Something has been bothering me for a while now, especially after everyone started talking about how the presidential election would be historic no matter who won, and ESPECIALLY now that everyone is talking about how historic it is now that we have our first African American President.
So anyways, here's my issue.
I am thrilled that Obama won the election, but my happiness keeps getting squashed every time a reporter calls it: "AN historic election" or "an historic day."
Who says its okay to use "AN" in front of a consonant? No one says, "I think I'd like an hamburger for dinner" or "My favorite animal is an hippopotamus."
If you're British, it makes sense, because your accent makes your "H's" relatively silent, so it would sound like "an 'istoric election."
(An exception that makes sense for all accents is the word "honest", because you don't really pronounce the H, like in "an honest mistake"...or "hour"...)
Does this bother anyone else? I googled this and while both versions are correct it looks like I'm with the majority on this issue...now I just wish people in the media would start saying the phrase without the faux British accent so I can enjoy the election results without anything clouding my emotions.
November 6, 2008
October 6, 2008
Missed the obligatory birthday post
So today is the first day I'm posting in over a month. I didn't even post on my birthday, nor have I really taken the time to reflect on what happened during the past year. 26 really flew by...
Let me pay tribute to 26 by listing some of the "firsts" I experienced before turning 27:
*Living in Manhattan for the first time gave me the following firsts:
*First visit to New Orleans: First time taking the stage at Stiletto, first time riding a mechanical bull, first steamboat ride.
*First time taking actual business trips- First time ever to Chicago, first time going to Orlando and Phoenix on my own, first room service order.
*Discovered the joys of Guitar Hero, Rock Band, Absinthe, and Absolut Pears and Ruby Red, the Starbucks Double Shot on Ice, and private karaoke rooms with all-you-can-drink sake.
Is that it? Oh, and first time blogging.
Let me pay tribute to 26 by listing some of the "firsts" I experienced before turning 27:
*Living in Manhattan for the first time gave me the following firsts:
- First broker's fee
- First encounter with a bug that actually made me shed tears out of fear
- First exterminator visit
- First Christmas Eve visit to the Rockefeller Center tree
- First sojourn to Williamsburg and Washington Heights
- First time trying on shoes that cost the same as my monthly rent
- First time getting a bagel and coffee delivered
- First time getting my laundry picked up and delivered
- First time riding the NYC Bus
- First Korean BBQ
- First walk around the Reservoir and visit to the Guggenheim
- First time attending a book signing
- First second-hand clothing store purchase
*First visit to New Orleans: First time taking the stage at Stiletto, first time riding a mechanical bull, first steamboat ride.
*First time taking actual business trips- First time ever to Chicago, first time going to Orlando and Phoenix on my own, first room service order.
*Discovered the joys of Guitar Hero, Rock Band, Absinthe, and Absolut Pears and Ruby Red, the Starbucks Double Shot on Ice, and private karaoke rooms with all-you-can-drink sake.
Is that it? Oh, and first time blogging.
Safest Seat on the Subway
Okay, prepare yourself for a glimpse into the small portion of my psyche that may be abnormal...
I didn't choose the title for this post because of its awesome alliteration; it is in hopes that if someone has the same question that I do, and tries Googling "safest seat on subway" perhaps they will see my page come up first and have some solace knowing that someone else is as crazy as they are. Because they aren't going to find answers on Google about which seat is the safest.
Do you ever have really morbid thoughts?
Sometimes when I'm on the train, and I lean my head against the wall when I'm sitting in a corner seat, or when I'm sitting right next to a pole, I wonder what my odds of death would be if the train crashed, and then wonder if my likelihood of survival is more or less than if I was sitting or standing elsewhere on the train. (Like, I'm guessing that standing in the midst of a crowd of people is much safer than sitting next to the pole, because all the people would cushion your fall--We all know I sit all the time so I guess that means I usually choose laziness over survival.)
I know I'm not alone in this type of insanity--In "Killing Yourself to Live", the memoir/history of rock star death, Chuck Klosterman thought a lot about his own death--but its not something you usually discuss with friends. Although, friends, would love to hear your crazy moments of noticing your own mortality.
The bright side is that this fear doesn't paralyze me. It's not even fear really, just another opportunity to create a life strategy...literally. Thinking about my skull cracking open every now and then has done nothing besides make me think 'I should blog about this'. I would just love a definitive answer of which subway seat is safest.
I didn't choose the title for this post because of its awesome alliteration; it is in hopes that if someone has the same question that I do, and tries Googling "safest seat on subway" perhaps they will see my page come up first and have some solace knowing that someone else is as crazy as they are. Because they aren't going to find answers on Google about which seat is the safest.
Do you ever have really morbid thoughts?
Sometimes when I'm on the train, and I lean my head against the wall when I'm sitting in a corner seat, or when I'm sitting right next to a pole, I wonder what my odds of death would be if the train crashed, and then wonder if my likelihood of survival is more or less than if I was sitting or standing elsewhere on the train. (Like, I'm guessing that standing in the midst of a crowd of people is much safer than sitting next to the pole, because all the people would cushion your fall--We all know I sit all the time so I guess that means I usually choose laziness over survival.)
I know I'm not alone in this type of insanity--In "Killing Yourself to Live", the memoir/history of rock star death, Chuck Klosterman thought a lot about his own death--but its not something you usually discuss with friends. Although, friends, would love to hear your crazy moments of noticing your own mortality.
