All Things Considered

I was hoping that I would start my blog with what an eye opening experience I had today, I am now fully enlightened and charged for the cause....but that's just not true.  First off, it took me a few hours to well up the energy and desire to take the train for 40 minutes to go to Zuccotti Park.  It wasn't because I didn't want to go, but I had a lot of coffee this morning and it was very difficult for me to calm down and quiet my brain.  We can say I had a lot of "zenning" to do before I felt comfortable leaving.  I smoked a bowl, to level me out, and made the journey.  Its only one train and about a 7 minute walk, it was a nice evening and I do love seeing Ground Zero at night time.   So finally around 6 I arrive at the park wide eyed with an open mind.  


The park is small but filled to the brim with hopeful faced protesters.  There was a very large crowd gathered at the entrance on Broadway.  There was a choir standing on the stairs and some strange man, who by the way he was dressed, I am assuming was a pastor of some kind(but the kind of pastor on late night evangelical shows), speaking to the crowd.  They were doing the whole "human microphone" thing, where one person speaks and the crowd mimics back.  From where I was standing I could see the crowd pretty well, and almost hear what the Protesting Pastor had to say, but not quite.  This microphone is good at building drama, but not exactly effective for getting speeches across unless you are within about 20 feet.  I strained to hear, or at least understand the essence of the message just through the blissful looks on peoples faces, but still nothing.  Then they started singing, a great choir, singing a song they had written about the protest.  One thing I can say, I am a sucker for a good sing a long, so I almost let myself be swept away, almost.  


I waited and watched the crowd for as long as I could until I gave in to the fact that it was futile to try and gain any understanding in this way.  I broke away and wandered through the tent city that is now set up in the park.  This was a pleasant surprise I must say.  From my Mom's recounting of the Occupy LA crowd, they smell like shit, they piss all over the lawn and kill the grass.  She works at City Hall and looks at them everyday, so I trust her on this one.  Occupy Wall Street is a startlingly clean, well organized, efficient group of hippies if I may say so myself.  And don't give me any of this "They aren't all hippies" bullshit.  I was there, I was watching, the main organizational scheme is setup by a group that I know must have narrowed it down after many a "Burning Man".  They have compost, a sanitary area, they have a kitchen going making food for everyone, I see that someone had donated pizza, they had an impressive stock of food, and all of it cleaner than most of the city.  I have to hand it to those at the core of this movement, they built the community fast. 


I walked deeper and deeper into it, which was strange because there was tons of people walking around, as you follow the path through the park, you are surrounded on all sides by campers.  Tents, tarps, boxes, whatever, these people are sure as shit living there.  And from the looks of it, they could stay there until it snows.  I tried to ignore the vast amounts of people I saw plugging away on their ipads and ibooks, as I was determined to not let my opinions get the best of me, but some of those people had impeccable gear. Trustafarians is I guess the word the kids use now.  Trust fund kids trying to squeeze their way into the 99%, eager to be a part of something besides their Daddy's Country Club.  Either way, for the most part I was deeply impressed at their gusto and efficiency.  Also it was very diverse.  All types of people, old, young, black, white, you name it.  But as I am realizing in the Realism vs.  Idealism battle I have waging in my head, I felt like this glimpse of utopia was just too good to be true.  


"This is just the beginning." I swear to Jeebus I have heard that shit like 50 times today.  It's true.  It is the beginning.  But beginning of what? The beginning to a solution? The beginning to a bigger problem? The beginning of the end?  I believe it is all of the above.  I went around the park quite a few times, happening to bump into a former friend who also happens to be one of the most useless, noncontributing, free hand out looking mother fuckers I have met while in NY.  I started to feel the gnaw of opinion and generalization in the back of my mind, but I just kept on walking, making sure to read all the signs on the way.  Some messages spoke to me, the sense of community was beautiful, the passion was palpable, but still, something just didn't feel right.  That is the feeling I have had this whole time, the unexplainable gut feeling you get with something is "off".  After I had meandered through the groups a little bit, I made my way back to the crowd I had started off watching.  They were still singing, and chanting(not to be confused with the strange creepy hippies who were also singing and chanting, but to an alter and while wearing turbans), and trying to get people amped.  Then I started to notice a tear in the crowd.  Some people were starting to grow more agitated and aggressive, they started their own chants, and shouted their own opinions.  Some were ready to rage, tired of this passive sitting and singing, they wanted to get crazy.  It made me smile.  


This, I believe will be the undoing of the whole thing.  Eventually this unity is going to have to split.  Not even in half, but into quarters, and tenths. One of the main criticisms of this movement is its lack of direction.  That was actually part of what I agreed with in terms of the protest.  No one having to be right, no one having to be in charge, or say their point is the most important, it was just everyone, being pissed about the state of things.  Now don't get me wrong, I think a lot of people are confused about my opposition, its not that I think the people are wrong, I think it has been a long time coming.  I for one have been waiting on a Revolution since before I could vote, I am happy the rest of the world finally woke the fuck up.  I just believe that sitting around in a park and eating fucking Vegan Food Not Bombs handout meals is not the way to go.  I think people should be more angry.  If I had lost my house and my job, I'd be furious as shit.  


But this is where the rift in the movement will come.  Those "in charge" today spoke of a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning where a committee will sit and they will draft up a list of actual demands.  Now what makes anyone think this is going to work out all nice and tidy like? Someone is going to have to be in charge, but they don't want for anyone to be in charge, also, everyone has their own idea of what is the most important cause is,  who decides what the demands are?? Unanimous vote in a crowd full of strangers?  If it were that easy we'd be living in the goddamn Garden of Eden right now.   Also, the tension between those who are ready for the Loud and Hard Revolution, and those who are content to just "Occupy".  


One of the things I noticed and found most amusing about the whole thing is that when the Occupiers were chanting and singing and doing that jazz hand thing that signifies deaf people clapping, a Revolutionary would start chanting something a little more intense, something a little more forceful, the  Occupiers would actually turn around and start throwing dirty looks and shushing them.  I almost laughed out loud.  There is already civil unrest in their self built Utopia, what chance to do they have against "The Man"???  I believe change is possible when the government takes this shit seriously.  They aren't going to take anything seriously until something is on fire and people are running or fighting for their lives.  You all saw what the NYPD is capable of.  They did that shit on purpose.  Pepper spray a few protesters, treat 'em like wild animals, and it sure quieted their asses down didn't it? Got people running around using their camera phones as weapons.  Cops display a massive presence at every event, and they are not scared.  If they aren't scared, I guarantee Mr. Joe Shmoe Billionaire on the 88th floor looking down isn't scared either.  


I really did try and be subjective, and I do have a new found respect for a lot of the people that were down there.  The resourcefulness and commitment alone was more than I expected, but over all, I did not find myself moved, or persuaded.  I really wanted that feeling of unity with my fellow man and all that, I really did, its my generation and I feel cut off not being a part of it.  Although at the same time, I feel like I'm ready for the part of this protest that these others haven't even considered yet.  I am ready for the mayhem, I am ready for the panic.  All these shushing ass passive hippies, Trustafarians and crusty punk rock children are not going to be ready for Martial Law.  Not ready at all.  Surviving in a park is not the same as surviving in a world that you wanted to see built up from scratch.  


You want your utopia? You better be willing to kill for it, because that's they only way its gonna go down.  You want a restructure? You want the shift of wealth to change? Someone else is going to have to be in charge.  You are going to have to trust each other.  And I feel the same way about this as I do the bible.  In it, God says you should never trust man, because man is inherently sinful, yet man wrote the bible, so how can you believe it? "The people" say they have the solution, "The People" have the ideas and demands that are gonna turn this country right around an get it back on the right track?  Well who the fuck are these people? I believe this country was founded and built by people who were tired of being oppressed, so they moved away to somewhere else, declared it free and then slowly but surely oppressed the hell out of it anyways.  History is doomed to repeat itself, so I just fail to see the entire point of this.  We were built on capitalism, capitalism will be sure to take us down.  Maybe if all you hopeful singing chanters are lucky, one of our many enemies will bomb the shit out of us and take out 3/4 of the population, then you can commune all you fucking want.  Start from scratch.  Build your own society.


