Archive for March, 2011

commence compartmentalization

March 27, 2011

The packing begins, of thoughts and things. Along with it comes the necessity (opportunity?) of purging. You’d think with the sheer frequency of my uprooting I’d have little left to sort through and prepare to detach myself from emotionally, but evidently I can dismiss only so much baggage per transition.

Today it was papers. School papers. I skimmed the notes of (better-) graded articles that marked a fledgling career, which, in retrospect, has competed aggressively with my apartment life in the moving-along department. I started my current job days before moving into the current, soon to be former, apartment; I warmly relish the fact that these shared beginnings didn’t continue to a shared end.

But as Carrie sagely notes—and my father all too eagerly reminds me of his ability to quote (the thankfully PG-rated TBS version of) Sex and the City—a New York woman is always looking for one of three things: a job, a boyfriend, or an apartment. Let’s say I’m just indulging in this little aphorism.

Speaking of welcome constants in my present life, I can’t help but be so proud of my fledgling chef of a fella and what he whipped up this evening:

linguini with clam sauce and fresh parsley

Now, my purging tip: I started this when faced with consolidating my entire youth into a few containers after my parents decided to move into a house down the street from the one in which I grew up. I found there were many objects (old jewelry, toys) I simply enjoyed looking at and reflecting on; papers I skimmed just for the key praises (let’s say I browsed the As more than the Bs). So I photographed these things. The comments, saved concert tickets, bizarre decorative pieces, and the piles and piles of birthday and holiday cards dating back as early as the third grade. I shot them all. And thus began the nostalgia gallery. The images—the reminder of their existence rather than their actual existence—are what trigger those proverbial warm fuzzies (speaking of third grade); even better, these digitized souls could return east with me. And my parents had only to store two (albeit large) boxes of the few things whose physical forms I couldn’t bear to part with.

As for the next hurdle to jump, B just removed the license plate of my first car from the bed, where it had its own photo shoot this morning. It hasn’t found its way to the trash bin yet. Maybe tomorrow.


we have home

March 21, 2011

Over the past few weeks, I have begun a number of posts, each only to be abandoned from my sheer exhaustion and disappointment in searching for yet another dwelling. Most contained a comprehensive list of terse descriptors for each apartment we visited (highlights include “partitioned shoebox” “crap” and “where to begin”). But this past weekend that torturous journey ended (we hope) upon signing (over) a lease (our souls).

Dear New Apartment, please be gentle.

Now begins the odyssey of packing. Mountains and mountains of sheer stuff to traverse in the coming weeks. And I suppose I can’t really call it home until I’m there. But the transition should be swift.

clip: Cherries Jubilee at

March 10, 2011

We’re partaking of D.C.’s cherry blossom festival, and per the norm, we celebrate with the most fitting food we could think of. Mmm real/artificial cherries…

Cherries Jubilee!

(I was way too proud of that title.)

ringing of past hopes

March 9, 2011

“Traditions are important. They provide continuity with our past. But it is up to us to decide which traditions are essential … and which are accidents of the epoch in which it was institutionalized.”

Carl Sagan in a letter to The Explorers Club, which continued to exclude women into 1981, when this excerpt’s full text was written, from Letters of Note

clip: reOrder @ BK Museum for

March 3, 2011

I’ve contributed my first piece to, in the form of a slideshow (text AND photosmy favorite!). I visited the Brooklyn Museum over the weekend to check out its newly renovated Great Hall and get a sneak peek at its premier exhibit, reOrder, designed by Situ Studio. Two of the fellas on that five-person team kindly showed me around and chatted with me about the project.

Have a look-see at the final slideshow here. And go see the exhibit opening Friday!

A few of the shots I captured, below:

it’s not you, it’s the apartment

March 2, 2011

In last week’s Parks and Recreation, Rashida Jones’ character Ann gets dumped by her new boyfriend, Chris (played exquisitely by Rob Lowe, the sole character that got me to watch this show for more than five minutes at a timebut I digress). But, he being possibly the most positive, kind, and well-intentioned person ever to walk the earth, she realizes it only a week later when she confronts him over his distance and fishy behavior.

Monday evening, B and I were similarly dumped by our landlord.

A truly friendly, well-intentioned guy, he wisely (impressively) led us to believe we were the ones coming to the conclusion, and decision, that “it’s just not going to work” under the circumstances. As it went, he consulted his numerous handy-experts (the leader of which team plays a mean harmonica, a fact only B is privy to first-hand) to learn that, simply, no soundproofing measures exist within his means to obstruct the sound of a hundred drunks. One hundred being the approximate number of people that will fit comfortably and raucously in the downstairs bar’s gargantuan backyard.

Numerous half-hearted suggestions, thoughts, considerations, exasperated sighs and glances were exchanged as we realized what we can only imagine he was hoping we’d realize without having to outright say it: we need to leave. Not to mention that he has a line of prospective tenants ready and willing to occupy the space sans repairs.

To our benefit, we get to pick our move-out date, no penalty, no pressure. Regardless, as I slip so comfortably now into my apartment-hunting shoes, let the interminable search re-commence.

And as I loop the it’s-not-you-it’s-me (“me” personifying the apartment, as it were) conversation in the back of my mind, I have to hang my head and wonder, why did I get new checks.