How much is that doggie in the window?

      I have soo much I would like to share with the world on this blog! I have Thanksgiving to talk about, as well as some wise words from a good friend....all of these WILL make it in here. I will add pictures and details galore! However, right now I am wiped, and if I went into the detail these events deserved I would be up way too late for my 7am alarm clock!

     Well, I've been traveling back and forth from Long Island! I have off Sunday and Monday from work. Instead of sitting in my bed catching up on sleep I've gone to Lawwng Guy-Land and back to see my parents. Ya see, I missed them this Turkey Day. Alas, work prevented me from celebrating with them. I know, I know, before you get too weepy, I can honestly assure you it wasn't as dreadful as I expected the holiday to turn out! Although, I did miss the crazed fam.

Anyway, I just want to say that although it was nuts and only semi-relaxed, I was able to do something I've wanted to do EVERY TIME I come home via Ronkonkoma train station: play with puppies. There is a Puppy store right across the street from the parking lot. My train wasn't getting there for another 2 hours, so I jumped at my chance. I cautiously walked into the store, hoping they weren't about to close. At once I was greeted by shrieking barks of all breeds! There were so many colored, fluffy minuscule canines! I was in doggie heaven! 

My own dog died my senior year in high school, unexpectedly. Since then, we've been without a Fido of our very own. I've become dog deprived. 

So I spent at least an hour with this little gal!

She was the most subdued little pup I've ever seen. A little rag doll! I could pick her up and then place her back down on the couch (in the playpen) and she wouldn't use her legs to support her...at all! She would just flop in place. She loved to curl on my lap, or spread her paws up to my shoulder where she would just snuggle her nose into my coat and fall asleep. I found out she's an American Bulldog and Old English Bull Dog mix. She looked just like Chance from the movie Homeward Bound, except she was calm.I tell ya, it was magical. 

The dreaded moment came when the owner of the store asked, "So what's your story?" I fumbled with my words saying, "She's beautiful. So cute. Really sweet." In my head I was thinking, yes I'm just playing with her, and have no intention of buying her. You know this. I know this. Just let me play with her in peace.

I asked out of curiosity how much she was selling for. $1,125.

First of all, a dog as cute and sweet as this doesn't deserve to live in the city with an owner who is hardly ever around. She deserves a big yard, fresh air, and people to play with her all the time!

Second of all, I can't buy a living, breathing animal that will cost more than my month's rent and continue to cost a bunch of money.

I named her Penny and put her back in her cage after a worker named Alex came to retrieve her. 

Goodbye Penny. I hope you have a great home where the people love you.

I have discovered something about myself. In the end I don't need a man or a family. All I need is a dog to call my very own and I will be content. I hope my parents weren't expecting me to provide the grandchildren. That torch will have to be passed to the bro.

Ah HA! I have located Homeward Bound in sections on youtube. So if you'll excuse me, I have some reminiscing to attend to.

What's a girl got to do to get some shut-eye around here?

Hello 2am. We meet again. I just have one question for you and then I'll be back to fluffing my pillow and cursing my fully attentive state: Why won't you let me sleep past you? WHY do I have to awake to you showing off your rounded curves on my digital clock? Whhhy do I have to acknowledge your existence? I know you're around, just like I know 5am is around, but you don't see 5am bugging me to give it some attention! Although, thanks to you and your rude wake-up call, I am saying hello to 5:30am as we speak.

There are a lot of things I've tried. I've done the sleepytime tea. I've gone to bed in a warm room. I've slept on a full stomach to get the full effects of a "food-coma."I've taken super-c sleep formula with melatonin in it. And last night I tried taking an Unisom (which is an over-the-counter sleeping aid.) Not to mention, every time I come home and pull the covers to my face I am "dog-tired." Yet, you still shake me from my sleep and blare my retinas with your horrific blue glow! Tomorrow, I will defeat you. I will sleep past you and into the later morning. Perhaps I may even get into the double digits. Who knows? It's a new day, where I WON'T be celebrating your arrival. 

Good day, 2am. Good day.

Don't let Them See You Smile.

