brother, can you spare a dime?

This evening, after my awesome-amazing-super-fun-time class about Japan, I went into this little place called chickpea to get some dinner.  As I was waiting in line to say that I wanted the hummus platter with the mushroom and almond falafel and bulgur wheat, this man comes in the door and starts asking this woman if she has a quarter.  She said "no" and when I heard, "Ma'am, do you have quarter?" I knew he was talking to me.  I said no because unless I have one right in my pocket, there's not a chance.  But this man made me think, what the hell does he need a quarter for in this generation?

As all four of us in the restaurant said no to his demand for $.25, he proclaimed that there were dead people outside and that he guessed since none of us could cough up a measly coin, he'll just let the dead people stay dead.  Before you go imagining a frantic man, freaking out over dead bodies, don't.  He was calm as could be, which made the whole scene that much more bizarre.

There are two thoughts going through my mind as I recall this experience that happened only a few short hours ago: 

1. Was he really in need of a quarter to place a call with a pay phone?  I don't understand.  Everybody has a cell phone.  AND even if you don't have a cell phone, calling 911 on a pay phone is free.  And pay phones, by the way are still wildly abundant throughout NYC.  It's funny because I never notice them and this weekend, on my commute to and from my class, I started picking them out and taking note of the fact that we still have plenty of pay phones around... just in case.

And if said people were, in fact, dead, wouldn't there be other people around the extremely busy East Village neighborhood we were in.  He probably would have had a relatively easy time asking one of them to call 911 if they were in the presence of the dead people.  Why did he need to run into chickpea and ask us one by one for a quarter?  It was odd.

2. I'm tired of people being so manipulative.  How could you put that on us, the patrons of chickpea?  We're just trying to purchase some falafel and you're telling us it's our fault that those dead people won't have a chance of living?  I had the worst experience yesterday with a manipulative man who worked at a third party AT&T store.  He basically talked me in circles and used the slimiest ways possible to get my information and make it really really hard for me to back out of buying a new iphone.  The thing is, my old iphone was purchased at the end of 2009 and was starting to split in half.  I did, in fact, need a new one.  But this guy didn't even wait for me to say I wanted to do it before he started looking up my account, photocopying this and that and started to run my card.  Psychologically, it's proven that when a salesman starts the process or puts something in your hand, it's that much harder for you to turn around.  And I felt like I'd been had.  I felt vulnerable and weak.  So, I left this third party shop with one shiny new iphone and zero pride.  I did, however learn a valuable lesson: fuck manipulative people.

And this wandering- pondering has brought me to my final thought: what would this guy have done with that quarter?  Was he saving up for a forty?  Was he going to make a phone call?  Was he going to save the dead people's lives?  Would he have grabbed my wallet and run had I been so kind (and foolish) to go fishing around for that quarter?  Why did he really need the quarter?

 Because, believe me, when I left the shop five minutes later, there was not a dead person in sight.

a call for chivalry

Tonight, as I was leaving the gym, this guy was talking on his cell phone. I was in front of him as we walked in sync down the stairs and by the time we got to the door, he was so close behind me that I just held the door for him as he busted through and entirely ignored the fact that he had cut me off and that I had held the door open for him. So, I did what I always do in that situation: I said, "you're welcome!" in a clear and assertive voice, forcing him to look at me and acknowledge the fact that he hadn't said "thank you" and also, to acknowledge the fact that he had cut off a woman.

A few weeks ago, I had class in the city early one Saturday morning, and so, toting my large bag full of my books and wallet and everything else I need for my class, I made my way down to the subway platform to wait for my train to carry me off to midtown. I was right in the front of the doors as they opened, an extremely desirable place to be, and I made my way in and headed straight to an open seat, when a guy, without daring to look up at me, cut me off and sat in what should have been my seat. Well, I did what I felt was necessary in that situation and stared at him for the duration of the ride, delighting in his obviously careful aversion of my eyes. Rude. It would be rude had it been a woman; but even more rude that this was a man doing that to me.

I give you one final story. I'm again heading to the city. I make my way down the stairs and get in place to be next in line to swipe myself through the turnstile when a guy, holding a girl's hand, shoved in front of me and swiped their cards. I was taken aback a bit, so I looked at them and said, "by all means, please, go ahead!" Bitchy? Yes. Necessary? Totally. But I wasn't done. I, somehow, managed to beat them down the stairs and into the car, which made me happy. Then I decided I would openly stare at them; not an angry or disapproving stare, but a purely observing, unreadable kind of stare, as if I were watching the penguins at the Bronx Zoo. The guy finally came over to me and said, "I guess chivalry really is dead, huh?" I said, "it doesn't have to be."

