Broker from Hell!

As many of you can probably imagine, I hate living in the dorms. Not only do I hate living in the dorms but all of my friends do too. At the beginning of last year we decided that we wanted to live in an apartment. The time was now so we began our search. My mom thought it would be a good idea to bring in a broker because she has more experience than any of us in apartment hunting. Boy, was she wrong.

This woman, named Kristine, brought us to the most run down apartments I've ever seen. There were some instances where there were bugs crawling out of the drain, rooms that were smaller than Harry Potter's cupboard and other situations of the like. The worst part of it was she'd bring us to places that she couldn't get into and would beg the people currently living in it to let us in or rapping on the door for 10 minutes consecutively until one of us would suggest leaving. Some of the places we saw looked like literal fun houses. It was awful and we couldn't get rid of her. We decided to ditch her but she wouldn't let us go. She would call us and text us constantly with a new "apartment find" that was nothing but worse than the last. This woman was a nut. We found it much more productive for us to just go out on our own.

As a classic NYC moment, this is one I'll never forget. Take it from me ladies and gents, stay away from the broker. They'll do anything to get a buck. On the bright side, we recently found our apartment and signed the lease for it just now! Look at all of our happy faces.

Court is Adjourned

"You will be put in contempt if you don't settle down!" Has anyone else been to court before? Well this past week I went to court hearing and it was awesome! Maybe it wasn't as intense as I would have liked it to be but that's just because I watch way to much SVU. Anyway I went to a hearing/ protest for taxi cabs that are accessible for  handicap people. Not just a couple of taxis but all the taxis in the city.

The hearing was in City Hall which is very scary just getting in. The security there is insane, I'm sure they need all that security but it was very intimidating walking in and being checked by yourself. I went to the court room and sat in the back and felt so out of place. Everyone there was dressed up wearing suit and ties and there I was wearing jeans and a tank top. Needless to say I didn't want to stand out even more than I already did. 

The hearing was very intense. The people were arguing how it is not fair how a handicap person ( in a wheelchair) have to either call cabs and wait for hours for them to arrive or take the subway because there literally is no other option them for them to get around. And there are only a few subways that are wheelchair accessible. This one man said for someone to whom can walk can get to Williamsburg Brooklyn to Manhattan in about 20-30 minutes using the subway. For someone whom is handicap it take them about 3 hours to get to Manhattan using the subway. For handicap people to get into the city not they usually just call a car but special wheelchair accessible car takes about an hour just to get to their house to pick them up. 

The peoples' proposal is to make all taxis both wheelchair accessible and also accessible for non handicap people. This city is already in the process of making new cars for taxis, which is why the people are fighting this now so that when they start making the new taxis it will accommodate everyone. They had a diagram of what a taxi could potentially look like and estimated that it would cost roughly around 14 millions dollars to do. 

Before going to the hearing I knew that there was not wheelchair accessible taxis but I didn't know just how bad it really is and how this city still to this day hasn't done anything about it. I feel really bad and hope that their proposal passes.

A Hella Grand Bandshell

The Mall in Central Park belongs in tourist brochures. It's so picturesque and adorable with its ancient trees, immaculate pavement, and golden fountain, that it fulfills the desire for everybody's expectations of Central Park. In the middle of the main plaza here is the bandshell, a huge half-dome that projects sound outward into the scenery. When I rode there yesterday, the sun was nearly setting and the crowds had scattered. In their place were the quirky denizens of the area who seemed to be hanging out with more intent of relaxation than the normal wandering tourist. There were roller bladers weaving through cones, an exercise group jumping rope, long boarders riding in arcing curves, and a guy playing music with a saw blade.

Big bandshell, little musician.

Within the giant bandshell sat one small man with a noise-making device of some sort, and a saw blade. The device played a chimed-tune of "Sweet Child of Mine" by Guns and Roses. The man was bending his saw blade and rubbing something along it to produce a noise that was reminiscent of a sci-fi radio drama. It was a warbling uncomfortable sound that sounded uncomfortably warbly. I was positioning my camera nonchalantly to take a picture of this guy when the longboarders started circling around me.

