Black Friday goodies

Ahoy,

I give to you my one and only item for my Black Friday haul. I suppose you can't really say Black Friday, more like post-Thanksgiving. On a typical Tuesday night, I convinced the resident rocket scientist to take me to Target. I had absolutely no intention of coming home with a beauteous specimen such as this fine 13 pounds of poultry. For less than $10! Forget the commotion of a Thanksgiving turkey, just wait for the post-holiday calm of a clearance turkey.  On a whim, I decided this was the year I wanted to cook my first turkey. In a style befitting of only my intentions, I decided this was the year I would spatchcock a turkey. 

I sent my prayers to the poultry gods that this would not be a disaster. Many points in this endeavor, I thought to myself the ridiculousness of my mission. And so, a week after Thanksgiving, I baked my first turkey a la spatchcock for myself and the resident rocket scientist. How happy I was that he convinced his friend down the street to join us.

This year, I am thankful for all the people in my life 

that put up with my debauchery and all my hijinks.

goldenly spatchcocked,

jt

December is here!!!

Ahoy,

December is my favorite month of the year. Many people are appalled whenever I say winter is my favorite season in Chicago. Aghast, they question my sanity as I gush about the snow, and my favorite winter Chicago activity - shoveling. But there are many other things to love about December. Many of them have to do with the holiday season. In retrospect, it's silly that I'm so smitten with the holidays because growing up my family never celebrated anything to do with the holiday season. Most years, it was my brother and I at home alone. We were so bored, and I'm absolutely positive we had far too much freedom with the remote control. We watched Christmas specials all day long.

Despite my parents ambivalence toward American holidays, we did have a fake tree as kids. My parents were probably still into the whole being American thing, and conforming to American traditions. Their intention was probably to give us as "normal" a childhood as they believed could be bought on American soil. I suppose the novelty of the holiday wore off with the belief of the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. But as we grew older, it was up to my brother and I to make the most of the holidays because our parents would always have to work.

Thus my memories of the holidays are mostly my brother and I barely tall enough to reach the top of the tree. We had to stack additional stools onto a chair if we were intending to put a star on the top. This was probably not the safest endeavor. I remember my ideas for homemade ornaments using our duplicate vacation pictures because we had already shattered so many glass ones we could hardly adorn one side of the tree (so glad they make shatter-proof now). And the thousands upon thousands of construction paper cutouts I orchestrated my brother to snip. Our factory of 2 employees, with seasonal work. My mom would come home mortified at the mess we had made, as we continued snipping into the wee hours.

December is my favorite. It will always be.

dashingly pined,
jt

rocket science

Count the number of times you can see my cousin in the pink dress!

When I was a kid, my dad liked to take pictures with our film camera. I'm glad to be that old. The rest of the family would moan and groan as we would pause and hold a pose next to all the classic kodak moment landscapes. But the one time my brother and I would delight in his photographer exploits was when he figured out how to make "twins" of us in a photo. We'd get so excited to develop film from those sessions. We even convinced one of my friends that we actually did have secret twins somewhere. I have no idea how he did that with our film camera to this day. Now that I've been given access to the latest and greatest in technology today, one of my favorite kinds of pictures to take is creating as many duplicates of my friends as possible in one image.

sunny Seattle!

Ahoy,

I had forgotten how exciting it is to be in a brand new city. It's as if you have the whole world before you and you haven't seen any of it. It's indescribable. This past weekend was full of food and exploration in Seattle. The weather was divine, which I'm told was a rarity because it was gloomy for forever before our arrival. But that's something I love about Seattle, that the weather is its own character. Like that no good uncle at family gatherings that is just there for comic relief, but you must deal with him and bring him food, regardless.

My travel buddies got wired on java daily, throughout the day. All caffeine, all the time! Your blood sugar level won't know what hit it! In addition to the plethora of coffee I was swimming in, I feel it's also important to note the land and sea of plaid that was abundant like a fresh summer crop. But I'm told this is year round. There are places I feel out of place for demographic reasons, but rarely do I feel out of place for stylistic choices.

