Prague Arrival: 24

Yosef and I ended up dividing our responsibilities as follows: he was in charge of getting us transit from city to city, and I was in charge of getting us lodging. He got us bus tickets from Dresden to Prague, which was originally a tentative point on our trip. We never had a formal discussion adding it to our itinerary, it just happened on its own. 

Before leaving Dresden, I met up with Marija, whom I had met at the wedding, and who teaches political science in London. We talked about forks in the path of the heart, and experiences with roommates. I finally figured out what was wrong with my frothy milk order. She reminded me of my friend Hannah, the general academic nature with an apparent care for her friends, or maybe just the similarity in coloration. 

And then a chunk of the day was spent on the bus. I wrote a few postcards to friends and napped. Finally we arrived in Prague and lugged our bags up. 

At that point my impression of Prague is that it is all uphill, all windy cobblestone which gets in the way of carrying a suitcase. We were too early to check in to the airbnb, and hungry as well, so we found a Greek called Olympos and celebrated our arrival. I finally got a very little cup of dark bitter liquid and tiny carafe of milk. We were both so tired at this point though, so when we made it back to the airbnb (which required some thinking because the keys were locked in a lock-box on the bars of a convenience store a block away and around the corner) we took a nap. 

Actually let's circle back to the convenience store: it was one of many bodega-like markets sprinkled throughout the city. After dinner we stopped in and picked up some more kefir and fruit, as well as some laundry detergent. They are open late, and as far as I could tell, primarily run by Vietnamese people. There's a kind of charm to these smaller shops: the neighborhood corner store that's open late and were you can buy a pack any number of things: cigarettes, liquor, peaches, or shampoo. These peaches were squatter than the ones I'm used to. There's a family-run feel to them: the one next to me in the Ukrainian village I know the owner, and I think his teen son or nephew works there too. There, sometimes fresh tamales are on sale, but there is also whole-bean coffee and a porter I like. Compared to the ones in Washington Heights in NY, the ones in Prague had more fresh produce and fewer dried and canned goods, and there were no cats. I think with these kinds of places it is easy to start fantasizing about what it would look like to live in a place: strolling the streets, nipping into the corner shop for some milk and dish soap. I saw the guy who manned the cashier a day later in the street, and we recognized each other. If I lived there, maybe we would know each others names, I would learn which fruit are in season when, and develop a sense for the local currency. 

After the nap we got dinner. My friend Mark recommended a Czech place called U Sadu, which he had described as "simply a pubby bar, with simple but carefully (would one say lovingly?) prepared food." The waitress was patient with us, and there were fewer tourists there. Afterwards we went for a walk - we saw some great views of the sun setting over a castle, and the Jewish cemetery, which was closed.  

And that was a full day of Dresden, transit, and Prague. 

life as film

Yesterday I got a text from Max, who travels a lot for his new job.
it said:
I am officially a regular at JFK Laguardia airport, gate official recognized me and said, "Hello again Mr Mendelssohn" before he even saw my ticket.

and I thought: this is so great! It's like a scene from a movie. Those small-town feel in a large city scenes the establish a character at the start of a film. It also reminded me of a long conversation Leonid and I had (via letters) about being a 'regular' somewhere; how so many shows are set up around this idea that people meet up at a bar or a coffee shop or comic book store a lot and there's this community there. How little either of us know of establishments that have that. I was edging on that at some point at the 1369 cafe in Central Sq: the people who work there seem cool and there's a lot less turnover than at most places (I even named the blond girl with the dreads in my head, don't know when that happened) . And they recognized me and one even came over to chat one time. I would come three days a week in the morning before work and get the same thing almost every time. And then I moved. But that experience felt like I was filming in a movie, in a really artsy movie that I would maybe like to watch. What other good moments are there like that, where life imitates fiction?

---

The long weekend was taken at it's fullest: on Saturday Matt and I went to Walden pond. He read Walden at Walden Pond. I finished Be Here Now by Ram Dass. We walked around and took a dip in the lake. We talked a bit about Skinner's Walden Two and the like. The kind of day I like. He's spent the whole summer pretending shorts are swim-trunks. I've spent the whole summer without any shorts. Somehow we got by; it is now September.