I realized that I was being confronted somehow as I was in the middle of a longboard death ring. Riding a scooter myself, I understood the ill intentions. I looked up, one of the boarders was mouthing something and either looking at me or over my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder. Behind me was another longboarder. I recognized him.

"Ricky?" I greeted.

It was Ricky.

The other longboarder made some sort of disappointed noise then Ricky and I greased my wheels and chatted about bubbles and heart surgery.

You Kids Today!

                So in order to get out of my own house on a Saturday night, my boyfriend and I decided that we were going go over to Canarsie in Brooklyn (last stop on the L train) to visit our friend Shakiya. Now Canarsie is a quaint neighborhood in the middle of nowhere in Brooklyn with the exception of having a few ratchet and ghetto people occupy it. When we usually visit Shakiya nothing serious ever really happens; we go to either Popeyes or to the Chinese restaurant to get something to eat.
                On this specific Saturday night, Popeyes’ was the food of choice (this one specific sauce they have is to die for).
                Luckily for us, the Popeyes is placed nicely a crossed the street from Shakiya’s house so it makes our travels very easy. Just like the three little pigs, Starbucks, Shakiya, and I made our way over to Popeyes’. Since I’m difficult and not on purpose, I ordered something that wasn’t even made so we had to wait a little bit thanks to me. As we were waiting there were these two boys who could not have been older then the age of 12 years old. And they were hysterical.
                At first they got yelled at for dribbling a basketball inside the dining area. Then they went up to the worker and tried to negotiate purchasing a biscuit. The conversation that was held was this:

Young Hood Boy #1: Yo let me get a biscuit for  quarter.
Popeyes Employee: There 75 cents. So you need two more quarters.
Young Hood Boy #1: I know how much they are, I’m asking you to give me one for 25 cents.
Popeyes Employee: Nahh.
Young Hood Boy looks over and says to us: Yo this n!@@a is wack.

                At that moment I was willing to give this little kid money for his biscuit but after seeing what he did it totally changed my mind in doing so. Not only him but his little friend both pull out a nice, fat stack of money; one of them had their fat stack of money rolled in a blue rubber band and the other kid had his gently folded but in a rubber band as well. These kids had more money than I had in both of my bank accounts combined, which is a little too sad. So these ghetto fabulous boys start talking about how much money they do have and got all loud and excited, and I had to give it to them they were a great form of entertainment as I waited for my food to come (which was still NOT in my possession at that point).
                There was even three adults waiting for their food to come and they were even laughing at this free form of entertainment that was being provided for us.
                With the help of an angel my food FINALLY came, so we had to leave because we did not feel the need to eat there.
                Starbucks, Shakiya, and I are making moves to leave Popeyes and these ratchet little boys were so sweet and said by to us. That conversation went like this:

Young Hood Boy #1: Bye!
Me and Shakiya: Bye!
Young Hood Boy #2: (to me) Bye! You’re so pretty!
Us: (Laughing)
Me: Aw thank you!
Young Hood Boy #1: Yo, she’s with her man right there!

From the time we left Popeyes to the time we got back to Shakiya’s bedroom those boys was the topic of our conversation.

The Cat in the Hat-- uhmm Park?