As is included in any trip, a survey of the local climbing gym. They were ginormous! There was a slide! There was a pirate ship! There was endless amounts of fun! Alas, life is not all about pirate ships, there must be a place to sail it. Having been adjacent to water my whole life, I would settle for nothing less than a puddle. We borrowed a rowboat and shimmied our way around the swampy depths of alligator free water.

The best of all worlds indoors and outdoors, Seattle has so much to do and so much to eat. I can't wait to go back!




lustfully adrift,
jt

climbing days are here to stay

Ahoy,

Climbing on real rocks outside has been a bucket list item I've listed as completed for quite a while now. But every time continues to be an adventure. When I put it on my list so long ago, I never would have thought I would have so many opportunities to go outside and climb. When I got my first climbing intro 3 years ago, just as I was leaving CA, in my last ditch effort to check off all my items, I wasn't thinking I would get to climb so many times after that. I wasn't thinking I would actively seek out climbing gyms wherever I went, I wasn't thinking I would get a membership at a climbing gym and meet so many fun people to go on climbing trips. Climbing is very much an individual sport, but the social aspects of it is really one of my favorite reasons to climb.

Last weekend, we went out to San Bernadino for sport climbing. It's a marvel that so far in the middle of nowhere you can still find a big community of people all interested in the same thing you are. Complete strangers, familiar faces, everyone is out there to hang out, to climb, to help you climb. Outdoor or indoor, it's easy to talk to people on the wall. It's easy to create a commonality as soon as you touch the wall. That being said, it's not like this all the time. But I truly treasure the contact that people can make when climbing. It's a lonely planet, but this is a way to make it a little less so.

gorgingly frizzled,
jt

waiting for fall

Ahoy,

Fall has always meant the beginning of school for me. Many things I've come to associate with this season also comes with memories of school. I remember deliberately stepping on the crunchiest leaves on my way to class. I remember the smell of morning on the first day of school. I remember the first day it would be so cold I would dread sitting on the toilet when I got up. I remember the resetting my clocks so that it would still be dark as night when I got up for school. I remember the change of breath the city blows as my outer layers grow thicker, skin less exposed.

Everywhere else in the country it seems the season's changing. I'm getting frost advisory notices for Chicago. The leaves are turning, days are shortening. Meanwhile, I've got a new layer of tan on my shoulders. I'm waiting for fall like it has happened for me for every year of my life, and it's still a dry 90 degrees outside my windows. I don't think it's coming for me this year. This strange place is like an eternal summer.

everlastingly triassic,
jt

CPS on strike

Ahoy,

The public education system is something that has grown to be very near and dear to my heart. Even though I'm no longer in school, and don't plan on having any more school, my teachers from all my years of education are still my teachers today. I still remember every single one of my teachers from grade school and high school. I have fond memories of my childhood and youth, despite the absence of air conditioning as the CPS calendar rolled into summer. I have had the fortune of attending both a public and private university, which only confirmed my faith in the public school system. I am proud to be the product of public schools, and proud of what public schools have provided for me and those around me.

Although it may be true that this strike does not affect me directly, it is not true that I do not feel for those that are affected by it. I'm grateful that I had uninterrupted school years, and hope that this new contract will arrive speedily and can provide for kids a future full of potential that I received.

graciously schooled,
jt

basketball upstairs

Ahoy,

Clearly I'm in a foreign land judging as how the ground below me moved last night. Welcome to California.

My first earthquake was during my first week at Cal - some 5 years ago. We thought it was the boys upstairs playing basketball because they had been when we went to investigate earlier in the week and throughout our stay there. But this time was the real deal. And then about another week later I'm told there was another one, but I was in the shower and didn't feel anything. I've come to associate earthquakes with boys playing basketball upstairs because I don't know any better and haven't felt anything big enough to actually knock my things over.