The bright side is that this fear doesn't paralyze me. It's not even fear really, just another opportunity to create a life strategy...literally. Thinking about my skull cracking open every now and then has done nothing besides make me think 'I should blog about this'. I would just love a definitive answer of which subway seat is safest.
August 25, 2008
Theory on "People Watching" in NYC
I'd say the standard people-watching-for-fun scenario involves a breezy sidewalk-facing seat in a small cafe on a busy street. Life happens all around you yet you are invisible, a flaneur sipping coffee with wide eyes, listening to snippets of cell phone conversations, watching the latest fashion do's and don'ts, wondering what country everyone is from.
So what's my theory?
People watching in Manhattan is impossible unless you are surrounded by tourists.
The critical component of people watching that is missing in the city is the veil of invisibility; being able to watch without being watched. Every New Yorker loves people watching, and we do it all the time because there are just so many freaking people everywhere. And its become such a natural part of city life that we can't turn it off! We can't stop staring at people.
So while I'm at a restaurant watching people pass by, they are also watching me as they pass by! I can't count the number of times I've made accidental eye contact with people on the street while I thought I was in a state of quasi-invisibility. It's one thing to admire someone's shoes while you're slurping pasta, but it's another thing entirely to have a girl with cute shoes watch you eat. It sucks.
I do it too...When I walk up 2nd Ave in my neighborhood, I always look at the people sitting outside, eating their dinner. Are they on a date? Does the food look good? Why would you bring your dog to a restaurant? All these questions go through my mind as I unabashedly check everyone out.
I do feel guilty when they look back at me, because I've invaded their space. The only reason outdoor dining exists in this city (this world?) is to watch people walk by, and it sucks to have those people watching you.
It's like going to the theater to watch a regular play, only to be surprised by uncomfortable audience participation.
Thank God for places like The Met and Union Square: Meccas of people watching as we know and love it!
Tourists are so busy being wrapped up with the sensory explosion that is EVERYTHING about the city--cars, buildings, art, garbage, lights, smells, the fast pace--that their eyes are anywhere but looking directly into yours. Anonymity at last.
Enjoy this photo from a recent people watching extravaganza at the Met's rooftop bar/exhibition space:
My friend Margaret and I hid from the oppressive sun and heat by sitting on the ground, leaning up against the railing. We were in the shadows and had the perfect vantage point for watching everyone else milling about, posing for pictures, looking at the view, etc. Needless to say, the evil (and pear martini) in me decided to take some paparazzi-esque photos of some of the better specimens.
I also looked at the art. But the people were much more thought-provoking.
So what's my theory?
People watching in Manhattan is impossible unless you are surrounded by tourists.
The critical component of people watching that is missing in the city is the veil of invisibility; being able to watch without being watched. Every New Yorker loves people watching, and we do it all the time because there are just so many freaking people everywhere. And its become such a natural part of city life that we can't turn it off! We can't stop staring at people.
So while I'm at a restaurant watching people pass by, they are also watching me as they pass by! I can't count the number of times I've made accidental eye contact with people on the street while I thought I was in a state of quasi-invisibility. It's one thing to admire someone's shoes while you're slurping pasta, but it's another thing entirely to have a girl with cute shoes watch you eat. It sucks.
I do it too...When I walk up 2nd Ave in my neighborhood, I always look at the people sitting outside, eating their dinner. Are they on a date? Does the food look good? Why would you bring your dog to a restaurant? All these questions go through my mind as I unabashedly check everyone out.
I do feel guilty when they look back at me, because I've invaded their space. The only reason outdoor dining exists in this city (this world?) is to watch people walk by, and it sucks to have those people watching you.
It's like going to the theater to watch a regular play, only to be surprised by uncomfortable audience participation.
Thank God for places like The Met and Union Square: Meccas of people watching as we know and love it!
Tourists are so busy being wrapped up with the sensory explosion that is EVERYTHING about the city--cars, buildings, art, garbage, lights, smells, the fast pace--that their eyes are anywhere but looking directly into yours. Anonymity at last.
Enjoy this photo from a recent people watching extravaganza at the Met's rooftop bar/exhibition space:
My friend Margaret and I hid from the oppressive sun and heat by sitting on the ground, leaning up against the railing. We were in the shadows and had the perfect vantage point for watching everyone else milling about, posing for pictures, looking at the view, etc. Needless to say, the evil (and pear martini) in me decided to take some paparazzi-esque photos of some of the better specimens.
I also looked at the art. But the people were much more thought-provoking.
August 24, 2008
The Latest in Cemetery Fashion
Today was Rob's grandma Celia's unveiling at a cemetery on Long Island. It was a very somber family gathering and a very moving short ceremony. I only saw one other family at the cemetery and it's because of them that the day had a glimmer of humor.
The family--the parents, grandparents, and toddlers--were all wearing matching t-shirts.
Get this:
The front of the shirts said "Cemetery Tour" in a bright orange/yellow star burst, and the back of the shirts said:
4 Cars
3 Cemeteries
2 Boroughs
1 Potty Break
Love the concept of the dead ancestor pilgrimage. Don't understand the t-shirts!
The family--the parents, grandparents, and toddlers--were all wearing matching t-shirts.
Get this:
The front of the shirts said "Cemetery Tour" in a bright orange/yellow star burst, and the back of the shirts said:
4 Cars
3 Cemeteries
2 Boroughs
1 Potty Break
Love the concept of the dead ancestor pilgrimage. Don't understand the t-shirts!
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