            Luckily this past week has been b-e-a-u-TIFUL. It actually feels like spring time in New York and not spring time Russia. So when it is over 70 degrees and sunny, you’re trying not to spend a massive amount of money, and you live in the NYC, what is the stereotypical activity to do? Go to the park of course! Not any of those basic parks, you go the central one. 
            Picture it: free from class, didn’t have to see the awful kids I babysit, eating a nice pesto pasta for lunch on a subtle hill with a great amount of shade and as I’m doing this all I’m with my love Starbucks (boyfriend not drink) at the same time.
            So we are both sitting and judging and watching all the people go by. We see the mommies and daddies and of course nannies walking with their children laughing and smiling and eating ice cream. We had a nice spot right in front of the dirty water hot dog/ ice cream stand, so we saw people purchase all the hot dogs, pretzels, drinks, and ice cream they can buy. We even saw some people having a “photoshoot.” We stared at the people walking their dogs and puppies.
            All of a sudden I’m staring at all the people and I look and there’s a cat. Now I am not talking a stray cat with nasty fur and looks like he needed to be taken to the nearest shelter asap but a nice, well groomed, healthy cat. On a leash. Yes that’s right on a leash. For some reason no one paid the cat on a leash as much attention I did but I haven’t been that baffled in a long time.
            The cat and the owner were both casually strolling like this was normal. Gorgeous day out so the cat has to go out. The cat was pretty normal, like cat normal. He didn’t pee or poop on bush or get feisty with anyone from what I saw.
I will call him Larry. He will be forever known as the Leashed Feline Larry.

The disappointment in old people

There is nothing that I hate more than when I am at a club and old men that are over 60 years old start hitting on you. I don't know about you but since I've moved here I have been using my sisters id to get into clubs which means I am even younger than what these old guys think. 

Its gross and disgusting and I hate it. It makes me feel really uncomfortable and puts me in a really awkward position. These guys are old enough to be my parents and they are hitting on me.. a 20 year old girl. Don't they find that weird and really awkward? Because I would. 

Its the worst when I am at clubs with people raging on some sort of drug and crazy loud music and in the corner you see an old man that clearly doesn't not belong nor fit in with the crowd. They stick out like a sore thumb. I don't even understand why they would even want to be in that type of vicinity. Clearly this is not for their age group, they should be hanging out with people their own age and doing adult things like having dinner parties. Not trying to get shit faced on the weekends and hit on girls that are young enough to be their daughters. 

I hate when they approach me and ask me to dance and act all cool as if they know exactly what to do. Its so awkward because we are suppose to respect our elders but I can't respect men like this. I don't get what their prerogative is by being at these clubs. What are they trying to get out of it? reliving their youth? Don't they know that girls my age or even in their young 20's or even 30's are going to want to be with someone who's young and hot not old and wrinkly. 

I have nothing against old people or even old people dating young people, I just don't think old people should be at clubs that are targeted for crazy people that are young and that are trying to rage. 

Mitch

Over the weekend, my roommate, Vianni, and I met this guy. He's the one on the right (roomie on the left). He was actually the sibling of one of our friends at school. He flew in from Minnesota to visit her but didn't see much of her as he spent the majority of his time with us. 

Now I know what you're thinking. This guy is from Minnesota, not New York. That's cheating. Well, although he isn't from New York, I did meet him here and this was his first ever experience being here. Being with him while he traversed the city for the first time was exhilarating to say the least. His reactions to things like the subway, hobos, New York pizza, and other norms of the city that we take for granted was such a fun rush for Vianni and I. It was almost like reliving our first times in the city and it was a great thing to be a part of.

That was only one aspect of this guy we liked. As an openly gay guy since the middle of high school, I've come accustomed to other straight guys not digging me so much. I never had many guy friends in high school, I had felt normal in a homophobic upbringing. This guy, however, had developed one of the greatest "bro" relationship with me in the short weekend he was here. By the end of our time together we felt so comfortable with each other. We'd laugh, rough house, and just be guys. It was almost like an experience I've never had before. I have guy friends now in college, but nothing like the level Mitch and I had in two days. When he left, we had a final text exchange (yes, we were at texting level). This message was actually one of the heart warming compliments I've ever received. Mitch might be the best example of someone who I'll never want to forget despite the fact I'll probably never see him again. It was definitely the perfect RememberMeNYC. 

Showtime!

