Please Don't Feed the Animals

So, I'm walking down to Citi Bank to withdraw some cash for the long weekend, when I pass Penn Station and there stands this big guy with a black back pack on his back. I didn't notice he was shouting until I got up closer to him (while pretending to mind my own business, of course) but as I approached I realized he was shouting at an even larger man in front of him.

"Fuck you, mutha fucka...cause you fuckin wit the wrong man..." he's screaming at the top of his lungs as New York's finest looks on, just as entertained as the rest of us. I'm still passing by, however, at a record low speed.

The larger man retorts, "Get the fuck atta heah! You not gon' do nothin anyway." At this point the first guy starts taking off his backpack, and I start moving faster. It's none of my business anyway. I wait with baited breath to hear gun shots behind me as I approach the crosswalk at 34th and 7th.

So, I'm standing at the corner of 34th and 7th in the crowed of hat-and-coated strangers waiting for the light to change and the traffic to clear when a man with rolling luggage walks by and accidentally drags his suitcase over another man's foot. He mumbles something, and the man with the maimed foot protests, "Well it's not my fuckin fault guy, you should watch where your goin." The victim has an accent, who the hell knows from where. Now the luggage baring tyrant turns around with a v-shaped brow, "I wasn't fuckin talkin to you! Why don't you just mind ya fuckin business!?" He starts to turn back towards Penn Station, and I'm assuming the spat has been settled. (Keep in mind this is LITERALLY 10 feet away from the backpack throwing guy.) Instead of the argument breaking up, the toe-victem decides to keep talking. What he says is now inaudible because I've started my decent from the explosive situation, inching my way into oncoming traffic because it seems like the smarter decision. All I hear is the clack of the suitcase-man's luggage handle to the wet pavement, and the rustle of a thick leather jacket coming off. A fight ensues as sirens sound in the background behind me (I'm halfway across the street by now) and I can only wonder which debacle the cops are coming to break up first.

As I cross the street, I'm thinking New York needs to take a nice long drag from the happy pipe and stop fighting with each other.

Then I walk into the Citi Bank ATM line and get cut in front of by a mousy brown haired woman wielding a roll-along suitcase. I bite my tongue and simply exclaim, "Happy Holidays" as the woman scowls at me from the corner of the first available machine.

QUESTION: Does luggage make you cranky, or do I just have a conflict magnet hanging from my ass cheeks?

Next fight I encounter, I'm jumpin in.

Living in a "Sucked Orange"

As I made my way through the crowd of a million people yesterday around 5pm, a thought occurred to me. I fucking hate crowds. I thought this was a quality only grumble-pusses like my father have; the hatred for a bizillion people surrounding you at all times. But the sad truth is, while trapped between an increasingly slow moving tourist with a stroller and a woman behind me invading my lung space with a blazing hot cigarette, I could envision what I might do (er...accomplish?) if I had a gun in my hand at the time.

It's not just the people that make this tiny city feel even smaller. It's the whole environment. The sun-blocking skyscrapers that seem to lock in the stale air on days with no wind. The confinement of the subway, and how you can go in with the early evening light on your back and come back out into total night wondering how the day could dissipate so quickly. The transit from cab to bus to train, sitting in cramped spaces shared with coughing strangers while trying to balance an enormous umbrella on your lap.

It's also the difference between the wide open space of California or Texas. How one can look outside their window and see an uninterrupted horizon before them. How one's eyes can float over miles and take in land, trees and water in one vast scape. It's what I miss most when I look outside my office window only to see brick, cement and a mess of floating cars below.

There are times (though increasingly less, maybe it's the weather) when this used to comfort me. Instead of bars, the closeness of New York felt more like insulation. Like my padding from the outside world. I could retreat to the underworld of the subway and find myself somewhere on the other side of the city, somewhere besides my hollowed apartment in Bed Stuy. I undoubtedly have learned skills that you just don't learn in places like San Francisco. Like how to zone out some of the most disturbing noises (the screech of an approaching train, the rumble of the subway beneath the sidewalk, the police sirens that pass down 34th street every 5 minutes...)