So strange, this place is. Growing up in the most earthquake safe part of the world, the ability of the ground beneath my feet to move is difficult to wrap my brain around. So it moves, you say? So you can't build with bricks, you say? So things can topple over and fall into the ocean, you say? Images of Lois Lane falling into the abyss of the San Andreas Fault Line come to mind. Haven't you ever wondered where Superman is when you're feeling the earth shake and open up beneath you? Not anywhere near you, probably. I'm sure there are lots more important people to save from being swallowed up into the earth. Then why on earth would you choose to live here? There is plenty of seismologically stable land all across America, plenty of it ripe for development, you know? Clearly all that sun has fried your sense of reason, logic, and instinct for survival.

tyranically parched,
jt

ride a bike

Ahoy,

I love riding my bike. The more I ride my bike this summer, the more I relish in being able to get to everywhere I want to go on my bike. The difference between driving and bicycling in how you relate to your surroundings is so different. You're just so much more aware of the neighborhood and other people, other drivers. As a bicyclist, I feel like there are more things for me to be on the lookout for, but as a driver there are so many things you're not looking out for. In my experience as a bicyclist, I've come across many drivers that are just oblivious to anyone else on the road. But seeing more and more cyclists on the road this summer makes me really happy and optimistic about the future of cycling for Chicago. Thus this list of my own observations and worries for future cyclists.

List of bicyclist concerns:

1. Where the cars are, and how close they might get to the bike lane. Some streets don't have bike lanes marked out so you have to share the road. Other streets have marked bike lanes but then you see a car clearly run through the bike lane - and then you start getting nervous, because that could have been me.

2. Getting doored. I've seen someone get very clearly doored, the dictionary definition of doored, and this is not a fate I would wish upon myself or anyone. I've gotten nearly doored plenty of times, but hope on every lucky penny I don't actually get doored in my lifetime.

3. Cars/vehicles in the bike lane. This is super, duper annoying because then I have to negotiate into traffic around the thing and get mixed up with all the cars and the last thing they are looking for is me and my bicycle.

4. Quality of the road. This is something that doesn't affect cars nearly as much as cyclists. We feel every crack, pebble, sewer grate, and surface material on the road. With the quality of some of the roads in Chicago, bicycling can be teeth chattering. And then there are the newly paved roads, and bicycling is paradise.

5. Cars/vehicles pulling out or in, including buses. I try to avoid bike lanes that might intersect with buses. No one I know of has figured out a good way to address this issue. Buses are my friend, I love public transit - but buses are really big and I'm really not. I don't think I would win.

 I love the fact that I'm peddling myself somewhere. I love seeing the streets from the perspective of a bicycle. I love that this city is becoming more bike friendly as I type this entry.

rotatingly chromed,
jt

Looking for home: recreation

Ahoy,

When my brother and I were in elementary school, my dad felt that we weren't getting enough exercise. Oh, boy, if we were born 10 years later - would he have something to gripe about. I'm sure he has an opinion about our young cousins that each have electronic entertainment systems. He bought us tennis rackets and left us to our own devices. We spent the subsequent summer chasing after the ball. I can't say I learned much about tennis that summer, or any summer after that, but I can say tennis is something I continue to enjoy. I like to think what we play now is a little closer to tennis, and less so to playing fetch.

Physical activity used to be forced upon us in school, but as I've outgrown the formal education system I'm happy to be able to select my own physical activities. I remember the bane of my existence was softball and volleyball. I would steer clear of the ball at my earliest convenience, especially if it was bigger than my head.

In my mind, recreation should be for fun. It shouldn't be painful, it shouldn't be torturous. It should be a good time. My ideal location would have plenty of recreation to keep me entertained, which I've been told can be a lot. But I'm calling out to all the great cities of the world! Take your best shot!

blithely gripped,
jt

Looking for home: somewhere

Ahoy,

There was a time when I despised this place. I was dying to leave. And there was a time when I thought that I was leaving forever. Little did I know that I would still be flying into California. That as undying as my efforts to never look back, I would be looking forward in the same direction. My heart broke every time I walked through that airport, back again from home. And it revitalized every time I left that airport, reinvigorated by the anticipation of home in the Midwest.