"What time is it?"
"Showtime!"
"What time is it?"
"Showtime!"

Every subway dance crew introduces themselves the same way. Apparently, if you can Breakdance, you don't wear a watch. That's a bad joke.

I enjoy a good subway dance. One time, while crossing into Brooklyn, a teenager was doing actual backflips in the middle of the train car in front of me. Keep in mind, the ceilings are maybe seven feet tall. The dude doing flips is not, however, the subject of this post. That title goes to this little guy and his buddy:

The backflipping swingamajig

They started their show like any other, by asking for the time. They informed me it was indeed showtime, so I begrudgingly squeezed against the door to give them room. The train car was crowded. Too crowded to fit a dance routine. Whatever, these kids were tiny.

They pulled out their mobile boombox and pressed play. "I can be a freak. I can, I can be a freak," began playing. I laughed. I thought the song was hilarious. That's about when the first little breaker began showing off some fancy footwork. Amateur stuff. He didn't deserve a dollar. Yet. The second little dude jumped in and did the same footsy moves. Then he started swinging on some poles. It was cool, I guess. The first kid came back in. He grabbed two poles and did a backflipping swingmajig. While doing so, he came dangerously close to kicking an old guy in the face. His partner took over for the finale. That kid started spinning on his freaking head. His legs were swinging around all willy-nilly. Then he fell on his friend. Of all people to fall on when spinning on one's head, I guess a dance partner is a safe candidate.

All in all, it was a very moving performance. We moved all the way from Canal street to Prince street. Another bad joke. Honestly though, I respect those kids to death. My friends gave them dollars. I didn't because I spent all my dollars on delicious Neuro drinks. Next time, I swear.

Judging

You know when you are walking down the street and based off the way people are dressed, you judge them. Everyone does this, I for sure do. 
I was on the train heading to Astoria when I looked over to my left and saw this girl sitting there by self wearing all black with pink hair. She was different. My first reaction was wow she's weird. She looked really punk rock emo. 
After fully judging her I realized that I shouldn't be judging her. I don't know her or anything about her. For all I know she could be the nicest person but just by the way she dressed I would approach someone that dresses like her. 
I don't know why I do this, I can't help it but I just naturally do it with out even realizing. Thinking about it, this is what everyone does. But why? We can't help ourselves we just naturally do it without thinking about who that person really is. We just judge with based off of what they look like, that is our decision factor to if we want to talk to them or not. It really pathetic to what our society has come to but  there is nothing we can do about it. The sad part about it is that most go out their lives only interacting with certain people based off their appearance and how they present themselves. People always say "don't judge a book by it's cover" but people always do. It's hard not to. 

Sassy Cycler

Alright, so this sassy cycler decided to be all sorts of sassy to us two nights ago. It was actually hilarious and we were all laughing afterwards, but the fact remains that he was sassy.

We were walking from a birthday dinner with our friend Lauren and this guy pulls up next to us. We were talking and laughing and being loud as we college kids do, and he was kind of listening into our conversation. He started flirting with our friend, Grace, saying that he liked her hair and complimenting her. We laughed because we were so shocked and then we just kept walking because it was just really uncomfortable. So then, this guy pulls up at the next stop light and started revving his engine whenever we'd start talking so we couldn't hear each other. We didn't really understand what was happening so our friend Victoria shouted out, "Are you having fun!?" and he started laughing. So then I started laughing, naturally, and he called me out on it. This just made me laugh harder but he kept prying, "what're you laughing at, kid? huh? what're you laughing at?" So eventually I just blurted out, "YOU!" and so then he started laughing as well and continued to rev his engine.

It got more awkward because we kept running into him at various different lights. It hit me randomly that this is the perfect blog post, so here we are! The sassy cycler drove away eventually and we laughed about it the entire way home.