I live in a city (Brooklyn) of about 6 million people. 6 million people in a city about as big as my home town in California, Oakland; population 400,000. I think that in places like New York one can easily loose themselves, but if they don't it says a lot about them. I've come across so many people here striving to become something other than who they really are. Hiding behind the rush and the atmosphere of New York, muddling their voices in cliches and becoming empty posers. When I first got here I marveled at those who were nothing like the people I knew from home. Now I just miss the kindness of a stranger saying, "excuse me" when they bump into you on the street.

Seeing D

Aside from the unfortunate circumstances, seeing D this past weekend was like a breath of fresh air. Laughing with him, holding hands, going out to dinner, having someone open doors for me and walking with the security of his hand on the small of my back. Sounds sappy, but these are the things you miss when your over 2,000 miles away from the one person you love the most.

Same ole us. Corny jokes, wise cracks and upside-down observations all the day long. We laugh at weird shit, but what can I say...it's the tie that bonds us.

Of course, Sunday was to worst. Time scattered away from us and every five minutes felt like five seconds. Before we knew it, it was time again for that familiar drive to the airport.

A drive that is beginning to get old for both of us.

I'll see him in December...28 days or so from now. The count down, inevitably once again starts over.

Um...Burrrr!!!

It was a blazing 27 degrees this morning when I woke up today.

Let me repeat...

It was 27 degrees outside this morning.

Anytime the temperature is lower than my boyfriend's age....I'm not going to be a fan.

I bundled up in my winterist winter coat and boots. My ears were frozen by the time I reached the subway station (3 blocks from my house). My glasses were somehow frosted, and my hair which was damp when I left, was somehow DAMPER.

I am not amused by this. This is not my idea of winter. My idea of winter involves a light jacket, long pants and flats. I am not privy to resembling a penguin when I leave the house for work.

Butta Face

I know there are hoards of people who are absolute and total fans of

Micheal "The Fish" Phelps.

And I agree that....well...swimming does his body good.

But...seriously...the face???...

...Thats what I call; undeniable FUG.

Not Awesome....

It's raining tonight. Just like the old days with D, I cracked open my window and laid down letting the sound of free falling water lull me to sleep. Then the room was filled with the noise of a screaming siren...

....and then another.....

.........and then another........

I guess I miss the California-quiet. I never even knew it existed till now.

Lost and Found

Sometimes its good to look back on how you felt...it can put into perspective exactly how you got to where you are.

April 7th, 2008

Loosing. Loosing money, or friends, or love, or time, or Metro cards. Something once solely possessed thrown to the gods. Placed back into the universe as though it was never yours to begin with. Do we posses any possessions but ourselves? A sense of ownership must be impossible if what we "own" can be taken from us. We leasers on life, looking to pay dues to the financiers who hold us hostage. I find that what I posses dissipates like muddy water through my fingers. As though its depths were just an illusion. Its only purpose; to lure me into giving my heart to the idea that something could truly belong to me...

...Surely this is not a lesson in love or money. But something godly; of earth, of substance. I feel like the answer is inside me. I just haven't found it yet...

...He didn't say "I love you back. He acknowledged that I'd said it, but nothing in response. Does he not love me? Have I worn him thin? I feel as though he is and always will be lost to me. Something I may have never possessed at all.

Ashley

Kanye West....WTF?!

Not to take anything away from Mr. West here... I mean he IS an amazing artist. His energy is high, releasing an album every year since 2004 and producing countless singles and albums for other artists since 2001; and his music is far from ordinary. He takes hip hop to another level and much like Jay-Z, Pharrell Williams (of N.E.R.D.) and Mos Def (my personal fave) he has raised the bar for urban music to a level that few can reach. Having said THAT....

...WTF, Kanye??