I haven't flown into Oakland in a long time, and I never thought I would again. But this time, it was different from all the other times. I realize now that no matter how much I'd like to forget a place, how much I'd like to discard those memories - that'll never happen. I realize now that I've left pieces of myself everywhere I've gone, and in the trade I've taken little pieces of everywhere I've gone with me. More and more, I've come to realize that home is what you make of it, home is where you can find love, home is where you're wanted and missed. Home, for me, has been ever mobile and scattered. Home is many places, and, yet, none at all. Maybe this isn't so for everybody, but in arriving at this airport once again, I've come to accept that home is complicated. For now.

begrudgingly idealistic,
jt

Looking for Chicago: the Midwest

Ahoy,

There really isn't much in the Midwest. There's a whole lot of farmland. It's a gigantic piece of farmland in the entire middle of America until you get to the oceans on either side. But the Midwest will always be where my home is. I've always thought of Chicago as one of the nation's best kept secrets. There's so much mania, hype, lust for the coasts, but I'll always believe Chicago is the best coast for numerous reasons. I'll spare you that can of worms.

One of my favorite conveniences is its proximity to everywhere else. Something I'm glad to be rid of since coming home is cross country flights. I have enough trouble sitting still, and now my flights can be 2 hours less of sitting still! I hate sitting still.

flightfully conditioned,
jt

Looking for Chicago: sizzling summers

Ahoy,

Summers in Chicago can get really, really hot. Sometimes I go outside and it feels like I'm wearing all of the clothes that I own + all of the clothes you own. And no matter how few articles or how little coverage I have on, it still feels like I'm wearing a whole thrift store of unwanted clothes. So how does one survive a summer in Chicago?

My smartest idea is probably to stay inside where it's air conditioned, and if you don't have air conditioning - you should really invest in it, because there is no way you are going to get by on sheer will. That never stopped mother nature, and I'm pretty sure you won't will yourself into sitting in a tub of ice all summer.

Some people might associate cabin fever with winter, but I find that it can happen in summer too. When you find this impending, I find that museums have excellent climate controlled facilities. Libraries are also great, but if you intend on staying to finish a book, you should bring a sweater. Other indoor things not only have air conditioning, but are educational - so as to keep your brain from inevitably rotting during the summer.

But if you're willing to brave the hot summer heat of a thousand suns, there are plenty of outdoor things you can do too. Beaches and water-parks are the optimal oases for summer cool-down activities. Many parks have water features that are great for splashing around. If you can't find any of these (which I highly doubt), going out in the morning or evening is a good time to catch your neighbors' sprinklers. Knowing (making) a friend with a pool is always an easy option.

blisteringly comfortable,
jt

Looking for Chicago: thunderstroms

Ahoy,

I love this weather feature that happens in the summer in Chicago. It doesn't only happen in Chicago, but it's a feature that is characteristic of summers in humid continental climates. During the days it might get hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, but then there's these monster storms that come at night to cool everything off. The rain is torrential, there is lightning, there is thunder, there is golf ball sized hail. There is everything to signal the end of the world in some apocalyptic movie.

And when all is said and done, the sidewalk chalk has been washed off, some branches may have fallen, and your gutter may still be draining, but a sigh of relief falls upon the residents all across the city, a sigh of relief courses through the sun dried dirt of the urban gardens. And this is what happens in the summer.

But California has a mediterranean climate, which means there is no rain in the summer. Not a single drop. From March to October. Not a single drop. This is unacceptable. An absolutely unacceptable lifestyle. I refuse to participate.

markedly arid,
jt

Looking for Chicago: parks

Ahoy,

I can't tell you the exact numbers, but in my explorations it seems like I've found far fewer parks and playgrounds in California then in Chicago or New York. I'm sure people are happy in all of these places, so they must be getting their daily allotment of outside playtime in one form or another.