I'm no dummy. I'm entirely aware that times are different and women fought hard for equality and so then, with it, chivalry has apparently taken a nose dive in popularity. Then there are those people who argue about rigid gender roles and expectations that accompany those roles. I know that some people are thinking that my preconceptions about a man holding a door for me or the whole 'ladies first' philosophy is ridiculously outdated, but I think it's not quite so simple. It's not that I want to be home cooking and cleaning and not being able to make a living for myself so that a man has to take care of me and treat me like the fairer sex, it's something else. It's something deeper. It's a need I have to show that I can do it but to have men still acknowledge that I am a woman and to treat me as such.

My coworker is one of the kindest men I have ever met in my life on this Earth. He treats each and every person with respect and he always holds doors for women, jumps to take heavy loads out of our hands as we're walking down the hall, comes in willingly to drill a hole in our plaster walls to hang our clock, and always lets female students enter and exit rooms first, saying 'ladies first.' Is he a sexist? Absolutely not. He's a gentleman. He makes life brighter for people that he comes into contact with. Instead of looking out for himself, he looks out to take care of his coworkers and, with it, comes that warmth of knowing that someone is noticing you and looking to make your burden, whatever it is, a little more bearable.

The last day before spring break, my classroom-mate and I had to put away all our valuables because our floor was going to be redone. One of my former students, an eighth grade boy, was in the room looking to help out. Eighth grade boys have a way of coming in one day without warning and towering over me, by the way. One minute they are little pipsqueaks and then, out of the blue, boom! They're looking at the top of my head and speaking to me in a deep man's voice. It's unreal. Anyway, we have one of those heavy duty printers and so, I said, "Matthew, you know, I work out quite a bit. I could totally handle that printer on my own," to which he replied, "right, or I could just do it for you since it's the right thing to do!" I loved that he was looking to help in this way and I acknowledged how appreciative I was to have him there while I picked up the heavy and bulky printer and lugged it over to the cart to be moved into another room.

And there it is. Acknowledgement. It's nice to know that someone is there to help if you need it. Trust me, I would never survive a day in the 1800s where women were expected to do such difficult work, giving birth, raising kids, staying home and cooking and cleaning and tending to everyone while you were invisible and lacked any rights. I would have been burned at the stake. I would have been called a witch and burned alive. I know it. And so, maybe, when I think about it that way, we're not so bad off, are we? I mean, it's not like it was better to have your father trade you for four goats to the farmer down the street. Is that chivalrous? Not really. I get to fend for myself, make my own living, show off my strength of spirit and body and when a guy forgets that I'm a lady, I totally have the right to remind him. Not so bad, really. And to all those guys who are always chivalrous: we ladies thank you even when we act like we don't need it... it's nice to know it's there.

manifest destiny

east coast vs. west coast

the inner dialogue that has been happening since circa 2008

EAST COAST PROS (NYC):
rap! kidding but not
break dancing on friday afternoons at the Union Square subway station
mega-movies... so many awesome movies
history galore
i don't need a car
proximity to my family
so many museums
art
star sightings
fashion
my friends
my living situation
i walk to work
my students are hysterical
cultures residing in such close proximity
ny is REAL-- in your face
food- all of it
my gym
architecture
if you can make it there (here) you'll make it anywhere!

So the thing about NYC is that it is amazing; no doubt. There is something about it; the energy, the amount of things I have going on, the classes I take, the fun I have, the people I meet. I love it. But on the down-side, I really do miss nature. I also totally miss having space for my things, both at home and at school. And I'm also pretty sure my dog would not really miss Brooklyn.
Taking the subway can either be really awesome or it can really suck. The amount of stairs I climb in a day, every day is ridiculous. The subway is draining and occasionally you'll get to sit near someone who barfs or thinks it's ok to clip their nails.
Walking around NYC, I find myself thinking about fresh air; sweet air. I want to smell trees. I want to smell lavendar and ocean, pine. I smell urine, garbage, and car fumes normally. Except for two nights a week that I get to smell the bread baking at the Polish bakery a few doors down.


WEST COAST PROS (LA):
nature
weather
cleanliness
space
finn can get more exercise
i'll have a car to take road trips
i can take finn swimming and camping
proximity to the beach
i would probably have a ton more space in my school- a middle school with a bell system and lockers and teachers have their own classrooms
healthier living
people are more eco-conscious/ friendly
laid back
sunny
mmmm... mexican food
lemon trees
palm trees

I think mentally, I might need it. The thing that scares me about LA, though, is the lack of community. Nobody walks around. Also, Charles Manson lived there. That fact kind of freaks me out. I know I'm being silly and, yes, I'm kind of kidding, but it's still a bit chilling. People in California generally aren't as dirty as New Yorkers. I wake up and walk through trash and that is a total downer. Sometimes I'll walk out my door and there will be garbage left behind on my stoop. Not cool. That's the thing about LA; more space that is YOURS. But then again, I meet lots of cool people because we're all so crowded in... It's a good thing and a bad thing. However, I am thirty-five. I need room to breathe. Yes, I'm thinking mentally and physically, the westward migration might need to happen sooner than later. I'm sure the universe will open a door and send me a signal.