In conclusion, I will return to Zuccotti Park, I will continue to watch it unfold, I will read their signs and shake my head at half naked dancing hippies.  I went with an open mind, but for now, my mind is made up.  If you don't like it, I really don't give a fuck.  If you think I'm apathetic, I don't give a fuck about that either. I have been against banks, the media and all that shit forever.  I don't feel passion or empathy for people rubbing their eyes like babies waking from a nap.  Looking up at "The Man" and pointing fingers, "Hey! You tricked me! You took my money! I've been duped and now I'm pissed!".  Duh humans.  Duh.  It was the whole point of the establishment, welcome to reality.  Now either shut up and deal with it, or storm the fucking castle and get on with it.  Good luck to all parties involved, I really truly mean that.  If I am wrong, I will issue a formal apology/congratulations to all.  But I wont hold my breath, and neither should you.

Homeostasis

This is the first blog from my new laptop.  Yes, ladies and gents, The Jackie is back in action.  All in part to my lovely boo, Bill Blood.  The man keeps me sane and loved, what can I say?  I can say that my life is the shit, that's what I can say.  When I bought my one way ticket to New York City, with 3 friends, no job, no long term place to stay, and one hell of a "can do" attitude, I knew I was headed in the right direction. 


For so long in Los Angeles I felt unsure of everything.  I found out my lifelong best friend was a raggedy ass jerk. I couldn't decide if my grandparents were ready to be on their own.  My mom wrangled herself a sweet homestead.  I was just floating around from one bar to the next, one joint to the next, one party to the next, which I guess isn't too different than how I am now, then I just wasn't feeling to good about it.  All I was sure of was that I needed change. 


I have had a few points in New York where I thought, it just couldn't get better than this, and somehow it always does.  I'm not going to say that I wasn't a little depressed when I lost my job at Jerkface Motorworks, I wasn't really expecting it, and I got played out pretty bad, so it was understandable that I have done an acceptable amount of moping.  A part time job would be really helpful, something where I can serve semi-douchey people some coffee or used clothes or whatever.  Somewhere that will have me and not treat me like a bitch.  I don't ask for much.  


It makes me sound mostly-douchey for saying this, but I have had a bit of a hard time adjusting to not having a job and not worrying about it.  Sounds like everyones dream, yeah, yeah, I know all about it.  Now that I realize I'm not going to wake up from this dream, its growing on me kinda nicely, but at first, its a little bit shocking. I haven't not worked for almost a decade, minus the year I lived with my grandparents.  I felt totally, utterly, completely fucking useless.  Not bringing in my own money, absurd.  All of a sudden I got all feminist on myself, like, "Ain't no man gonna be takin' care of my ass.  No way, I'm independent, I got my own shit, I got my own clothes, I buy my own Metrocard."  I guess that's how I was raised, and it's not a bad thing, a girls gotta get her own in this world.  But, I have nothing to prove.  I already made it clear I could take care of myself, everyone knows it.  


This is no free handout though, let me tell you.  I am Housewife, USA right now.  Doing laundry, making breakfast, I'm getting domestic up in here.   I like it, I complain like Peggy Bundy, but I actually do what needs to be done, very well I might add, then whine about it later.  So far, so good.  We have quite the little household going on.  Me, Bill, Sage and Tyler have a good thing going here.  We are simple people, who have incredibly awesome lives.  And the best part is, it will still keep getting better than this.  I didn't know what I was looking for when I left LA, but I am pretty sure I found it.  


Okay, my Cheese Meter has reached capacity, but stay tuned for my next update.  Tuesday, The Jackie goes on location to Wall Street.  Guaranteed to be brutally honest, mostly offensive and entertaining for all.  

Civil Unrest

It's autumn in New York, so beautiful, so crisp.  The wind is blowing, and it seems to have brought with it an Occupation.  Everyone is up in arms and all up in the street.  I haven't actually gone down there to check it out, and this is for a number of reasons.  One of them being that I don't actually give a shit.  Sorry, I had to say it.  We all know this country is corrupt, everyone complains about it, constantly.  I complain a whole lot about people( well, maybe not as much "complain about" as "make fun of), but I figured the State of the Union was a tacit understanding between all of us.  It fucking sucks.  They take all our money, charge as up the asshole for EVERYTHING, cops and rich people get to do whatever they want, but it is what it is.  




Now before everyone starts getting all crazy, I also understand the need for change, and our rights, and free speech, all that.  I am just completely convinced that the people that the message is intended for, don't give a shit.  If any changes are actually made, they will be made in such a way that they will still get something out of it.  
So you go stomp around in the streets with your human microphone or whatever it is, hold up traffic, force the city to pay for even more cops to be out, arresting people who have to pay the city back more money...it sounds ridiculous to me.  As foul as this country is sometimes, we don't live in huts.  We have running water.  No genocide.  No bombings. Fertile land.   Who the fuck are we to protest anything?  




Another reason is that I do my best to stay under the grid.  I have as little to do with the government as possible, I do not do anything that will put me in contact with police, I do not have credit.  I am my own Revolution, and the best kind of revolution is an underground one.  Hollering in the streets "The World is Watching", yeah, they are, and I would rather they not see my face, thank you.  




I thought I was just apathetic, but on further consideration, I'm not.  I give a shit about something, I give a shit about myself.  I ain't afraid to say it either.  I give a shit about me, my friends, my family, thats it.  Fuck the government, fuck the media, be prepared.  I understand the unrest.  I really do, I've felt the unrest my whole life.  I have always questioned authority, I couldn't give a shit less about politics because I have never trusted any of it, even as a kid.  I have watched people get hopeful and disappointed at every election.  But everyone still keeps hope.  I guess I am just cynical, but I am also prepared.  You have to find away to survive and get by when the government continues to fail you.  Occupy yourself.




Everything is in such extremes right now, the whole world pretty much sits on the edge of their seats waiting for the shit to go down, but no one really puts too much thought into what that shit is.  This country would have to tear itself down before it could rebuild with this idealistic perspective everyone has in their heads.  Get over it.  The powers that be would blow dying ass Mother Earth up before they would let us actually have any rights.  So unless you are ready to go into full on apocalyptic survival mode, we are no where near change.  


I think we should be occupying our time, starting little tiny Revolutions every day.  Thats just me, and of course I could be wrong, that would make me an asshole, but at least we would be around long enough to prove it.


And on a side note, if this shit lasts long enough...I'll eventually have to go down to Wall Street and check it out.  Morbid curiosity and all.

Time to Fem Out

I usually try and refrain from speaking of the struggles of females, cuz well, that's what fucking Cosmo is for.  But, today I have encountered a few feminine obstacles.  I made the ever dreaded trip to Planned Parenthood.  In LA, this is more of a time wasting inconvenience, in NY, it is waiting in limbo hell to be systematically raped.  In order of arrival, of course.  

California, with all of its debt and flaws at least offers free reproductive care.  Free  birth control, pregnancy tests, STD screens, morning after pill, abortion consultation, etc.  Here, you  must jump through the flaming hoops of Medicaid approval.  I could not apply for free care without a birth certificate, social security card, proof of residence, AND a carefully worded letter from Bill stating that he is now financially responsible for me.  I brought all that, because I can follow instructions, and was told that I am still not eligible.  Um, what?  I am a young female with no fucking job, you want me to get knocked up? Is that it?  After quite a bit of persuasion, I was given a "sliding scale", which means I only had to pay $25 to see a damn Midwife.  I thought this included a lady exam and birth control.  Haha.  Yeah right.  $180 for an exam.  So what you are telling me Planned Parenthood of New York City is that not only do you want me to get knocked up, but you want me to be overflowing with syphilis and cancer? Neat-o.  Thanks for nothing.  I just don't understand how a booming city like NY can even think to not offer free birth control.  Instead they build the projects 90 stories high to house all the accidental children and syphilitic crackhead prostitutes.   Just sayin.  

