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Monthly Archives: January 2003

cawfee

Friday, January 31, 2003

Either I’ve lost my tolerance for caffeine or I made a very strong pot o’cawfee this morning… I was feeling bouncy for hours.

Stimulants were pretty much a necessity the last couple of years…

wake up at seven, shower, dress up, walk down Ava, Highland, Dalny, Wexford, down the stairs to the 179th Street station, swipe Metrocard (MY NEW SWIPING TECHNIQUE IS UNSTOPPABLE), through turnstile, down more stairs, walk to the head of the platform, park myself in proper position so as to be nearest a door, wait for train to arrive (as the platform fills with people fresh from buses arriving from LI/eastern Queens and those who walked like me), scramble for seat on F train (all seats are gone in five seconds or your money back), put on music, close eyes, count the stops mentally: 169th, Parsons, Sutphin, Van Wyck, Union Turnpike, 75th, 71st, Roosevelt, (Queens Plaza, 21st-Ely, 53/Lex)/(21st-Queensbridge, Roosevelt Island, 63/Lex, Rockefeller, 42nd, 34th), get off train, transfer to (6 at 51/Lex, 42nd/Grand Central, 33rd, 28th, 23rd, 14th/Union Square, Astor) (N/R at 34th, 28th, 23rd, 14th/Union Square, 8th)…

up the stairs, go to the cawfee/bagels/donuts guy at the corner of 8th and Lafayette (in the early days I’d ask for a medium w/cream’n’ sugar and a plain bagel w/(butter/cream cheese); later on I’d just say “g’morning” and the cawfee guy’d get me the usual), cross Lafayette/4th Ave, up the steps and stand and drink my cawfee and watch the sidewalks full of life…

then off to class.

I stopped drinking coffee often once it was no longer convenient (you mean I have to make my own? yes, I’m lazy). But I brew a pot every now and then when the muse strikes me.

I usually use four generous tablespoons for my small 4-cup coffee maker.

This afternoon I was off-the-wall. At work I really couldn’t sit still. You know what? I felt the most energetic that I had been in weeks, even though I couldn’t really get myself to stop long enough to sit in front of my computer and do work.

Brought back memories of the time I consumed three cups of coffee and a double cappuccino in the course of an hour so as to get ready for an all-nighter. Unfortunately that night I had to spend several hours sprawled on my futon waiting for the shakes to stop…

While I’m on the subject of New York, Suzie of the BedsideManner writes about the worn-out “Door Close” button in her hospital’s elevator… hell, it was SOP in NYC to hit that button. If you didn’t, well, someone else would. As soon as it was all-clear, you’d hear the spastic taptaptaptaptaptaptap of someone impatiently pressing the “Door Close” button. (If you were in a crowded elevator you might even get to hear someone’s imitation of a NYC subway conductor announcing a stop, complete with off-key ‘Ding-Dong!’ that mimics the two-tone chime that accompanies the closing subway car doors. In London, they have ‘Mind the gap, please’… in New York, it’s ‘STAN CLEE DA DOE!’)

In other news: (WARNING: intentional obscure reference) “want”…hmm. The answer to that question is “yes, a million times over, but I defer to the realistic part of me, which tells me ‘no.’” Shut up, realistic part of me, and at least let me dream.

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sunshine, lollipops, and frozen earlobes

Tuesday, January 28, 2003

…everything that’s wonderful is what I feel when we’re together…

…brighter than a lucky penny when you’re near, the rainclouds disappear, dear, and I feel so fine…

The sun decided to grace Pittsburgh with its presence today (the 27th). Made me forget that it was 17 degrees out. Brought to mind images of warmer days. Sigh. Don’t suppose we’ll get any more days like this, will we?

A Sunny Day on Shady Ave

I was semiproductive at work, even though I didn’t make it until 2pm and left at 6 so as to watch Four Hours Of Stargate SG-1 on Sci-Fi… and even though it’s bordering on 3 in the morning (“I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes…”) I am optimistic about tomorrow. Sheesh…when did my daily routine get thrown out of whack? Terrible, I tells you.

Last night saw the creation of The IMSA Class of 1998 Five-Year Reunion web page. May this be a sign that I’m getting my mind back on track and focused on my responsibilities.

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this isn’t right at all

Thursday, January 23, 2003

Two days of self-imposed house arrest due to the weather and not feeling right have taught me, if nothing else, that I get too many calls from telemarketers.