     As I sit here, eating my Honey Bunches of Oats with my Silk soy product, I look out my window at all the bundled patrons crossing the street. Last night I actually had to shut one of my windows. So maybe it is getting to be fall, and even winter, after all.
     I called my Gramps just now to wish him a Happy 80th birthday! He wasn't home, so I tried to leave as loving a message as I could. I was even contemplating singing that infamous birthday ditty, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I always feel so strange singing for family, even though they are the ones who appreciate my voice the most.  What makes it even more awkward is singing through the phone, so I hoped my sincere best wishes left a strong enough impact minus the song.
     Well, as much as I love my grandpa and breakfast, that's not the real reason for this blog. I've been wanting to talk about the city life and this unspoken law that consumes the people who live here. Now, I find myself to be a rather open, fun-loving person. With that being said, it seems I have to mask that person at times, which can make me feel uncomfortable. Now, everyone is multi-faceted. We wouldn't be human if we were solely labeled as always being "happy," or "sad." Our toolbox of emotions is forever open as we drive through our journey of life, trying our darnd-est to avoid the pot-holes.
     So I'm not always open and giggly and trusting, but that's the person I strive to be. However, that person has to take a back seat when I ride the subway. On the subway, it is a way of life one soon adapts. On the platform, there may be some discussion about what stops this upcoming train will make, but that's pretty much where the discussion ceases. You stand and wait either with your headphones in, your book in hand, or your eyes solely focused on the direction those two high beams will come rattling towards you. You don't sit next to someone at one of the limited brown benches and smile at them. No. You don't look at them. Or if you do, it's very subtle, using your peripherals. And on the subway, it's even more intense. If you are riding with a friend, then there is conversation. Otherwise, if you are taking the subway solo, you under no means can talk to someone.
    I once told my fellow-city friend, Michele McNally, who has quite a comical disposition, how I was talking with this man on the subway late at night. He was from Columbia and he was lost. I helped him find the right train and our discussion continued after he saw me reading a play. He was an actor in his country and so we had a lot of things to talk about. Once my friend heard this, she immediately told me to NEVER talk to anyone on the subway ever again. I laughed it off, thinking she was kidding, but then she repeated her statement, with a more serious tone and eyes slightly bulging. I tried to explain, but it didn't matter. "Even if you don't have an i-phone put your headphones in and pretend you are listening to something." Then I felt stupid. I was obviously seen as a naive young girl, unable to adapt to the strict survival city laws. (This probably isn't the best time for a friendly plug, but here is her website! She's off to great things! http://www.actorwithabusinesscard.com/ )
    My dad finds me to be a sucker too. And maybe I am. Perhaps that's a compliment, stating that I am a kind soul who can find love in my heart and give respect to others. However, I think it's leaned more toward an insult, in that I cannot handle the harsh dealings the city can dish out; that I am not equipped enough to manage my own in this rough and tough neighborhood of mine. That I am too sensitive; a wimp. My dad admitted to me that he feared I would easily be taken advantage of here. He was afraid I would be too trusting. He was and still is concerned that it will be my downfall.
    So now on the subway I ignore the people who ask for help. I don't fish into my pocket as I hear another sob-story of how embarrassed they are to beg for money. I continue to keep my eyes on my page as I hear two Mexican men sing in perfect harmony from their accordion and guitar. I stare at the poster across from me as I hear a Vietnam Veteran physically sob as he screams to all of us, "What did I do?"  I feel like I have to prove to my dad, my friends, and myself that I am not too soft-hearted. I can be just like everyone else on the subway. I can stare at inanimate objects, close my eyes and listen to my music or be engrossed in my book. God-forbid I should be pursuing acting and want to interact with people.
    But I understand. I really do. I get it that you cannot trust anyone here because so many people are off their rocker, or homeless, or poor, or angry. You just can't extend a helping hand as easily as you would before, back home, because you have to look after yourself first. I really do understand the city way of life, but just because I understand it doesn't mean I like it. It doesn't mean it makes me feel comfortable. The smiling Kristen inside of me only comes out at work, or with my friends. I save those smiles for them. On the street or riding the train, however, I'm on a mission, my face in a straight line and my eyes focusing ahead. I keep wary of my surroundings, but I'm in no way inviting. I'm trying to survive here, and in order to do that, I have to choose when my true self can emerge and when it has to burrow back within and wait.

