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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Kool-Aid On Your Feet...Oh, Yeaaaahh!

In one of the strangest examples of cross-branding I have ever seen in my life, Reebok has released a new line of shoes that smell like different Kool-Aid flavors. That's right, you can walk around smelling like the yummy sugary drink in strawberry, grape or cherry flavors. Not sure why any respectable person would want their feet to smell like sweaty fruit, but hey.


This definitely gives new meaning to their Kickin' Kiwi Lime Flavor :) As well as to the term "Kool-Aid stand"....hahaha, it's too easy.

Call it a Quarterlife Crisis

I think I am going through a growth spurt. Not a physical one, but more of a psychological one. I have always believed that I learn and grow as a person every day, but I'm not so sure that's how it happens for me. Sure, the passing of time inevitably means there will be change and growth but I can narrow it down to a few really distinct periods of time in my life when I have asked more questions, had more inner monologues, done more soul searching and grown as an individual because of it. It is as if my mental capacity to understand the world grows over a couple of weeks or months at a time, just as when my body was growing and I grew 4 inches in one summer. And just like the leg cramps and pain I experienced while my body was growing so fast, the subliminal growth keeps me up at night and makes it hard for me to fall asleep.

Most of the time psychological growth spurts are brought on by major events, be it tragedy or good fortune, or when we come to certain forks in the road and are faced with life-altering decisions. Sometimes though, there are just times in our lives when we inexplicably turn inward. Something sparks a desire to be more contemplative. Right now seems to be such a time for me. I've been analyzing my own life, my own future and have been thinking more deeply about the human condition and state of the world. I've been doing this all to a point of annoyance, quite frankly. A kind of non-stop babbling brook of thoughts and dreams running through my mind.

I have suffered no great tragedy recently nor have I celebrated any great triumph. So, why do I all of a sudden find a crucial message in the lyrics to a song I have heard a million times before? Why do I lay awake at night philosophizing about global warming and how it might affect my unborn children? Even the word philosophizing gives me a headache. Maybe it's because I have a routine and a schedule, and am content with who and where I am, seeing as how I do have an admittedly difficult time with stagnancy. But I'm in New York for goodness sakes. Stagnancy and monotony do not exist in this city that never sleeps. Maybe that's it. Maybe living here has made me go all metaphysical. With so much life and diversity all around, it's hard not to look and think about the world differently.

I'm thinking more, reading more, choosing the music I listen to more particularly. These are not bad things to be doing, I guess I just wish I could control my newfound urge to dissect the world and to focus so much on the future. More simply, I wish I could lay down at night without so many thoughts running through my head. But then again, Socrates said it himself: "The unexamined life is not worth living."

Currently taking advice from the philosopher of all philosophers. Go figure.