Today I am alive and thanking God life universe energy
making me and all I see and all I have imagined is here
On top of that, I've been walking barefoot on the grass, and the feeling is oh so sweet
Saturday, April 30, 2016
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
More Vision
A very happy birthday to millions of people today!
You are alive
Everyone deserves to meet amazing humans while here. I know I have.
I have written about many of them.
Six years ago, on Bicycle Day, I wrote about one of them, who is a continuous inspiration. I encourage you to read "Forever Young" if you would like to know about him.
You are also probably aware that today was the birthday of a human being whose acts on this planet are more condemned than those of any other human in history. You know, the guy who hated the idea of people with differences living in peace and harmony with one another.
So, to celebrate the good people I know who were born on this day and to ruin the birthday of that other guy who thought about violence, war and xenophobia pretty constantly, we had some fun activities in class today.
The first was that everyone had a chance to have conversations with each other. We have a slightly large class so it's been hard to make an excuse to get them to have one-on-one conversations, but today there was a smaller number so we went for it. They had 5-10 minute conversations with different human beings from around the world for about an hour. They had different ethnicities, nationalities, beliefs, customs, cultures, genders, styles, sexualities, clothes, ages, experiences, reasons for improving English, interests, food preferences, etc., yada, you get the picture.
After that we celebrated Harriet Tubman's appointment to gracing the face of the twenty dollar bill. I told them how she had escaped slavery and then returned numerous times to help people become free. She risked her own capture to help others by using the underground railroad to guide about seventy people north. She was one of the bravest Americans.
The next exercise centered around the difficult vocabulary in the introduction to Huston Smith's The World's Religions. The lesson wasn't espousing religious beliefs or focusing on the teachings of any of the religions. However, the intro does encourage the reader to listen carefully to and take seriously the other peoples of this world. We should do this not only because the future of our world depends on us working together to overcome challenges, but also because learning about others gives one "extended vision" which enhances one's understanding and enlarges one's perspective of the world in which one lives.
We concluded with a game where they had to name as many U.S. states as possible, and then I showed them a map and told them what I knew about all of them, mostly in case they were interested in traveling and learning more about this country, because the United States of America is hardly accurately conveyed by a living experience in New York City. If anything, NYC is better at introducing Americans to world culture than the other way around. Speaking of which, tomorrow we will focus on world maps.
As for the evening classes, all was well as usual. I almost exhausted my vocal chords while once again jovially attempting to talk/yell over my class of very energetic/talkative/Spanish speaking 6 pm class of 20 something English-learners. Luckily, the 8 pm class only had 6 students tonight, so that was a breeze. The unit was health, and we all had to talk about accidents that had happened to us at some point in our lives. I am very thankful to be alive. I hope you feel the same way.
We came upon this in the introduction to Smith's book: "I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world."
As for magic, on the train ride home, I was reading Bertrand Russell's The History of Western Philosophy (completion of this book will require many train rides), and lo and behold, I come upon Diogenes! He's the one who said the above quote about being a "citizen of the world." I had once heard a supposedly very famous story about him, told by my co-worker a couple years ago, but he'd mistaken the philosopher, so I hadn't known it was Diogenes. But the story is that Alexander the Great finds him, and asks what he could do for him. Diogenes lived very simply, and when asked if Alexander could grant him a wish, he said, "Yes. Stand a little out of my sunshine." Who knows who has the clearest insight, but don't block someone else's light! I remind you that you are free to pursue your own experience and understanding with divinity...
I was so engaged in the book that I continued reading while walking outside the train, but after a few sentences thought better of it and decided to focus on my surroundings. I wanted to be a good citizen of the world. There are times to focus one's vision on one way of the world, thereby intensifying experience and understanding, and there are times when you have to see what else is around.