In my mind, I have found there to be 2 different categories of parks. The ones I find in New York and Chicago are more like urban playgrounds. There is usually a playground, water feature, benches, etc. The bigger ones have baseball, soccer fields, tennis and basketball courts. These are the ones I was accustomed to growing up. 

What I love about these parks is the concentration of energy they have. They become something like the best party thrower in the neighborhood. I love how you can feel the fun that lives in the neighborhood when you see kids running around and getting dirty and parents cheering on their childs' losing little league team, but it's okay because the team gets pizza even if they lose. I love that you can just call your friends up after dinner, before it has even digested, to go play tag at the park. I love how you get to know who the neighbors are by the sport they partake in. It's easy to never see your neighbor and you rarely need to interact unless your shrub is invading their property, but I love that everyone stops at the park. I love that people go outside and make eye contact - even if it is because your ball just interrupted their game. These are your neighbors, this is your neighborhood. 


Much to my surprise, a "park" was something totally different on Berkeley maps. A "park" meant a big forest that was more of a place for people to go hiking (get lost). Chalk it up to local vernacular. Not only are these large areas of woodland, they can be far away and require more effort to get to (ie. LA, which at first glance appears to have a ton of parks, but also require days to get to). The parks of my childhood were always within a stone's throw of people in the neighborhood, but in California it now seemed like an Olympic effort to get to the park. There needs to be a large chunk of your day that is free, and all your friends need to give you their day, and you need a bus or you need a car, and you need to pack food, because city girl that I am - I would not know where to even begin to forage outside of my snack pantry. 


As many differences as there are, I can see how you could appreciate their respective qualities all the same. It's always great to get away from the commotion of a city for an extended period of time - makes me appreciate the wildness of  the city that much more. You never know who you'll cross paths with in the woods - maybe you'll find friends from afar or someone to trade lunches with. Regardless of what is near or far from me, I never want to stop going outside. I never want to stop playing.

aptly amok,
jt

Looking for New York: produce carts

Ahoy,

One of the more under-rated fixtures on the NY food scene are the produce cart vendors. NY has a lot of people to feed, and it's one of the best ways the city tries to get fresh fruits and veggies to everyone. In my neighborhood, they are common and easy to come by. And several of them have been incredibly dedicated. I remember rain for days and I would still see this one cart out there through all the rain. I've seen them in the winter and at 3 in the morning. They're usually really friendly and will even haggle with you if you feel like it.

Produce carts have made it very convenient and easy for me to get fresh fruits and vegetables in my lethargy of walking the extra block to get to a grocery store. They are friendly faces and people you can talk to about your produce. At the end of the day, they're just like you or me trying to make it in the big apple, and I'm happy to be buying from them.

refreshingly stocked,
jt

Looking for New York: retail

Ahoy,

One of the things in NY that has become far, far too easy to access is shops. I'm sure you can hear the sobs of my quickly shrinking bank account. I can feel its desperate grips and pleas of mercy to spend another day sitting idle. But, my goodness, NY makes it so temptatiously easy! For most of my life I'd always regarded shopping as an activity I had to plan for. My friends or family and I would make a day of it. The logistics of the activity were such that it would take a certain amount of time to get to the shopping, and after spent that effort - it would only make sense to commence with the shopping. This was mostly due to the fact that there was only shopping there or eating or the rest of the party would not relent to other activities like a museum, etc.

But in NY, this is not the case. Far be it for me to make any effort before I stumble into another shop. I never had to go to any shopping, it's as if they all came to me. The clothes, the shoes, the accessories, the tax free retail all at my fingertips. There was always I store I could step into on my way to a meeting, on my way running an errand, on my way to the office. It was always just a few minutes to peek at the new line just released this week, at the dress I wanted to see if it was marked down yet, at what shoes my wardrobe was missing.

