Driving: A Love/Hate Relationship

OK, I used to love driving. Love. It. In high school, I'd race without a care in the world to Carol's house in Apex, 20 mph over the speed limit, one hand on the wheel, playing the radio at top volume. In college, I used to hop into my Corolla and drive up a moonlit Cole Mill Road at night and look for deer on the side of the road. Or I'd just drive without direction, stop, sit on my trunk and just stare at the stars.

Can't really do that in NYC, sadly. Sometimes, as I walk along the streets, I look up and am always disappointed to see that dark nothingness.

And nowadays when I drive, I'm more nervous -- of denting my rental or getting into a more serious accident. I'm not used to driving, or maybe I don't have as much nerve. I'm not sure.

But sometimes, when it's late, and I'm sitting in this little shoebox, I just really, really miss driving. And the stars, too.

And the Oscar (Pool) Goes to ... Me. Again.

Kate Winslet finally wins gold! And I win the office Office pool again, much to the chagrin of my movie-covering colleagues.

If I win for a third year in a row, I'll retire like Oprah from the Daytime Emmys. It just won't be fair anymore, hahaha.

Never quite got around to seeing 'The Reader,' but honestly -- Kate deserves the trophy this year simply as a "catch up" award (she ought to have won for 'Eternal Sunshine').

Still, I wish I'd gotten around to seeing more of the nominees, particularly: 'The Wrestler,' 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona,' 'Doubt,' 'The Visitor,' 'The Class' and 'Man on Wire.'

Thank goodness for Netflix, huh?

30 Things

At the end of 2008, I began to think about new year's resolutions and decided I'd make a "30 Things To Do While I'm 30" list. Being a master procrastinator, I didn't really finish. But I decided I should post what I have so far, keep adding to it and update this blog with my progress.

As to the contents of the list, the items are things that 1) I really, actually, truly want to do, and 2) Are a mix of the ambitious and realistic. I didn't want to make some hare-brained joke of a list that never got done.

So... here it is. Crossed-out means completed. Items in green are underway.

1. Start a blog
2. Watch the sun rise over the Atlantic and sun set over the Pacific (separately)
3. Ride the Circle Line around Manhattan
4. See more live music (at least twice a month)
5. Visit the southern hemisphere
6. Eat at Momofuku Ko
7. Learn the guitar
8. Ice skate at Wollman Rink
9. Attend at least two: Knicks, Rangers, Mets and Yankees games
10. Engage in a physically terrifying activity (ie, bungee jump, sky dive, etc)
11. Brush up on Spanish
12. Travel to a previously unvisited state
13. Go camping
14. Write a complete piece of fiction
15. Take the train to Montauk
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.

Pork. It Does a Body Good.

Here, I ought to include a photo of the incredible pork bun I ate at Momofuku Ssam. But this is me we are talking about, and though I actually remembered to bring my camera to dinner, I forgot to take a photo of it. Genius.

So, instead, I guess I'll have to, you know, write something. At Ssam, my friend and I were sitting next to a really great couple at dinner -- the kind who have been together for 15+ years, still go on dates to great restaurants and don't mind two single chicks pestering them for the "secret" to happy relationships.

But the husband's "advice" basically boiled down to: guys don't know WTF they're doing, so women have to figure it out and clue them in. It was all said in good humor. Joke, joke, ha ha. Fun was had by all.

Being as it was Valentine's Day, though -- and generally, I couldn't care less about Valentine's Day -- it made me think about guys, girls and how we interact (romantically and not). The other day, at happy hour after work, we were all discussing whether women friends should be invited to bachelor parties. I count heterosexual guys among some of my closest friends, and think it's kind of unfair that I won't be invited to their bachelor parties. Sure, I don't particularly want to go to a strip club ... but I'm pretty sure most of them don't want to either. Yet, the phrase "bachelor party" invokes these sacred rites of male-only bonding that cannot be messed with.

I guess, it's just interesting that, even in this day and age, we still hold fast to traditional roles and rituals. And I can't even crusade against it too much, without being hypocritical, since it's been noted that the perfect storm combination of being raised in a religious, Korean home in the South makes me act (unconsciously) in ways that my modern, intellectual, feminist side frowns upon. Or maybe upbringing doesn't matter at all ... maybe this behavior is just hard-wired into our genetic code and there's nothing we can do about it.

Is it just written?

This Train of Thought Has Derailed

It's been an exhausting couple of weeks, capped off by Fake Birthday (tm) this past weekend. Lots of fun, but I'm completely sapped. Also, really need to take a break from the excessive eating and drinking. Especially the drinking.

A few random thoughts:

• There needs to be a TV channel solely dedicated to playing music videos from the '80s. Stat.
• Best antidote to speed reading: graphic novels
• Best antidote to having a song stuck in your head: Listen to it 10 times in a row (strange, but I swear it works)
• The difference between Barack Obama and George W. Bush while conducting press conferences is so stark. It hardly mattered what our new president was even saying ... he exudes such intelligence, compassion and confidence, I instantly felt better just looking at him.
• Steve-O is on 'Dancing With the Stars'? As Seth Meyers might ask ... really?
• After seeing a commercial for 'A Charlie Brown Valentine,' I must confess: I have never liked Charlie Brown or the Peanuts cartoons.
• My "motto"/philosophy/guiding principle so far this year has been "Man up." So, I thought this article about 'BSG' and 'Friday Night Lights' was very apropos. No wonder I heart Adama and Coach Taylor so much.

Brought to You By the Letter "K"

I have a weakness for initial jewelry, and I'm psyched I finally made this stolen Scrabble tile (which I've had for two months now) into a necklace. No doubt I look like a total dork but I don't care!

Please, MTA, Don't Make Me Move Again

Due to the terrible economy (a handy excuse/escape clause of late), the MTA has proposed cutting the M8 bus in its "doomsday budget." That just happens to be the bus I take to/from work in the winter.

The walk between my West Village apartment and my employer's East Village office is lovely when it's nice out, but when it's freezing or rainy, that five-avenue trek is unbearable (y'all know I don't do well in the cold).

At first, I wasn't too agitated about the whole thing because I had already been contemplating a move. Since arriving in the city over seven years ago, I've lived in or lived with someone in probably seven or eight apartments. It used to be that everything I owned fit in a four-door car. Then a small van. But this last time, I had to hire movers and it was mind-bogglingly expensive. So, believe me when I say that only the direst of circumstances would lead me to do it all again.

Sure, the West Village can't be beat, but I live in a teeny-tiny apartment on the sixth floor of a walk-up. That was acceptable a year and a half ago when I was desperate and had about four days to find a place. But now it's bursting at the seams. My closet is overflowing. I keep shoes in the cupboards. I don't own real furniture and don't want to schlep any (or pay to have it schlepped) up all those stairs. My bathroom is divided in two! I need more more space, period. I was even fully prepared to move back to (gasp) Brooklyn.

But everything changed when my super came up this morning to take a look at my radiator and let me know that a bigger apartment on the second floor was opening up in a month or so -- and was I interested? Hell, yes, I'm interested. I love this street, I like my building, my super is super, I'm quite attached to my take-out places, the river is a short walk away, there are actual trees around and it's conveniently located. And a move within the building would be much less expensive and stressful.

So basically, the only problem would be ... the indeterminate fate of the M8. Now you can count me among the petition-signing activists. Solidarity!