After all, on the way to work this morning I saw someone looking at their smart phone instead of where they were walking, and they stumbled over another human being who had simply been sitting on the sidewalk, propped up against a corner. He wasn't a very energetic guy, but he was a very large human, and wearing a suit and tie at that. He'd put a lot of effort into his appearance and into getting his corner, but from then on he was sitting down. I support just sitting down and thinking about it all sometimes... watching the world go by... but there are times and/or places for that, and he probably shouldn't have been sitting where he was. I say this because there were so many working people who were trying to move to places where they would do things for other people so they could get by and continue existing in amazing mysterious world that makes up philosophies about itself. Perhaps both the busy man who focused only on his phone and the man who wouldn't move as a way of working for his light would do well to consider extending one's vision... for all of us on the path
You are alive
Everyone deserves to meet amazing humans while here. I know I have.
I have written about many of them.
Six years ago, on Bicycle Day, I wrote about one of them, who is a continuous inspiration. I encourage you to read "Forever Young" if you would like to know about him.
You are also probably aware that today was the birthday of a human being whose acts on this planet are more condemned than those of any other human in history. You know, the guy who hated the idea of people with differences living in peace and harmony with one another.
So, to celebrate the good people I know who were born on this day and to ruin the birthday of that other guy who thought about violence, war and xenophobia pretty constantly, we had some fun activities in class today.
The first was that everyone had a chance to have conversations with each other. We have a slightly large class so it's been hard to make an excuse to get them to have one-on-one conversations, but today there was a smaller number so we went for it. They had 5-10 minute conversations with different human beings from around the world for about an hour. They had different ethnicities, nationalities, beliefs, customs, cultures, genders, styles, sexualities, clothes, ages, experiences, reasons for improving English, interests, food preferences, etc., yada, you get the picture.
After that we celebrated Harriet Tubman's appointment to gracing the face of the twenty dollar bill. I told them how she had escaped slavery and then returned numerous times to help people become free. She risked her own capture to help others by using the underground railroad to guide about seventy people north. She was one of the bravest Americans.
The next exercise centered around the difficult vocabulary in the introduction to Huston Smith's The World's Religions. The lesson wasn't espousing religious beliefs or focusing on the teachings of any of the religions. However, the intro does encourage the reader to listen carefully to and take seriously the other peoples of this world. We should do this not only because the future of our world depends on us working together to overcome challenges, but also because learning about others gives one "extended vision" which enhances one's understanding and enlarges one's perspective of the world in which one lives.
We concluded with a game where they had to name as many U.S. states as possible, and then I showed them a map and told them what I knew about all of them, mostly in case they were interested in traveling and learning more about this country, because the United States of America is hardly accurately conveyed by a living experience in New York City. If anything, NYC is better at introducing Americans to world culture than the other way around. Speaking of which, tomorrow we will focus on world maps.
As for the evening classes, all was well as usual. I almost exhausted my vocal chords while once again jovially attempting to talk/yell over my class of very energetic/talkative/Spanish speaking 6 pm class of 20 something English-learners. Luckily, the 8 pm class only had 6 students tonight, so that was a breeze. The unit was health, and we all had to talk about accidents that had happened to us at some point in our lives. I am very thankful to be alive. I hope you feel the same way.
We came upon this in the introduction to Smith's book: "I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world."
As for magic, on the train ride home, I was reading Bertrand Russell's The History of Western Philosophy (completion of this book will require many train rides), and lo and behold, I come upon Diogenes! He's the one who said the above quote about being a "citizen of the world." I had once heard a supposedly very famous story about him, told by my co-worker a couple years ago, but he'd mistaken the philosopher, so I hadn't known it was Diogenes. But the story is that Alexander the Great finds him, and asks what he could do for him. Diogenes lived very simply, and when asked if Alexander could grant him a wish, he said, "Yes. Stand a little out of my sunshine." Who knows who has the clearest insight, but don't block someone else's light! I remind you that you are free to pursue your own experience and understanding with divinity...
I was so engaged in the book that I continued reading while walking outside the train, but after a few sentences thought better of it and decided to focus on my surroundings. I wanted to be a good citizen of the world. There are times to focus one's vision on one way of the world, thereby intensifying experience and understanding, and there are times when you have to see what else is around.