For some reason, there was always a sale and tax free made it even more sinful. Many will expunge of the burden of living in such an expensive city, but I have never made such an inexpensive wardrobe as I did in NY. Nor have I made as many purchases as frequently in such a limited period of time.

creditingly closeted,
jt

Looking for Chicago: Red Eye

Ahoy,

I remember when the Chicago Tribune first debuted their baby newspaper - the Red Eye. This was their last ditch effort to get youngsters to read a print newspaper. So this was a free publication that had shorter snippets of news, and celebrity gossip to keep young people interested. There were more pictures, shorter articles, less substantial news. I tried to grab one everyday, and I still try whenever I go home. Now I am mostly interested in it for the crossword puzzles.

It was one of the more difficult things about home that I would miss. Much to my delight, I discovered New York had copied Chicago's idea. They made a newspaper - the amNY - that is just like the RedEye. Much to my delight, the crossword editor was even the same person. But, alas, I've been unable to find anything similar in Los Angeles. As outdated as printed newspapers are, I still think they are a great thing to have. News may come faster on the internet, but there's nothing like unfolding a newspaper over breakfast or on the train. The simple fact that it has a larger surface area makes it more difficult for strangers to harass me.

monochromatically crinkled,
jt

Looking for Chicago: jaywalkers

Ahoy,

One of my most favorite things ever that I've heard about Chicago is "I'm from Chicago. I can cross the street any time I want." I followed this edict religiously in Berkeley. Everyone thought I was insane. And I remember biking and walking during rush hour downtown Chicago. I'll never forget how majestically planned it looked, people would just step into the street, in between and around the cars - like organized chaos. It was lovely.

It's interesting to experience what pedestrian etiquette is like in other cities. In the Bay Area, they might stand on the edge of the curb, but they follow the signals. In LA, no one dares approach the curb until the light has changed - forget about stepping off the curb. In NY, the streets can get so crowded - people walk in the road. But New Yorkers never pay attention to the crosswalk signal - they look at traffic or traffic lights for the other direction. I have jaywalked in front of police officers many a time, and have yet to be given a second glance. Jaywalking in the LA bus turnaround - not even the street - someone came up to me and warned me they fine people for doing that.

How can I start a revolution to make jaywalkers out of Angelenos?

mischievously forlorn,
jt

Looking for Chicago: my brother

Ahoy,

Some of you may know that my brother and I have developed an alarmingly peaceful relationship based on obedience and friendly aggression. He is, in many respects, my best friend. Having grown up on the premise that he was born to play with me, we have become excellent play buddies. The story usually goes that I decide what we do, and he does it. No matter what adventures I drag him along on, I'll always relish the times we are just lounging.

No one has played as humble and powerful a role in my existence as he has. He has pretty much been with me his whole life - a lot of times probably because my mom made me bring him - but nonetheless! He is my brother, my confidante, my editor - always honest, always insightful, always questioning. I don't know what I'd do without my crossword buddy. I really don't.

siblingly wistful,
jt

red eyes and shut eyes

Ahoy,

Red eye flights seem like the smartest thing ever. They are great because you can sleep the flight away. You would be sleeping anyway. And you won't lose any productive hours. As a student, I'm always keen on maximizing productivity. There are so many moments when I'm in a scramble that I wish there were more hours in a day, that I didn't need to sleep, that I didn't need to eat, that I didn't get my run into the day. For all these reasons - red eye flights seem like the best thing since sliced bread. At the time you book it.

And then you fly it. And you realize your seat can never push back far enough, that the person in front of you has a seat that pushes so much farther back than yours, that the guy next to you thinks he can spill into your seat, that your feet can't stay still, that the air and the lights and the noise are all messing with your circadian rhythm. And you realize it is nearly impossible to sleep on a red eye flight and just as impossible to be productive.

blisteringly wired,
jt

Looking for New York: Subway

Ahoy,

There's nothing that makes you appreciate NYC Subway more than navigating other places. For its faults and rat population, it is the best public transit system in the States. So how am I ever supposed to lower my standards? I've come to realize it takes a long time to get anywhere in LA. Traffic conditions play far too critical a factor in mobility, which really makes me appreciate the Metro.

