Objective Perspective

Sometimes you choose a path and stick to it, and you need to live with the consequences.

But taking that step back for a more detached look doesn't necessarily make anything feel better.

I miss my friend.
-Cril

If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take

Gordon Lightfood - If You Could Read My Mind

New York Bullet Points

It's been the better part of three months since I've written anything personal here. There's a lot to talk about, I guess... But there's even more to digest. And I guess that's what I use thing blog-o-thing for, isn't it? Makings sense of my silly little world by cramming it into comprehensible words. I'd rather not write in a way, but at the same time I have to. There's a lot building up in this cranium of mine, some small and some not-so-small. So to wedge this door open, just a smidge, I'll start by using bullet points. Those always help, right?

I've been living in New York. Here are some short little glimpses and observations into life in this particular big city.

• There aren't any benches here. I mean, there are, but they're all in parks. Back home there'd be benches and whatnot just along the street, so if you fancied a quick sit to tie your shoe or just a pause from your march, you were able to take a seat without being on the wet and dirty pavement. It's like the city wants everyone to be in a rush to go somewhere - there aren't really very many spots where it encourages people to do the opposite.
• And those parks that are home to said benches? Yeah, those are pretty far and few between. It makes me realize what a total green-space fetish we had back home in Canada, where there was a park every few blocks and every house or apartment building has a lawn. Hah, lawns. What an absurd concept here - the amount of space we dedicate to our yards is almost the same as the house. I miss grass and trees, I really do. But I never realized just how over-the-top insane we are for the stuff.
• I was in the supermarket, and Hotel California came on the radio. I paused my iPod so I could listen, and as I was standing in line at the register when I was a bit confused at how odd my internal voice sounded while singing along in my head. But it wasn't in my head - there were two or three other customers quietly singing under their breath. It was a neat moment. Not a chorus...  But a quiet chorus of unification. It made me smile, to notice how we all seem to be connected and similar in tiny ways.
• It's difficult to go a day without seeing someone in the streets that's very obviously talking to themselves. Some are certifiably over-the-top crazy, others are just expressing a train of thought for their own ears to pick up on. This crazy... Is kind of infectious, though. It's okay to bob your head with your music, or lip sync along, or murmur to yourself. Almost liberating, in a way. Who knows, maybe I am a bit insane and it's finally breaking through the surface.
• Sires. All the time sirens. Back home, any sort of flashing lights resulted in many a rubber neck on the freeway. Here? It's so disgustingly common (in all shapes and sizes - police, fire, paramedic) that it's just one more part of the everyday hustle and bustle. I swear, though, that the drivers like to switch the siren on and off as if they were a supastah techno DJ spinning records. I can't remember the last time I've heard a standard siren without it being cut on and off rapidly. 
• I kicked a rat. Not intentionally, of course. I was walking home and saw a rat in the street ahead of me and as I got nearer, it decided to run across the sidewalk. The problem for the rat, though, was that its trajectory lined up perfectly with my mid-stride foot. So he got a bit of a punt. As I later told my friend, "New York city: where everyone is someone else's bad karma."
• I saw a hobo man with a gangrene-infested leg begging for money get into a fight with a hippy hobo chick on the subway. He accused her of trying to steal, she accused him of being disgusting and giving the homeless a bad name. Many an insult was hurled, until she got off. Fighting hobos... It's a thing. A sad, sad thing.
• You haven't really experienced the meaning of 'community' until you've seen two people walking in opposite directions round a corner, fist bump eachother and keep going without exchanging a word.
• People here walk fast. Those that don't get passed. 
• Jaywalking is a way of life. The pedestrian crossing sign plays second-fiddle to openings in oncoming traffic. Sometimes those two things coincide, and sometimes they don't.
• The winter has been pretty wussy so far. I think I've actually only buttoned up my jacket only 2 or 3 times. The temperature seldom gets worse than just below freezing. So far, so good. I get a nice little chuckle on the inside as a cold-hardened Canadian among a sea of commuters bundled up like eskimos against the feint, damp snow that melts upon hitting the pavement.
• One night, earlier in the fall, I was walking home after one of my evening classes. Hanging out in a pub by the open window at street level was a bunch of folk musicians hanging out and playing. I paused for a bit and listened. It's this kind of thing that makes me appreciate how special New York can be, even at 8:30 on a weeknight.
• People here... Are very passionate about their city. I've never witnessed anything like it before. I've met so many that have lived here for 30+ years and have no desire to ever leave. I went to one small theatre script reading, and before it started the actors introduced themselves. One woman said, "I'm so glad to have been born and grown up with my best friend and lover, New York City." I've never seen that kind of patriotism for a city before. Hearing it said for Vancouver or Calgary would just make me laugh. But here... It's a totally different beast. It's hard to describe. So do I Heart NY? I don't know. I don't think so. Yet, at least. But there's no denying that there's something special about this place.

