So, I went to my husband's church this morning on the Upper West Side. I'm Catholic and he's Protestant, so we make a point to go to each other's church.
I haven't been there in some time, but I wasn't the only sometimes attendee to show up today. Bono (of U2) was there! I already knew that he attends the church when he's in town, but that was the first time I've seen him there.
I must admit, I was a little impressed for a second. Then I thought...the Lord is the rock star of this house! ;-)
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 22, 2010
Free Write
I haven't blogged in a a while! I was on a roll there, and all of a sudden...nothing!
Well, I've actually written a few unfinished pieces, but I don't think I'll publish those. I think I'm going through some sort of writer's block or something.
The irony is that I'm teaching a creative writing course this year. I spend every Monday through Friday, from 9am to 3:30pm, trying to motivate my students and get them to write. Sometimes I give them topics. Other times I just want them to put something on paper.
"Just free write," I tell them. If you start, the story will come.
So, it is with that same idea in mind, that I started this blog. If I start, maybe an idea will come.
As I write, I'm beginning to think perhaps the story I want to share with you today is about my students. They are such dynamic and precocious individuals. Freshly minted teenagers with all the angst, insecurities, passions, and hopes that their age brings. I see my younger self in them sometimes.
What did my teachers think of me when I was their age? I wonder.
The habitually tardy ones always get a side "stank" eye from me, but I'd rather them show up. You learn nothing from avoiding Ms. Rho. Face the music and move on!
If I had a dollar for every bad excuse I hear...Well, you know how the old saying goes. It's almost as if they think they are saying something profound and unheard of. One student told me last week, "I didn't know I didn't have a printer!" When I replied, "You didn't know this over a week ago when I gave you the assignment?" her eyes went up, searching for an answer but drawing a blank.
She got the side eye!
As with every year, I aim to bring the shy ones out of their shells. I was once that person too, but taking the leap out and letting the world know "I am here, and I'm fabulous!" is one of the best decisions I've ever made. Anyone who doesn't like it can go sit somewhere.
Still, I am amazed at how strong my little ones are--even if they don't know it. Many are dealing with issues I think would cripple me--and I'm twice their age! I am particularly in awe of the young women who have lost their mothers but continue to press on. I am in absolute awe. I pray they don't lose their way.
So, it is with this I end this long awaited entry...It's Friday. I stayed at work two and a half hours longer than I am required to. I am tired and sleepy. Yet, I am thinking of my students. Perhaps I should share this free write with them on Monday. Perhaps not.
Well, I've actually written a few unfinished pieces, but I don't think I'll publish those. I think I'm going through some sort of writer's block or something.
The irony is that I'm teaching a creative writing course this year. I spend every Monday through Friday, from 9am to 3:30pm, trying to motivate my students and get them to write. Sometimes I give them topics. Other times I just want them to put something on paper.
"Just free write," I tell them. If you start, the story will come.
So, it is with that same idea in mind, that I started this blog. If I start, maybe an idea will come.
As I write, I'm beginning to think perhaps the story I want to share with you today is about my students. They are such dynamic and precocious individuals. Freshly minted teenagers with all the angst, insecurities, passions, and hopes that their age brings. I see my younger self in them sometimes.
What did my teachers think of me when I was their age? I wonder.
The habitually tardy ones always get a side "stank" eye from me, but I'd rather them show up. You learn nothing from avoiding Ms. Rho. Face the music and move on!
If I had a dollar for every bad excuse I hear...Well, you know how the old saying goes. It's almost as if they think they are saying something profound and unheard of. One student told me last week, "I didn't know I didn't have a printer!" When I replied, "You didn't know this over a week ago when I gave you the assignment?" her eyes went up, searching for an answer but drawing a blank.
She got the side eye!
As with every year, I aim to bring the shy ones out of their shells. I was once that person too, but taking the leap out and letting the world know "I am here, and I'm fabulous!" is one of the best decisions I've ever made. Anyone who doesn't like it can go sit somewhere.
Still, I am amazed at how strong my little ones are--even if they don't know it. Many are dealing with issues I think would cripple me--and I'm twice their age! I am particularly in awe of the young women who have lost their mothers but continue to press on. I am in absolute awe. I pray they don't lose their way.
So, it is with this I end this long awaited entry...It's Friday. I stayed at work two and a half hours longer than I am required to. I am tired and sleepy. Yet, I am thinking of my students. Perhaps I should share this free write with them on Monday. Perhaps not.
