Now, I’m OK with simple practical math. I can calculate a tip without thinking (I use the “move the decimal over and double it” trick). I’m good at confusing cashiers by giving them 7 cents so I’ll get a quarter back. This should not have been a problem.

However, the massage and the pampering must have made me somewhat brain-dead (I was absolutely out of it after the massage – it was like being mildly drunk) because only now, 5 hours after the fact, did I realize that I only tipped the massage chick something like 9%. Embarrassing. Embarrassing because I stiffed the girl, and she did a GREAT job. Embarrassing because that was stupid. Embarrassing because I’m feeling ashamed of the fact that I short-tipped a MASSAGE THERAPIST at a swanky spa. At the W Hotel. In Hoboken. I should feel badly about it, but that first-world shame/liberal guilt jumps in and starts asking questions about ow that extra $$ could have

What did I do? I called the spa and ‘fessed up to this Shame of Privilege, asked if I could add a tip over the phone via credit card. Nope. Have to be there in person to charge to a card (OK – fair enough).  But I can’t get back there until Saturday, and that’s waiting too long. So, I asked a good friend to do me a huge favor and walk down the block (she works close by), leave an additional tip for massage chick — and I’ll pay her back when I see her this weekend.

Now I’ve roped another person into my first world problem and shame, but friends are good like that.

So… positives from today:

• Not once did I think anything negative about my body.
  

  Hydrants! Meters! Rats!

• I was actually really comfortable — and I’m not regularly naked, with a stranger, and (partially) under a sheet.
• I could have had all the ice water, tea, olives, cheese, crackers, cucumber slices and brownie bites I could consume in the ladies’ lounge since I was the only one there at 9am.
• The decor in that lounge was awesome. Silver couch, lime green and fuchsia throw pillows – and silver wallpaper with a pink damask print that, on closer inspection, was not an abstract floral graphic, but was composed of fire hydrants and parking meters and rats. AWESOME. I did a little searching and it’s a wallpaper called “City Park” by Flavor Paper. A sample of that pattern is floating on the right here.

It was good. My feet were in sad sad shape, but they’re less horrifying now and painted a bright shade of purpley-pink nail polish from Essie called “Big Spender” (I’m a funny girl sometimes).

I’m looking forward to an evening of tea and TV and reading. One must hydrate post-massage.

The Manhattan Bridge from the Brooklyn Bridge

A slightly different view of the bridge.

I'm sure millions of people have shot from this angle; there's a reason.

]]> http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/ill-cross-that-bridge-when-i-oh/feed/ 0 http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/a-warm-glow/ http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/a-warm-glow/#comments Wed, 10 Mar 2010 03:27:53 +0000 eva http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/?p=1991 The desire to post photos like this leads me to believe I might need to use a different stylesheet. Something darker and more minimalist.

I love the shapes and color, and it was just a shot of the ceiling in a restaurant.

The ceiling at Butter (restaurant)

]]> http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/a-warm-glow/feed/ 0 http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/define-kindle/ http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/define-kindle/#comments Tue, 09 Mar 2010 17:15:44 +0000 eva http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/?p=1977

Kindling, apres un feu.

It’s interesting that the dominant ebook reader is called a Kindle. “To kindle” is to build or fuel (as in a fire), to cause to glow or ignite, to catch fire or burst into flame. I get the intellectual reasoning there – yes, the Kindle will kindle your thoughts/mind, etc.

But what do you use to build that fire you’re about to kindle? Kindling.

What’s generally used as kindling? What’s readily available and burns quickly? Paper? Do I hear paper?

Perhaps it’s not what they’re implying (or maybe I’m naive) but you could make the connection. Burning books to kindle a fire. Destroying the printed word to ignite a new form. I don’t think I’m totally off here.

Now, I’m not anti-Kindle per se. I see it as another delivery method for the written word, like an audiobook. It’s not for me, but I can see how it would be useful or preferred by other people. My brother has a Kindle – for him, it makes sense. He does high level network admin, and computer books are HUGE. He travels a lot. He likes to read the NY Times while he’s on the road. The Kindle allows him to travel with a library of computer and reference books and also lets him read the Times, all on one device. If that’s going to keep him reading, I’m all for it! My other brother can’t focus on a page of printed text long enough to read. Whatever books he’s enjoyed, he’s enjoyed thanks to audiobooks. I have a friend who prefers audiobooks because she’s got some vision issues and reading can become painful after a while – besides, she can listen on her iPod while she goes running. That’s fine.