Warning: Distortion May Occur in Heat

                                          
                    I dreamed last night that I had found new, stylish, black shoes in my closet that I could wear to work. I also dreamed I threw the remaining pop-tarts I  purchased out the window and pelted both a gray speckled seagull and a waddling, pink pigeon. The brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart flew like a ninja star to the seagull first, pelting him in the jugular, and ricocheted off, checking into the pink pigeon's under-belly.
     Now.... I don't normally remember my dreams, and if I do, I remember fragments. However, I think because I felt like I was being cooked alive last night, these dreams stayed with me more intensely than usual. Why I'm dreaming of pop-tarts and birds and shoes I don't know, but I do know that the heat in my building is unnecessarily high! Not to mention, I have this radiator by my bed that spews out steam ten inches from my face, where it sounds like bacon is cooking on the stove. To try and beat it, I literally have both my large windows open as much as I can, but it has no affect! This side of the building must not get any wind whatsoever! I actually had to put my fan on, with the windows open. So I have to pay for electricity to go on while the heat is suffocating me so much it's twisting my dreams into oddities that I can actually remember! My brain probably thinks it's dying, so it might as well latch on to these few simple thoughts before I croak.
     I feel like I'm in a college dorm room all over again, except this time the windows aren't helpful. Thank goodness I'm not paying for the heat in this building. If I were, I would have the windows closed and probably sleep atop my sheets, naked, with ice-cubes over every orifice of my body. I'm glad it hasn't come to that.

A big wet one on the lips!

     Ok, so another mini geography lesson that will end as quickly as it approaches. New York City is approximately 2 hours from my mom and dad, and a 3 hour trip from my brother at school. It's definitely day-trip-able (bare with me on that one), but it's not desired. The process leaves me exhausted. However, I am now in close proximity to family members that I've never been as close I'd like to be, in both location and friendly-bonding.

    So when I was asked to take a look after my little cousins in BK for the day, I was ecstatic. Now, in all honesty, there are few times I use that adjective when referring to children. There was this family with three young teens on Dune Road in the Hamptons who were kind, considerate, active, funny, respectful and NOT spoiled. That's a rare occurrence, for those readers who are caught unawares. But this here is family! I am trusted enough to look after my two little cousins whom I only get to see at great festivities such as Thanksgiving or Christmas. I've never really had an inside joke with any of them, but I use that phrase loosely since they are only 1-years-old and 3-years-old. I mean to say I don't have anything tangible that would relate to a special bonding experience of sorts. So I was craving some hang out time! I want to be the cool cousin in their eyes, just like their aunt and uncle were the cool cousins in my eyes. See how that cycles through quite nicely?

     However, I wanted to chill with the little tykes with Mommy first. For my own well-being, I wanted to see how she handles them, what she allows and what she doesn't allow, and most importantly to see if they hate me or not. I mean, let's face it now, this is family. It's not like I can necessarily stop seeing them or excommunicate them if these seemingly glowing angels are actually out to drag me through hell and back. So, it was a test. A test for me to see how well I can play/handle/show authority with them, and how well they can play/respect/listen to me.  

     So after sitting in the Social Security Office for a couple hours in Washington Heights and enduring the DMV-like lines, crowdedness, wait-time and awkward space-fillers, I trekked to Brooklyn to get to know my cousins a tad bit better. (The whole thing with SS is because my parents lost my card. That's right. One moment it was in the safe at the bank, supposedly, and next moment, whooops Kristen, where did your card go? They will surely deny this, regarding the misplacement to be my fault, but that is false. For once in my life it was not I who lost something of value and it was indeed my parents. Ok, continuing.) 

    Their apartment is close to the subway, close to everything imaginable, annd my cousin Brendan or their uncle Brendan lives right next door, where they share the same roof! I think it's wonderful! My other cousin Jeff also lives with Brend, whom I haven't seen so far, but I hope to soon! The kids are as joyful as they are beautiful. They aren't TV junkies, and when they do watch TV it's PBS. They share, they ask please, they use their words to communicate instead of harsh, blood-curteling screams, they have small hissy fits that are quickly disarmed by a hug and kiss, and they are easily entertained, laughing and smiling a lot.Bonus: the one-year-old has a head of titanium steel, by the way. Whenever he falls, or knocks his head into things, he announces, "I'm OH-K," and giggles, deciding to put the blanket over him once more and walk into the kitchen table leg. He has little red scrapes or bumps on his forehead that materialize throughout the day, but never phase him. Anyway, all kidding aside, mom and dad trained these babes well.Perhaps I seem bias, but I've babysat many-a-child and I can't recall hearing the rule, "No TV while eating dinner," enforced except for this household.  To top it all off, during a game of Shoots and Ladders, Maggie planted a wet one out of no-where right on the lips. With kiddies it  was always hugs and smiles and cookies, and "so long, thanks!" Never an-out-of-the-blue-I-love-you kiss. I think Kathryn caught the surprise in my eyes. The actual sitting date scheduled for two days later seemed promising.
___________________________________________________________