Sep 24, 2010
Forest Hills: No Coloreds Allowed?
By no means do I think Forest Hills is the most racist place in Queens--or New York for that matter.
However, since I work there and take public transportation, I have the misfortune of dealing with a lot of stupid people in that area.
Today is just one example. I had to take the bus but made a quick run to a hardware store that is right next to the stop. I noticed three women were waiting for the bus.
After handling my business, I walked over and sat on the bench. An older woman was at the other end, and the other two ladies were standing up.
I hadn't been on the bench for more than five seconds when one of the standing women went after her purse like it had caught fire!
The bag was on the seat, closer to the older woman than to me, so I had assumed it belonged to the old lady. Clearly, I was mistaken.
So, I looked at that woman dead in her eyes and gave her a blank expression. Still agitated, she cradled the purse as though it held the meaning of life.
I'm not sure if she felt exposed by her own abrupt reaction or the knowing look in my eyes. "Oh. I just wanted to make space," she said.
I keep looking. Silent.
"I figure someone might want to sit there."
I respond: "Oh? Really?"
Who did she need to make space for? Why wasn't she concerned about her bag prior to my sitting down? Why did she retrieve that bag fast enough to get whiplash? The older white lady who shared her skin tone was no threat but the young black female was?
I don't even have enough fingers for the ridiculous behavior I've encountered in Forest Freakin Hills! The last event before this was the woman who reacted as though she was about to get hit by a bus as I passed her on the sidewalk a few days ago.
What had her eyes bulging and her chest thumping? My hair was in an Afro.
How can I be certain of this? As her face became all contorted, her shocked eyes were burning holes through my hair!
I made sure to smile at her, hoping she would be more offended.
Believe it or not, I actually thought about living in that city for a little bit. I was told the pre-war buildings were bigger and cheaper than my current apartment.
I changed my mind when I couldn't get a cab in the neighborhood. In the morning, there are cabbies of color galore. i don't know where they were one afternoon, last May. I spent 45 minutes trying to hail on-duty and empty cabs to take me to the airport. Not one bit. Finally, I was picked up by someone I knew who just happened to be in the area. Had he not been there, I would've missed my flight to my brother's graduation.
The clincher here is that Queens is the most diverse county in the whole entire United States. That's a huge part of why I moved here. I might as well have stayed in the south.
However, since I work there and take public transportation, I have the misfortune of dealing with a lot of stupid people in that area.
Today is just one example. I had to take the bus but made a quick run to a hardware store that is right next to the stop. I noticed three women were waiting for the bus.
After handling my business, I walked over and sat on the bench. An older woman was at the other end, and the other two ladies were standing up.
I hadn't been on the bench for more than five seconds when one of the standing women went after her purse like it had caught fire!
The bag was on the seat, closer to the older woman than to me, so I had assumed it belonged to the old lady. Clearly, I was mistaken.
So, I looked at that woman dead in her eyes and gave her a blank expression. Still agitated, she cradled the purse as though it held the meaning of life.
I'm not sure if she felt exposed by her own abrupt reaction or the knowing look in my eyes. "Oh. I just wanted to make space," she said.
I keep looking. Silent.
"I figure someone might want to sit there."
I respond: "Oh? Really?"
Who did she need to make space for? Why wasn't she concerned about her bag prior to my sitting down? Why did she retrieve that bag fast enough to get whiplash? The older white lady who shared her skin tone was no threat but the young black female was?
I don't even have enough fingers for the ridiculous behavior I've encountered in Forest Freakin Hills! The last event before this was the woman who reacted as though she was about to get hit by a bus as I passed her on the sidewalk a few days ago.
What had her eyes bulging and her chest thumping? My hair was in an Afro.
How can I be certain of this? As her face became all contorted, her shocked eyes were burning holes through my hair!
I made sure to smile at her, hoping she would be more offended.
Believe it or not, I actually thought about living in that city for a little bit. I was told the pre-war buildings were bigger and cheaper than my current apartment.
I changed my mind when I couldn't get a cab in the neighborhood. In the morning, there are cabbies of color galore. i don't know where they were one afternoon, last May. I spent 45 minutes trying to hail on-duty and empty cabs to take me to the airport. Not one bit. Finally, I was picked up by someone I knew who just happened to be in the area. Had he not been there, I would've missed my flight to my brother's graduation.
