Makes Me Happy

I'm actually accomplishing the February Photo Challenge, though sometimes that means posting a bunch of photos at once that meet the criteria, rather than one per day. And sometimes that means posting a picture of the moon instead of the sun... Making myself follow through on something is the whole point though, so I guess I'm succeeding.

All three of the kind souls who read this blog have most likely already seen all my photos on Facebook, so I'm not going to post them again here. Some of them are kind of ugly anyway. But today is different. I took this photo of my desk after reading that today's topic was "Makes Me Happy." I immediately looked up an thought to myself, "Why, this Tibetan butter tea makes me happy, I think I'll take a picture of that!" And as I prepared to do so I realized that it was sitting amidst a bunch of other things that also make me sublimely happy...

National Geographic - If you know me at all, you know I love animals and nature and words and pretty pictures, and also that I am a nerd and obsessed with my own idyllic childhood. Therefore National Geographic is one of my favorite things in the entire world. I've subscribed to it since I was perhaps 10, thanks to my encouraging parents, and I look forward to it every month. Even though I can now read it on my iPad as well, there's some sort of magic about that yellow rectangle promising hundreds of beautiful pages within that just can't be replaced.

Butter tea - Have you ever had Tibetan food? Unless you are my neighbor and have tried Cafe Tibet, I'm guessing the answer is no. If you ever have the chance to, however, I recommend the momo and/or sha baklap dumplings, and lots and lots of butter tea. Mmm... There is nothing like this hot, salty, savory drink to get rid of your chills. Apparently in Tibet it's actually made with yak butter, but due to the limited population of yaks in Brooklyn, this is less than authentic... But delicious nonetheless.

Black pen - My mother got me addicted to the Pilot Precise V5 rolling ball pens when I was just a kid. They bleed easily, though, so I've stained many shirts, sheets, purses, and carpets by leaving them uncapped thoughout my life. It's worth the risk though. One day I made the switch from Fine to Extra Fine and never went back. They are the only pens I will ever use, as they facilitate my cursive handwriting rather gracefully...

Postcards - I was trying really hard for the first week of February to mail postcards to friends and family as another kind of challenge, and I did okay for a little while. I've fallen behind, even after I bought some weird Wild West-themed cards, but luckily I just unearthed some beautiful ones I bought in Ireland, so I'm motivated all over again. I also finally decided who is going to receive the postcard of "The Peaceable Kingdom," so that makes me sublimely happy. I had to save it for someone who was a serious animal lover. She will be quite pleased, I think...

My Computer - I got this MacBook for my 21st birthday. It needs some serious work and I worry that its days are numbered. Is it possible to feel affection for a piece of technology? Apparently so. That's all for now, I don't want to jinx it...

Sir Reginald le Crocodile - I found good old Reggie in high school after he was discarded by some uncaring child, took him home with me, and promptly scared the hell out of my cat with his ridiculous squeaking. He has traveled across the country with me on the dashboard of my car and lived with me in many apartments throughout my college years. He's been in Brooklyn ever since and spent the last few years keeping watch from atop my TV, until we cancelled cable and packed it away. Now he hangs out with me every day and helps me write. He's a rather dedicated little reptile...

Photo of Baby - I guess because I grew up an only child, my little dog Baby features more heavily in my memories of childhood than any other creature in the world. I will most likely never get over her loss and I'm certain that no dog will ever come close to replacing her. This photo was taken by my dad just a few days before we had to put her down and in it, you can see my shadow as I stand just outside of the frame. I was never too far from her in her last days. I think she looks rather noble and accepting of her fate, even though it came too soon. I'm glad I could be with her when she left this world.

Photo of Mema's house - Another photo taken by my dad is of my great-grandmother's house. The view from the back was the one we all knew the best, and he must have been standing right near where there used to be a few wooden swings hanging from the limb of a maple tree. It's a view I remember well. Pearl was 99 when she passed away and she left a long legacy of kindness and goodness and beauty and warmth that continues to inspire her family and anyone who knew her. I can never eat an apple pie without comparing it to Mema's... They're just never as good.