After all, on the way to work this morning I saw someone looking at their smart phone instead of where they were walking, and they stumbled over another human being who had simply been sitting on the sidewalk, propped up against a corner. He wasn't a very energetic guy, but he was a very large human, and wearing a suit and tie at that. He'd put a lot of effort into his appearance and into getting his corner, but from then on he was sitting down. I support just sitting down and thinking about it all sometimes... watching the world go by... but there are times and/or places for that, and he probably shouldn't have been sitting where he was. I say this because there were so many working people who were trying to move to places where they would do things for other people so they could get by and continue existing in amazing mysterious world that makes up philosophies about itself. Perhaps both the busy man who focused only on his phone and the man who wouldn't move as a way of working for his light would do well to consider extending one's vision... for all of us on the path
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Several Friday's ago I was really, really, really tired, as was to be expected. You see, every Friday for about nine weeks I merely accepted such fatigue as part and parcel of my situation.
My schedule had improved drastically months before, in that I'd moved from mornings to afternoons so that I could work an 8 our day straight through as opposed to doing a split schedule with a break in the middle of the day. This has led to me keeping what are probably the opposite of banker's hours: I get up at 10 or 11 and go to bed anywhere between 3 and 5. If my job weren't completely involved with people, I probably wouldn't get to interact with that many people during the work week.
On the other hand, the one part of my schedule that didn't change was Friday's. On Friday's we teach our weekly lab class, which is different from our normal class. Also, labs were only in the morning. Luckily, on Friday I don't have my evening class, so it would seem like a great deal for a weekend: get in early, get out early, and enjoy the afternoon! Then again, anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that I used to have tremendous issues with falling sleep once I got to college, and that I'm better suited for staying up until I get tired than I am trying to fall asleep at what most people consider to be a reasonable hour. Thus, getting up early one day a week is impossible for me. Wait, allow me to correct that: going to bed early one day a week is impossible for me. I am a night owl, and until my biological clock decides to undergo an age-induced reformation, that's how I'll operate. Until then, I just grin and bear the days where early waking is a necessity.
That's how I came to accept ending my work week on 3 or 4 hours of sleep. I tried to go to bed early the first few times, and I just ended up tossing and turning until later than I normally would have anyway. So for about nine weeks I would just get up after basically a really long nap, curse existence (very much against my typical life philosophy), curse my job (I am generally pleased to have such a job), curse anything I happened to bump into in my partially awake state, and somehow find myself showered, dressed, fed and on my way to work on a very crowded subway (I haven't been missing the morning commute much).
Somewhere in there I would get a pep in my step and show up to work with a smile on my face. My students helped. They were level 5, considerably lower than who I am used to teaching the rest of the week. But they were very smiley, and most importantly, engaged in the tasks I gave them. We laughed a lot, and they seemed to think I was even "inspiring" at times. I must have said something good, although God only knows what I said, because I had just been looking forward to going back to bed.
Which brings me back to a few Fridays' ago. It was ten to 2 on Friday afternoon. I'd already returned from my morning lesson, which had been great fun. We'd completed our 8 week session the previous Friday, and had even said good bye's and all of that. Then it turned out I'd been assigned to be their teacher again, so we'd had many "hello again's" that morning, discussing food (which is usually good at bringing people together).
I was just about to pass out in my armchair when I decided I wanted to go to the store to get some basic staples before retiring for my routine 2-6 hour nap on Friday afternoon's. So I walked down a couple flights of stairs to the street.
I could see immediately that there was a commotion on the first cross street. A huge crowd of people had gathered near the top of the same hill which I descend daily to move my car or walk to the river. On this day, there were about thirty people gasping at something, so I walked down the hill and crossed the street to get a better look and avoid the crowd.
When I got below the crowd, I found myself about ten feet from a man who was at least 50, but possibly in his 60's, lying on his back with a look of bewilderment. I couldn't understand why there were so many worried people. Had he just taken a fall?
There were several men on walkie talkies, whom I figured were undercover cops, because I see guys like them busting people every once in awhile. Then I heard someone in the crowd mention, "Shots!" but I couldn't see any blood, and the old man didn't appear to be bleeding. It seemed as though the guys with walkie talkies had the situation under control, and since I'm not a medic and figured I would only be getting in the way, I went back up the hill to go to the store.
