It is a rare occasion that I get to teach my boyfriend or Swedish friends an English word or phrase they don't already know. While experiencing the horror of riding the subway home together during rush hour last week, I used and subsequently explained the expression pet peeves to Klas. Now it's been coming up all over the place... yes Jamie, including your most recent post :)
There is no direct translation for pet peeve in Swedish. That is not to say that Swedes do not suffer from the particular or often continual annoyances that get under our skin, they simply do not have a word or phrase to describe them. The English language, I have realized, does not have a word or phrase to describe the opposite of a pet peeve--something small or particular that brings you delight. I find that strange, and as someone fascinated with language, I have been struck by the idea that there seems to be more English words to describe negative feelings and things than there are words to describe all things positive and wonderful. (If I ever go to grad school, I think I may just have a topic for my dissertation right there.)
So, in the spirit of being positive, and because my personal list of pet peeves is longer than I'd like to admit, here are a couple peeve-me-nots:
People who give up their seat on the subway for pregnant or elderly women
Young children with very good manners
People with large vocabularies
Roommates who do their own dishes
Punctuality
Chewing gum with a closed mouth :)
When someone holds the door open for me on the elevator
Strangers who make eye contact when walking by
People who are humble...especially when they have good reason to be proud
March 26, 2008
March 24, 2008
Weekend Trip to Washington DC
Klas and I took an enjoyable four hour bus ride from New York to the nation's capital and spent this past weekend exploring a city that neither of us had ever been to. It was fun for both of us to be tourists together for once. We managed to do and see everything we had hoped to in such a short time. The highlights included The Mall (Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, etc), the White House, the Arlington Cemetery and dinner with a friend of mine who goes to school in DC. We also really enjoyed riding the extremely clean and modern metro which was a nice change from what I have become accustomed to in NY.
Everything went smoothly and I think we were both pleasantly surprised by how much we liked the city. It was a perfect vacation for me and was great quality time for the two of us to be together.
In front of the Capitol Building.
View of the Washington Monument from the Lincoln Memorial.
Klas at the WWII Memorial.
JFK's grave at Arlington Cemetery.
Washington Monument behind the boy.
Magnolias and cherry blossoms were out in full force.
Everything went smoothly and I think we were both pleasantly surprised by how much we liked the city. It was a perfect vacation for me and was great quality time for the two of us to be together.
In front of the Capitol Building.
View of the Washington Monument from the Lincoln Memorial.
Klas at the WWII Memorial.
JFK's grave at Arlington Cemetery.
Washington Monument behind the boy.
Magnolias and cherry blossoms were out in full force.
March 19, 2008
In Her Shoes
Shoes are funny. If you stare at people's feet long enough shoes become comical. Why do we wear these covers over our feet? The obvious answer being to protect them of course, but why do we wear the shoes we do?
I have always been kind of a shoe person. Not necessarily in a Carrie Bradshaw kind of way but I always notice what people have on their feet. I am of the opinion that you can tell a lot about a person simply by checking out their footwear. Are they professional or casual? Do they go for comfort or style? Are they American or European? I swear it. I have the peculiar ability to tell what country someone comes from just by glancing down at their feet. European men, for example, tend to wear pointier shoes than American men. Italian men and women have a thing for snake skin shoes and sadly, Americans are pretty much the only people who think a clean pair of white sneakers are cool enough to wear for a night out on the town. I have, in fact, been known to be able to pick out all the Scandinavian men in the club when we are out in New York. What I never admitted before though, is that I often do it by first noticing their shoes.
I think my mind has been on shoes more recently because I just bought two new pairs of high-heels. Seeing as how I am 5'8" and have never felt the necessity to make myself any taller than I already am, I typically don't sport any shoe with more than a one inch heel, if any heel at all. Lately though, I have embraced my tallness and had the urge to learn to walk in more challenging (and inevitably more uncomfortable)shoes. Why you might ask? I'm not sure other than the fact that I see women of all shapes and sizes walking in gorgeous heels everyday and that I have a 6'2" tall boyfriend for the first time in my life. The experience of learning to balance in my seriously stylish kicks has made me pay even more attention to people's shoes around me. I now marvel at the women who walk down the street in strappy four inch stilettos without looking like a wobbly toddler learning to walk and I have a new found respect for runway models who take on the sport of high-heel walking for a living.
They say you can't understand a man until you walk a mile in his shoes. I agree with the statement whole-heartedly, both on a metaphorical and a more literal level because the shoes we wear really do say something about who we are. Go ahead, take a look down at your own feet and think about what your shoes say about you.
I think the more modern version of the quote might be, "You'll never understand a woman until you've walked a few city blocks in her Manolos."