I’m a book person. I love the details – the typeface chosen for the interior, the stock, the cover, the feel of the book in my hand. It’s an experience, not straight absorption of information. I love reading books first and foremost, but when I go to a bookstore and see that there are, say, five different editions of Jane Eyre to choose from, I’m not going to select the cheapest one (some might argue, “the words are the same and it won’t last more than a few years anyway”) but, rather, the one that is most aesthetically pleasing and/or which appeals to my tactile senses. I have multiple copies of the same book (Alice in Wonderland, Pride and Prejudice) because the art of the book is unique. I love both stories, and having multiple copies represented on my bookshelves is a way to show that love to others. Decor doesn’t have to be an empty aesthetic-only aspect of our living space.

My friend looped me in on a heated debate she’s been having with her sister about the merits of print books versus digital books. Her sister wrote, “I am not interested in the book as a thing to decorate with or impress anyone with, but as a thing that excites me with images, ideas, information.”

She is jumping to a conclusion, and it’s not a logical one – that having books around/in your living space/where people can see them means you’re trying to impress people and that is the reason you have physical printed books. Yes, I will admit that I look at my bookshelves and I am impressed with what they hold. I am impressed with my lifetime (so far) of experiences and knowledge captured in these books. When people come into my living space and see those books, yes – it’s nice to see that they’re impressed, but that’s NOT the reason I read.

Having walls filled with books is a by-product of my lifelong curiosity and love of books. Not the other way around.

A portion of my bookshelves. Yes, I'm proud of them.

It sounds like she’s saying that appreciating a book as a thing means you can’t appreciate it as a source of ideas and information. You can do both. You should do both. The one should follow the other. She’s judging people who do enjoy the book as an object because that, in her logic, indicates some kind of posing or posturing to impress others. That’s simply incorrect. There are celebrities who purchase books by the foot or by color to decorate their libraries and living rooms with books they’ve never read and will never read. No one is going to walk up to their bookshelves and learn anything about that person.

Being a book person is like being an artist. It’s a form of self-expression. A bookshelf is a collage of influence, knowledge, personal history and inspiration. Even if no one else ever sees my bookshelves, I feel immense pride when I look at them and realize that these are all words I’ve read, stories I’ve experienced, things I’ve learned. The books on my shelves mark parts of my life and friends. The books I read in college, with my marginalia and scraps of notepaper still stuck inside, are a time capsule. There are books I’ve received from friends, inscribed to me, with a memory – priceless. Somehow, a friend gifting me a copy of an e-book for a Kindle doesn’t have the same currency. There are books I’ve gotten from friends that aren’t inscribed, but I remember them. I know why they were given and what they mean – I wouldn’t have the same emotional attachment to a Kindle file. Yes, it about the information inside the book, but I feel like the soul of a book disappears when it’s reduced to words on a screen, however valuable those words are.

Cants Magics: Profond by Federico Mompou, Anita Pontremoli – piano:

Download audio file (Cants Magics_ Profond.mp3)

This one isn’t dreamy in the same way, but the musical theme is very meditative. It’s from a Philip Glass opera about the life of Gandhi, the libretto is in Sanskrit, and this is from the last act. This piece is referred to as “Evening Song.”

Act III – King Newcastle March, Part 3 “Evening Song”, by Philip Glass from “Satyagraha”:

Download audio file (Act3_KingNewcastleMarch_ Part 3.mp3)

Sure, the water's nice...

I’ve got a week before I start my new job. I had entertained the idea of taking a short vacation — going away somewhere and being in a completely different place and mind set — but that was seriously stressing me out. I was stressing over booking a flight and finding a decent and affordable hotel. I was stressing over where to go that would be within a 4-hour travel time radius, but that was not a cruising port of call or resort destination, but also not a freezing winter destination (Montreal was on the short list). I was stressing over how to best enjoy traveling somewhere — and having only 3 days to do so, on a limited budget.