Female obstacle 2 of the day is this new diet I'm forcing myself to do.  Some people don't like the term "diet", so to make you happy, I will refer to it as my "new lifestyle choice".  And by lifestyle choice, I mean, a choice to fit back into my fucking pants because I'm too broke to buy new ones.  I went to Trader Joe's and spent a good chunk of my remaining money on foreign and exotic foods.  Cucumbers, lettuce, asparagus, lean ground turkey meat, just to name a few.  Holy hell it is expensive to try and not be a fat ass.  Now I know why I was living off of Manwich and Mac and Cheese.  So not only am I having to buy foods that I never would have even thought to put in my mouth, but I have to fucking cook them.  MYSELF.  In a kitchen, with knives and fire, plus make them taste good.  Good grief.  I am not a very insecure person, and there isn't much I find to be outside the realm of being totally bad ass at, but I am going to go ahead and put cooking at the top of that list.  I just figured that in some primitive sense, I should just, you know, be good at it.  I am so insecure about it, that my first attempt at making something hasn't even finished its 2 hour simmer and I'm already convinced it sucks.

It took me a lifetime of chopping and browning and stirring and simmering and measuring before I could even leave it alone to do its thing, and now, after smelling it for 2 hours, I don't even want to eat it.  Is this how real life works? Is this why my grandma would spend all evening preparing something for my grandpa only to serve him and retire to her bedroom with a bowl of cereal? This shit is nuts.  It's fun because I have never done it (when not being specifically paid to do so), but a pain in the ass because I paid for all of it, and I have to eat it whether it comes out good or not. I find this part much harder than the actual diet.  I got up early(which means noon), made and ate my boring ass scrambled eggs and spinach, drank water, ate my measly Babybel cheese wheel for a snack, came home and had a proper salad, no problem.   But now I am here suffocating on chili fumes and wondering how many days worth the chili I'm gonna have to eat to feel like this shit was worth the time it took.  

This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but if you know me, you know that cooking and eating properly is like my equivalent of scaling Mt. Everest or some shit.  Something one puts on their list of things to do and swears they will do it someday, but don't.  Well folks, someday is here, and I am determined.  If this South Beach doctor guy has lied to me, I will be a fat ass forever, if not, I'll be fine as hell in a few weeks.  Time can only tell.  Good news though, according to Planned Parenthood, as of today I am 3 lbs lighter than I was 2 weeks ago.  If the anxiety from starting a diet can drop pounds, maybe the rest of this will be successful.

Cheezy, but just the beginning...

No one panic, but I lost my job a few days ago.  I regret not blogging about this job while I was excited about it, because you would have truly got the chance to see how much I put into it.  You also would have gotten to hear about the terrible decline as I realized just the kind of people I was employed by.  I could go on a rant about the lying, irresponsibility and downright shadiness I witnessed, but I wont.  Not because I don't think the world should know, I just know it wont make a difference.  They will be their own undoing, and I am relieved to not have to watch the ship go down.  And if by chance they make it, well, I wouldn't have wanted to be there to sell my soul to help.  

Now, I am unemployed, in a position where I don't have to get another job for awhile, and I've just been pacing around my empty apartment, not knowing what to do with myself.  I got the food that I wanted to eat today, started catching up on Breaking Bad, smoked some weed, a couple cigarettes, then almost had an anxiety attack on my fire escape.  I don't mean like, "I can't breath. I'm DYING!" type of anxiety...just, "Oh shit, what the hell am I gonna do with my life?" anxiety.  

I have been in New York for over 7 months, and I find myself in the oddest position.  Good, but just not somewhere I ever thought I would be.  I have a fucking amazing boyfriend.  I mean, not for nothin, he is just the best thing that has ever happened to me.  He now makes 3 awesome people whom I have built a home with that I just love to pieces.  We are cramped but cozy, and I can't say how fortunate I feel to have them all together in one place.  So, home is good.  

My mantra is that everything happens for a reason, and even though change is going to make me anxious, it is what it is.  For the first time EVER, I have the opportunity to just explore and figure out exactly what I want to do.  It is fucking fall in New York.  It is beautiful outside.  I can go for a walk, shop in the city, ride the train around and see where I end up.  Plus, I can write all about it!  No work drama, no home drama, just the beauty of life that I haven't gotten a chance to just sit around and enjoy for years.  Some people are never afforded this opportunity and I would be such a punk ass poser if I let it slip by me.  I don't know what I did in life, actually scratch that, all the bullshit I dealt with in life, brought me here, and I deserve it.  My dream of being able to just focus on writing has been realized, this Jackie may just make something of her self very soon.   Thank all of you who have stuck by and continued to follow along, even when I was being a jerk and neglecting this page.  

I am only on Day 2 of "Funemployment", so I am still doing the initial, sit around the house and relax stage, but I guarantee I will be bored of that by Monday.  So, this blog will now be my #1 priority.  I hope all this works out as well as I see it doing so in my head.

The Most Hyped Least Catastrophic Catastrophe

I have decided to bring my blog out of semi-retirement to give everyone the run down about the events surrounding this hurricane.  No one I know really has a television, so this storm was pretty much hearsay until about Friday afternoon.  I get to work and my bosses are losing their shit because we are located a mere blocks walk from the waterfront, and keeping up with their general preparedness for most things, lack flood insurance.  So with over a million dollars worth of motorcycles and equipment housed in our facility, I spent a large part of the day breaking the news to customers and moving shit off the floor.  Sand bags were brought in, supplies were purchased, and with my caring, empathetic heart, I grumbled about just hoping my damn vacation wasn't ruined.

I am not a particularly panicky individual (unless its a freaking earthquake, and then you had better get your kids out of my way because I will trample them to get to the door first..), but after they had announced the evacuation of millions of people from the city and decided to shut down the entire transit system at noon on Saturday, I started to take a little bit of notice.  More so because transit has only been shut down 2 other times in NY history, and that was on 9/11 and in 2005 when the metro workers went on strike.  So by take notice, I don't mean that I went and punched people in the face for the last pack of batteries or case of water,  I mean that I noticed the inherent flaws in this plan. 

Coastal areas were ordered to be evacuated by 5pm on Saturday evening, yet there would be no public transportation starting at noon.  Now I am no statistical analyst, but that just sounds retarded.  You want these people to get the hell out, but you are going to halt the one way that more than half of New Yorkers use to get around.  Okaaaaay.  Also, the amount of shelters provided by the city, wouldn't even be able to house a quarter of the people evacuated.  It might also be noted that a good deal of the evacuated were Housing Projects, people that most likely lacked the resources to find alternate travel or living situations.  Neat-o.   Any one ever hear the story of the Titanic??

Also, all airports were to be shut down at noon.  I thought I was in the clear, I had been earnestly clicking back and forth between Virgin Americas website and the status of JFK.  All flights were still a go as of 1 am.  JFK was to close its doors at noon, and my flight was scheduled at 11:45, so I assumed that we would be okay since the storm wasn't even estimated to arrive in NY until 2 am SUNDAY morning.  Well, its a good thing I decided to sit on hold with Virgin America for not one but TWO hours.  When a very frazzled gentleman finally answered my phone call, I was told all outbound flights from JFK were canceled from Saturday morning til Monday afternoon.  My usual response in situations like this is to yell and belittle the defensless phone monkey until I get my way, but he was genuinely apologetic and had probably been yelled at no fewer than 500 times that evening, so I spared him.  My flight was changed until Monday afternoon and we got comped 2 extra days so that my stay wouldn't be affected.  I guess thats the most I could squeeze out of Virgin, so I let it go.  Now all there was left to do was wait.