One of the most blatant differences is the kind of people and interactions on the systems. Everybody rides the Subway in NY, but in LA nobody rides the Metro if they don't have to (but I really think a lot of people would be a lot happier with their life if they rode the Metro rather than drove). And in NY there's this unspoken policy that you don't talk to other people. Ever. You don't even make eye contact. And if you talk to other people - clearly you're not from here. But people talk to me so much in LA. It interrupts my reading time. And the wandering eyes are nothing like the alone-ness of riding the Subway.

No light rail system could ever compare to the size and coverage of MTA's. The Metro reaches everywhere important in a reliable manner. It has real-time schedules that have been mostly accurate and consistent, which I can't necessarily say for MTA. Metro doesn't allow food which is accountable for why it's so much cleaner. One thing the MTA is is dirty - the tracks are littered with debris and bags of garbage that catch on fire sometimes. Great grub for the Subway rats. And all this I'm sure is a significant portion of the budget to handle - which one would think would be covered by the $2.25 fare (but it isn't). The $1.50 fare doesn't cover much either, but looking at my salary I'll take what I can get.

So even though the Metro doesn't run 24 hours or every 2-5 minutes or leave me alone, it is less expensive, runs when it says it does, is cleaner and there's no traffic. No traffic!

despairingly impatient,
jt

Looking for New York: Central Park

Ahoy,

As I'm approaching the home stretch of my time in NYC. I find myself accustomed to certain habits. Something I've come to begrudgingly enjoy is living less than a block from Central Park, the pivotal factor in why running has become a recreation I continue to partake. I remember the first time I went for a run in the park. It was a night run in September of 2010. One of the first days we had just moved in and I wanted to blow off some steam. I decided to stay on the main road since it was night. I ran down probably less than a mile to a fork, I don't remember which one, and back up to my entrance.

I remember going again during the day around the reservoir once, building up to twice. It is 3 miles twice around. To change the scenery I would go down to the 59th St. entrance and again back up. That was about 3 miles too. I would eventually make it all the way around the main road - 6 miles. This year I mixed up the routes with different turns onto the main road, across the horse trails, around the reservoir. I built up to 7.8 miles around the park, and could go 6 miles pretty consistently. I became familiar with the roads and trees, landmarks and smells.

There are a million steps I've probably taken around that park, and I'll be sad to part from such a fantastic amenity. I know I have uncommon access to it, but I've come to see it as my backyard - a reprieve from the city. There was a point when I was running everyday for about 2 weeks. I've since calmed down, but I'll miss having Central Park there.

This past weekend, we went running in Santa Monica - down San Vicente and then along the beach. A tricked me into 11 miles. This route had some shade on San Vicente, but none on the beach. Central Park has pockets of shade all along the routes I've done. I don't like running next to traffic, which was what San Vicente was like. Central Park has horse and carriages, and taxis and cars along the SE corridor, but it's minimal compared to San Vicente.  Running along the beach was beautiful, anybody's dream, but it was windy the whole time. There's pros and cons for both routes, but I'll make do with what I can get. I'm not good at staying still, and I guess I should be less picky about running conditions if I'm going to continue running.

deceivingly tricked,
jt

this is the guy I met at the airport

Ahoy,

I haven't been anywhere new recently. But this year the tall one made the trip out to NYC for the February weekend. This is the guy I met at the airport. Going on 2 years ago I met this guy. This amazing guy. 

Every so often, I'll look over and I'm completely overcome with amazement and wonderment as to how this amazing, beautiful boy is beside me. I have so many 'pinch me' moments, I would be so bruised and blue if I acted on these moments. I know he had to get in a car, bus, train, and plane to get to me. That's how he's beside me. But there's so much more to it than that. There's hours upon hours of late night conversations, far too many days of sleepy awakenings, endless thumbed messages. And there were so many points in our interaction that could have resulted in something entirely different. So I guess my question really is, how did all those things happen in exactly, precisely the right way at the right time? I understand this is a question that will never have an answer. But let's count how many moments that might have resulted in someone else or no one in the above image. 