I have always been kind of a shoe person. Not necessarily in a Carrie Bradshaw kind of way but I always notice what people have on their feet. I am of the opinion that you can tell a lot about a person simply by checking out their footwear. Are they professional or casual? Do they go for comfort or style? Are they American or European? I swear it. I have the peculiar ability to tell what country someone comes from just by glancing down at their feet. European men, for example, tend to wear pointier shoes than American men. Italian men and women have a thing for snake skin shoes and sadly, Americans are pretty much the only people who think a clean pair of white sneakers are cool enough to wear for a night out on the town. I have, in fact, been known to be able to pick out all the Scandinavian men in the club when we are out in New York. What I never admitted before though, is that I often do it by first noticing their shoes.
I think my mind has been on shoes more recently because I just bought two new pairs of high-heels. Seeing as how I am 5'8" and have never felt the necessity to make myself any taller than I already am, I typically don't sport any shoe with more than a one inch heel, if any heel at all. Lately though, I have embraced my tallness and had the urge to learn to walk in more challenging (and inevitably more uncomfortable)shoes. Why you might ask? I'm not sure other than the fact that I see women of all shapes and sizes walking in gorgeous heels everyday and that I have a 6'2" tall boyfriend for the first time in my life. The experience of learning to balance in my seriously stylish kicks has made me pay even more attention to people's shoes around me. I now marvel at the women who walk down the street in strappy four inch stilettos without looking like a wobbly toddler learning to walk and I have a new found respect for runway models who take on the sport of high-heel walking for a living.
They say you can't understand a man until you walk a mile in his shoes. I agree with the statement whole-heartedly, both on a metaphorical and a more literal level because the shoes we wear really do say something about who we are. Go ahead, take a look down at your own feet and think about what your shoes say about you.
I think the more modern version of the quote might be, "You'll never understand a woman until you've walked a few city blocks in her Manolos."
March 17, 2008
Spring Fever
There is a proverb, "Spring has come when you can put your foot on three daisies." I've been searching desperately for daisies for a month now and as far as I can tell, it's definitely still winter here in New York.
I am currently suffering from the worst case of spring fever ever experienced. I am restless and anxious and angry at the world for still being cold. All I want to do is to leave my winter jacket at home and head outdoors with nothing more than a light coat. I want to wear sexy heels to work instead of my fake uggs. I want to spend the weekends roaming barefoot across the Great Lawn in Central Park and I want to sit at a sidewalk cafe and read in the warmth of the sunshine for hours on end. Really, is it so much to ask for a little sunshine this time of year?
More than anything, I am longing for the rejuvenation and rebirth of spirit that comes along with my favorite season. Spring has always been a magical time of year for me; one of fresh starts and new beginnings. For one, spring means Easter and Easter means my birthday is not so far off...except for this year, of course, when Easter comes freakishly early. (Just another tease to make it seem like it should be later and warmer than it actually is). Spring means tulips and bunnies. It means chocolate and eggs, sun dresses and mary janes. What I'm learning now, however, is that it mostly means those things when you grow up in California where spring weather starts as early as the end of February.
I'm learning to cope with the winter downers in my own little ways but it hasn't been easy. All I can do is be optimistic in knowing that it will eventually come. In the meantime, I will wear sunglasses even though the sun isn't out. I will eat peeps even though I don't like them and I will, by god, wear my light springy sweater to the grocery store even though I'll freeze the whole three blocks there and back. Mostly, I will just keep pretending that spring has, in fact, already sprung.
I am currently suffering from the worst case of spring fever ever experienced. I am restless and anxious and angry at the world for still being cold. All I want to do is to leave my winter jacket at home and head outdoors with nothing more than a light coat. I want to wear sexy heels to work instead of my fake uggs. I want to spend the weekends roaming barefoot across the Great Lawn in Central Park and I want to sit at a sidewalk cafe and read in the warmth of the sunshine for hours on end. Really, is it so much to ask for a little sunshine this time of year?
More than anything, I am longing for the rejuvenation and rebirth of spirit that comes along with my favorite season. Spring has always been a magical time of year for me; one of fresh starts and new beginnings. For one, spring means Easter and Easter means my birthday is not so far off...except for this year, of course, when Easter comes freakishly early. (Just another tease to make it seem like it should be later and warmer than it actually is). Spring means tulips and bunnies. It means chocolate and eggs, sun dresses and mary janes. What I'm learning now, however, is that it mostly means those things when you grow up in California where spring weather starts as early as the end of February.
I'm learning to cope with the winter downers in my own little ways but it hasn't been easy. All I can do is be optimistic in knowing that it will eventually come. In the meantime, I will wear sunglasses even though the sun isn't out. I will eat peeps even though I don't like them and I will, by god, wear my light springy sweater to the grocery store even though I'll freeze the whole three blocks there and back. Mostly, I will just keep pretending that spring has, in fact, already sprung.
March 13, 2008
Ray Banalicious
As if having him here is not gift enough, my boyfriend surprised me today with a present that nearly brought me to tears. Ray Ban Wayfarers!!!!!! 