I woke up Saturday afternoon around 1 expecting some sort of pre-disaster storm action, and found that it wasn't even fucking raining.  It was almost 80 degrees and muggy as hell, but it sure didn't look like any of that would have stopped a plane from taking off.  Now I am pissed.  I also realize that because my boyfriend and I were planning on making a break for it during the storm, we were sorta ill prepared.  I still wasn't completely convinced the situation was going to be as bad as Mayor Bloomberg was making it sound, but if by chance, "they" were right, I didn't want to be caught with my pants down sans flashlight.  I made the call to my roommates who were in possession of beer, water and candles but without much food.  We had food and weed, and no beer and water, so we decided we should join forces.  We headed from Bill's house back to Bushwick where we were going to set up shop for Hurricane Party 2011.  

Now, I don't know if the media touched on it at all, but a New Yorkers sense of "preparation" largely consisted of fridges full of beer and water, and an apartment full of amusing company to wile away the night with.  Everyone seemed most concerned about weather or not this meant we all had the weekend off.  Alas, the ONE upside of transit shut down.  The perfect excuse.  We settled in for the long haul, checking updates via weather.com, posting at the window waiting for a hobo to fly by in a gale gust of wind, and waiting for some action, and waiting, and waiting, aaaaand waiting.  We had 2 pots of coffee, played made up drinking games, baked a cake for Sagey's Hurricane Birthday, and waited and waited some more.  I was still sore over my flight, so I was determined to be bitter until I saw some real catastrophe type shit.  As the hours wound down and 2 am approached, the wind was pretty hectic, the rain was coming down in sheets, but nothing close to the hype I was seeing on the interwebs.  Family was calling to make sure I was still alive, and I just yawned into the phone and smoked another cigarette on the fire escape.  Talk about anti-climactic.

I know it sounds amazingly retarded and selfish to say that I am a little disappointed to not have some crazy amazing story about how I survived Hurricane Irene, but its true.  The city spent some odd million dollars on this hype.  And as I learned from some seasoned New Yorkers, Bloomberg was mostly just covering his ass for the lack of judgment he showed during the major winter blizzards. I know they say "better to be prepared than blah blah blah", but I think the city could have went about this with a little less media driven frenzy and a little more...whats the phrase?? Oh yeah, common fucking sense.  We are an island, we are surrounded by water.  Isn't there some better precautions set into place to get us through something like this?? Los Angeles has spent millions of dollars making sure our city doesn't crumble into pieces during an earthquake, there is no way a seaboard metropolis can't get its shit together for a hurricane?  Absurd I say, absurd.  

So, even though this storm was probably much more exciting for those of you watching the footage on the blockbuster news from afar, it did afford all of us an unexpected day to hang out with good people, get drunk, stuff our faces and try our hand at conversation.  All in all, the most pleasant disaster I've ever encountered.  And my heart does go out to all of those on the eastern seaboard that get trampled by this hurricane, but maybe that will teach to you stop rebuilding houses in a town that gets consistently trampled by Mother Nature every season. And on that note, see ya Monday Los Angeles.   

The Best of a Bad Situation

Now don't get me wrong, I usually do not give 2 shits about the government, its exploits, or who it is they are deciding to kill this week, but announcing that we shot Osama Bin Laden, well, even I have to take notice.  I have had and heard so many mixed messages and feelings about this development, it kinda sucked the fun out of the story as a whole.  I assume that 99% of what comes out of the mouths of politicians, including our handsome President, is a sack of lies.  And I don't feel that this is any different.  Why would you go through all this trouble of crashing helicopters and special forces invading, then just dump the body at sea?? That's crazy.  As part of the Osama fairy tale, we were promised a bloody mutilated body, and we as a people wanted to see it.  Which brings me to my next point...

Ground Zero last night had me in awe.  I literally stood with my beer in hand, scanning the crowd with a slack jaw.  Every type of person you can imagine, and where did everyone get all these flags from??  The ignorance level of this flash mob was astounding, but that aside, it was nice to see people rally together for something.  The general feeling from the crowd was "Fuck Osama"...well, even if he is dead, I'm sure he still fucked us worse, and will continue to fuck us despite his body being at the bottom of the ocean...if that's where it is at all.  I would love to believe that this is the beginning of a new era, a time where America does what it says its going to do, where we move on past this tragedy and become better people and save the world.  We just got drunk in the streets, climbed on shit, and sang songs to celebrate the massacre of 4 men and a woman...looks like the same old era to me.

Also, the amount of people dedicated to Osama's leadership aren't going to give up their fight just because he's gone, I think it will make them fight harder.  And that just means more people are going to die, and a lot of them are going to be Americans.  Death does not literally equal justice, it just makes those that were wronged feel better.  Which I am fine with.  Those little girls at the rally who were crying because they lost a parent, or the firefighters holding up the jackets of comrades who died trying to rescue people as the towers went down, they needed to feel better.  And it isn't like our government is ever going to stand at a podium and say "Uuuh, well, you see, funny thing about those towers...".  Not gonna happen.  These people were afforded a time of peace and relief.  And the people in the military who keep getting sent back over seas can feel, for a moment, that its all going to be okay.  

I also believe that the only reason our government wanted to kill Osama so bad is because we are the ones that turned him into the covert killing machine he was.  We gave him the money, the weapons and the know how.  This was effectively putting the family pit bull to sleep after it turned and maimed someone in the family.  You brought the monster into your home, and now you realize its up to you to put it down.  Thanks for making this trillion dollar correction USA.  You will probably never hear a political rant like this from me again.  It is all bullshit.  Our government is bullshit, murdering in the name of justice is bullshit, and we are no better than they are.  I am glad that I got to witness a huge piece of history for this nation.  It felt good to be at ground zero and sing our battle anthem, and it felt good to see other people feeling good.  But this is not the end, and that scares me, and once everyone is done waving their flags and singing their praises to America, we should go right back to waiting for the other shoe to drop, because its inevitable. 

The other side of positive..

I am pretty much bi polar.  It manifests itself in different ways, and because I am such an extreme personality, the hardest part is finding where I end, and the bi polar begins.  I can alternate through 5 emotions every 15 minutes for a whole day.  Its fucking exhausting, not just for me personally, but for the people around me.  I guess that's why I tend to drink so much, or hide in my room.  I get genuinely hateful sometimes.  Even if I am happy all day long, it can take one thing to just flip my switch and turn me hateful.  And I don't enjoy being mean, so I will just go and hide, and wait for it to go away.  But now the closest thing to escaping I have is hiding behind a curtain.  I knew this was the situation I was walking into, but sometimes it just drives me crazy.  

I mean, its almost hilarious, because I think the biggest qualm for me is just not having a door.  I didn't have a door until I was 17, and since then, I have always had a door.  The door is almost as symbolic as it is physical.  A way to close everything out, to trap what ever demon I am fighting with in.  Not having one is a loss of control, and as someone who has worked very, very hard to have control of my life, losing that small piece of control pushes a button sometimes. I'm not even going to downplay this by calling it "silly" or "trivial", because to a bi polar person, those are exactly the things that fuck with your head, the minute or seemingly insignificant.

 I guess its as close to jealousy as I allow myself to get.  Wait, I take that back, now that I have reviewed the actual definition, I am not jealous at all. I am bitter. Which is of no surprise, since I am a self professed bitter person.  I guess it just hurts my feelings to be bitter about the happiness of my best friends.  I feel like an extra in my own house.  I have arranged my space to be so beautiful and I like it, but the living room is two steps away and I can hear everything that goes on there.  And the roomies pretty much hang out there all the time.  Which is how it is supposed to be, if they were in their room all the time, I would probably complain about that shit. I need to get over the need to hide.  Even though half the time I do it for the benefit of others as much as for myself.  No one should have to see me or deal with me like this. 
 