Hrm... I've gotten this far, and I'm not quite ready to stop yet. Quick, more bulletpoints!

• I saw RadioLab Live. It was pretty awesome, even though I think I was sitting in a weird spot off to the side where the sound wasn't too great. But they had great visuals and made most of their sounds right there on stage with a small band of 3 musicians. The theme was "Apocalyptic", with the keynote story being about the end of the dinosaurs. They had some huge dinosaur puppet costume... things, which while somewhat cheesy, were actually really convincing. The other two stories were kinda so-so in comparison. Still, a cool experience.
• I saw Rod Stewart live. It was pretty... Something. Let me put it this way - it was quite the spectacle. Lights and shiny props and costumes and big numbers. Unlike RadioLab, it wasn't somewhat cheesy. No, it was full on cheesy. The man is kitsch incarnate. I don't know what I was expecting, exactly. That's what he's all about. The spectacle, the attitude. He disappeared behind the stage two or three times during the show and came out with a new wardrobe each time. I guess what really sucks was the realization that he's not so much a singer or artist as a performer. He's a professional. Gets on stage and does his thing. All the songs felt rushed and soulless. But everyone around me seemed to love it, so... I'm probably the odd man out (which is pretty likely, considering I was one of seven people there under the age of 40). That, and the couple next to me who talked to a friend via Skype video chat THE ENTIRE TIME didn't help. On the positive side, the opening act was Steve Winwood, who I rather enjoyed and wasn't that aware of before. 
• Thanksgiving. In Ahmurikuh. My roommate, who was spending this holiday away from home for the first time, was planning on having friends over and having a big proper shinding. But eventually the friends cancelled one by one, until it was just us two. I think he was a bit bummed about the whole thing, so I suggested we make a big meal for just the two of us. So we went to the store and got potatoes and stuffing and gravy and corn... And turkey. Ah, the turkey. So it was very quickly apparent neither of us knew what to do with an uncooked turkey, but he was still pretty set on having some with the meal. So we decided to get something pre-cooked. And the only place to get that from was the deli. Where they sell it as sandwhich meat. But before it gets sliced, it comes as a big hunk of bird. No bones. No light meat, no dark meat. Just a big hunk o' pre-cooked, pre-seasoned bird. And when it's sold this way, per pound with absolutely zero wastage... It ain't cheap. We bought their remaining half of a hunk o' bird for SIXTY DOLLARS. It was a large hunk, mind you, but still. The meal came together and we ate leftoevers for a solid 4-5 days before it was all finished off. But yeah. Most expensive turkey ever. I tell myself I went along with it because I could tell my roommate really wanted turkey, and that's the best we could manage under the circumstances. But at the same time... It was hilarious. We knew how absurd it was to buy $60 of deli lunch meat and "carve" into it and eat giant cubes of bird. It was fun. And you can't ask for much more than that, I think.

Okay, that's enough bullets for one night, methinks. I'm well aware that the text-to-bullet ratio is pretty absurd and paragraphs would have been easier to digest. But this is what I did, and I did this. And it was only about 30% of what I had written down to write about. There will be more posts over the coming few weeks. But for now, sleep beckons me. It feels good to open the gate for the bigger things that will follow.
-Cril

Just another night in New York City
Snow comes down, looks real pretty
Cant believe but suddenly there you are
Talking with strangers sittin' cross the bar

Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Christmas Nights in Blue