On Monday Sima and I finished a project we had started the weekend before; that is, we finished bleaching his hair. He just got braces and glasses (Harry Potter style, his choice) and wanted to complete a trio of changes by doing his hair as well. Mama tried at first with a pharmacy kit, but those never work well so I took over after purchasing some more heavy-duty materials at a beauty supply store. He was so excited throughout the process, even biked over to the train station to meet me.

It was also Yosef's birthday, the day before he left to go back to his second year at university. I made him coconut cupcakes; he made everyone Uzbek plov.  I told him "We are both in our 20's!" and he said "you are closer to being 80 that I am!" -- how dastardly! I miss him already.

something about nothing

Matt likes order. I try to oblige, sometimes - we now try to go grocery shopping on Thursday. Last trip was therefore almost a week ago. 

We were checking out and the self scan broke. I just wanted the limes! But the belt couldn't sense them. After we had a highschooler try and help us a couple of times to no avail, I told the guy behind me "at this point you should probably switch. You know that cognitive trick that prevents people from switching because they've invested time in a line? That's the only reason to keep standing here." After a couple more minutes, he nodded at me, acknowledging that it was time to break away, and switched to another lane. The girl behind him i convinced to switch as well. The next guy came, two florescent bottles of fanta in hand. "And they aren't helping you?" he asked, skeptical of my statement that it would probably be a good idea to find another lane "well, they are, but it's not something they can resolve with just swiping the card" (one of those employee override cards) - he broke into a smile understanding that this will not be resolved quickly.

These are banal moments on paper. I suppose they add up and make up the majority of a life, though not the parts that are typically documented in ones memoir. The other day I was sending something for the doctor I work for. His sister had come to visit and purchased a couple pieces of furniture she wanted sent to her home in France. One of these things I have arranged a special company to send it - that can insure something as expensive as this antique, and be gentle with it. To send the folding chair I went to UPS, and while waiting for the Doctor to ok the price of shipping asked the two guys who were working: what's the weirdest thing you've shipped?
Right off the bat: a duck corpse. Frozen, being sent to a taxidermist. He said he had called the infection control people and they said it was fine.


Also: live fish. "I told the girl they would probably die and then when they arrived dead, she called and accused me of murdering her fish. You have to have thick skin"
Almost got to send a plaque of cultural significance, but UPS only insures up to 40 dollars, not the million they needed.

And while I feel that perhaps I have lingered to long in this post-undergraduate limbo, I have to say: I have gotten much better at talking to strangers; those standing in line behind me, those who work jobs similar to mine. And I appreciate that, drink it in.

cheers to the everyday and trying to negotiate order in a disordered world

Brimfield Flea Market

Sunday we went to a flea market the size of a few blocks. broken wind-up wristwatches, giant heavy tables made out of found wood and factory parts, jewelry, door knobs, plates, dresses, a giant antique yellow sofa (the kind with the arms splayed out), bells, cameras, Buddhas, all things rust (like old-fashioned apple peelers), vases, glass figurines, posters, step stools, postcards (with and without writing, I got one sent in 1908), scales, glass bottles, suitcases and storage trunks, wooden cases with tons of tiny little drawers, cameo and other pins, and 'open' sign with an arrow (like those seen in movies about old Vegas or old NYC), lamps from many different eras, cigarette lighters with wicks, baskets, furniture keys, chairs, books, Life magazine and Playboy, spools of thread, type keys and other stamps, more tables, rugs, satchels, large coral, shoes, photo enlarger that just needed a light bulb, machine oil, school lockers, mirrors, and so many things that I didn't even know what they were. I  don't know if I saw things just once and they impressed me, or multiple times. If I saw them multiple times in different places, or just past the same place more than once. Like the city of Zirma, a blind black man shouting in the crowd, a lunatic teetering on a skyscraper's cornice, a girl walking with a puma on a leash.