Yup. Planning a last-minute vacation was far too stressful.

The prospect of starting a new job is stressful enough, so I decided this was the week to take stock, get lots of little stuff done (replacing my windshield wipers, finally taking those three bags of clothing to Goodwill, shredding a huge worth of old bills and statements, etc.), and maybe do some things I enjoy… while also working out some of the practical issues associated with starting a new job: the commute, the clothing, the comfy work shoes.

I need to work out the best way to work my new commute (from northern NJ to Brooklyn) for the next few months, until I can afford to move to Brooklyn (or someplace closer to Brooklyn). I need to try the commute so I KNOW what to expect and don’t stress over the unknown, and then take a day and just explore the new ‘hood, walk across the bridge, take some pictures, get some food and maybe indulge in some chocolate at Jacques Torres.

This dog knows how to relax.

Relaxing is not a skill of mine, so planning to relax is also a bit of work. I haven’t had a refreshing night of sleep in more than two weeks. That’s all I really want. Instead, I’m maxing out at 4 hours a night and my body “sproings” awake, and won’t let me fall back to sleep. I can’t even nap; I’m just not tired enough during the day. Instead, around 2pm, I get cranky and hungry and headachey. Science tells us that one or two nights of sleep deprivation won’t harm us all that much, but that if it continues, you’re going to have some problems with cognition and memory and metabolism and, well, everything else. I’ve been having the problems with cognition — and spelling and hand-eye coordination. Earlier in the week, I couldn’t spell “Greece” or “Switzerland” properly, wrote “buy” when I meant “bye”, used the wrong tenses all over the place… this might not be a big deal for most people… but I don’t do that. When my friends and co-workers started noticing it, I knew it was a problem. I got a, “Man, you really are losing it.” That was awesome.

However, since I received a gift certificate to Bliss as a going-away gift from work, I decided this was the time to schedule a few hours of pampering and relaxation: a long massage, a pedicure they guarantee will cure “Franken-feet” (winter feet + climbing feet = Franken-feet) and maybe a third treat — but the massage and pedicure are scheduled. It feels really good to have that on the horizon.

Between that and getting back into a regular running routine, I’ll meet my physical de-stressing needs. Unwinding mentally is another matter entirely, but that’s where I’m hoping some good sleep will help.

I asked friends for their relaxation suggestions. Several suggested a massage, one suggested a sauna, one suggested drinks… and I’ll do the massage and maybe a drink, but probably not the sauna. I think sleep and doing little things that make me happy (reading, baking, taking a bubble bath, spending some time with friends) will do me a world of good.

My brain and body have not accepted this yet. I was up until well after 2am on Friday night, and awoke this morning at 6, tense and thinking about things I may have forgotten to do. I didn’t get to finish updating a document and am repeatedly telling myself that it doesn’t matter, and that it’s really not my problem anymore, but I haven’t gotten used to the idea; my overdeveloped sense of personal responsibility is still reigning supreme in my head.

So, the temporary lack of responsibility hasn’t hit me yet. The temporary ability to sleep as much as I want to hasn’t hit either.

The emotions haven’t hit. Several of my work friends were fairly emotional on Friday and this kept me from maintaining a totally stiff upper lip, and I was actively avoiding large scenes or making anything feel sort of final or ceremonious (e.g. “my last lunch” – if I’m going to make any meal my “last” anything, I want to set that up, get a dozen friends together, pick one to play Judas and get that shit captured on film so I’ve got my Easter cards for the next few years). There was quite an outpouring of appreciation, generosity and “you will be missed” affirmation, and that made me feel pretty good… but the reality of everything isn’t here yet.

I have a delayed response to certain feelings: happiness, pride, excitement, relief/relaxation, for example. I feel sadness, anger, disappointment and that sort of thing very quickly. It’s my take on pessimism and how it fits into my life philosophy. Most of the time, if we are upset or angry, it’s because our expectations in a given situation were subverted or just not met.