The clincher here is that Queens is the most diverse county in the whole entire United States. That's a huge part of why I moved here. I might as well have stayed in the south.
Beauty is Not a Walking Bag of Bones
I find it either pitiful or sad how obsessed some people are with being a bag of bones! Maybe it's a little bit of both.
I support health consciousness, but what some people consider conscious may actually be an obsession.
If you're watching every single calorie, are depriving yourself of nourishment, and are overly preoccupied with food, you probably have an eating disorder. That is sad. Not knowing it is even sadder.
Over a billion people on this planet live on less than $1.25. These people struggle to eat and meet their basic needs.
Knowing this makes me ask "What the hell is going on here?" It's pitiful that while some people are struggling to survive, the people who can't even tell the difference between needs and wants are acting like food is the enemy.
Is a lot of the bobble head obsession derived from some false perception of beauty? Do people starve themselves because they think that somehow being skinnier is going to make them more beautiful?
I'm conflicted because one part of me thinks: You can loose or gain weight, but ugly is forever.
The other part of me wants to be more understanding.
Perhaps this whole eating disorder thing is not for me to understand. I just can't relate.
We were given a book in my middle school sex education class that showed how people have different body types. Some are more athletic (me!), others are more thin, some are more stocky (big-boned), etc. There was also a section that showed the development of the body from childhood through adulthood. I remember thinking "I can't wait get to the point where my body 'curves' out."
I used to play sports and loved to run. Needless to say, there was no curving out for me. When I developed asthma and became less active, I finally got my little lovehandles that I wanted.
Unfortunately, I'm at the point that I actually have to work out to improve my long-term health. I realize I've dreaded exercise because it won't take long for me to lose the little pooch that's giving me my slight figure 8.
Still, no matter how my body looks, I'll love it.
Ultimately, I believe God created me and he makes no mistakes. Perhaps this is the reason I can't relate to those who desire the emmeciated look. I wonder, "What could possibly be so wrong that you would brutalize your body?"
I support health consciousness, but what some people consider conscious may actually be an obsession.
If you're watching every single calorie, are depriving yourself of nourishment, and are overly preoccupied with food, you probably have an eating disorder. That is sad. Not knowing it is even sadder.
Over a billion people on this planet live on less than $1.25. These people struggle to eat and meet their basic needs.
Knowing this makes me ask "What the hell is going on here?" It's pitiful that while some people are struggling to survive, the people who can't even tell the difference between needs and wants are acting like food is the enemy.
Is a lot of the bobble head obsession derived from some false perception of beauty? Do people starve themselves because they think that somehow being skinnier is going to make them more beautiful?
I'm conflicted because one part of me thinks: You can loose or gain weight, but ugly is forever.
The other part of me wants to be more understanding.
Perhaps this whole eating disorder thing is not for me to understand. I just can't relate.
We were given a book in my middle school sex education class that showed how people have different body types. Some are more athletic (me!), others are more thin, some are more stocky (big-boned), etc. There was also a section that showed the development of the body from childhood through adulthood. I remember thinking "I can't wait get to the point where my body 'curves' out."
I used to play sports and loved to run. Needless to say, there was no curving out for me. When I developed asthma and became less active, I finally got my little lovehandles that I wanted.
Unfortunately, I'm at the point that I actually have to work out to improve my long-term health. I realize I've dreaded exercise because it won't take long for me to lose the little pooch that's giving me my slight figure 8.
Still, no matter how my body looks, I'll love it.
Ultimately, I believe God created me and he makes no mistakes. Perhaps this is the reason I can't relate to those who desire the emmeciated look. I wonder, "What could possibly be so wrong that you would brutalize your body?"
Sep 19, 2010
Why I Hate My Neighbors
I must admit. I'm not a good cohabitator. If I were an animal, I'd be a hermit crab. I don't suffer fools--at all.
I've been living in my NYC matchbox apartment (paying luxury rent) going on four years now. At the start of year two, my upstairs neighbors moved in. Needless to say, the relative tranquility that made my husband and I forget about the cost of our rent left us at the moment of their arrival.
Loud from the start, these people behave as though they are living in their own world, separate from all other beings with the ability to hear. The thumping, the bass, the video games, the TV shows, the stereo! I don't want to harm those people but I'd like to murder their electronics! I want to take a hammer to it all!