We got Polish food from a man who moved here 25 years ago but still wears Polish crest necklace, and got lemonade somewhere else. I sent the postcard from 1908 to Hannah, the vendor told me all he knew about Marshall McLuhan, which was a lot; About how he predicted that it was information that was valuable, not computers, and that he coined the terms "global village" and "the medium is the message". We also talked about how they no longer are teaching cursive in schools, which I read about as well, and how because of that one of the guys who came by looking to buy (and sell) autographs was freaking out because what happens to autographs when penmanship dies. How writing by hand will be an upper class thing again. "Wait one second, I have to finish" he said "this is one of my favorite topics". Though, in spite all this, Sima came from school today and told me that they are going to start teaching them cursive in third grade, same as they did with me. The vendor was so caught up in his own speech that he gave me an extra dollar back in change.

Some boy tried to get my attention (which caught me off guard more than usual) and Mama said "I know! you can't meet boys at bars. They are too standard and basic for you. You need to meet boys at places like antique fairs, where they are strange and inadequate"

CC 2014

I wrote to Sorrel about camping this year, and she agreed that this is what it's like when you meet up with old friends: everything is exactly the same, yet different.

We did things, as usual - same people with a few variations, and the kids are growing. KVN, climbed in the trees of an adventure park, swam. We put on plays, played music, cooked, played games, attended classes, hugged, slept, stayed awake, drank, recited poetry. Part of the time I felt anxious like a crumpled piece of paper. Part of it I was as gleeful as a soon-to-expire spark of fire, singeing joyously against the cold summer night. Sometime I will be back again, but not to this place, not quite.

20 teeth 6 letters

I've been coming up to make sure Sima's tooth is still there when he goes to bed: two days ago I tickled him, yesterday I convinced him to growl at me like a lion.

yesterday got six pieces of mail: one asking for money, one returning my old US passport, one postcard, and three letters. My day was made.

packing

I'm packing.
or
I ought to be packing.

Today and yesterday I collected items found on craigslist: a bed frame with a mattress and spring box (free), a small wooden table and chair (30$), a garment rack because I won't have a closet (5$).

I have packed

• all the kitchen things
• some of my cloths
• bathroom things

I have yet to pack

• the rest of my cloths (I sorted through some of my stuff my parents stuck in the basement. Most of it was useful, but I also found a toy I started making a few years ago, half stitched and half held with pins. It has been like that for years. headless.)
• shoes, belts, jewelry
• art supplies
• writing/reading (paper, pens, stamps, books. I tried meeting up with Leonid by MIT but our plans fell through twice. It occurred to me that we haven't had a real conversation face to face since two thanksgivings ago, but have kept up purely through letters. Freshman year he wrote with a typewriter, but now he uses a fountain pen.) 
• miscellaneous (sewing kit, flashlight, alarm clock ect.)

Tomorrow I will have moved to Redhook.

Titanium White

Things that make me unhappy right now:

1. That I am out of white oil paint and white acrylic
2. That my moderation board is so soon
3. The state of my room
4. That I keep waking up at 7am
5. That I am behind on reading for my psych and history courses
6. That I am not certain which part of psychology I am interested in
7. That I always get better grades in non-psych courses
8. That my feet hurt from standing in the studio so much
9. That my hands get raw from washing brushes
10. I’m hungry

Things that make me happy right now:

1. That a girl in my drawing class lent me some white oil paint
2. That I will get my phone, which I left at Carnegie, back soon, through the mail
3. My self-portrait is going well, and my drawing professor looked at it and liked it
4. That despite the time I’ve been spending at the studio, I made a new friend
5. That my brother called me last night
6. That I got a few letters in the mail in the past week
7. That Hannah, Kalena, and I made a cake
8. That Kalena and I watched Lost in Translation
9. People I’m not really close with but who I am friends with coming up to me and saying that my work in the moderation show looks really good; that specific group because they are not obligated to tell me, or remember, or care.
10. The prospect of dinner with Lauren, Alana, Adrienne and Cat

Quitting Self-Sustained Propaganda

I made a list of things I haven’t packed yet (letter writing materials, nail scissors, German dictionary, tripod, cloths in the laundry machine...).  

Tonight is my last night home. I just kissed Shimon’s soft cheek goodnight but he’s still talking to me through the bookshelf which helps to mentally separate the room into two. He’s asking me why Yosef and I speak in English to each other so often, reprimanding us – это вообще то неправильно, and he’s right, but I care more about what Yosef has to say, and in Russian I just end up correcting his grammar every two seconds and we both get frustrated with me. 