I finally got around to finishing that roll of film that was in my camera since May of last year. Having developed it and scanned the better photos for my online album, I present them for your approval:

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it’s frickin’ freezing, mr. bigglesworth…

Thursday, January 23, 2003

Let’s see…Pittsburgh, or Las Vegas:

Today in Pittsburgh: high 7 degrees Fahrenheit, low 3 degrees.
Today in Las Vegas: high 68 degrees, low 45 degrees.

…seems like the choice is obvious.

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making sense of the data

Monday, January 20, 2003

(pictures from Sunday at top of page)
(all pictures from this weekend, somewhere on the page)

On Sunday, following beer and a burger at McSorley’s, I caught a #6 train downtown to City Hall. It was the first time I took a trip there for its own sake since the towers came down–I had gone there to show my brother around last summer, and I had gone to buy something at J&R, but apart from that I hadn’t gone back. Not to go back to work, or anything.

It was a trip I needed to take, if only to take care of some loose ends. (Matt laughed at how I seemed to have souvenirs of the places I’ve lived: Illinois plates, E-Z Pass tag, 917-area code cell phone. When I give that telephone number up, well…that’ll be the last tie to the city that I give up.) This weekend, among other things, gave me the opportunity to feel the pulse of the city once again; visiting the financial district let me reconnect with summers past.

The scene was so unrecognizable to me as I crossed Broadway over to Church. Fences erected along the eastern perimeter decorated with tablets depicting the history of the Center, images of its construction, and a list of the names of those lost hinted that this was no ordinary construction site.

At that time, I think there was a mix of plain ol’ tourists and people there to pay their respects. Part of the reason why I avoided going was that it was such a tourist trap, which I felt cheapened the site’s significance, but in the end I couldn’t use that as an excuse.

So…I went. Don’t think there’s much else to say.

Afterwards I walked east, down narrow streets that on weekdays are bustling with activity but on a Sunday are voids in the concrete canyons. Walked to work, for old times’ sake. Then, south towards Battery Park, to catch a sunset and sit in the presence of The Sphere.

As I waited for an uptown train at Bowling Green, I could feel the energy and joie de vivre slowly returning…but as I drove westward on Interstate 78, that feeling had left.

My reserves were completely drained as I made my way past the Sideling Hill service plaza on the PA turnpike towards Pittsburgh: Mother Nature had chosen that moment, in her infinite wisdom, to start dumping snow and turn on the winds, turning visibility to crap and requring my complete attention just to stay on the tractable portion of the road. I had to bat away memories of my “detour” last January on I-80, wherein an errant patch of ice on a road that had a good inch or two of snow packed onto it sent me spinning into a snowbank and had to be towed out. (There was no body damage, but the alternator belt slipped loose and had to be fixed the next day before I could escape Pennsylvania.)

At least I made it back safely, albeit without the energy and motivation I was hoping to find.

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Saturday in the park

Sunday, January 19, 2003

Tanti Baci, 6:00

  • Antipasto
  • Agnello (lamb)
  • Coffee and tiramisu

dba, 8:00

  • Glendronach 15
  • Scapa 9
  • Dalwhinnie 15
  • Scapa 9

Ray’s Pizza (not to be confused with Original Famous Ray’s or Famous Original Ray’s), 11:00

  • Plain bagel with cream cheese

A bench in “Little Red Square,” Sixth Ave. and Bleecker, 12:30

  • Sat in the cold

Smoke Shop, Thompson St., 1:00

  • A light cigar

A bench in “Little Red Square,” Sixth Ave. and Bleecker, 1:30

  • Puff…puff…puff…
  • Random chance meeting of a fellow from Cooper

9th Street and Sixth Ave., 2:30

  • Home, home on the PATH

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reminiscing

Monday, January 13, 2003

Thinking about the proximity of ra ra’s temporary domicile not only to my old office but also to the World Trade Center site got me started on the following thread:

The summer of 2001 found a handful of us Cooper EEs working in the financial district. Tauseef, ever the social person, scheduled a weekly lunch for whoever could make it.

One week, only he and I were able to meet up for lunch. Having exhausted most of the more attractive lunch options east of Broadway, we went to a nondescript restaurant on Broadway and grabbed our lunches to go. It was a beautiful day. I don’t think it was terribly warm, but it was all blue skies as far as the eye could see (which arguably isn’t very far when you’re in the land of skyscrapers).

