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
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
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
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
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
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
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
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
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
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
Monday, March 12, 2012
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
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
Monday, February 20, 2012
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
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
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
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
Saturday, December 31, 2011
hold fast, my lungs
Ahoy,
Madrid, I swear on my smoked sea salt's worth, is the smoking capital of Europe. Don't quote me on this. I'm only making this claim on speculation. It's like the whole city was smoking like chimneys. We thought Paris was bad, but they got nothing on Madrid. And when it wasn't the cigarettes, it was the motorcycle exhaust. Every bated breath I took, I could see my lungs wilting like flowers left in the sun with no water. Dying. I must have been holdingmmy breath the whole time I was in Madrid. It was awful. I'm glad my cardio health was adequate.
Besides that, Madrid is the largest city in Spain. And it was so crowded. It was more people than times square, but all the time, and everywhere. I long for Barcelona.
chafingly snuffled,
jt
Madrid, I swear on my smoked sea salt's worth, is the smoking capital of Europe. Don't quote me on this. I'm only making this claim on speculation. It's like the whole city was smoking like chimneys. We thought Paris was bad, but they got nothing on Madrid. And when it wasn't the cigarettes, it was the motorcycle exhaust. Every bated breath I took, I could see my lungs wilting like flowers left in the sun with no water. Dying. I must have been holdingmmy breath the whole time I was in Madrid. It was awful. I'm glad my cardio health was adequate.
Besides that, Madrid is the largest city in Spain. And it was so crowded. It was more people than times square, but all the time, and everywhere. I long for Barcelona.
chafingly snuffled,
jt
Friday, December 30, 2011
not found here
Ahoy,
These are things I miss when I go on vacation:
1. Rice. I haven't realized until recently how prominent rice is in my life. It's amazing to me when thinking back on how I grew up. My parents enforced a very strict regimen of rice for dinner everyday for my whole life. No matter how late we got home, they would cook rice every night. They even brought a rice cooker on vacation. I'm thinking now that might be such a wild idea for my travels.
2. Fruit. Produce markets might not always be the easiest to come by. And it might be expensive, poor quality or we might not want to carry it around all day. I dream of grapes and oranges. These aren't really good excuses for why I'm fruit deprived on vacation.
3. Tap water. I don't like bottled water, nor the concept of bottled water.
longingly satiated,
jt
These are things I miss when I go on vacation:
1. Rice. I haven't realized until recently how prominent rice is in my life. It's amazing to me when thinking back on how I grew up. My parents enforced a very strict regimen of rice for dinner everyday for my whole life. No matter how late we got home, they would cook rice every night. They even brought a rice cooker on vacation. I'm thinking now that might be such a wild idea for my travels.
2. Fruit. Produce markets might not always be the easiest to come by. And it might be expensive, poor quality or we might not want to carry it around all day. I dream of grapes and oranges. These aren't really good excuses for why I'm fruit deprived on vacation.
3. Tap water. I don't like bottled water, nor the concept of bottled water.
longingly satiated,
jt
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
last leg
Ahoy,
Barcelona is the pickpocketing capital of Europe, according to wikitraval. But we also know Rafael nadal is from Spain, so we were super excited to run into him and have him kick our butts. We saw Roger Federer when we passed through switzerland. It was fabulous. He looked so chic in his watch advertisement.
Aside from being hyper cautious for pickpocketers, I still love Spain. The siesta thing makes it a lot less crowded in the middle of the day. The weather is a lot warmer, which the tall one is happy about. There are both small and big streets that lead into turnabouts like in other European cities.
Barcelona held the 1992 Olympics and that left an indelible mark on the city. It's obvious that some of the structures and monuments were built for the olympics. It's really interesting to see how the city runs after such a huge event. It's very different from what I saw of Athens. I won't bore you with the details. I know some of you must already be asleep. Certainly, the tall one is.
linguistically bulleted,
jt
Barcelona is the pickpocketing capital of Europe, according to wikitraval. But we also know Rafael nadal is from Spain, so we were super excited to run into him and have him kick our butts. We saw Roger Federer when we passed through switzerland. It was fabulous. He looked so chic in his watch advertisement.
Aside from being hyper cautious for pickpocketers, I still love Spain. The siesta thing makes it a lot less crowded in the middle of the day. The weather is a lot warmer, which the tall one is happy about. There are both small and big streets that lead into turnabouts like in other European cities.
Barcelona held the 1992 Olympics and that left an indelible mark on the city. It's obvious that some of the structures and monuments were built for the olympics. It's really interesting to see how the city runs after such a huge event. It's very different from what I saw of Athens. I won't bore you with the details. I know some of you must already be asleep. Certainly, the tall one is.
linguistically bulleted,
jt
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