     Wednesday came and at 9 in the morning I was on the C, then the A and then the L to Brooklyn. (Not too long ago these letters were merely necessities of my alphabet and not forms of public transit.) I arrived 10 minutes early to a pretty-eyed Cousin Kathryn at the door, where year old William and three-year-old Maggie waited for me at the top of the stairs. I was on 2 hours of sleep, as told by my previous blog, but that actually didn't seem to bog me down. In fact, I felt the most pepped in days. Kath left for her DMB concert in Boston, while Maggie and William plopped on the love-treaded couches to watch Dino Train. Much to my original confusion it was not about trains, but it was about dinos. Both these children, even Mag-pie over here, are in love with dinosaurs. I was definitely in love with Dalmatians and hot pink crayons at her age, so I give her mad props. She definitely looked at me and spoke some Latin multi-syllabification, such as Pachycephalosaurus. Go Dino Train for getting preschoolers to learn words 96.3% of America can't even pronounce.  

     Well the kiddies were getting on a TV kick, watching their beloved Dino program, then a little Sid the Science Kid and finally their much anticipated Thomas and Friends show! This is how I remember the show starting when I was little: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TLINNFIGQM.

Yeah that's when George Carlin was the conductor and Didi Conn, who played Frenchie in the 1978 movie of  Grease, starred in it as well.

     By the time it was over, both kids were still perky, despite passing their nap time by a 1/2 hour. And they still had PB&J's to devour! Once made, I noticed Maggie biting her sandwich and spitting it back out onto her small plate. I then realized that she wasn't a fan of the crust. And here the child would rather  suck it up and bear it than whine and complain? A true champ. I cut those crusts right off, but soon realized that she had the very tippy top piece of bread. You know the piece I'm talking about? The first slice of the loaf that everyone discards and manages to sidestep, taking the next piece for their precious sandwich? I did it too, it's ok. Anyway, if you recall, that first piece of bread is fully consumed by crust on one whole side. However, Maggie didn't seem to notice this and she gobbled it all up. This leaves me to wonder if she truly detests crust. Or could Maggie's crust-dilemma be influenced by a popular phase in Pre-K, where all the girls with headbands and plaid jumpers warn mommy to keep a crust free lunch or else? At any rate, it was now nap time. William went to zee crib and Maggie went to Mommy and Daddy's large bed. I thought, eh- I have nothing better to do, and I am a little tuckered out, so I crawled in next to her and we both snoozed. I mean, I can't just watch someone nap! That's torture! Hope Uncle Mike and Kathryn were uh, ok with that. Shoes were off, and I was only under the quilt. Promise.

     Anyway, nap time was short lived. Soon she shot up like a cannon ball and so we played our , "Quiet activities," until Maggie lost patience and woke up William. She wanted to make this cake she's been talking about since I arrived. 


The baking went well. Messy, but the cutest messy you ever did see! I've never been more suckered into washing a spoon three times due to someone's chocolatey smile continually dirtying it up. See for yourself!

Mags lickin' it dry.

He likes to wear it more than eat it.

Maggie and William chocolate-covered and loving it.

     Well the day had to end eventually, and it went by quicker than I expected. Daddy was home before I knew it, letting them climb all over him like they were just doing with me. He's a great dad and I'm so happy my big cousin has a happy, loving family. :-)

After all these chocolate pictures you'd think I'd maybe be craving a yummy dessert, but I think I had my fair share of icing. Alright, until next time...

Truly tuckered out,

x0x0x0

Kristen

The city that never sleeps...so apparently neither do I.

 I'M STARTING. I AM STARTING.