 The worst part is that the people I live with, who love me, and do their god honest best to deal with the erratic creature that lives near the kitchen, probably don't even realize what sets me off, and I don't know how to explain it.  Eh, but since they both read this, I guess they know now.  They are happy, and they fucking deserve it.  I guess I just can't envision such simple happiness like that for myself and it makes me bitter.  We are a family, they have never treated me like anything else, even though I am a pain in the ass, but I feel like I am watching it all from outside an aquarium sometimes.  Never alone, yet lonely all the time.  And I don't want any of you to think this was a passive aggressive way of talking about it, I guess I just don't know how to deal with it myself, so how in the hell am I supposed to walk anyone else through it?

I feel like a fucking pussy sometimes because I know that sometimes I make people feel like they are on eggshells, because lord forbid somebody set me off.  This is true at work and in other situations, and its ridiculous, who the fuck do I think I am?? I don't know.  I have no idea.  

What I do know is, right now I should be high on life with all these new and fortunate opportunities that have been bestowed on me, a great job, money, living in New York with my best friend... and I still feel like I walk around with this rain cloud like Charlie Brown, or more appropriately, Charlie Bronson.  I think it was that cloud that I was running from, and I have run, literally, as far as the land would allow, and I am beginning to realize that this cloud is not above my head, it is in my head.  How do you destroy your enemy, when it is, in fact yourself?  I am closer to 30 than I am to 20 and if I don't figure it out, I will self destruct.  

Even now, I feel guilt about saying this, because I have spent so much time assuring you all that I am great and fantastic, and for all intents and purposes, I am.  I am safe, I am warm, I am fed, I have a nice apartment, good friends, nice clothes and a future.  And I am also realizing that the reason transitions are so easy for me, is because I am detached.  Nothing scares me, nothing shocks me, and nothing jars me.  I thought that made me brave, but it doesn't.  It makes me indifferent....  but I guess I will have to believe Bukowski when he says, "If you are losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose..."  And I hope that none of you worry too much about this, it wasn't my intent.  It's just the natural progression into the brutal honesty that I think you all expected from me in the first place.

April Ain't Foolin' Me

I am so happy right now, I could just explode.  At first, I must say I was a little jealous of the LA weather and the hot LA things I am missing, Doyer Opening Day, 90 degree bitching, etc...   but then I had to stop and take a look at the big picture...  

I got to sleep in today because I hired a very good friend of mine to cover me two days a week so I can actually get a day off.  I mean, working 50 hours makes me feel all hardcore and all, but gimme a fucking break and a breath please, money ain't everything.  So not only do I get days off, but I get to communicate with someone I had lost touch with for years.  So "winning" on that move.  I roll out of bed around noon and I'm already stoked, I have two "Missed Delivery" slips from the post office I have to go investigate, and I had only a slight idea of who they were from or where they came from.  Nothing is better than mystery mail, and you all know it.  
   
I check the weather remembering this huge crazy storm supposedly headed our way, forecast says light rain, 43 degrees, not so great, not so bad.  I shower, bundle up and head out.  Once you start walking, 43 degrees is not so cold and with a mist on your face it kinda makes you feel like a kid again, hopping and skipping with my scarf waving behind me.  I get to the post office and find not one, but TWO packages waiting for me.  I will not put on blast who they were from, not because its a secret, but because it was special.  Either way, they came from LA and it was the best care package ever, all the things a Jackie could need.  New skateboard trucks with NY approved street wheels, chelada mix, comics, stickers and shades.  Lets not forget the little "homie". I was beaming like a light bulb, and that was just the beginning.

My roomies and I have complete opposite schedules, we never share a day off, they do, but we never get "family time".  Until now.  Thursday is the new Saturday.  We had been planning for a week to hit up a store in SoHo/Chinatown called "Pearl River", Asian Import Extravaganza.  Google that shit and you will see what I mean.  Trinkets and toys and lanterns and candles and incense oh my!  We wandered wide eyed around the aisles, oohing and aahing over ninja swords, tea light lanterns, 75 cent coconut milk, jade statues, jars, vases, and most important, tapestries and bead curtains.  That was the goal of the mission.  My room has no doors, which equals no privacy, which means when I sleep in my bed, its like being asleep in the middle of the kitchen.  I sleep like the dead, but sometimes, the situation is just annoying.

I have been in my apartment for about a month 1/2 and at a loss as to how I was supposed to build privacy.  Well, thanks to a little brainstorming with Sage and Pearl River, it all happened tonight.  I bought 6 beaded curtains and 6 hanging tapestries and pretty much built a room out of that and twine.  It is beautiful. I have never been more proud of handiwork.  I put it together myself and now for the next 11 months, I am really home.  This is probably the lamest and most boring blog I will write for the rest of the year.  The point is,  I was not sad about it not being 95 degrees, I stomped around the streets of NY in the rain and loved it, bought a bunch of beautiful shit for dirt cheap, created a livable space, and now I am going to bed, and I am completely content.  If you know The Jackie, you know that is a rarity, I am just excited.  I am sure in the next few days I will have some snarky, bitter story for everyone that will definitely be more entertaining.  

And, thank every last damn one of you, because I am now over 1000 hits and that is just one more thing for me to be ecstatic about.  Enjoy your sunshine LA.  I do miss you, but I'm making ya proud..

2 legs good, 4 legs bad.

I tried, and failed as a cat person/animal lover.  We thought it would be a great idea to get a little creature to greet us and love us when we got home.  Like we don't greet and love each other enough...so after a week of craigslist searching, our new little addition was found.  A beautiful striped kitty by the name of Isabel, and I couldn't be more miserable.  I have figured that a cat is one of those things that sounds good in theory, but is just really a horrible idea all together.

Now I am not talking shit about those of you who love cats and can manage to live in peace with them, I am just not one of those people.  I knew it, deep down, but the thought of having a pet was so exciting, and with the building of our new little home, a pet just seemed like the next natural thing to happen.  The strangest girl brought the cat to our apartment and me and Sage were just plain giddy with excitement.  She removed the cat from the carrier, let it run and poke around in like the 3 places we didn't want it to, she left the cat with us and we did our happy dance.  Yes, we have a happy a dance and you would melt with envy at our joy if you saw it.  We wasted the happy dance because that cat didn't want shit to do with us.  

Talk about anti-climactic.  The cat ignored us for a few days, before it started pissing on Sage and Tyler's bed.  So, first thing a cat can do to be an awful pet.  Since they have the luxury of a door, they locked the cat out, so now Ground Zero for cat habitation is my bed.  Which brings me to the second thing a cat can do to be the most awful housemate ever, sheds clumps and gobs of hair ALL OVER MY NEW BED!!!!! I had only been in possession of my bed for a damn week before this fucking obnoxious creature took it over.  I am no monster, so I don't tell it to kick rocks, I let it sleep there at night, she nestles in between my legs.  For being the least excited about animals in general, this cat cant get enough of The Jackie.  I guess my animal magnetism is literal.  

Now, cats usually just kinda chill, do a lot of napping.  They are quiet, that's the whole point, but not this cat. Oh no.  By 7 am she is "meow purrrrr meow pouncing".  Even if you are reading this and barely know me, you know how I feel about mornings.  Litter box scratching, meowing and jingle ball batting, NOT OK.  She talks, she fucking talks, all day, every second.  Unless shes asleep, in a fur pile, on my damn blankets.  I may sound completely irrational, but I am allergic.  I wake up with runny eyes, and a clogged nose.  I wear black to work, where I sell food, so needless to say, cat hair. NOT OK.  I go through 5 lint roller sheets before I can even sit on my bed.  NOT OK. It took a few days of desperate texts to this strange cat lady who gave us the cat, but she finally got back to us and said she would take it back.  