Audrey Brought Us Together

        I have no idea why but ever since I read a biography on Audrey Hepburn, I am slightly obsessed with her. There is just something about her that makes her influential to me. Since I read the story about her life  I weirdly retained a lot of information from it. Since I am so obsessed, I saw a magazine with her on the cover and I just had to have it.
        I was with my friend Shakiya when we did a nice quick stop at Duane Reade so I could purchased the Vanity Fair. After I brought my magazine, I was flipping through it quickly as we were waiting for the worst red light ever to change, Shakiya goes, "so who is this chick?" I went on a whole rant about how she was a

depressed person and how much of a fashionista she was and how beautiful she was and how many languages she could speak. As i was saying all this there was an elderly woman next to me listening in, knodding, and smiling as if she was agreeing with everything I had to say because my facts were legit. She also seemed impressed that I knew this much information about her from someone so young. As I took a pause from my rant, this elderly woman chimes in to say "she was also a great actress."

A Bunch of Old Men

It's Sunday morning. I was riding my scooter to the laundromat to pick up an IKEA bag full of tightly pressed, fresh-scented garments. I rounded the corner by LIC High School where the football field meets the tennis courts and heard a cacophony of male chatter. Producing this noise was a cluster of leather jackets and grey hair numbering 50 strong. Every man in this group (which was every person in this group) was babbling away to every man around him. It was a mobile mass of conversation, locked into itself by the impenetrable bond of gossip.

The noise was amazing. It made me think of flocks of birds where every bird is squawking away endlessly. I imagined tossing a rock into the group and causing all 50 heads to turn and yell at me in unison. I didn't toss any rocks.

Strangers

Have you ever had a friend of friend's live with you for over a month? Well I have and I will say it is not as scary as it may seem. My friend Austin who I met last year in the dorms I became really close with. This year he decided to live in Brooklyn but while he was apartment hunting he stayed with us. Which was fine because we knew him but what he didn't know was that he also decided to have his friend "stay" with us too. At first he just said that he was coming for the weekend to out go to parties with which was fine. Little did we know he ended up staying with us for over a month. 

Nathan at first was hard to be feel comfortable around me and my roommates. He is a very shy kid.
Needless to say it took him a while to warm up to us but eventually he did. 

Over the month of him staying with me I've learned that he is a very interesting kid. He is 23 years old and has had a rough childhood. He was going from house to house, I could only imagine how hard it must be jumping from house to house and not having a stable place to call home. I felt so bad for him i just wanted to help but I truly didn't know how. All I could do was provide him with shelter. He was so grateful for everything we have done for him. 

At first it was a bit awkward him living with us, we didn't anything about him. We weren't scared we were more curious about where he came from. 

After a month of him living with us we all became really good friends. He had to leave because our landlord saw him staying here for weeks at a time and was not okay with that. It was sad to see him go but it was for the best. 

He now lives in Brooklyn and have a 9-5 job. He definitely has his life together now and I couldn't be more happy for him. I still occasionally see him on weekends at parties, its good to catch up with old friends. 

Bus Time Serenity

Last week I had the misfortune of having to commute to FAO Schwarz to work right in the middle of my spring break. This meant waking up at the crack of dawn, catching a train, and booking it from 34th Street up to 59th and 5th to work. Needless to say I wasn't looking forward to it.

If I known how crazy the reality of the situation would've been I would have went to bed earlier. First of all the coffee I had that morning ran through me faster than ever so I was running to the nasty train bathroom and into random Starbucks streets to relieve myself. Then there was a spring break rush through FAO that was so overwhelming I wasn't ready for it. Especially on a random Wednesday?

Then after work I practically ran to Port Authority to catch my bus at 5:30 that was pulling away when I approached but stopped (kindly) to let me on. I was exhausted. The day was so much crazier than I had anticipated.