Building management doesn't care 'cause they get the rent once a month. 311 is a joke, and my husband tells me 911 is for gunshot wounds or something.
At one point, Tylenol and ear plugs became my best friends! I was a prisoner of these people! If they were awake, I was awake. Since they never seemed to sleep, I was ALWAYS awake!
The guy whose name is on the lease told management it was just him and his girlfriend living up there, and I was out of my mind. Yes, I was out of my mind! I was out of my mind because I never had one moment of quiet, I had an unending headache, and couldn't sleep!
Then, God sent me some justice! I pipe broke in their apartment! It wasn't the broken pipe, but what it led to that cleared everything up. Both the super and idiot apartment manager went up there. What did they discover? There were 13 people living up there!!! 13 people in a one bedroom apartment!
I knew some foolishness was going on up there! "Take that," I thought! "Finally! These people are gonna be gone! Oh, sweet tranquility will come back to me!" The guy on the lease had to get all those people out of there.
I felt so vindicated...but not for long.
The stupid apartment manager renewed his lease! I should add that manager to my list, 'cause I hate him too!
Living next to these people continues to be an irritating misadventure.
New York City has a noise ordinance. I wish they'd enforce it.
I've been living in my NYC matchbox apartment (paying luxury rent) going on four years now. At the start of year two, my upstairs neighbors moved in. Needless to say, the relative tranquility that made my husband and I forget about the cost of our rent left us at the moment of their arrival.
Loud from the start, these people behave as though they are living in their own world, separate from all other beings with the ability to hear. The thumping, the bass, the video games, the TV shows, the stereo! I don't want to harm those people but I'd like to murder their electronics! I want to take a hammer to it all!
Building management doesn't care 'cause they get the rent once a month. 311 is a joke, and my husband tells me 911 is for gunshot wounds or something.
At one point, Tylenol and ear plugs became my best friends! I was a prisoner of these people! If they were awake, I was awake. Since they never seemed to sleep, I was ALWAYS awake!
The guy whose name is on the lease told management it was just him and his girlfriend living up there, and I was out of my mind. Yes, I was out of my mind! I was out of my mind because I never had one moment of quiet, I had an unending headache, and couldn't sleep!
Then, God sent me some justice! I pipe broke in their apartment! It wasn't the broken pipe, but what it led to that cleared everything up. Both the super and idiot apartment manager went up there. What did they discover? There were 13 people living up there!!! 13 people in a one bedroom apartment!
I knew some foolishness was going on up there! "Take that," I thought! "Finally! These people are gonna be gone! Oh, sweet tranquility will come back to me!" The guy on the lease had to get all those people out of there.
I felt so vindicated...but not for long.
The stupid apartment manager renewed his lease! I should add that manager to my list, 'cause I hate him too!
Living next to these people continues to be an irritating misadventure.
New York City has a noise ordinance. I wish they'd enforce it.
Sep 13, 2010
Oprah Just Gave 300 Women (and a Few Guys) Better "O" Faces Than Their "Mates" Can
When I was in college, I used to dream of being part of Oprah's audience on her "My Favorite Things" shows. How did those people get so lucky? I wanted a car and some free food too! I wanted a nice, new TV and stereo thingamajigs! Why not me, Oprah? Why not me?
Truth be told, I never tried too seriously to get in the audience. Tickets to the show may be free, but getting there on my broke, college kid finances was not happening.
After watching the video below, I was back to: Why not me Oprah? Why not me?
Watch the "O" faces these people make anticipating Oprah's surprise for them on her first show of her 25th and last season.
Catch the video after the jump--before O's people get it pulled!
Truth be told, I never tried too seriously to get in the audience. Tickets to the show may be free, but getting there on my broke, college kid finances was not happening.
After watching the video below, I was back to: Why not me Oprah? Why not me?
Watch the "O" faces these people make anticipating Oprah's surprise for them on her first show of her 25th and last season.
Catch the video after the jump--before O's people get it pulled!
Sep 12, 2010
KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE PRIZE!!!
Hey, dude! It's not over! The first rule of soccer: ALWAYS KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE BALL!
Talk about premature elation!
Thanks to Respect the Intelect for this vid!
Talk about premature elation!
Thanks to Respect the Intelect for this vid!
Sep 11, 2010
Funny Moments
As I was going through my husband's pictures, I came across these taken last winter. I bought this coat because it was warm-keeping and the pattern wasn't one that I'd seen anyone wear. Well, shortly after, I began to see this pattern everywhere! I even saw a chair in this pattern. "You should go sit on that," my husband told me. Hmmm.