Now I am filled with equal parts relief, remorse and guilt.  Since the cat is always on my bed, of course I bonded with it, its fucking cute, it likes me, and I have to be the asshole that firmly puts my foot down and says she has just got to go.  If she could stop her constant fur flinging, I could learn to the live with the other stuff.  But its just not gonna happen and the stress of waking up covered in creature fur is gonna drive me off the deep end.  I have a pretty high tolerance for a lot of things, animal hair ranks at the very bottom.  Even if I love the animal to pieces, just ask Mike.  His dog B was the greatest dog in the history of dogs, and I would sometimes have to bounce from his house because I couldn't even cope with the hair.  It's physiological, I am not an animal hating monster.  Who am I trying to convince? Either way, I still feel bad.  But whatever, I'll get over it, guilt goes away, allergies don't.  

I know, I know...

Sorry for the hiatus folks, not being fully settled was messing with my head.  Work, drink, sleep was all you guys missed last week.  This weekend I had 2 really awesome dates, which is cool, because I don't think I've ever dated before, and in New York, everyone is dating, so I thought, "Why the hell  not?".  I'm single, 26, and I don't really know anyone, so meeting guys and letting em show you cool shit,  not too shabby.  Keeping track of all these guys, a little bit shabby.  Not getting drunk and talking about one or the other, working on it.  Not like any of them think they are the only one, and not like I have anything to hide, I guess I just don't know "The Rules of Dating", but I just keep picking up new ones on the way, and one or the other might get offended, and I like them all.  They all couldn't be more different, and have different things to offer or points of view to see.  I guess it can't hurt. And if any of you aforementioned "guys" is reading this, well then, I guess it answers some questions, and when I say I'm real, I mean it.  So much so that I will publicly say it, and if you don't like it then, well, we should save ourselves some time.  

In other news, I FINALLY got a bed yesterday, I spent more money than I care to think about, but now I have a real room.  Minus doors.  I have a bed, a dresser, mirror, yup, that pretty much constitutes a room for me. Somewhere to watch my Grey's Anatomy marathons, put my shoes and underwear.  I don't ask for much.  Now that I am more comfortable, I can go back to being productive.  There's some big things in the works right now, I don't want to share it just yet because its that big, but if any of you ever worried about my future, you don't have to anymore.  

It is so crazy that I have only been here for a little over a month, and I feel like I got off the plane feeling positive and at home.  I never had an "adjustment" period, I just did the damn thing.  And I still am.  I have a job that I love, roommates who make me want to be a better person and who love me even though I'm not.  I have this blog that you all have been so supportive of.  I don't think I have ever been so happy, so much so, I almost feel guilty about it.  I have so many good friends and such a great family, I feel like there is something wrong with me that I had to go so far away to get my head out of my ass.  I know I needed it, and I know you all know I needed it, but I just can't help but feel that way.  Missing my mom and grandparents makes my stomach hurt sometimes, but I still don't regret it.  I guess that's what "growing up" is, which apparently I did accidentally.  

It's working out for me, I've found the perfect balance of jackass and responsibility, so I will see how long I can keep it up for, because I am about to be up to the gills in responsibility.  I can't wait to let the news out, I guess I am more scared than anything, not that it wont happen, but that it is for sure going to happen, and I just hope I can deal with it.  I know I'm cocky, but, man, it is gonna be crazy.  Well, I know I should be more consistent with this, and I know I also said I am going to work on writing about others more than myself, but, I've also spent a lot of years not worrying about myself, and this is a good healthy way to do it.  Just stick with me, and we will see how this evolves.  Plus, I'm broke this week, so I will probably be spending a lot more time at home on my computer...I am going to try and post a bunch of pictures, the new place, the new neighborhood...I think visual stimulation will definitely spice this blog up.  It needs it!

NY vs. LA

When most people get to LA, the first thing I would hear is, "It's nothing like the movies."  No shit.  This city was built around movie studios, you know, sets, fake.  When you see New York, it's EXACTLY like the movies. To quote Sage, "You can't make this shit up..".  

The walking and the trains is what I think makes it the most real for me.  Everything, no matter how minute; the laundromat, the bodega(say it with me, BO-DE-GA), it all has significance. I live 2 blocks from the projects, which I thought would be a bigger deal than it is.  Same shit as everywhere else, don't make eye contact, carry about your business. Even though it is in an area that hipsters are slowly creeping in on, it is still mainly about the struggle.

I have mad respect for the skaters here.  If you ever want to complain about the streets in HlP, think again.  The streets here are sooo janky, and these crazy little hoodlums navigate these potholes like no other.   It makes me want to skate even more, but I am super tentative about it.  Like they said in Elf, "The yellow ones don't stop." And they don't.

I take the train 25 minutes everyday into the city, and let me tell you, its great.  I loved my car, but riding the train affords a whole other luxury.  The luxury of observation.  On the train you have nothing to do but look at people.  If you don't have a book, which I usually don't, I appreciate voyeurism.  So many different types of people take this train.  Especially since it's Brooklyn to Manhattan.  You can literally be and act however you want, and no one even looks twice.  Weirdos Paradise, let me tell you.

I realize this sounds completely NY bias..but shit.  I live here, I better feel that way :)



Ok, there is a lot more, but right now, work and train taking are my main activities in life.  Since I am barely, almost, stable, my new goal is pure observation.  I'm about to focus on others problems, instead of my own, so its about to get real REAL...Transition with me folks.  And I'm drunk... Mardi Gras everyone....


***Love to the homie's of their lost loved one***

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, and I'm pretty sure we need water...

It never fails, even on the most humdrum work day, something crazy has to happen.  I hadn't blogged in the past few days because all I have been doing is working, not so interesting.  Today started as every other day, me rolling around on my futon in the living room, partaking in my morning ritual.  A silent temper tantrum about having to be awake at 9 am.  I showered, put on my 10 layers of clothes and headed out into the beautiful, sunny 20 degree day.

I get to SoHo, stop by the bodega (say it with me now, bo-de-ga), grab 2 coffees and a bagel for me and my boss, arrive 10 minutes late as per usual and get this meat business cracking.  It was our first real busy day.  The people just poured in all lunch break.  Me and the chef handled business, sold a million sandwiches.  The day was busy but so peaceful. I'm going to attribute it to not having to hear the incessant ridiculous self obsessed chatter that pours out of my other co-workers mouth like vomit out of a bulimic girl.  All in all, shit was great. 

My job isn't particularly hard, but being on your feet for 10 hours takes its toll on anyone, so by 8:30, me, chef, and owner were done and ready to go.  I go in the room where we keep our coats, grab my stuff and get ready to reapply my sweet vampy tip making lipstick when chef practically breaks the door down and starts telling me I need to get the fuck out and get outside.  Pretty much, grab your shit and run.  Outside I vaguely hear sirens, but still haven't figured out why I'm being rushed out. 

 Turns out all those sirens were heading towards the blazing fire 2 floors right next to and above the carvery.  No shit.  We rush out of our door right as the fire trucks are filling the tiny little one way street.  I can't even believe it.  This apartment is being engulfed, the flames are not merely licking out of the windows, it is causing them to explode, showering the 800 looky loo bystanders with glass and debris.  As exciting as it is to see, its fucking tragic.  There are people standing in the street in their pajamas, clutching their children and their pets. 

Gotta give it up to NYFD for responding in seconds, and navigating through a sea of uncaring cab drivers, retarded ass bikers and one way streets.  In less than 5 minutes there is about 15 firetrucks wrapped around the surrounding blocks.  The fire is raging almost out of control, the window air conditioner crashes to the ground from 3 stories up in a hail of smoking embers and splintered wood.  A fireman scales the ladder to gain access to the room.  You can hear the flames crackling as they get bigger and bigger, eventually spreading to the apartment above.  We are so close, we can feel the heat and hear the fireman axing the hell out of everything in their way.  