Take, for example, road rage. If I head out onto a major highway at 4:45 pm on a Friday night, I would be naive to expect that there won’t be any traffic. So, if I drive out onto those roads, knowing full well that it will take me an entire hour (or more) to make a 20 mile drive, I’ve got a realistic expectation and I won’t be nearly as mad as someone who left work at 4:45 to make it to a 5:00 appointment 20 miles away and didn’t “expect” traffic.

It’s a little different from, “hope for the best, expect the worst.” I don’t hope for the best – that could lead to disappointment. I try for the best, expect the worst since that shoe could always drop…

Therefore, it would seem that my brain/body are not letting my conscious self know that it’s OK to feel a bit of freedom, relief, pride and happiness as they all relate to the last four years. I hope to feel them all soon because I’d really LOVE to get some quality sleep.

]]> http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/m-o-o-n-that-spells-moon/feed/ 0 http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/music-hath-power-to-soothe/ http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/2010/03/music-hath-power-to-soothe/#comments Tue, 02 Mar 2010 02:33:10 +0000 eva http://www.researchgirl.com/parse/?p=1912 And to make up for that bit of buzzkill in the previous post, here’s some music.

It’s actually not particularly soothing – I mean, unless it’s playing sort of quietly in the background – but I’m REALLY digging on the first one for its hypnotic (some might call it boring and repetitive) qualities, and the second one just makes my pancreas feel like it could totally have moves like Shakira.

Or something. It’s a good thing, regardless, because I am NOT a girl known for shaking… well, anything beyond a carton of pulpy orange juice.

Listen, and let me know if that makes any sense. I am tired, after all.

First, “Angel Echoes” by Four Tet, off of the new album, “There Is Love In You”:

Download audio file (AngelEchoes.mp3)

Then, “Melt!” by Flying Lotus, off of the album “Los Angeles” (aka Shakira pancreas song):

Download audio file (Melt.mp3)

I sat down in front of the computer and started researching possible 3 or 4 day getaways – to Montreal or Toronto or Cape Cod or the like (close, but not too close, somewhere I’d want to visit). The idea of a bed and breakfast on the Cape was pretty appealing… and I think I could find interesting things to photograph. Instead, I’m just sitting here thinking, “Man, it’s going to be COLD up there. Do I want to do that?” and floating in indecision because I can’t think or make decisions right now. My brain is tired from trying to tie up loose ends at work.

This clock runs backwards, but not really.

That’s my own fault, though, for believing somewhere in my head that I could do three months’ worth of work in two weeks. I can’t. I have to be realistic; about a third of each day right now is spent answering email or phone calls or responding to work-friends who stop by my desk to ask, “Really? You’re leaving?” — which is lovely and touching, but I’m stressing myself out over it, and I shouldn’t be.

This is the time to say goodbye and tell people what I’m going to be up to if they ask; it’s actually led to several discussions about Brooklyn and offers (from friends who live there) to show me around, introduce me to the various  neighborhoods and such as I begin research for my eventual apartment-hunting (I’ve got a few months… nothing urgent). These are really good conversations to be having, aside and apart from any info I might get about potential new digs.

There’s a book somewhere on my bookshelves called, “Learn to Relax.” Clearly, I haven’t cracked that one open – I bought it with the best of intentions there, too! But I can only do so much in the time I have left. I’ve promised myself I will not stay past 6pm any night, I will not work through lunches, and I will not take on anything new “while [I'm] still here.”

I’ve also got a lot on my mind; any big life shake-up — a new job, getting married, buying a house, etc. — seems to force one to take stock of life. How do I spend my time? What are my priorities? What elements do I need in my life to maintain some modicum of happiness or sanity? What am I willing to give up? How are things going to change? And all the details that go with it. Logistics. Costs. Schedules. Comfortable shoes. To hat or not to hat?

It’s pretty exhausting. There are multiple levels of thought going on all at once; that’s always the case for me anyway, but it’s amplified when 75% of those thoughts stress me out. That said, it’s 9pm. That’s about 4 hours shy of my typical weeknight bedtime, but I feel like I could close my eyes and nod off right now. I’m going to let myself do that and see if a nice chunk of sleep will recharge the old noodle and git ‘er in better shape for the rodeo.