On this day, I sat down down in the train and my husband and I both noticed the woman and I were matching. I couldn't escape this print anywhere in the city!!! It became a joke after a while--which explains the look on my face.
More pix after the jump.
On this day, I sat down down in the train and my husband and I both noticed the woman and I were matching. I couldn't escape this print anywhere in the city!!! It became a joke after a while--which explains the look on my face.
More pix after the jump.
1 Man, 3 Wives, 13 Kids: TLC to Brings You the Real "Big Love"
Plural marriage, or polygamy, is the practice of having more than one spouse.
I always wonder, however, why it is that the image of plural marriage is always one man and multiple women. To be precise, it is one white man and a gaggle of seemingly low-esteemed white women. To get even more real, the image is of Mormons. When was the last time you saw any media coverage on plural marriages--in the US--that didn't involve these people?
This is why I had to give the side eye when I saw the preview of TLC's "Sister Wives". It is more of the same fare. One penis and the many plain-Jane vaginas that see him as their everything.
I mean, is there anywhere in the world that has plural marriage being between one woman and multiple men? That would be something different and interesting to see.
TLC describes the show as:
"...the rarely seen world of plural families... an engrossing seven-part series following Kody Brown, his three -- soon to be four -- wives and their combined 13 children....revealing the unexpectedly tight-knit and loving relationships between Kody's wives."
Plural marriage is part of these people's religious beliefs. That's why they are so tight-knit. This is not unexpected.
No, TLC. You are not showing people something they rarely see. This is a seven-part showcase of misogyny. (Just look at who is the subject in that description--Kody! The wives just orbit around him!) No one will really look poorly at the cock, just the silly hens in the coop. Look at that man and the stupid girls who pretend they don't mind sharing him. Isn't that what you want people to see?
Will you be tuning in? Watch the promo and let me know what you think, after the jump.
I always wonder, however, why it is that the image of plural marriage is always one man and multiple women. To be precise, it is one white man and a gaggle of seemingly low-esteemed white women. To get even more real, the image is of Mormons. When was the last time you saw any media coverage on plural marriages--in the US--that didn't involve these people?
This is why I had to give the side eye when I saw the preview of TLC's "Sister Wives". It is more of the same fare. One penis and the many plain-Jane vaginas that see him as their everything.
I mean, is there anywhere in the world that has plural marriage being between one woman and multiple men? That would be something different and interesting to see.
TLC describes the show as:
"...the rarely seen world of plural families... an engrossing seven-part series following Kody Brown, his three -- soon to be four -- wives and their combined 13 children....revealing the unexpectedly tight-knit and loving relationships between Kody's wives."
Plural marriage is part of these people's religious beliefs. That's why they are so tight-knit. This is not unexpected.
No, TLC. You are not showing people something they rarely see. This is a seven-part showcase of misogyny. (Just look at who is the subject in that description--Kody! The wives just orbit around him!) No one will really look poorly at the cock, just the silly hens in the coop. Look at that man and the stupid girls who pretend they don't mind sharing him. Isn't that what you want people to see?
Will you be tuning in? Watch the promo and let me know what you think, after the jump.
Sep 7, 2010
Jefferson Thomas of "The Little Rock Nine" Passes Away
 |
Jefferson Thomas, 15 years old, shown in 1957 AP photo. |
Jefferson Thomas, a member of "The Little Rock Nine" who integrated Little Rock's Central High School in 1957, has died of pancreatic cancer.
The Washington Post reports that Thomas died Sept. 5 at a care facility in Columbus Ohio.
Thomas, along with Carlotta LaNier, Minnijean Brown Trickey, Elizabeth Eckford, Gloria Ray Karlmark, Thelma Mothershed Wair, Terrence Roberts, Melba Pattillo Beals and Ernest Green, integrated Arkansas's largest high school under the watch of the Army's 101st Airborne Division. President Dwight D. Eisenhower sent the troops after then governor Orval E. Faubus blocked the students' entrance with the Arkansas National Guard.
Thomas endured bullying and physical abuse while at Central high, but eventually graduated and went on to receive a business degree from UCLA. He served in the army in Vietnam, worked as an accountant for Mobil Oil and the Defense Department.