I couldn't find an empty seat for myself so I sat next to a woman I didn't know. Her face was as baren as mine and she looked defeated. We shared no words but had a non verbal agreement that we'd be sitting next to each other in silence because neither of us had the energy. I dozed off shortly after and woke up to find nearly every person on the bus past out. I had a moment of serenity at this point. I'm so accustomed to living a high paced life and don't give myself time to rest. These people lead similar, if not crazier, lives than I have and they were all happily snoozing away. It was kind of a reality check of how fast paced New York really is and the toll it takes on everyone around. I spent the rest of the bus ride awake creepily observing each person sleeping. The only people conscious on that bus were me and the driver, and it's a moment I won't soon forget.

(Pictures taken from Google, not from myself)

Highs and Lows

I was on a rocky hilltop in Central Park when I heard a kid say, "look how high we are! But look how low we are!" I turned. There were two kids hopping around the rocks. One of them repeated, pointing downhill towards the park interior, "look how high we are." He then turned and pointed towards 5th avenue and the towering buildings, "and look how low we are!"

That kid got me thinking.

I thought about the exhilaration of being on a mountaintop. The power that comes from elevation. I thought of kings in their thrones looking down upon their subjects and breathing with confidence of prestige. I thought of the countless young professionals who flock to New York City and begin their march upwards on corporate ladders, who one day must look down at the rivals they surpassed, the promotions they received, the apartments they upgraded away from, and the power they accumulated.

I then thought about the same young professionals who must constantly look upwards at their next expected promotion, the larger apartments, the raise in salary, and the power which they don't yet have. I thought of emperors who conquer continents but aren't satisfied knowing that there exists more land overseas beyond their control.

I wondered how much of what these kids were saying was mere innocence, and how much had been absorbed from the city around them. We were in a place where contempt doesn't exist - where the dream is not of acquisition, but of chasing. In New York City, nothing is good enough. There is always something worth working toward, something nicer around the corner. We can celebrate the journeys we've made only to drown in the harshness of staying still. The heights we've reached will always be dwarfed by our potential.

Or maybe the kids were talking about rocks and buildings. Either way, they continued playing and I searched the clouds for familiar shapes.

Skank Alert!

           We have all been in that situation where you are sitting next to someone you do or don’t know and you can’t but listen to their conversation. Well, this very situation happened to me as I was on my way up to the Bronx, on a very long train ride (due to “train traffic”).
                So one girl’s name was Tiffany and the person she was talking to was named Evie. Evie and Tiffany’s conversation was usual/ unusual for a train ride. The point I tuned into the conversation was when Tiffany got a “hickey from someone at a party because of a dare.” It was all downhill from there. Both of them went into another conversation about how a few months ago Tiffany had sex with that same person. At this point I was not judging. Young, in college, cute guys, yolo. So that conversation about sleeping with guy #1 happened, Evie asked “was guy #1 (can’t remember the name) better then Joe?” Tiffany: “Eh, the same level.” I’m still thinking yolo. An awkward silence happened for about 10 seconds and Tiffany says “Joe had a bigger ‘man part’ then guy #1.” My mind Of course it was. Evie continues on saying, “it’s kinda funny how you’ve hooked up with that whole crew.” They were laughing and I was laughing too but it was so hard not to show it though; I think I got a cramp from holding it in. Why? Cause I wasn’t thinking yolo anymore, I was thinking “you a stupid hoe.” Whenever someone has said you have managed to hook up with a whole crew, then you have crossed the line of “just having some fun. I also thought “this girl is trying to get the h.i.v. Tiffany made a face like “I know but. . .”
                At this part of their discussion I was zoning out because I was over being on this train and wanted to get off already.
                When I zoned back in, Tiffany was saying how she really hoped things with Frankie worked out cause he’s really cute and extremely sweet. She also made a point on how she hopes he doesn’t find out about her hookup with Ian, because Frankie and Ian talk a lot and is friends with the crew.
                Who knew it was so easy to manipulate people into thinking you’re not interested in what they have to say. It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3- have your headphones in, don’t make eye contact, and “check the time” every once in a while.