After his win at the MTV EMA's (European Music Awards) this past week , West was quoted saying, "I won nothing last year and I'd brought out Stronger. Then this year, just because I was there, I won best urban act. This was Lil Wayne's year." But the gush of appreciation didn't end there...he went on to say, "Britney Spears over Rihanna? Are you serious? I mean fucking Jared Leto? He's my boy but he shouldn't have won over some of those other artists."

Well, I'll admit that Jared Leto might be far from America's favorite list of artists and I'm DEFINITELY not a fan of the whole "blood bath" scenario at 30 Seconds to Mars' concerts; but they're concepts are one of a kind, the music is sincere and their videos are something to take note of, not to mention it's EUROPEAN music awards, and their taste is usually far different that that of the US. As far as Britney over Rihanna is concerned...I can't argue, that was an entirely unfounded choice and obviously a corporate decision given her embarrassingly wobbly (and by wobbly I mean the 'fat-jiggle') performance she gave at the VMA's last year. Kanye should be thankful he got an award and graciously accept. Shut up, count your millions and stop complaining about all the love your getting that you probably deserved last year; better late than never.

BUT....it doesn't stop there, folks.

West was also quoted as saying, ‘‘I realize that my place and position in history is that I will go down as the voice of this generation, of this decade, I will be the loudest voice... It’s me settling into that position of just really accepting that it’s one thing to say you want to do it and it’s another thing to really end up being like Michael Jordan.’’

So how does Kanye get this honor of being dubbed "the voice of this generation"? A Michael Jordan reference? Was their a 1/8 of a lifetime achievement award he received that I've somehow missed?? He undoubtedly is a large influence in hip hop music today, but lets not forget that the world does not revolve around hip hop music. He's not an actor, a painter, an activist, a diplomat or anything much more than an, albeit amazing, producer and lyricist. Although his music touches people of all preferences, it's still soundly considered Urban Hip Hop. Being "the voice" of a generation, at least in my humble opinion requires more than just that. I mean, he's really dumbing down the potential of this generation by naming himself the King.

With all of the musical influences of the past decade, Kanye has definitely ruled the commercial music scene for the last 4 years, but his place is hardly in same halls of The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Prince, Marvin Gaye, Bob Marley or Elvis Presley (pick your era)... I think he's still got some proving to do. And if he thinks his job is done after 4 or 5 short years of being a household name, his light will end up burning out quicker than he can imagine.

Sorry Kanye, but as far as being the voice of my generation....

you gotta speak up a little louder to speak for me.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

NBC canceled Lipstick Jungle...the show I first scoffed at then became addicted

to via Hulu (http://www.hulu.com/) and found to love and adore.

I'm so sad.

Productivity= The Burn Before the Crash

I've been pretty productive this week. Between keeping my home life in order, posting on my beloved bloggy-blog, juggling final projects in two classes, working a busy day at my day job and throwing in a new night job for good measure, all while keeping a long distance relationship going and preparing for our future... I have to say I'm not quite overwhelmed. I slip in homework where I can fit it, even if it means shoving a sandwich in my face while typing up part of my essay at work. I've been managing to get everything done and even fit in a quality-time phone call with my Grams (which is hard to do since I can't email her and there is a 3-hour time difference.)

The only thing that singes my pantie lace is the fact that every time I seem to get my life in order...JUST A LITTLE...right when I'm feeling like I can handle this whole adult thing....something catastrophic happens that not only derails me, but totally annihilates my motivation. I'm not talking your average issue, like an argument or a checking account mishap, I'm talking about something major...like a serious ailment, or getting fired, or getting cheated on. Something that kidnaps my focus and throws me back to square one in one single swipe.

I'm treading lightly.

So I'm hoping that this post, my very own little shout out to the winds of the universe, serves as an intentional JINX to that whole scenario. I'm begging the "schedule gods" and the "relationship gods" and the "health gods" and whatever else is out there to please be cool. Just let me have this long enough to prove to myself how awesome I really am. Give me till the end of the year...