Of his experience at central, Thomas said: "'I was a skinny little guy. I'd been on the track team in junior high. I could run fast. I looked at it this way: If I'd been in an all-black school and a 6-foot-1, 200-pound guy pushed me around, I wouldn't go flying into his chest. Mentally what would hurt was when little puny guys came up and slapped you in the face. You couldn't hit back'"
Jefferson Thomas was 67.
Source
Sep 3, 2010
PROBLEM WITH COMMENTS FIXED
The problem with comments has been fixed. If you continue to experience problems, let me know.
Fight Breaks out at the US Open
The US Open is the last place I'd expect a brawl in the stands. My mother-in-law who is the sweetest, most even-keeled woman I have ever met is a huge fan of tennis. I immagine most tennis fans to be pretty stable--just like her.
Imagine my surprise when trolling the net I find this. A douchebag going at it in the stands with two senior citizens. I mean face-slapping, punch-throwing, four letter words going at it. Security was tardy to the party, but this is the US Open. I'm sure their job usually consists of stopping random non-ticketed folks from getting in.
The drama that took place during last night's Djokovic vs. Petzschner match is after the jump.
Imagine my surprise when trolling the net I find this. A douchebag going at it in the stands with two senior citizens. I mean face-slapping, punch-throwing, four letter words going at it. Security was tardy to the party, but this is the US Open. I'm sure their job usually consists of stopping random non-ticketed folks from getting in.
The drama that took place during last night's Djokovic vs. Petzschner match is after the jump.
Sep 2, 2010
LET'S GROW TOGETHER!!!
Thanks for stopping by! Be sure to follow so you can comment! Also, when you follow, you'll be alerted when new posts are up! Thank you, and let's grow together!
:-)
:-)
Texas Court to Gay Couples: Go Get Divorced Someplace Else!
Texas appeals court tells gay couples you can't marry here, so you can't divorced here, either!
Thoughts?
Link to the story after the jump.
Photo credit: mensatic from morguefile.com
Sep 1, 2010
It's not your kid's fault that you have so many babies!
This is a brief one, my people.
I went to the Bronx Zoo today. As I am exiting the train, I pass a young woman--very early twenties. Pushing a carriage containing her youngest of three children, she is screaming, "You better bring your ass. I'm tired of your damn crying! Don't you make me come down there and punch you in your face."
The subject of the threats, a little girl no more than two years old, had clearly been crying for some time. The eldest of the three girls--about 5 years old--seems pained, emotionally broken though she's barely out of the womb. She picks up her little sister and carries her up the steps.
Her mother ranting, raving, and threatening bodily harm is clearly overwhelmed. She wants to hurry up and catch the train, but the toddler's legs are much too short to climb the steps fast enough.
I thought to myself, "It's not your kid's fault that you have so many babies!"
Birth control exists. Use it! Three very young children, and barely out of childhood!
I find it shameful that a child exhibits more motherly instincts then her own mother.
Photo credit: chelle from morguefile.com
I was attacked on the subway. Does that make me official?
I've lived in NYC for four years now. Shortly after grad school, I mailed my boxes to my then boyfriend's apartment, packed a few bags, and said adios to Miami. For the most part, the experience has been pretty good.
This city seems to be just like me--fiercely independent, never sleeps, and full of surprises. Well, I like good surprises. Not the kind life in the city delivered to me last Saturday.
After an amazingly positive meet-up with an equally amazing friend, I got mugged on my way home. Around 6-ish at the Columbus Circle station this homeless guy in a wheelchair attacked me! Yes. In a wheelchair! I didn't see that coming--clearly! I'm still shaking my head at that part--even as I write this.
So, here's the lowdown. I thought for my first blog entry, I'd write about why I heart NY!!! Camera in hand, I went about taking pics of Columbus Circle. It was the first area I had stayed in the city. I just needed a few pix of the Uptown/Downtown signs in the subway to go along with my story. Got that and I was done. Life was good, and the City was still fabulous...
As I wait for the downtown D, I notice a guy in a wheelchair pushing a large suitcase, slowly approaching. I make eye-contact with him then look away. I ignore the feeling that something isn't right. My spidey senses are out of whack 'cause this guy is in a WHEELCHAIR PUSHING A BIG ASS SUITCASE!