After a couple minutes I returned, and the police had blocked off the area with yellow tape. That's not to say the crowd had dispersed. They were as curious as ever. I found a spot on the median strip across the street and noticed a guy I often see hanging around the bodega next door. He's smiled at me and made small talk before, so I asked him what happened.
"That guy who always hangs out in front of the store got shot!" he said with an excited smile on his face. He acted as if it were merely a piece of gossip, but not a big deal. He apparently had arrived right after it happened, because he lived in the same building as the victim, who apparently had been exiting his apartment when he got shot.
"Yeah, it was seven shots, and he got hit twice. Not deadly though. In the leg and the chest."
"Really?" I replied. "I didn't see any blood."
"He had just a little blood coming out the side of his mouth."
"He looked more shocked than anything."
"Yeah, he doesn't feel it now. The shots weren't that loud. It was probably a small gun. Probably a 9 millimeter. But he'll feel it later. It's gonna hurt a lot!"
"Why would somebody shoot an old guy in broad daylight? I mean it's only 2!" We don't have shootings any time of day, let alone in the middle of the day.
"Well, I heard it was two guys, and they ran off. Definitely a hit. The rumor is that it was about a woman. Yesterday was St. Paddy's Day, so who knows. I'll tell you what though... see those guys over there?" He motioned to a group of old men playing dominoes on a table set up in the tiny park on the median strip where we were standing. I see them from my window just about every warm day. There is always a dominoes game going on.
"Those guys over there know why he got shot. And he probably does too. If you give them some money they'll probably tell you."
This guy really seemed to have his ear to the streets. I asked him where he was from, as he had quite the accent.
"South Sudan!" he said. No wonder he didn't think the violence was that big of a deal.
We hung out for another 20 minutes or so, watching them load the man into the ambulance (I don't think his life was in danger, because they idled for 20 more minutes after they got him in there). At one point my acquaintance pointed out an undercover cop to me. "He's going to check the tapes right now!" referring to the security cameras.
After a while I moved to a new position closer to the yellow tape, and another passerby struck up a conversation with me, trying to get details. Soon a man who identified himself as a reporter asked us for details. Is this how the news happens, because all of our information was at least third hand...
Soon after that a woman approached and asked us what was going on. Somehow this led to a discussion about smartphone apps that update you on local news, but also on national news, such as who is winning the presidential primaries. She seemed to believe she was the first to inform us that Clinton and that guy were leading their respective primaries. She thought the latter would win because people would remember him from Domino's Pizza commercials. Then she admitted that although she was "super feminist," she thought she might actually consider Mr. Domino Breath because his paid endorsements (for a nationwide corporate food chain shamefully espousing second-rate food that could never hold a candle to his native city's most famous food deliciously served by hundreds of local establishments) proved he was just a "regular guy." Did I mention I listened to all of this on 3 hours of sleep?
After all the commotion I went up to my room to relax. I tried to sleep, but after all the excitement, that wasn't going to happen.
Somewhere in there I got out of my chair and it fell apart. The chair. Yes, the same chair that fell apart on election night 2014. The one I had used as a metaphor for the ideological state of the nation. Well, that time I had only needed a screwdriver and a screw, and the problem had been solved. On top of that, several weeks ago my chair had broken, on a Friday evening, before the coldest weekend of the winter, and I had unleashed a slew of expletives of an "are you kidding me?" nature. The break had been much more serious that time, causing me to think the damage had been irreparable and that I would return to life without a chair. Yet, with patience and focus I was able to determine the necessary fixes, and the chair stayed together.
This time the chair broke on the same side, so I tried to fix it in the same way. But as soon as I did.... the other side broke... really broke. Like wood splitting and so on. I freaked out. And then when I tried to open my closet door and couldn't for the umpteenth time because my room is too small, I really exploded. I said a lot of unkind things about New York City. I hope it wasn't paying attention. Then I gave up and walked down to the Hudson.
I watched the sunlight on the river, felt the wind on my cheeks, breathed, and thanked God/Love/Universe/Everything that I hadn't been shot earlier today, or that I hadn't been on my previously routine (before my schedule change) 1:50 walk to move my car and that I hadn't been caught in any crossfire.