...I can handle disaster a whole lot better when D is there to catch me.

10 More Days!!!

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!

I can't wait to see my baby!!

Ugh...Subway...Ugh...Monday

This morning I left brisk fully in time to catch the early train. I stepped on and found a seat quickly. I pulled out my borrowed copy of 'Promenade of the Gods' by Koji Suzuki (author of 'Ring') and settled back into it's mysterious story plot. I didn't expect much disturbance (aside from whats typical in my commute; crowded train, occasionally giving up a seat for the elderly lady or pregnant woman..) when at the VERY next stop a rather large woman- scratch that...a rather SHREK -like, Ogre-esque, Man-woman- got onto the train and decided to set her sights on the seat that was as yet unoccupied between myself and another girl. Since this was the 3 train, which has bucket seats and not a smooth bench like the 4, terror caught my eyes as almost as if in slow motion I watched the lady shift her purse to the front and sit down forcing me to slide over onto the ridge between the two seats next to me. "Ashley, why didn't you just move to the next seat over?" I'm sure your asking this most obvious question. Well, see occupied in the next seat over was HALF THE ASS of another larger than life individual, a man about my age who probably stood about 6'4" and well over 350lbs. I was left with two halves of two chairs and the ridge between them gently sodomizing my ass crack with every bump and turn of the train (not to mention I had on tights so I was sliding around like a hockey puck.

With all of the warning and caution signs MTA puts up for it's passengers...all of the "DO NOT LEAN ON DOOR" signs and "NO FOOD OR DRINKS ALLOWED" signs...WHY on earth don't they have a "IF YOU CAN'T FIT, PLEASE DON'T SIT" sign visible? Of course I'm not discriminating against those who eat 30 meals a day, that's totally their business. However when it forces me to be molested by the subway train seat through 15 stops for 45 minutes, well then it becomes MY problem.

I am griping because of this, and because it's Monday and because I'm tired and crampy and because this is precisely what a blog is for.

Happy fucking Monday.

Deafening Silence

My room is mostly quiet. The only time I ever watch movies or stream from the internet my headphones are on and my room is left behind. Then when I take the headphones out of my ears all I can hear is silence. Tonight I actually heard my food digesting. Heard it sloshing and turning like the rinse cycle. It made me realize just how deserted the space between my bedroom window and my head actually is. I even talk to D in silence. All that can be heard is my incessant clicking on the keyboard and my breathy exclamations when he writes back something funny (which is often). Then I step outside my apartment and I'm invaded with sound. I feel like two different people. I can't wait to be one again.

Paper Made of People

I think I was one of those kids who always had to be challenged. When the room got quiet, and my mother's crumbling attempts to entertain me finally tired, I would bounce around the living room on my tippy toes and ask a thousand questions.

So I grew up to become the kind of woman who asks a thousand questions and thirsts for something else to tire me. Every time I press myself, I've been able to rise to the occasion. Walking out, showing up, flying away and coming back are four of the most important things I've ever done in my life. And each step brought me to my knees in ways I couldn't contemplate surviving. But after being broken down, then jumping with my eyes closed shut, and holding my breath while the bubbles surfaced I always seemed to find my air. To the point where I almost look forward to drowning a little bit.

ON A TOTALLY UNRELATED TOPIC

These days, loneliness has taken on a new meaning. It's not like I don't have any friends. I'm either at work or chillin with Tia (and her new man, we'll call him "Ant") or Etienne or my room mate Monica. Throw in a second gig, and the occasional show or lounge and I have to admit there are very few moments of boredom. Plus it takes little to amuse me these days...