The rest of this post is pre-start-of-academic-year ranting.

Last year I wrote “I feel like I'm freaking out more about college this year than I did last year. Which makes about as much sense as a balding monkey.” I know that I will not flunk any classes, I know that if I forget to pack something there is a post office both here and there. I am not freaking out.

In Berlin I was happy because I went to museums, which was both something I really enjoy and makes me feel accomplished, but also something not incredibly hard to do. After I had my dose of organized culture, I would go on with the rest of my day. 

Which makes me want to continue setting realistic, satisfying expectations, but I’m afraid I’ll fall back into the habit of setting ten goals as high as the moon. Quitting the habit might be hard, like it’s hard for a smoker to quit smoking at the place where he has smoked for the past eleven years. Bard is then on of the many places where I have "smoked". I’ve had the idea ingrained in me for a long time; that I should be in some pursuit of intellectuality and everything else too, and that this equates to happiness. I may now understand that that is not the case, but understanding and to act on that understanding, to make sure my entire being is on the same page with that concept…that sometimes seems almost as hard as reaching ten goals set as high as the moon.  

I will be enrolled in Painting I, Drawing II, Abnormal Child Developmental Psych, A Haunted Union; Germany and the Reunifications of Europe, Chamber Singing, a Photography Tutorial, and a Neuroscience Lab. I will continue doing Emergency Driving, I signed up to volunteer to mentor freshman, and I convinced Eames to do Argentinian Tango with me.  I also want to write and go to the clay club room and read for myself and try to at least not forget German and have a social life.  

This can go two ways, or more, but here are two. One is that I freak out from all the stress and everything I am not obligated to do goes by the wayside, and I unhappily start equating myself with school work, unhappily because I am unlikely to get straight A’s and so numerically, on paper, I will not be ‘fulfilled’. The other option is that I will structure my time well, and, in having time to myself, but not so the type of time where I just sit around hopelessly ruminating, and not doing what I want to do, just sitting there, and that when I don’t do absolutely everything perfectly I don’t let the cockroaches inside me grow by eating me, guts first.  

Note that I described both options using the negative. It is hard to separate out 'happy' as being something other than 'not unhappy'

There is this hope that I will somehow be able to ‘realize’ myself but of course that is simply the continuation of the same self-sustained propaganda. I cannot wait to become who I am. My life is now.

Wish me luck remembering that. 

breathe

Paper Palace

Will and I trekked to Montgomery Place yesterday. It was hard to walk: everything is covered in ice, but it was fairly warm so it was melting.
We found this falling apart structure, some of it is made of papier-mâché, but also of planks of wood and metal tubes. It might be a parade float, a mini-Montgomery-mansion. But it says "theater cocoon" on the side, so perhaps not.








oh, and he slept on our floor again. When he left his room, his roommate+ where taking shots of cheap whiskey. Fan-tastic.













Watched The King's Speech with Marty and Cat. And Friday both Margaret and Rosette went off, one to visit her boyfriend, the other to go home.












Also I got a hat in the mail, ordered by Папа :).
And I still have to pick up another package he sent: Муми-тролли (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moomin)
which I plan on reading. Yes.

Andres said this photo doesn't look like me, but that might be because he usually looks at my face at a slight downward angle.*


Tulips and roses are being sold at Klien, Valentines' day is tomorrow.

*Mama says it makes my nose look big because I took it at arms length. There you go, my nose is smaller in real life.

Oh what a wild time I'm having while Adrienne is gone...

My books were supposed to come between the 10th and the 22nd, so this was a nice surprise. Still waiting for the calc book, but it has already been sent out. Plus tea, tea is always good.
Both of the text books are older editions, but if I gotten them at the school bookstore they would have been RIDICULOUSLY expensive. As in, I found the psych book for 5.13+shipping, and otherwise it would have been 201.60.
just no.

Bard is also hosting a "Mad Hatter Tea Party" for Freshman, so we all got a little postcard invite to that.

Roshashana starts at sunset and I am wearing my violet shoes. Cheers!