New York Realities

June 18th

It’s sometime past 6:30AM, and my sister wakes me with a soft knock on the dark wooden door.

Perhaps my reaction is a tad delayed in the fact that I am in fact going into New York city today, as I lie in bed for another five minutes or so, something I do when I’m at home and avoiding the moral call to get ready for work.

I shower with a bar of Aveda soap, and a travel-sized tube of St. Ives apricot scrub.  It’s not until after I get out of the shower that I realize that I didn’t wash my armpits.  The second round in the shower makes me confront my excitement for the day ahead.

I eat a bowl of multigrain cheerios in what is the immaculate kitchen of this Katonah, NY dream house.  I’m a far cry from the still of Breakfast at Tiffany’s I have on my bedroom wall at home, but perhaps that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as I sip a coffee that seems a tad better than the one Miss Golightly holds.

We enter White Plains, NY and I’m greeted by the greatest mall in the area: Westchester Mall. It’s a Wednesday morning, and arriving upon opening brings me stares from the mall employees. I always hate the first customers of the day, too.

It’s a cornucopia of American stores: Gap, Banana Republic, American Eagle, American Apparel, Starbucks, Urban Outfitters. It’s like I’m home again.

Urban Outfitters ends up being my only place of success, which is something of a surprise to me, but perhaps my high-standards are somewhat lowered in the face of two-dollar Girls calendars and ten-dollar BDG hoodies.

In my two hours, I’ve tried on more clothes than I have in a whole year, across the mall.  I never try things on, but in the spirit of killing time, I indulge myself.

I walk up to my sister’s hair salon, and arrive a tad early. I’m greeted by her colourist, who informs me that I must go to “The Village.” I nod my head like he has just told me the secret to happiness, but inside my head there’s not a whole lot going on. The only village I know of is this really try-hard section of Park Royal with a Whole Foods and a Tommy Bahama’s.

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We drive into the city, and I try to capture moments of the George Washington bridge as we drive by it.  Sadly, there’s a lot of dashboard in these shots.

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Ultraviolence plays the whole way into the city, with “Brooklyn Baby” played on repeat a couple of times.  I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to Brooklyn with the lyrics of Lana this fresh in my head.

The day seems like a dream.

We park somewhere in a garage somewhere down an avenue that is in the forties. I watch the silver Jeep go up a lift, before I enter the humidity and hostility that is the air of New York City.

If there’s something to be said about this city, it’s that it’s alive. There is life every single place you look, there are people every single place you look. I can’t stop looking around as we dart through the people, only stopping when the light is truly red. It’s lunch time now, and the line-ups for food trucks are as big as they seem on The Food Network.  My mind is on so many things, except where our end point could be.

Stop. We’re going the wrong way.

Turn around, dart faster, faster.

DangI am never doing NYC with a triathlon runner again,  I think.

She darts into a building about five minutes later, and I chase after her striped dress, the door almost hitting me on the way in.

We’re at a show. The show has just started, but they still give us tickets. We rush up flights of stairs to our seats. It all starts to hit me that this is all really happening, and I’m about to see Michael C. Hall, Toni Collette, and Marisa Tomei in about thirty seconds. My sister remembered me briefly mentioning it, and totally surprised me! The show, The Realistic Joneses, takes just over an hour, critiquing human socialization, with a dark comedic edge.

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It was one of the coolest shows I’ve seen, mostly because I haven’t watched anything like it before.

We’re ushered down the opposite spiral staircase to the street, and I sheepishly sneak my way back in to find a ‘restroom’ as the American’s call it.

We wander through Times Square, and I’m greeted by what is the biggest H&M I have ever seen, and a Gap that had a lot of the same stuff that my store had at home (ah, corporations.)

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By this time, we’re reminded that our last substance was a package of mini-biscotti-esque cookies, and a lukewarm bottle of water.

We head to an area called Hell’s Kitchen, and head into a place called Mercato, as recommended by her colourist. It’s all very hip, and cute, with some patrons fawning over the World Cup near the bar. I don’t really taste the food as I shovel it down, but perhaps the point of this meal is the presence of my sister’s smile across the table from me.

We head towards Greenwich Village, taking the Subway.  It’s a far-cry from the Canada Line, as their turnstiles actually work.  Getting off near NYU, we walk to the Village, which falls short of the shopping I was promised.  I see various stalls with vendors, a Chipotle, and a schwack of piercing places on the same block. Although tempting to add to my body mods while I’m away, I decide to save a sweet sixteen-esque, impulse piercing for another day.