...But by "loneliness" I mean missing familiarity. New York is familiar to me, but in a different way. In a way that speaks to my new skin, and not to my long term memory. I was on the train the other night coming home from Manhattan; watching one of the back cars on the 4 train empty with every stop that passed. It was just me and this sleepy old guy for a while. He was thin with tissue paper skin and dusty faded eyes. His khaki fisherman hat reminded me of my great grandfather Henry, whom I barely knew and don't quite recall if he ever even wore that kind of hat. For a second we shared several passing glances; the kind you exchange when your trying to observe someone without letting them on that your paying attention. I was in the middle of wondering how old he was, when he held my glance long enough to expose a weepy smile that then faded slowly back into a firmly held line. It was just a second, but in that second I realized my mother was right; people don't smile as much in New York, at least not to strangers. But when the old dude smiled at me (or strangely...laitly...when anyone does) I was half filled with warmth and half with sadness. That which is familiar to me is miles away. Many, many miles away. The stretch of shops near Merit Lake in Oakland, the hills you pass on the drive up to Sacramento that my sister and I always used to think were really dinosaurs hidden under blankets of wild white-brown grass...

...When an old man who smiles at you on the train almost brings you to tears, you know it's time for some familiarity.

T.G.I.F.

I'm happy the weekend is finally here, and I can scratch one more day off the calendar. Even though it's rainy outside and I have no rain coat (at least not with me). I'm happy that I can sleep in tomorrow and still get to be productive. I'm happy that tonight I'll come home tired and ready for sleep. Mostly, though I'm happy that D is finished with his project at work that has been sucking the fun out of him lately. He can finally get some sleep and be his cheerful self again. Yay!

Proposition H8

Proposition 8- the ban of gay and lesbian marriage- has passed in California and the sacred bond of union is now "safely" back into the hands of male/female couples who so clearly keep to it's tender meaning...

Like these people:

There is nothing wrong with believing that marriage should be kept between a man and a woman. But there IS something wrong with taking away the right for people to make that choice for themselves.

An Awesome Day for Women!

Obama's victory over McCain didn't just usher in our first "global" president and our first Black president. It ushered in our first Pro-Choice president in 8 years! Hoo-ray for women's health!!


To sign up for the Planned Parenthood of New York Action Network and get involved in women's health issues and improvement, click here.

The After Glow

I'm feeling awfully patriotic today....and for someone who is NOT patriotic, that's a pretty astounding feat.

History Has Been Made

We not only have the first Black President....
We also have a just plain fucking awesome President.

A "Throw Back" If You Will

In honor of today's election, I am re-posting a post from June that I wrote about my thoughts of Obama running for Prez.

Click here to jump to the post.

Happy Vote Day!!!!

Hello November...

Being so far away from "home" always feels worse when things get a little crumby. Like when some loser fuck-tard steals your debit card info and decides for go on a $27 shopping spree. I'm sure my cell phone bill money went MILES for those Nazi bastards (anyone rude is a Nazi, that's just how I see the world). It just feels more like a Monday when my family is all the way in California and my sweetie is all the way in Houston.

My room mate Monica and I are planning to have our own little sad version of Thanksgiving this month. With the prices of airfare shooting through the roof and neither of our families being "holiday-people", we have opted to save our money and make a feast of our own. We'll probably make some concoction from my favorite Caribbean cookbook, and have a big bottle of wine. We'll sit on pillows on the floor and listen to Shiny Toy Guns before heading out on the town. It will definitely mark my most unorthodox Thanksgiving I've ever had, but none the less it will be memorable I'm sure.

With my next visit to D a do-able 18 days away and the historical election in less than 24 hours, there is much to look forward to. In the mean time, I'm grateful that hot coffee is available to keep my frosty fingers company. I look forward to the leaves in New York continuing to amaze me with their slow transformation into golden brown and sappy red. I look forward to the snow that will surely come, and to it's tight encumbered crunching under my feet. And for the things to come after the new year.

Halloweeeeeeeen 2008!

My first holiday in NYC, and it wasn't all bad.
But why blog when you can upload photos.....

More to come soon!

Happy Birthday!!!

For those of you who don't know me personally, I've had an unhealthy obsession with Hello Kitty since birth... Today is her fabulousnesses birthday, she's 32 years old.