Sunrise.

I wake up, 5am. I stumble through a hot, small room filled with beds and into the living room. I write (this is me writing for the day). I run and make my lunch. Sometimes I shower. I catch the train, ever anxious that I'm going to miss it which makes me feel like a fifth grader again. My boots are heavy (figuratively). My uniform is silly, with high-waisted, high-wader pants and those big heavy boots. Usually the sun is rising when I leave my home and I can see the city in a limited-edition pink and peach light. I walk three lengthy sets of stairs and jump on the F or the G; I prefer the G because it takes me to the C where I just have to cross the platform as opposed to running up a set of stairs and crossing the tracks. My oh my, have I run for my life a few times on those F to C transfers. There's always the A train- fast, but not always strategic in the end.

I arrive at my school. I see the people I basically live with for 9 hours a day. Some mornings I wish I wasn't there with them, but I like them- all ten of them. We go into the big five-story school with a bright sky blue door. We walk up the stairs and say good morning to the security officer, who's working on a crocheting a new hat. We make our way into the five different levels of the stairwell. There are a few moments of dead time where we shoot the breeze and re-cap what we did the night before. Then, a burst of light and happiness, energy and sweetness. The kids are coming. They burst up the stairs with shining, optimistic faces. They remind me every day of why I'm doing this; and why we all need to fight for each other.

Somebody & Nobody= Me

The cricket song on that album, it isn't getting getting old.
I'm moving forward to the future, nobody's hand I have to hold.
I guess nobody is somebody, and the somebody is me,
The somebody and the nobody, we're learning how to be.
The somebody and the nobody, we're yearning how to be.

I repeat this to myself, the mantra of my day,
I'm powerful and pretty and everything goes my way,
But I'm going to see the doctor like I'm trying to save myself,
The somebody and the nobody, we need and don't need help.
The somebody and the nobody, we need and don't want help.

I'm living in this city, it's much more like a town.
I walk along the streets and subways and I'm never slowing down.
The people all around me are fearsome to behold,
They're nobodys and somebodys, they fit the human mold.
They're nobodys and somebodys, they're humans getting old.

Miles Davis, Slugs, and the Far East.

Here at City Year, I have been confirmed to be an "East."
If the four main directions on a compass could be personality types (and they ARE in my Americorps program), this is the box I fit into... more or less. Ultimately, I agree with this conclusion. Here's why.

Right now I'm sitting in my seat in my apartment, waiting for Matt to get here. Miles Davis is going insane on my stereo (aka my television turned stereo player). I'm sitting here writing yet at the same time my impulse to write is being challenged by the part of me that's thinking about playing my banjo. Somewhere in the distant part of my attic-brain I'm thinking about Jack Kerouac, the book I'm trying to illustrate, my next knitting project, and what French verb I need to learn to conjugate (and retain).

I'm an idealist trapped in an activator's world. It tortures me every night as I lay my head on my pillow(s) and think about all the things I hoped to do that I never did. I whittle away at my projects like a snail contemplatively chewing a hole through a leaf. Snails are so slow in their progress they MUST be contemplative souls. I suppose lemurs are this way too.

Going to go work on my book illustrations, now. I have an hour and a half before bed time, eight hours before I rise, nine-plus hours before I finish work, and then a few more precious hours to aimlessly whittle, whittle, whittle, and salivate my disgusting slime all over a helpless hydrangea of my dreams, meditations, hopes, and speculations. This is the time I most enjoy.

Newest Crush.

Mos Def. Where have I been?!?!?! Janelle sweetly shared his new album with me on the subway, and I'm hooked.



Be Kind, Rewind. Precious.



This is all I will say.

Things Always Get Easier.

I'm in the Brooklyn Library, now equipped with free internet and a library card. It's a rainy day in New York and I'm feeling inspired.

I hope you guys weren't too worried about me because of my last post. I am OKAY. I was okay and continue to be.

See my crafty blog for what I've been working on this past week.

Into Brooklyn, Early in the Morning.

“Um, excuse me, do you know if the internet is working here?

No, they shut it down because they’re trying to get rid of the bitches in the back.