Much like all the trinkets on my desk at work, I guess it's the little things in life that make me happy...

Hands - Day 3

So I cheated. These are not hands, it is just A hand. But it's MY hand! Isn't it pretty? While taking this photo, however, I realized that when I look at my hands as they type away every day at work, I see more than just fingers flying over keys. I see wonderful people, too.

That silver watch? That's from my lovely grandmother. My ring is from a hippie store I used to work in with a sweet girl named Lisa. The pink flowered box was bought in Mexico by Julia. The elephant traveled with April from India. The Buddha made its way through my old workplace and was finally handed down to me by Amanda. The painted fairy was a craft from my little sister Leah's birthday party, which my friend Christina also attended. The miniature filing cabinet always reminds me of Angela (so organized!). Even the dark purple nail polish I have on today makes me think of Heather. Just beyond the frame of this picture are memories of other friends and experiences that are now manifested in little tiny objects. And all of these are just within reach every day. My hands are happy.

Words - Day 2

The topic of Day 2 in the February Photo Challenge... WORDS. Conveniently, this is a subject with which I am rather familiar and deal with nearly every moment of every day.

Words that comprised my experience today: Coffee, development, website, gala, Twitter, cookies, pro bono, teen parents, design, peppermint patties, strategic plan, jurisprudence, policy, toys, deadlines.

Cannot wait for Friday.

February Photography - Day 1

I'm going to take up this challenge and try to post a photo every day in February, preferably both on here and Facebook. So here is Day 1 - Your View Today.

Although this is not technically accurate, because my view generally consists of my computer screen and files in rainbow colors and lots of tiny desk ornaments and wall calendars full of deadlines. But this is the view from my office window... Although it's not even really that, because if I look straight out my window I just see another building directly across the street. Lame. This is my view if I stand at the window all the way to the left side and sort of lean and press my face against the glass. It's a long way from my previous view of the ships of South Street Seaport... But I suppose having no good view keeps my mind on my work, right? Right...

How long can I keep this up? Only time will tell... Though I must say, February resolutions are way more fun than New Year's resolutions! Mailing postcards and posting pretty pictures every day is so much easier than exercising...

White Street

Walking down the same street nearly every day, I have come to appreciate its subtleties. I will likely never hang out on this street, never stop in one of its establishments. It doesn't seem to have any bars or restaurants I'll ever frequent and I don't think there is even a place for me to grab a cup of coffee. I simply pass by. Although I traverse just one block of White Street between Broadway and Church on my morning walk, there are things I have come to expect.

When I turn onto this street, I immediately look into the side window of a Chinese business on Broadway that sells paper supplies and decorations in fabulous shades of red and pink and gold. Across the street there is always an endless supply of rugged yet creative types in work boots and stocking caps, hauling film-making equipment on and off of trucks of all sizes. Further on, a grocery truck can be found pulled onto the south curb with little room to pass, its drivers rather friendly to female passerby as they unloads their wares. Just below Franklin Place, construction workers converge beneath scaffolding, their conversations shifting between English, Polish, and Spanish but their cigarette smoke smelling all the same. With their blue and yellow umbrellas folded, hot dog carts are rolled up the middle of the street towards Broadway by their bearded owners wearing taqiyahs. The sloping architecture of the Synagogue for the Arts shelters children's playthings and discarded pamphlets in its courtyard. Young men with assymetrical haircuts and young women in tights and big scarves, their clacking heels telling me a block in advance that they will ascend the stairs to the Flea Theater. The glowing charisma of Let There Be Neon that beckons with a lounging, hot pink feminine outline reminiscent of gritty, windowless, male-only establishments.

