drive about three hours more.



Today, I called in sick. But tomorrow, it's back to reality.



{Home, Sean Lennon}

I'll drink my tea in silence



At lunch I visited Alexander Hamilton. Yes I know he's dead, but he lives right by the office. So I decided I'd pay him a visit. I didn't really know who he was; all I know is he's an important person because a) his grave is prominently displayed, b) he has his own little corner and c) his grave has pretty flowers around it. Anyway, I found out he died in a duel; rather, because of a duel. Cool. He's the first person whose grave I've visited who's been in a duel.



{Design and Debris, Sorry about Dresden}

Happy birthday me



I had my birthday dinner early this year as my sister is going on a vacation. Went to a Filipino restaurant (the new Krystal near Elvie's and Manila Garden) near 14th. Had pinakbet (a vegetable dish with squash, eggplants, and anchovy sauce), chicken adobo, liempo (grilled pork belly), daing na bangus (milkfish marinated in vinegar and soy sauce), lumpia (the Filipino version of the eggroll), and crispy pata (deep fried pig's knuckles). It's funny how Filipino food sounds so unappetizing when translated. It's actually not bad; an acquired taste. Most of our cuisine is derived from Spanish cooking, with a good measure of Filipino ingenuity thrown in. For dinner, we had brazo de mercedes so unabashedly sweet I felt like having a good cup of Batangas coffee (Batangas is a province in the Philippines known for its coffee beans), but I didn't know where to get one.



Another good dinner was last Thursday's, with Jenny and her Tita Luz who were in town for a couple of days, at 36 Bar and Barbecue , a Korean barbecue house. Earlier that day I had picked it out randomly from mapquest.com, and it turned out to be a good choice, considering I was working with a very tiny browser window as we aren't allowed to surf in the office. Pshew. The interior was clean and modern, the food was good, and there is a therapeutic appeal to grilling your own food. We had shrimp, fish, pork, and martinis. The crowd was mostly young professionals. Walking along 36th Street we almost missed the place but Tita Luz noticed their logo and how it smartly and subtly disguised 3 and 6. It was great to see Jenny, who is going back to the Philippines after a year-long stint in Japan. It is true that people who spend a considerable amount of time in Japan sooner or later begin to look Japanese.



All right then. I've got some turning 23 to do.



{Happy Birthday, Itchyworms}

Rainy days and Mondays



I think this is the worst Monday I've had in a long time. I was late for work yet again, because of signal problems, both mine and the train's. And then I got intense cramps and didn't feel like having anything but Tylenol with my coffee. At lunch, I wanted hot tea, but got iced. I decided to walk to Battery Park to shake some of the cold off (it was freezing in the office and yet 75 degrees AND humid out). Bad idea. By the time I got to the park, I was melting. I almost crashed into a vendor. He had a cart so I had to back off. I sat by the water where the ferry to the Statue of Liberty docks and watched the tourists, but after about five minutes my skin was hurting from the heat, so I headed back to the office to refreeze. By mid-afternoon, the sky was looking darker by the minute. And suddenly, it was pouring. By five o'clock, I was making plans for dinner in my head but then somebody called with a question and kept me for 15 minutes. Finally, at 5:30, thinking I was free, happily swinging my ridiculously small Totes umbrella, I made my way to the Rector Street station only to find out that the N,R trains weren't running because the tracks were flooded. So I walked another two blocks to Broad Street, where I found out the M train wasn't running. Somewhere between slipping and sliding (I had worn these stupid open-toed heels) and dodging umbrellas, I made the lazy but at that point smart decision to just go back to the bank and get the number for the cab company and take a damn cab to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, no one had a number, but the transport-savvy told me to just take the 4 train to Atlantic Avenue, transfer, and take a cab at Pacific Street, which is what I ended up doing. When I got off at Atlantic, it was complete chaos. People were running in all directions. Somebody had allegedly jumped on the tracks. Trains weren't running. There was a mysterious, smelly, smoky haze and there were puddles of rainwater on the ground. A claustrophobic's worst nightmare. On the third route I take, I find the exit, albeit the wrong one . I stood for five minutes at a street corner, trying desperately to remember where I was. I'd been in that neighborhood before, but I've never been good with directions. And then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a conspicuous car service sign across the highway. The wait for a cab was thirty minutes, but I would take anything at that point. Hey, for someone who still gets lost after having lived in New York (where the streets are numbered and maps are everywhere) for two years, I did pretty good.



{You're No Rock n' Roll Fun, Sleater-Kinney}

Can I buy a vowel?



What if I told you I sent for tickets to Wheel of Fortune? Would you believe me? "Nah," you'd probably say, "That's baloney! Who does that?"



Geeks who watch Wheel of Fortune almost everyday at 7:30, who have played the online game, who bought the Wheel of Fortune game board, that's who!



{The Buick, Moonpools and Caterpillars - And he said aww shucks!}