Sunday, November 13, 2005

The Nicotine Addiction of an IPOD

Recently in class, there was a heated discussion about cigarettes and there addictive effects on people. I have smoked a few but never felt a need for them, I just did it because I purchased a pack and I would be damn if I would just throw out that money. Once I was finished however, I never purchased another pack, I didn't go through the withdrawals and a couple of times when I was out and about with friends I would even share theirs...but that was months ago and I haven't the faintest desire to try again.

However, there is something that I and a few hundred thousand of my fellow NYers can not live without...and that is our IPOD. I can't help but to compare the two as I observe on a daily basis people relationship with their IPOD. IPODs are small and fit perfectly into your pocket (just like a pack of cigarettes), they come in different varieties (slim aka Shuffle, lights aka Nano, filtered aka the new model with video and slim and unfiltered aka any model previously released). How many times have you seen people that as soon as they leave their office building to head for the train, pull out their pack and light up the screen to find the soothing release of song?

When I am out and about on weekends and I don't have my IPOD, sometimes I feel as if I missing something...I am missing that urge to surround myself with my music and drown out all that is around me...from boisterous teenagers to lost tourist...just as the perception of not wanting to talk to people that smoke, I think the same holds true for people that are listening to their IPODs. Is this a good thing?? No, the one benefit of a cigarette is that you have 15 minutes twice a day to go out and puff and usually you would strike up a conversation with a fellow smoker that you often see at the same time and if you were lucky they became your buddy and a friendship may develop if from nothing else a common love of the smoke. I highly doubt the day will come when we will be able to stop what we are doing to head out of the building to stand around for 10-15 minutes listening to songs that are pent up in our minds. But think how awesome it would be to have that and to meet fellow IPODers and to discuss what you are listening to and to find new music through your "listening buddy." I am hopefully that this may happen someday, but until then I am just find with my little pack of music.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

The sensation of love...


Having escaped the city for a weekend at a friends place in Queens gave me the time to reflect on a few things. Here I am surrounded by moments of the past of my friends life with her husband and I couldnt help but to wonder what is love?

We have all claimed to be in love but I can not say that I have enjoyed the full potential of this emotion. I love my family and friends but I have yet to experience to experience the love of a man. Though I put on the facade of not wanting this love, why do I find myself day dreaming of what it would be like to wake up next to someone..to watch him sleep, to listen to the rhythm of his heart, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. What it would be like to place my hand on his and feel the sensation of his squeeze though he remains a sleep. To be at my desk in the middle of the day and get a phone call saying "Im in the area and I want to see you." To walk around on the weekend and share thoughts and jokes. To build something other than muscle with someone.

On the other side I wonder what it would be like to have a argument. A heated debate over a trivial point, to slam the phone in each other's face, to say I don't want to speak with you right now. To be so angry with someone because you thought you knew their pysche yet you can not figure out how an argument could have gotten so out of hand, but then to see him and it no longers matters and before you know it you are back in that bed watching him sleep again.

How do you build this love? Time and time again you open yourself for this emotion and nothing happens and its hurts the same each time. No matter how you try to deal or prepare the hurt is still the same just with a different guy. Am I jaded? No but with each time I wonder if this emotion is even for me. I have a wonderful life, I enjoy my job and I am going to a school I want when I want. My friends are geniune and each one hold a special place in my heart so why do I need to confuse things with the emotion of love?

I can only hope if and when this emotions happens for me, I can look it in the face and feel the sensation of it's hand and not want to be any place else but in that moment of love

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Just another manic Wednesday??

Truly uneventful day here in the city..awoke early showered shave as normal, checked my voicemail and had a message from Mart..called to say a quick hello and convo turned a bit sexual after being asked what I was wearing....of course my only reply after a hot shower in my triple head marble bath was that I was wearing a cloth towel that barely covered my petite waist with my house slippers, the black 6" stilleto so nothing worth really noting...but I refrained from sharing this and just answered truthfully which was boxers and a t-shirt. After a bit of back and forth we said our good-byes and made time to meet later....I headed out in my normal routine and said a quiet good morning to my clothes from the laudromat that I have yet to pickup. Reaching 8th ave to see only what can be described as a bit alarming scene..the street was blanketed by smoke and when I made it to the corner of 14th/8th there was a large dark smoke cloud northwest and of course no one knew what was going on. Making my way down into the subway, which by now had been filled with smoke, and yet no one in an authoritive role said anything, welcome to NYC.

Work was work and afterwards I treated myself to a mani and pedi...heading home and along the way noticed that men here give a ton of eye contact but there is never any follow through and could it be that they are shy or are there just a secret society of guys among uus that like to play the staring game.

Anyhow now in my room and thinking of what to do...have other thoughts and stories I could share but tonight I think I am just going to end it on that note and save the creative juices for another time.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

The Feminization of Masculinity

I have a friend that recently moved to New York City. He is a sweet guy, and loves fashion, to the point where he eat, sleeps and breathes the genre. It is reflected in his convo, and of course in his attire. He is not afraid to pair a pair of cowboy boots with his Hermes-esque bag and to wrap it all up in a pretty pashmina. Last one to judge I can only observe and give a witty banter whenever I deem it appropriate. Thinking of him, made me wonder what does it mean to be masculine and feminine?

In any other parts of this country that is a simple question, masculine is thought of as “a guy” someone that exude what it takes to be a man, crotch grabbing, lewd comments and all. He prefers an evening with the other “guys” watching the game or grabbing a few beers. He has a total take me as I am attitude but this is a natural unpretentious matter, it just is what it is. His enjoyment is based on what he likes and not what it considered hot or of the moment.

Feminine is something soft, someone that waxes, shaves, plucks, and primps. An evening is usually comprised of a colorful drink over gossip with the girls. The attitude is that I would like someone to rescue and take care of me. The enjoyment is based on what is hot at that moment and whatever is printed in the glossy that tells what you should do.

Rules however are made to be broken and in no other place outside of Europe (and this is only coming from my conversations with people that have traveled there and from the little research I have done) are the lines between masculine and feminine more confusing than in New York City. Men primp, wax and trim but they may or not be gay. In NYC it is acceptable for men to explore their feminine side and not be banished to the woods. Men can carry bags not for books, and wear boots not for work. Scraves can be worn to match socks and pink, red, lime and every other color is the new black. A mani and pedi is required for some careers and to be versed in literature will only benefit the many social gatherings held in our little Mayberry. Is this the norm? Of course not, but everything about this city is not norm, again that what makes it so great. Yet with all of the relaxation of the separation, I can help to think when is it taken to far. A guy that chooses to wrap himself in a pashmina? But why? Why do we have to place guys into two boxes, masculine and feminine and why are those that are in the feminine box more often downgraded by the ones that consider themselves masculine?

Recent Music Selections...