Then I returned to my room, examined the chair, and figured that I could put it together if I added screws to many places where there appeared to be holes for them, but which had never been used. Luckily, I live next door to a Hardware Store, so I walked downstairs. Unluckily, they had closed five minutes before. I walked upstairs. I carefully went through my toolbox, found three screws, and calmly put my chair back together, yet again.
After all of that, I was really hungry. That was the subplot for this whole afternoon: no matter what I put in my stomach, it made short work of it and demanded more. I've read that about sleep deprivation. I finally admitted to myself that I really did need more groceries, so I decided to go downtown to some nicer stores and get away from my neighborhood for a while.
As I walked through the lobby I smelled something... gas. It had to be. What else could it be? Then again, I'm often stuffed up, and I couldn't trust my own sense of smell. Still though, if I could smell it, surely someone else would too, right? You can't take these things lightly in New York though. A year ago an apartment exploded in the East Village, and the year before the same thing happened in East Harlem. In the latter case, people had smelled the leak the night before and even gone searching for the source, but hadn't called the fire department.
I took one step outside the apartment and though to myself, "I really should call someone..."
Right at that moment fate lifted responsibility from my shoulders as I heard those all too familiar sirens from the fire station located half a block east. They blared their siren and honked at cars that were in the way, and then pulled up right in front of our building.
One of the fighters, in full gear, saw me standing in front of the building and asked, "Did you make the call?"
"No, but I was about to..."
They went through the building and said, "Well, this reader would be going crazy if there were gas, so whatever you were smelling isn't that." They found the tenant who had called, and she confirmed she had smelled gas. They said it wasn't gas, and left. Then another guy walked into the lobby, and immediately sniffed and said, "Is that gas?" There just happened to be one more fire fighter coming through at that time, sent by GLUE to put our fear to rest, and said, "It's not gas, probably moth balls or something."
When I got to my bed that night, I thought about the events of the day. Yes, I was tired, and no, I hadn't even gotten my usual nap. But, then again, it was pay day. And what a pay day! I hadn't been shot, my apartment hadn't exploded, and I even still had a chair to sit in! What a blessed life...
As fate would have it, there was an overflow of advanced students in morning labs, and they just opened an afternoon lab this past Friday. I'm teaching it, so I no longer have to deal with sleepless morning labs or completely confused groggy Friday afternoon's and evenings.
Best of all, I don't have to risk crossing 138th street at 2 in the afternoon!
Even when you're not on the road, life is still an adventure!
My schedule had improved drastically months before, in that I'd moved from mornings to afternoons so that I could work an 8 our day straight through as opposed to doing a split schedule with a break in the middle of the day. This has led to me keeping what are probably the opposite of banker's hours: I get up at 10 or 11 and go to bed anywhere between 3 and 5. If my job weren't completely involved with people, I probably wouldn't get to interact with that many people during the work week.
On the other hand, the one part of my schedule that didn't change was Friday's. On Friday's we teach our weekly lab class, which is different from our normal class. Also, labs were only in the morning. Luckily, on Friday I don't have my evening class, so it would seem like a great deal for a weekend: get in early, get out early, and enjoy the afternoon! Then again, anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that I used to have tremendous issues with falling sleep once I got to college, and that I'm better suited for staying up until I get tired than I am trying to fall asleep at what most people consider to be a reasonable hour. Thus, getting up early one day a week is impossible for me. Wait, allow me to correct that: going to bed early one day a week is impossible for me. I am a night owl, and until my biological clock decides to undergo an age-induced reformation, that's how I'll operate. Until then, I just grin and bear the days where early waking is a necessity.
That's how I came to accept ending my work week on 3 or 4 hours of sleep. I tried to go to bed early the first few times, and I just ended up tossing and turning until later than I normally would have anyway. So for about nine weeks I would just get up after basically a really long nap, curse existence (very much against my typical life philosophy), curse my job (I am generally pleased to have such a job), curse anything I happened to bump into in my partially awake state, and somehow find myself showered, dressed, fed and on my way to work on a very crowded subway (I haven't been missing the morning commute much).