This morning the street was strangely quiet, as many New York streets tend to be when it rains. Everyone is just in a hurry to get inside and they scurry about with their umbrellas up and their heads down. But the rain wasn't falling in those few minutes I walked on White Street today. The air was uncannily warm for January, muggy and thick and seeming able to absorb any noise that might emanate from the street, and yet, none did. No one spoke. No carts rolled. No heels clacked. The street was suddenly, inexplicably, utterly unfamiliar to me and I felt a bit lost. I looked up at the soaring lofts with their zig-zagging fire escapes and wondered, "Who lives there? What goes on in those buildings?" It seemed I saw the retro yellow ARC sign for the first time and finally acknowledged that it was a record shop. I wondered to myself who thought that synagogue architecture was a good idea and thought perhaps I should look up the Flea Theater and see what was playing.

It baffles me that a street you think you know so well that it has taken on mundane qualities can suddenly become strange and mysterious just because of a slight change in weather. The light casts new shadows and the air feels strange in your lungs. You see something new and different in things you've seen a million times and you realize that you will never know everything about this city. No matter what you think you know, you realize, you are still a stranger. You are still alone. And yet somehow, you are perfectly at home.

World Wide Word Web

Sometimes I think I should take a hiatus from the Internet. My head is filled with so many words, pictures, links, ideas, stories, names, events... Just words, words, and more words, every minute of every hour of every day. It seems I can't ever read enough New York Times articles or get through enough McSweeney's stories or laugh at enough hilarious animal photos or appreciate enough of the thoughts of the countless creative people in the world... There just isn't enough time.

My email inbox often gets terribly overwhelming. I do my best to communicate with friends and family regularly. But personal notes can get lost when there are floods of appeals from organizations asking me to sign a petition and donate money and take action and show up at an event and sign another petition and then they send me a thank you email for signing it, and oh, don't forget to give money! MoveOn, Planned Parenthood, ASPCA, American Humane Association, GEMS, the Brooklyn Museum. My inbox is also jam packed with all the fun and exciting things I can do, buy, see, do, eat, buy, do, buy, buy buy! Groupon, NYC Daily Deals, Living Social, The Bowery Presents. Things I love. Causes I support. Experiences I desire. Communications that are scrambling my brain...

Oddly enough, raising money for a cause and managing communications are in my job description. So I can't ignore the Internet completely. I can't just make the words go away. My work day consists of sitting at a computer and type, type, typing away about children and parents and families and lawyers and social workers and family court and abuse and neglect and sad stories and happy endings... Email is unavoidable. I get Google alerts that I can't ignore. I need to know what's going on in the world and the country and the city... I need to know what's happening in the courthouses down the street and in the government buildings in D.C. and in the offices down the hall. These things are not expendable.

But what about the rest? Perhaps I need a break from the emails, the sites, the blogs, the news, the feeds, the banter... I felt a serious sense of relief yesterday when I cleaned out my friend list on Facebook without remorse and walked away 30 individuals lighter. I also felt a sense of accomplishment when I reorganized my Google Reader into three categories and then alphabetized them all. And instead of feeling finished, it made me itch to organize my bookshelves into fiction by author and nonfiction by subject. So many items to read, so many people to meet, so many ideas to acknowledge, so many things to learn, so many words to try to cram into my head... SO LITTLE TIME.

The best lesson I ever learned is that the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. So you should just keep learning and reaching for as much knowledge as you can attain. But I suppose the more time that passes, the more you realize how little time there is... You have to accept that you can't learn it all. I sure as hell can't read it all. Perhaps I just need to disconnect completely. Less Facebook? Sure. Ignoring the more fluffy stuff in my Reader? Done. Unsubscribing from a few email lists? Probably necessary. Writing more instead of passively reading? Now there's a thought...

I suppose I could just read more books, though not surprisingly, when I'm not reading things on the Internet, I'm reading a book instead. And I end up reading a hell of a lot of books. But goddamn, even that stresses me out, because with every book I finish comes the realization that I'll never read them all. There are simply too many words in the world. And I don't know where to begin. I also don't know where to end...

I guess right about here is as good a place as any.