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We head for SoHo, walking by cool stores like Rag & Bone, and Brooklyn Industries on the way.  In SoHo, I’m greeted by familiar stores like Zara, and Converse.  Dean & DeLuca catches my eye, and I’m reminded of that moment in The Devil Wears Prada where they name-drop D&D for their pricetag of almost $8 per strawberry.

We subway back to somewhere near the forty-something avenue where the Jeep is, as it’s starting to hit dusk, and we’re both tired.

It’s been quite the day for me, walking through this city of dreams and dashed stars.  I get to play Lana in the dark, as my sister drives back up-state.

You’re crazy for me, croons Lana in the outro to “Cruel World,” and honestly that couldn’t sum up my feelings for this city more. I am crazy for it.

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I say a quick goodnight to my sister, and brother-in-law, once we arrive, and hear the echo of my patter on the hardwood, as I walk to my room.

I shut the dark hardwood door softly and wince in pain for a moment, as I look down at my right foot.

A small blister has decided to emerge on my pinkie toe after the day’s events.

There it is: my crown.

Derrick Gravener: Honorary New Yorker, for a day.

Can We Have a Sec?

yoyoyo,

welcome back to another introduction lacking all direction and purpose. it’s basically like a Nickleback single. thanks for reading. this is the part where I tell you where I’m going with this, but I don’t really know.

SO bingo-bango-bongo. here we are during second week of second term, and my life has resumed some form of normality again.  I mean as much normality as possible after getting like somewhat close to feeling like kind of dyeing all of my hair like peacock blue, when i was super foggy, from the amount of congestion in my head last week. (translation: i wasnt thinking logically. Clearly periwinkle blue is a WAYYY better option.)

Random Thoughts on Life:

But, yeah, things are normal. Back to sleeping in my classes, not eating enough at peak times during the day, y’know basically back to true Hot Mess form. (woo shameless self-promotion)

Speaking of which, two of my fave TV shows are back on the tube/i can now watch them (il)legally online: SHAMELESS and GIRLS. (which were actually both kind of average, but like averagely okay, like hitting up The Honour Roll in the SUB.)

basically me when I saw all my non-Vancouverite friends after the holidays.

Me at all my new profs, and classmates.

This is the part where I get up on stage and I’m like “wow, it has been a great year, but a particularly great year in cinema.”

Basically the Golden Globes summed up. Then there was some solid J-Law action, and like Robin Wright was really on-point when she was basically like “you dont need to hear another list of random names, thank you to everyone, and you know who you are.”

So, I was basically thanked in an acceptance speech on Sunday night. So, you’re totes welcome Robin, I don’t know where you’d be without me, either.

Classes and Such

I’ve joined the ranks of the those taking five classes this term, and am now taking FIVE WHOLE COURSES.

Wow, cool.  Sorry. Just had to say it twice because then it might actually sink in or something.

I’m taking really cool courses like:
-Journalism 100A
-Film Studies 100
-ASTU 100A (omg. literally the coolest. the mandatory curriculum is really sexy.)
-German 100
-Philosophy 101

No, but real talks, my courses seem really dope this term.

But, basically anything is better than the hell that was Music 128. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Please collect buckets of mouldy twinkies instead. That was that course summed up. A really sweet thing like music that was covered in mould. cry.

Also, I will be really typical and university student-esque for a sec and rant about the cost of books. wow. that was a lot. like ow. my wallet has a concussion now for like 8-12wks.

I also got totally scammed by this chick who sold me her used German book, and like avoided telling me that I wouldn’t have online access, which i NEED for the course. So thanks for screwing over a first-year. I really hope karma gets you bad and like someone spits on every single slice of your pizza from Mercante.

Clothes and that stuff

It’s January, and it’s dark at like 4PM every day, so I’ve just been wearing a lot of black. Except today I wore some navy.  It was really ground-breaking.

Also, someone commented on my sweater today and I acted really nonchalant after the fact, but it was actually the best part of my evening.

Also, my skin hates me.

And I’ve been really lazy with the razor lately and have cut my face a bunch of times. yay so cute. i love bleeding for 5 minutes on end.

The End or something

So yeah, that’s where I’m at.  Back being on top of  some part of the world.

Basically I am living proof that the whole “New Year, New Me” slogan is total crap.

Let’s all raise a glass to that.