     I moved into the city, to clarify, the city of all cities, on October 13th. It was a Wednesday. It's almost been one whole month since I've been a resident of the Big Apple. Huh. I have a hunch no one says the term "Big Apple," unless you are tourist. Ok- scratch that from vocabulary. Got it.
     I didn't move far. My home is a small town in Suffolk County, Long Island, NY. When I tell people where I'm from, they scoff stating, "That's not far! I thought you came from another state or something." No, not another state, but it almost feels like one. Don't get me wrong. I understand that geographically Long Island is a mere section, or peninsula if you will, of the large state of New York. However, although this is a known fact, Long Island doesn't seem to comprehend this. This is not because we are dumb. Well granted, I can't speak for those individuals who still claim the blow-out to be a, dare I say it, attractive hair style. However, keep in mind Long Island is true to its name and is quite long, taking I'd guess, four hours to get from one end to the other? That's just a guess, but I feel it to be an educated one. Also, when you grow up on Long Island, you are only familiar with the LIE, Sunrise and pretty much the towns in your county. You are NOT familiar with any towns north of NYC (and by the way anything past the city is considered UPstate. Albany-natives, I know you find this offensive, but we still consider you UPstate, even though Buffalo has you beaten by a long shot. You are all clumped together to us.) Now, I'm not just saying this because I am a girl and because of my gender am known to be bad with directions. To be honest, you are lucky to even know the burrows of the city. Now some have broken this curse and have learned the geography of our state through road trips, college locals or relatives. So, you see, after those approximate 10 sentences of explanation, I feel like I'm in a very different land than my hometown on Long Island, almost as if I were in a different state.


Well I wanted to start this blog for several reasons.


1. This is a new time in my life; a new STEP. I wanted to document it as best I could.
2. While taking this new journey, I wanted to keep in mind that not everything has to happen at once. I wanted to remember that all I have to do is start and then take "baby steps" from there. I DON'T have to feel overwhelmed, but instead focus on one matter at a time to get things accomplished.
3. I had a blog on my college's website, where I shared the a plethora of activities to do via text, photos and videos! I miss it so... My Blog in College!
4. I just graduated with a BA in May (that rhymes) and so this is the first time I am in all essence of the phrase, "on my own." I pay the bills and make the money. Mommy and daddy no longer pay tuition or board (although they did and I'm quite grateful.)
5. I'm pursuing my dreams of singing,acting; the works. Bring on the heartache, bring on the desires, bring on the pain and the beauty of it all. I need it to know what living feels like.
6. I wanted to remember the people and the experiences that touched my life and helped form the person I am today.
7. It's just life. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Laugh and move on.


It's 5 in the morning, an ungodly hour for sure. I have to wake what will feel like minutes, to shower and babysit my cousins in Brooklyn. Their energy might eat me alive if I don't get SOME sleep.


Anyway, to wrap this up, I hope to understand the ways of the blog world as I take these steps of mine. It would be cool to have some feedback, since I suppose that's what these blogs are for; for followers, readers and such. I must tell you though, this is more for me than for you. That isn't to be selfish. It's just that writing can be quite cathartic, and since I'm a visual learner, I can get a better grip through a linear black-and-while structure than the abstract multi-layered patterns of my cluttered mind. It can be like a vortex in there! By typing out my experiences I can better understand the "why" of my situation, learn from it, and grow.


As you may notice, my background is of leaves. In truth autumn is my favorite season and I've been trying to live it up full-heartedly. My extreme liking can be due to a lot of reasons: the eye-captivating colors, the crisp smell, the cool weather, the crunch leaves make when you stomp on them. Yes, I stomp on leaves. 
However, I wonder now if it is my favorite season because each leaf that falls is not the same. Each leaf is different in size, shape and color. They may have similarities, but no leaf is exactly the same. Of course this has more commonly been to referred to when discussing snowflakes. Nonetheless, once it is time to move on, the leaf departs from its tree and rests on the ground with all the other scattered leaves. And after some time, the leaves decompose into the soil, which then rejuvenate the wildlife around it, helping everything prosper. Perhaps that is comparable to a memory; each memory takes form of a different size, shape and color. A memory may fall from the immediate branches of my mind, into the hundreds of leaf piles below, but those memories, those experiences, help fuel who I am today and they continue to shape how I handle the people and situations around me. 
Perhaps in my exhausted state I am reaching for a metaphor that isn't there. Regardless, I want to grow as a person. I will leave you with this:


"Opinions that are well rooted should grow and change like a healthy tree." - Irving Batcheller


Until next time...
x0x0
Kristen