We met at the airport. Ridiculous #1. That one should be 5 kinds of ridiculous. I chose that day to give him my real name. Ridiculous #2. There are so many ridiculouses in our story, I wonder how on earth all of it happened. I made eye contact with a strange boy. I typically try to avoid eye contact with strange boys because they take that as an invitation to talk to me and ask for my phone number even though I have no interest in maintaining any sort of contact with them. Ridiculous #3. I fed him awful food, but he wouldn't admit it and ate it anyway. First rule of life, never take candy from strangers. Ridiculous #4. Despite A and I's half attempt at going ahead and losing him, it was only a half attempt. We even discussed our unsureness of whether or not we should wait. Ridiculous #5. I gave him my real phone number. Due to the above situations, I have more often than not given a fake name and fake phone number. Ridiculous #6. He dialed it in correctly despite the melodic hum of BART and hopped out at his stop just as the doors closed. Ridiculous #7. I picked up his call despite still being on the BART. I left my phone on silent and am not very good about picking up calls in transit. Ridiculous #8. I had rejected him the first time at the airport when I did not have a car like he was expecting. He persisted. Ridiculous #9. I rejected him the second time on BART when I needed to get back to study for my last final the next day rather than get food, despite what would probably have been A's delight. He persisted. Ridiculous #10. He called again after he returned from LA, and I had graduated. He actually called back. Ridiculous #11. I picked up and we had a conversation that was only mildly awkward as I flirted on the phone in the presence of my friends from home. Ridiculous #12. He met us for dinner - us meaning me and all my friends. Now this would be our 2nd in-person encounter. Ridiculous #13. Despite his distaste for spicy food, this dinner was Indian and certainly spicy. Ridiculous #14. Over the week, we continued the mildly awkward flirting in the presence of my friends. I left for home. For perceivably forever. Ridiculous #15. I would continue to go farther another 1,000 miles bringing the total distance between us to 3,000 miles, or a whole continent. Ridiculous #16. After about 2 weeks of conversation from different time zones, I somehow convinced him to get a plane ticket to see me in Chicago. I guess we weren't shaking each other. 

But do you see what I mean? Do you see all the ridiculous instances that had to be strung together for us to be building our future together? Everyday I can't believe that this amazing, beautiful boy traveled to me, and continues to travel to me. Everyday I can't believe we have made all these memories, embarked on all these adventures. Everyday I'm beside myself with amazement and wonderment that he is mine and I am his. 

adolescently adoring,

jt 

3 sighs

Ahoy,

I think there are 3 sighs of relief when returning home from a trip or travel of any kind. I love to travel and wander and see new things. The gloriousness of being somewhere unfamiliar and maybe even uncomfortable cannot be captured better in any other way. But at the end of the day, all I want to do is be able to go back to the place I call home.

The first sigh comes upon touchdown. This is arriving to the city, neighborhood, or general vicinity. The most intimidating part of your journey home has been completed. This could be the airplane landing, train reaching the station, bus dropping off in the city, etc. This is the relief of your plane not broken down, your train not being cancelled, your bus not being delayed. You've finally touched down and it touches your heart to know that you will soon finally be home.

The second sigh comes when you've gotten aboard your vehicle that will deliver you to the doorsteps of your home. For me, this has been boarding the public transit system - a bus or train - that will take you the rest of the way, or someone picking you up. This kind of relief is knowing that you will soon make it. The trains are still running or the roads are open. You're on your way and so close to walking through the door and kicking you shoes off.

The third, and final relief comes when you have entered your home and put down your bags. It is this point when you can finally breathe the familiar smells, take in the familiar sights, and eat your mom's cooking that has been awaiting your arrival. And now is when I delight in noticing what has changed and what has not. Now is when I unpack and distribute all my belongings in their proper place.

I have shuttled to and from my home many times. I have many desires to see the world, but never will I tire of the 3 sighs of returning home.

be longingly urban,
jt