I have wanted these sunglasses for more than a year now but could never bring myself to cough up the cash for them. I had trouble justifying the "unnecessary" purchase but my desire to own a pair only grew stronger over time. Klas has been with me on several occassions when I tried them on, debated whether or not to buy them and walked out of the store empty handed. So today, for no good reason other than the fact that he is wonderful, he bought them for me and gave them to me over lunch. What a lucky, lucky girl I am.
You gotta give the hard core look when you are wearing these babies.
I have wanted these sunglasses for more than a year now but could never bring myself to cough up the cash for them. I had trouble justifying the "unnecessary" purchase but my desire to own a pair only grew stronger over time. Klas has been with me on several occassions when I tried them on, debated whether or not to buy them and walked out of the store empty handed. So today, for no good reason other than the fact that he is wonderful, he bought them for me and gave them to me over lunch. What a lucky, lucky girl I am.
You gotta give the hard core look when you are wearing these babies.
March 8, 2008
Unicycle Man
There is a man in our neighborhood who rides a five foot tall unicycle while walking his dog. I guess technically, unicycling his dog is a better way to put it. I see this one man,one dog circus act once in a while in the mornings on my way to work. I always take it as a sign that it is going to be a good day.
Thanks Unicycle Man, for making me smile.
Thanks Unicycle Man, for making me smile.
March 6, 2008
The Most Bang For My Buck
I just paid $25 to have my bangs trimmed. Is that a lot? Not cut, just trimmed. They were starting to get in my eyes. Granted, I did go to a swanky Greenwich Village salon, but I was in her chair for only ten minutes. No wash, no dry...just a few snips. My idea about what is expensive and what is not is blurred since all I see around me are designer bags, fancy suits and people with money coming out of their ears. I'm feeling like it is more than okay that I paid such a high price....maybe my perception of reality is skewed. It is totally normal here to pay $25 for good service at a trendy salon, but is it logical? What is it, like $10 per square centimeter of hair they touch? I'm not really sure, but I sure do like my bangs.
March 3, 2008
Supporting the Arts
On Saturday night, Anna and I made the trek up to Williamsburg to go to an opening at an art gallery for an exhibition called "31 under 31: young women in art photography". Williamsburg, although still in Brooklyn, is impossibly difficult to get to from where we are and because the gallery is actually an old warehouse in the run-down industrial hoods, it was really a trek. We came up from the subway, walked down a dark and desolate street, past a seemingly endless row of empty warehouses and factories with broken-in windows and graffiti on the brick walls. Just before we started to wonder where we were and what we were doing there so late and so alone, we saw the lights and the long line of seriously awesome Brooklynites waiting to get in. That's when we knew we were in the right place.
I won't tell you exactly how we managed to cut in front of about a hundred people to get right in but I will say that I am sneakier than I look. I had a serious "wow" moment when we got in. The place was impressive in size, the crowd was ridiculous and 31 amazing photographs lined the gallery walls. Everything about it was so New York. Young, hip, arty New York and we were smack dab in the middle of it all. I didn't feel out of place for a minute, especially with Anna by my side. She is, herself, an amazing photographer and so, when we bumped into some friends from the Slope, I used her as my excuse as to why I was cool enough to be there. It's funny when I think about it... I have pretty much surrounded myself with artists these days. Musicians, photographers, artists...these are the people in my life. Aside from my writing, I don't consider myself very creative but I am sure used to being surrounded by people who are.
There were a couple of photographs that I was mesmerized by and it was fun to pick Anna's brain about the kind of camera that had been used or whether or not she thought the print had been digitally enhanced. I fell into the world of an art photographer and art critic and I liked it. We mingled at the gallery for long enough and then took off to meet some Swedish friends at a restaurant in Green Point. All in a night, all in Brooklyn. Really, truly...I heart NY.
I won't tell you exactly how we managed to cut in front of about a hundred people to get right in but I will say that I am sneakier than I look. I had a serious "wow" moment when we got in. The place was impressive in size, the crowd was ridiculous and 31 amazing photographs lined the gallery walls. Everything about it was so New York. Young, hip, arty New York and we were smack dab in the middle of it all. I didn't feel out of place for a minute, especially with Anna by my side. She is, herself, an amazing photographer and so, when we bumped into some friends from the Slope, I used her as my excuse as to why I was cool enough to be there. It's funny when I think about it... I have pretty much surrounded myself with artists these days. Musicians, photographers, artists...these are the people in my life. Aside from my writing, I don't consider myself very creative but I am sure used to being surrounded by people who are.
There were a couple of photographs that I was mesmerized by and it was fun to pick Anna's brain about the kind of camera that had been used or whether or not she thought the print had been digitally enhanced. I fell into the world of an art photographer and art critic and I liked it. We mingled at the gallery for long enough and then took off to meet some Swedish friends at a restaurant in Green Point. All in a night, all in Brooklyn. Really, truly...I heart NY.
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