Me, chef, and Bossman stand and watch in awe as water starts to shower out of the windows with such force, it actually hits the windows on the apartment across the street.  The whole time we are looking at each other wondering if the other window air conditioner in the apartment is going to break loose and literally fall through the skylight of our humble little Carvery. Our door was unlocked and nothing could be done.  The crew had it under control in about 25 to 30 minutes, but jeeze, for awhile, I thought the whole building was a goner.  

The scariest thing about a fire in that part of New York is NOT just the fact that everything is old as hell, but its all connected.  Multiple buildings are separated by nothing more than an address, and this particular building shared a damn address with the carvery. If the firemen lose control, it could be catastrophic, taking everything down around it, gutting the brick buildings.  It just made me very conscience to the risks of this type of cramped city living conditions.  

They got the fire under control, and we still have a job to go to in the morning.  Either way, I have just resigned myself to the fact that I may never have a dull moment for the rest of my life.  Which is good for my followers, but bad for my nerves.  On the bright side though, it made me realize that roaches or not, at least I got to come home to my apartment tonight, and sit on my laptop and be safe.  There is a family in SoHo who just lost everything, so I gotta appreciate my shit, no matter how shitty it is.  Good night guys, and make sure to turn off your space heaters before you go to sleep.... 

 

Caulk Fest 2011

First things first, I worked 48 hours in 6 days last week, and the stress of not having my home was taking its toll on me.  I actually got sent away early one day last week for being as pale white as my shirt.  I used to average 13 hours of sleep a night in LA, I am now down to 4.  The hustle is much more important than shut eye right now. My job is going well.  But having to make decisions about someone else's business is a little bit tricky to say the least.  


The chef that I work with is completely cool, a born and raised New Yorker.  We are on the same page on pretty much everything, so he makes things really easy.  My other coworker, is beautiful with a great heart, but just needs a little more guidance than any of us care to or can provide. As a follower of this blog, I apologize kid.  My boss is a complete nutter, but in the most fantastic way possible.  He trusts us with everything and it is actually a pleasure to work for him, even if it is a 10 hour day.  we spend most of the day laughing and selling meat, I can't complain.  And any of our differences aside, I believe we are forming a very strong team that will make this business a success.

I am somewhat happy to report that I am finally in my new apartment.  It is good to have all my stuff in my own closet and to be able to wear a different outfit, as I have been wearing the same 5 for 2 weeks.  Tough or not, I like to look good.  But things are still pretty sketchy domestically.  The gangster ass roaches I spoke of before are relentless.  3 bug bombs, 2 packs of roach traps, an exterminator and 2 lbs. of boric acid later,  we are no longer afraid to sleep, but still a little weary of the kitchen. 


This apartment is old as all hell and I am pretty sure not everyone in the complex is as vigilantly committed to the cause as we are, so it is as you would expect.  It's a headache, but I am pretty sure in a few weeks time, we will be in charge in our own home.  HAHA.  Me and Sagey went on a caulk and Spackle frenzy today.  There are so many cracks, crevices, nooks and cranny's and we devoted our whole day filling them with some form of latex or silicone.  I also tackled the frightening feat of cleaning the stove, which was ground zero for the roach community.

The females that lived here before us hardly must have cleaned at all because that stove was a sight to behold.  Cooked on egg, grease, crumbs, jeez bitches, grab a Clorox wipe every once in awhile will ya?  I dove in industrial strength gloves first, armed with some 409 and the drive for total roach genocide.  I scrubbed, I scoured, I sweat, and no roaches.  After hours of crack filling and bleach soaking, we finally felt relaxed enough to put some contact paper on the shelves and our dishes in the cupboard.  

Sage went back to the commune to get the last of her and Tyler's stuff, I handled some last touches, showered and headed to the laundromat for some 1 AM laundry action.  I only have to walk 2 blocks, through the projects, and under a train overpass to get there, but I made it alive and rue the asshole that fucks with this girl and her clothes.  Upon arriving home I spotted the first roach of the night...a little confused baby hanging out underneath my discarded sock in the bathroom.  Then roaches 2, 3, 4 followed shortly after, right by the cupboard that I had so thoroughly tried to fix.  


We will not lose hope, nothing is cured in a day, and I feel very confident that we are taking all the right steps, plus our very cool neighbors from across the hall said that the problem is manageable, we just need the upper hand.  And I think we are almost there.  Oh, and, the neighbors also hooked us up with the internet, so I will be able to be more consistent with the posts.  And hope upon hope, tomorrow I will be able to relay some other stories not having to relate to offensive metropolitan insect infestations. 

Ready, set, GO?

I was totally gonna bail on writing tonight, er, this morning, I am sleep deprived, excited, hungover and drunk all at the same time.  This week has been a whirlwind of negotiation, adjustment and learning.  I started my job this week and it is just barely starting to sink in the opportunity I have stumbled upon. Actually, screw that.  I didn't "stumble upon" shit.  I knew what I was supposed to do, I came, its happening and I deserve it.  

My first interview in my second week in New York and I nailed a job at a brand new business in SoHo.  It is called Oxley's British Carvery.  We make and sell meat, and I'm in charge of pretty much everything that doesn't involve cooking.  They hired me, trusted me, and put me in charge.  And, you all know how I feel about responsibility.  I try to avoid it at all costs, and it falls into my lap at a time I can actually handle it and do well.

Jackie of all trades, master of none, has actually come in handy.  I am versatile, but I get bored easily.  If I must have  a job at all I am really glad it is something that challenges me and uses my natural gift.  I can have pride in this new endeavour, and I don't want to spoil things by mentioning it too soon, but this door doesn't just lead to money, but a connection to someone who could change my life....

As exciting as it is to be allowed this opportunity, I'm pretty much shitting myself.  I was supposed to move into my new apartment last week, but due to the sheisty behavior of my new landlord, I've been in limbo, camping out at a friends house 10 blocks from my new apartment.  I love it here, don't get me wrong.  I am staying with the coolest people, I have my own room, the internet, and its comfortable.  But I really need a routine, my own spot.  I moved here with 2 suitcases and a duffel bag, and right now, I am pretty much living just out of the duffel bag.  

Punk rock.  For sure.  Exhausting.  Most definitely. 
 

Finally, after a week long battle for my domestic rights in Sage, Tylers, and my new apartment, exterminators came and eradicated the gangster ass cockroaches inhabiting our new stove, put bars on a fire escape so me and Sage don't have to murder someone for trying to rape us. Then, two weeks to actually receive the right keys for the doors.   The time has finally come to move in, which is why I am awake at a quarter to 5 am to type this.  I may not have internet to post anything for a week, I have been too tired and drunk to write, but I would regret it if I actually COULDN'T write. As you all know, I am much better in a crisis, so I am confident everything is gonna be just fine if not fantastic.  More to follow as soon as I can.

Thank you Val for urging me along. 

Free Booze and a Good Time

Yesterday was the first time I was bored in New York.  Mainly because I was too lazy to drag my ass out of bed to go and do something.  So after sitting in front my computer for 5 hours watching movies, I decided I needed to get my ass in gear and do something awesome.  Thank jeezus for http://www.myopenbar.com.  It gives you a nice long list of all the places with open bars in the city.  The first place I came across happened to be 3 train stops away.

I didn't really know what to expect at all, they had it listed as performance art.  I get to the loft and I stand outside looking at the door, unsure if I was ready to commit to this.  But free beer? Who am I kidding, so in I went.  They suggested a donation, I suggested much less and that was fine.  It was a very open "performance space" and there were a handful of hipsters and artsy types milling around smoking hand rolled cigarettes.  I walk over to the bar and order a drink.  High life out of a keg, could I have asked for more?  

Unsure of what to do with myself I approached a pair of seemingly nice guys who I had actually assumed were gay.  They were very welcoming, and turns out they didn't know anyone there either, so we sat and chatted until the show began.  And oh what a show it was.  Me and the gentleman were trying to guess what was going to happen since there was a display of props in different formations for the different pieces.  But no matter how good a guesser you are, artists will always surprise you.