Somewhere in there I would get a pep in my step and show up to work with a smile on my face. My students helped. They were level 5, considerably lower than who I am used to teaching the rest of the week. But they were very smiley, and most importantly, engaged in the tasks I gave them. We laughed a lot, and they seemed to think I was even "inspiring" at times. I must have said something good, although God only knows what I said, because I had just been looking forward to going back to bed.
Which brings me back to a few Fridays' ago. It was ten to 2 on Friday afternoon. I'd already returned from my morning lesson, which had been great fun. We'd completed our 8 week session the previous Friday, and had even said good bye's and all of that. Then it turned out I'd been assigned to be their teacher again, so we'd had many "hello again's" that morning, discussing food (which is usually good at bringing people together).
I was just about to pass out in my armchair when I decided I wanted to go to the store to get some basic staples before retiring for my routine 2-6 hour nap on Friday afternoon's. So I walked down a couple flights of stairs to the street.
I could see immediately that there was a commotion on the first cross street. A huge crowd of people had gathered near the top of the same hill which I descend daily to move my car or walk to the river. On this day, there were about thirty people gasping at something, so I walked down the hill and crossed the street to get a better look and avoid the crowd.
When I got below the crowd, I found myself about ten feet from a man who was at least 50, but possibly in his 60's, lying on his back with a look of bewilderment. I couldn't understand why there were so many worried people. Had he just taken a fall?
There were several men on walkie talkies, whom I figured were undercover cops, because I see guys like them busting people every once in awhile. Then I heard someone in the crowd mention, "Shots!" but I couldn't see any blood, and the old man didn't appear to be bleeding. It seemed as though the guys with walkie talkies had the situation under control, and since I'm not a medic and figured I would only be getting in the way, I went back up the hill to go to the store.
After a couple minutes I returned, and the police had blocked off the area with yellow tape. That's not to say the crowd had dispersed. They were as curious as ever. I found a spot on the median strip across the street and noticed a guy I often see hanging around the bodega next door. He's smiled at me and made small talk before, so I asked him what happened.
"That guy who always hangs out in front of the store got shot!" he said with an excited smile on his face. He acted as if it were merely a piece of gossip, but not a big deal. He apparently had arrived right after it happened, because he lived in the same building as the victim, who apparently had been exiting his apartment when he got shot.
"Yeah, it was seven shots, and he got hit twice. Not deadly though. In the leg and the chest."
"Really?" I replied. "I didn't see any blood."
"He had just a little blood coming out the side of his mouth."
"He looked more shocked than anything."
"Yeah, he doesn't feel it now. The shots weren't that loud. It was probably a small gun. Probably a 9 millimeter. But he'll feel it later. It's gonna hurt a lot!"
"Why would somebody shoot an old guy in broad daylight? I mean it's only 2!" We don't have shootings any time of day, let alone in the middle of the day.
"Well, I heard it was two guys, and they ran off. Definitely a hit. The rumor is that it was about a woman. Yesterday was St. Paddy's Day, so who knows. I'll tell you what though... see those guys over there?" He motioned to a group of old men playing dominoes on a table set up in the tiny park on the median strip where we were standing. I see them from my window just about every warm day. There is always a dominoes game going on.
"Those guys over there know why he got shot. And he probably does too. If you give them some money they'll probably tell you."
This guy really seemed to have his ear to the streets. I asked him where he was from, as he had quite the accent.
"South Sudan!" he said. No wonder he didn't think the violence was that big of a deal.
We hung out for another 20 minutes or so, watching them load the man into the ambulance (I don't think his life was in danger, because they idled for 20 more minutes after they got him in there). At one point my acquaintance pointed out an undercover cop to me. "He's going to check the tapes right now!" referring to the security cameras.
After a while I moved to a new position closer to the yellow tape, and another passerby struck up a conversation with me, trying to get details. Soon a man who identified himself as a reporter asked us for details. Is this how the news happens, because all of our information was at least third hand...
Soon after that a woman approached and asked us what was going on. Somehow this led to a discussion about smartphone apps that update you on local news, but also on national news, such as who is winning the presidential primaries. She seemed to believe she was the first to inform us that Clinton and that guy were leading their respective primaries. She thought the latter would win because people would remember him from Domino's Pizza commercials. Then she admitted that although she was "super feminist," she thought she might actually consider Mr. Domino Breath because his paid endorsements (for a nationwide corporate food chain shamefully espousing second-rate food that could never hold a candle to his native city's most famous food deliciously served by hundreds of local establishments) proved he was just a "regular guy." Did I mention I listened to all of this on 3 hours of sleep?