All of a sudden, dude is right next to me! "He must need to move pass me," I think. As I proceed to move, they guy lunges at me, grabs me, and starts to pull me toward him. My attacker has Kool-Aid-colored vomit all over his legs, smells like he is sitting in his own waste and hasn't showered since who knows how long! I'm struggling to get free and all I can say is, "What are you doing?!" The guy never says a word.
Another man standing right next to me asks, "Do you know him?" "No, I don't know him!" He then becomes my good Samaritan, trying to pull me free--as the crowd looks on. I'm being punched, scratched. I don't want to be pulled into him. My Samaritan and I yell at the man to let go! We realize he is going for my camera.
I have months worth of pictures and videos that haven't been transfered! I didn't take the $20 insurance! I struggle to hold on to them. Unable to break free, I let go of the camera and my pulls me free. He tries to retrieve my camera, but my attacker attempts to the throw it into the track. It lands broken on a closed platform.
The guy's explanation for jacking me up: "You were taking pictures of me! She's been following me around all week. You've been following me around Queens, Brooklyn, Bronx, and Manhattan!"
By the time my Samaritan and I get 5-0, my attacker has taken the elevator and is on his way out of the station! He repeats the same "she's stalking me" story! With that, he gets a trip to the psych ward. They'll clean him up, and he'll be back to attacking folks in no time.
As for me, I'll toughen up and recover.
When I get angry that he's getting off, I just think to myself: "You're an idiot! New York City has five boroughs--not four! You forgot Staten Island!"
Maybe that shouldn't give me so much comfort. Everyone forgets Staten Island.
Life is complicated. Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying!
P.S. Memory card survived. Pix of my assailant coming soon!
UPDATE: I had one picture with the guy who assaulted me on there. Jump!
This city seems to be just like me--fiercely independent, never sleeps, and full of surprises. Well, I like good surprises. Not the kind life in the city delivered to me last Saturday.
After an amazingly positive meet-up with an equally amazing friend, I got mugged on my way home. Around 6-ish at the Columbus Circle station this homeless guy in a wheelchair attacked me! Yes. In a wheelchair! I didn't see that coming--clearly! I'm still shaking my head at that part--even as I write this.
So, here's the lowdown. I thought for my first blog entry, I'd write about why I heart NY!!! Camera in hand, I went about taking pics of Columbus Circle. It was the first area I had stayed in the city. I just needed a few pix of the Uptown/Downtown signs in the subway to go along with my story. Got that and I was done. Life was good, and the City was still fabulous...
As I wait for the downtown D, I notice a guy in a wheelchair pushing a large suitcase, slowly approaching. I make eye-contact with him then look away. I ignore the feeling that something isn't right. My spidey senses are out of whack 'cause this guy is in a WHEELCHAIR PUSHING A BIG ASS SUITCASE!
All of a sudden, dude is right next to me! "He must need to move pass me," I think. As I proceed to move, they guy lunges at me, grabs me, and starts to pull me toward him. My attacker has Kool-Aid-colored vomit all over his legs, smells like he is sitting in his own waste and hasn't showered since who knows how long! I'm struggling to get free and all I can say is, "What are you doing?!" The guy never says a word.
Another man standing right next to me asks, "Do you know him?" "No, I don't know him!" He then becomes my good Samaritan, trying to pull me free--as the crowd looks on. I'm being punched, scratched. I don't want to be pulled into him. My Samaritan and I yell at the man to let go! We realize he is going for my camera.
I have months worth of pictures and videos that haven't been transfered! I didn't take the $20 insurance! I struggle to hold on to them. Unable to break free, I let go of the camera and my pulls me free. He tries to retrieve my camera, but my attacker attempts to the throw it into the track. It lands broken on a closed platform.
The guy's explanation for jacking me up: "You were taking pictures of me! She's been following me around all week. You've been following me around Queens, Brooklyn, Bronx, and Manhattan!"
By the time my Samaritan and I get 5-0, my attacker has taken the elevator and is on his way out of the station! He repeats the same "she's stalking me" story! With that, he gets a trip to the psych ward. They'll clean him up, and he'll be back to attacking folks in no time.
As for me, I'll toughen up and recover.
When I get angry that he's getting off, I just think to myself: "You're an idiot! New York City has five boroughs--not four! You forgot Staten Island!"
Maybe that shouldn't give me so much comfort. Everyone forgets Staten Island.
Life is complicated. Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying!
P.S. Memory card survived. Pix of my assailant coming soon!
UPDATE: I had one picture with the guy who assaulted me on there. Jump!
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