Sorry, what was that?

There are three bitches in the back and once they leave they’ll start the Internet back up. “

This doesn’t help me. I need to find where to drop off my application for foodstamps. I am alone in Brooklyn, and for the first time in my life am 100% uncomfortable. To the point where even though I know I should be soaking everything up like a sponge and enjoying it (because you know in a few months I’m going to be in love with this place) I’m not observing, drinking in or even gawking in the usual manner.

This city is so big.

Here’s what I know so far. I’m in Brooklyn. My house is the only one on the right side of the street that doesn’t have one of those cool stoops that you imagine New Yorkers sit on all the time. When Jon and Mattie and I got to the house we commented on the metallic silver gate (it’s very shiny) and they laughed at me when I called the number of Rosario and a lady picked up and yelled in broken English that she wasn’t there an hung up on me. That turned out to be Rosario’s mother’s caretaker. They live in the apartment that is right next to mine. If you walk to their door and then take a sharp left into the wall, you’ll see there’s a warped wooden door that won’t close. It leads down a magical set of stairs into a basement that is mine. All mine.

Now, when I say I’m alone, I’m not really alone. I’m lucky enough to be following a few pioneers from the West Coast. Two of those voyagers (Jon and Mattie) have taken on the role of “East Coast Mother” to me, which I must admit I greatly appreciate. I think last night I realized what being alone really means. Being alone to me in the past couple of years has meant running or by myself to a movie. I’d always had parents or roommates to come home to at the end of the day, and last night I realized how much I will miss the presence of a human while I’m falling asleep. Now I’ve come to recognize that should I never get married or experience that (I’m a "prudish" Christian after all) I should like to at least share the presence or close proximity of others in my life. I can’t find it right now, but I keep thinking about that verse where it talks about two being better than one. If you fall down, your brother is there to pick you up.

The internet is back up but it isn’t working. I think it might be time for me to move on. To my right I see a statue of the Virgin Mary. All kinds of people walk between her and me. I need to find a Salvation Army, a banjo, and a post office. I also need food at some point. I slept away my day for 12 hours and then ate some rice cakes and Peter Pan peanut butter. I think the shock of traveling has taken away my appetite.

More About the Shins/ Delta Spirit.

Honestly, once I found out that Delta Spirit was opening for the Shins, a show my roommate smartly bought two tickets for (graciously offering me first dibs) I was more excited than I initially was when I found out about the Shins. The reason? The Shins are like my musical parent; a band that changed a lot about the way I thought about music (perhaps this happened to millions of angst-y young adults with the advent of the Garden State Soundtrack). Delta Spirit, on the other hand, is like my musical baby. Not to say that I birthed them, but I saw them at my University and later at Detroit Bar in Costa Mesa. They latched onto my heartstrings and my life has never been the same. Every time I see them, I gush. Last night, when Matt Vasquez made eyes at me as he does so well (specifically, during the song Strange Vine) I melted just like it was the first time (he did this to me and probably dozens of other ladies at the Tractor Tavern in October AND February. OH MATT).

Why do I get so doggone excited about Delta Spirit? Well, they're all heart, you see. Minus a show where they opened for Dr. Dog, I've seen insane stage chemistry from them. They love their audience, but more than that, they love the words they've written for the audience to hear. I'm convinced that they believe in them quite deeply. They sing about change, hope, and seeking to look past our own selfish interiors to others. The song that I find to be most indicative of this fact is "People, Turn Around!" which screams (literally) at people to do something to see what's going on around them.

Now, the Shins. Hearing the Shins was more of a contemplative experience. They were almost mechanical onstage. They've done this a long time. They're all (except one, I think) married, and they probably even have families. How funny road life must be when you start getting older. Delta Spirit made me jump and scream, while The Shins made me stand and stare into space, dwelling on specific phrases sung and guitar riffs played (I was right in front of the lead guitarist, what a treat!). Seeing them was almost like a book closing, although I know that I will probably continue to follow their music. Delta Spirit was... it was like my heart opening. Being shredded apart. It's like that every single time.