After all the commotion I went up to my room to relax. I tried to sleep, but after all the excitement, that wasn't going to happen.
Somewhere in there I got out of my chair and it fell apart. The chair. Yes, the same chair that fell apart on election night 2014. The one I had used as a metaphor for the ideological state of the nation. Well, that time I had only needed a screwdriver and a screw, and the problem had been solved. On top of that, several weeks ago my chair had broken, on a Friday evening, before the coldest weekend of the winter, and I had unleashed a slew of expletives of an "are you kidding me?" nature. The break had been much more serious that time, causing me to think the damage had been irreparable and that I would return to life without a chair. Yet, with patience and focus I was able to determine the necessary fixes, and the chair stayed together.
This time the chair broke on the same side, so I tried to fix it in the same way. But as soon as I did.... the other side broke... really broke. Like wood splitting and so on. I freaked out. And then when I tried to open my closet door and couldn't for the umpteenth time because my room is too small, I really exploded. I said a lot of unkind things about New York City. I hope it wasn't paying attention. Then I gave up and walked down to the Hudson.
I watched the sunlight on the river, felt the wind on my cheeks, breathed, and thanked God/Love/Universe/Everything that I hadn't been shot earlier today, or that I hadn't been on my previously routine (before my schedule change) 1:50 walk to move my car and that I hadn't been caught in any crossfire.
Then I returned to my room, examined the chair, and figured that I could put it together if I added screws to many places where there appeared to be holes for them, but which had never been used. Luckily, I live next door to a Hardware Store, so I walked downstairs. Unluckily, they had closed five minutes before. I walked upstairs. I carefully went through my toolbox, found three screws, and calmly put my chair back together, yet again.
After all of that, I was really hungry. That was the subplot for this whole afternoon: no matter what I put in my stomach, it made short work of it and demanded more. I've read that about sleep deprivation. I finally admitted to myself that I really did need more groceries, so I decided to go downtown to some nicer stores and get away from my neighborhood for a while.
As I walked through the lobby I smelled something... gas. It had to be. What else could it be? Then again, I'm often stuffed up, and I couldn't trust my own sense of smell. Still though, if I could smell it, surely someone else would too, right? You can't take these things lightly in New York though. A year ago an apartment exploded in the East Village, and the year before the same thing happened in East Harlem. In the latter case, people had smelled the leak the night before and even gone searching for the source, but hadn't called the fire department.
I took one step outside the apartment and though to myself, "I really should call someone..."
Right at that moment fate lifted responsibility from my shoulders as I heard those all too familiar sirens from the fire station located half a block east. They blared their siren and honked at cars that were in the way, and then pulled up right in front of our building.
One of the fighters, in full gear, saw me standing in front of the building and asked, "Did you make the call?"
"No, but I was about to..."
They went through the building and said, "Well, this reader would be going crazy if there were gas, so whatever you were smelling isn't that." They found the tenant who had called, and she confirmed she had smelled gas. They said it wasn't gas, and left. Then another guy walked into the lobby, and immediately sniffed and said, "Is that gas?" There just happened to be one more fire fighter coming through at that time, sent by GLUE to put our fear to rest, and said, "It's not gas, probably moth balls or something."
When I got to my bed that night, I thought about the events of the day. Yes, I was tired, and no, I hadn't even gotten my usual nap. But, then again, it was pay day. And what a pay day! I hadn't been shot, my apartment hadn't exploded, and I even still had a chair to sit in! What a blessed life...
As fate would have it, there was an overflow of advanced students in morning labs, and they just opened an afternoon lab this past Friday. I'm teaching it, so I no longer have to deal with sleepless morning labs or completely confused groggy Friday afternoon's and evenings.
Best of all, I don't have to risk crossing 138th street at 2 in the afternoon!
Even when you're not on the road, life is still an adventure!
Thursday, April 7, 2016
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