We walked a block west on Fulton, crossed Trinity, walked up the steps to the Trade Center plaza, and ate our lunches by the fountain in the center of the complex. The grounds were abuzz with people flitting from one place to another; benches and spaces were occupied with office workers dining alfresco; and there was a stage set up to the west where a live band, in concert with Mother Nature, provided the ambience for the midday meal.

It was a good place to escape from the dark and narrow passages that are lower Manhattan’s roads, from the often-littered sidewalks teeming with activity, where blue jeans and suits commingle in an epitome of urban living. Although you remained in the shadow of two towering structures with commanding presence, an abundance of open space was available for everyone’s enjoyment, and it was as free as the air itself.

Tauseef and I ate our lunches, talking about everything and nothing, enjoying the magnificent setting.

I dwelled on that thought for awhile, trying to recall the pristine images of that day without tainting it with memories of that which was to come only two months later.

The first few times I commuted from my home in Jamaica Estates, I would take the F to Union Turnpike and then switch to an E and ride that all the way to the end of the line. I’d ride in the first car, which would end up being the closest to the turnstiles at the terminal. At my destination I would zigzag through the subterranean shopping complex and take an escalator that brought me to the Borders store at ground level and the exit out of 5 WTC. Then I’d walk the several blocks to the office on Maiden Lane. Sometimes on my way home I’d stop at the Krispy Kreme and pick up some good old-fashioned artery-clogging treats for later.

Then I realized that the Fulton-Bway-Nassau station was much closer, so I’d instead take the F to West 4th and transfer upstairs to the A/C.

I still remember the view from my 12th floor office window of the tops of those towers.

I can’t help but think of how lucky she is not to have any associations with that neighborhood, that living there doesn’t freak her out as much as it potentially could. The site resembles a typical construction site now, with the exception that this is a construction site that inspires pilgrimages from all over. She has no memories to superimpose on the scenes presented to her today; her brain will not instinctively fill in the missing details whenever she casts her gaze at the skyline.

New York may be a daunting place to her, but she’ll be fine. All the same, I can’t help but feel…protective of her? That was my adopted home for four years, after all. But she’ll be fine. I know this.

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Titans 34, Stillers 31 (OT)

Saturday, January 11, 2003

I paid a visit earlier to Target/Giant Eagle to pick up a trunkful of groceries and household items–much-needed after having been gone for a couple of weeks. Imagine my delight to find near-empty roads, half-full parking lots, and stores comparatively devoid off shoppers. Of course! Duh… the Steelers’ playoff game is today!

Now, not being a Pittsburgh native, I don’t have any particular interest in the game. But as I shopped, I felt symptoms of the dreaded Football Fever taking hold. All of a sudden, I had a great desire to finish up as soon as possible and get home and park myself in front of the TV.

What sealed the deal was the Target cashier who was swiping everything over the scanner like there was no tomorrow. She said to me: “Let’s get you rung up so you can get home and watch the game.” And so somehow I started hurrying home to watch.

I got home in time for the second half. It was an incredible game–both teams played some amazing football. But what a way to end it… I really wanted to see Tennessee go for it on 2nd and 1 instead of going for the field goal. A real heart-breaker for the Stillers.

I’m fairly sure that I don’t want to deal with the aftermath when I’m at work (let alone deal with work), however…

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cosmic inverses

Wednesday, January 8, 2003

Unbelievable… she‘s working where I lived (for a year, anyway, but went to school for four) and living where I worked! How crazy is that! I love it. There’s something about this that pleases me. At the same time, though, I wish I were still living there. But…damn. I mean, wow.

I can always count on my friends to keep things in perspective:

<dragon> It shows… that you’ll always run opposite her and that your
courtship is doomed to failure.

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on envy and lameness

Tuesday, January 7, 2003

Maybe it’s a touch of SAD or Las Vegas withdrawal or a combination of both, but Pittsburgh is the last place I want to be right now. I don’t want to go to work. It’s cold and gray and sucky out. I’m envious of Babs who is in the City right now… I want to be back there. I miss it. Navigating the Strip was just like being in Times Square all over again. Gene will be in PA soon, so maybe hanging out will offset some of this “circle of negativity” that I’ve got going on right now. I need to plan a trip back to New York. Visit people. I need to go back to Vegas. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. Gene also informs me that only hiking n00bs take pictures of trail markers; well, I never said I wasn’t. I can see how that might be like tourists taking pictures of stupid things, but I’m not ashamed of it. If that makes me lame, I guess I’m a big lame. (“Mom, being proud of being lame is lame.”) sigh.

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