The first skit started, a woman comes out dressed in full Luchador costume and appears to "struggle with womanhood" by wrestling a sheet (sex), a balance ball (exercise), a baby (self explanatory) and a bunch of junk food (also self explanatory).  I must give the lady props because she really wrestled these inanimate objects as if they were fighting back.  I did some fighting of my own, fighting back the damn laughter because all these people were so serious and in to it.  Give me a break.

The woman finishes up and everyone goes back to drinking their beers and discussing the "power of the piece".  There are still 3 more artists to go, so I am just trying to keep an open mind and a straight face.  For the sake of the beer, of course.  Ten minutes or so go by and the hipsters just keep flooding in.  All with such looks of amazement and enlightenment.  As enlightened as you can look wearing fake lenses in a pair of Ray-Bans, I suppose. 

The next guy to come up was actually by far the most straight forward and entertaining.  His piece was a commentary on the diseases and illnesses that the media and pharmaceutical companies try and convince people they are afflicted with.  Although it was still bizarre as hell, it had group participation, which is always fun.  Yelling out random diseases.  Its amazing how many a group full of people can think of.  By the time this guy was done sprinkling turmeric in everyones mouth, we were all pretty drunk and I had made a few more friends.  

I wont even bother wasting my breath on the nonsense that was the final 2 pieces. Completely ridiculous, and whatever the meaning, it was lost on me.  Good thing me and my comrades were properly buzzed making things still fun.  As the show comes to an end, many people had filtered out, it was only 11:30 and that's just warm up party time for New Yorkers.  The owner of the loft who was a lovely man with his lovely wife, declared that the rest of us couldn't leave until the keg was finished as he did not want to lug it down the stairs.  Fine by me! 

I spent the duration of the night sitting at the bar talking with all these fascinating people.  And met a really nice weed dealer who also happened to be the disease performer.  Also met a drummer (of course), who invited me to his show this evening. Describing their music as Tropi-cool.  I even made it on the guest list.  So after helping a blind homeless man to the bus stop, I headed home.  What went from a rather lonely evening ended in plans for the weekend and even more excited outlook on New York.  This is one hell of a town.

Try and keep up.

Thurs. approx. 1 pm.

I wake up, completely comatose from my delightful nights sleep in my 3rd crash house.  I actually have my own room, not in a loft, very nice.  Either way, I stretch and yawn and my phone rings.  It is the lovely British lady Niccola, calling to tell me that I got the job I wanted.  So already, best day ever.  I "knew" that I had gotten it, but actually knowing and "knowing" are two totally different things, so yay me. 

I immediately make the necessary phone calls to share in my joy and reassure concerned family that I will not be hitting the pole or doing something equally shady to pay rent at my beautiful, ramshackle new apartment.  I decide that since things are going so well, I should try to use up this good fortune and get some stuff accomplished.  

It is a beeeautiful day in Brooklyn, 60 degrees and sunny.  Everyone in my new Puerto Rican ghetto is holding it down on their front stoop, hollering at all the "mami's" showing skin in t shirts.   Myself included.  I hoof it down to the local market and pick up some detergent so I can get some laundry crackin.  I could almost skip down the street, if I wasn't carrying 4 loads of laundry on my back.  

The laundromat is one of my favorite places in the world, probably for the same reasons I love the subway.  It is a place where everyone shares a common grumpiness at having to be somewhere necessary yet unpleasant.  Which I suppose, makes it a little bit less unpleasant, misery loves, blah blah blah. 

I'm starving and I need to make change, lucky for me there is a Puerto Rican rotisserie chicken shop right next door.  No one but a New Yorker knows what the hell that is, but its pretty much heaven in the hood.  Quarter seasoned rotisserie chicken with bomb ass beans and rice.  I grab my food, pump the washing machine with enough quarters to make me cringe, sit back and enjoy my food.  Time passes kinda fast watching toddlers frantically chase rubber high bounce balls as they ricochet off the dryers.  

Finished my laundry with time to spare, and then head over to the new apartment to argue with the fix it guy about repairs I was promised by my landlord.  I took a wrong turn to get there and was guided to the apartment by said fix it guy yelling at me from my kitchen window that I look like I don't know where I am going.  Don't know if you have ever seen a street of brownstones, but they all look the fucking same...so I thought, until I realized that ours is by far the shabbiest on the street.  

From there, I hoofed it back to my crash pad to shower and hop on way to many trains to travel probably less than 10 miles.  Either way, showed up at Smiths Tavern to watch my roomie Tyler croon away with his guitar and drink very reasonably priced beer.  Paid for 2 Stellas and got a Bud Light for free. Once again, yay me.  

After 3 or so more musical acts, me, Sage and Tyler were so hungry, we almost considered eating at a place advertising Pitza.  Pitas? Pizza? Who can tell, it was next door to a place selling Chinese Food and Tex- Mex.  Ha. Some combination places here give Louisiana Fried Chicken Chinese Food & Donuts a run for its money.  Instead we decided on a lovely little diner where I ordered my diner specialty.  If you know me well enough you'll know that would be steak and eggs.  Second delicious meal of the day.

Due to increasing hostility at the commune, we though it would be best if S & T went back with the other non-asshole members of the house (who also performed at the bar).  Being The Jackie that I am, I said "I can take the train, I'm fine."  Uh. Right.  I head down to the G train station where I meet an adorable little Indian who politely walks up to me inquiring if I have a boyfriend.  Usually, this is where I roll my eyes 360 degrees, hide behind my hair and smirk.   But he was so damn polite so I told him that boyfriends are for suckers.  He looked so disappointed and replied that it was a shame because he was pretty sure he could fall in love with me, but he would settle for being my friend.   He was so sincere I allowed him to sit with me on the train.  

Turns out at night time, you have to transfer off the G and wait for another G train that arrives 10 minutes later.  The subway station was on and poppin.  A drunk black man was singing the best rendition of "You Give Love A Bad Name" that I have ever heard, and seeing as how its a karaoke favorite, that's saying a lot.  I guess this is where things started going down hill.  As I watched 2 young hipsters suck each others faces off, and this little teenage Indian stare at me with starry eyes, I got very very tired.  The train arrives and the Indian wishes me a goodnight, as he was already at his stop and just wanted to ensure my safety. Who says chivalry is dead?

I sit on the train about to pop in my headphones when the most odd assortment of black guys and one pasty pale hipster start howling out acapella songs.  Of course, they had to get into "OMG" by Usher which completely distracts the hell out of me because it is both strange and entertaining.  Then half way into Hakunamatata, I realize I had missed my train stop, which at 3 am is one of the worst things you can possibly do.  I have to get off and trudge to the other side of the tracks to begin the very long wait for the next train. 

I was so defeated and tired, not to mention my buzz had completely vanished, I sat my ass down on the filthy wooden benches and waited patiently, for the first ten minutes.  With thoughts of in love hipsters, wasted time and the throbbing heartbreak I am still in total denial about, I almost breakdown into tears.  Thank god for the wiley little subway rat that almost ran right over my damn foot.  No time for tears when rats might eat your toes. That, and how could I feel sorry for myself when a fifty year old woman with a limp is changing out the filthy trashcans in the subway station at damn near 4 am.  

I buck up and the train arrives shortly after.  I take it back 2 stops and trek the stairs up and down to my next point of departure.  As I pass the turnstile entrance,  a young gentleman who is clearly coked out is frantically waving 3 dollar bills at everyone that passes asking that someone please scan their metro card so he can board the train.  The toll booth is clear on the other side of the station, and the train is about to pull in.  The street side of my brain said "Fuck em", but after enduring the misery of waiting forever to see the lights in that tunnel, I caved and swiped him in.  I could only hope for someone to return that karma at 4 am on a really bad day.  

So a million hours later, I am home safe in my nice borrowed bed. Covered in New York grit, ready for sleep. And that my friends, is a day in the life of The Jackie in the (other) Big City.