Posts tagged ‘New York life’

July 14, 2008

All Alone In Public Spaces

I am excited beyond belief to share with all of you, dear readers, a grand realization I had this past weekend. This was the sort of ‘aha!’ lightbulb moment after which the world is never the same again, but is a little wider, a little shinier, a little more bearable.

I realized that the best way not to be surrounded by obnoxious, loud people in public spaces in New York is to sit near a bunch of quiet people to begin with, rather than go sit off by yourself somewhere.

Here’s how I came to that realization: I bought a sandwich and went to consume it in a pretty, park-like area, and, as usual, went straight for a bench in the most deserted stretch of park. I was halfway through my sandwich when a couple of giggling teenagers came and sat right on top of me, despite the general emptiness of the area, and began to converse, in loud and squealing terms, about their burgeoning sex lives.

My entire life I have whined about how strangers seem to seek me out. I find the close proximity of other people repellent on a visceral level that most people do not feel for their fellow humans, which I realize is a personal shortcoming, but which I cannot help, because it is a kneejerk, gut-level reaction, cultivated in early childhood and continually reinforced by the fact that other people really do consistently suck out loud in every conceivable fashion. And yet, despite my extreme misanthropy, people gravitate towards me like metal filings. I need only install myself in a totally deserted area to make that area the most coveted spot in town. No matter where I am standing – even if it’s next to the only Port-a-Pot in a malarial swamp – five seconds after I have begun standing there, at least ten people will urgently need to stand right where I’m standing, usually with their dogs and babies and cameras and stereos and B.O. and inappropriately loud domestic fights and all.

I’d always assumed that this was a sort of karmic punishment for my disliking other humans’ close proximity so much – a sort of ‘who the hell do you think you are’ rebuke from the universe. Except that I don’t really believe in any sort of large-scale cosmic justice, so I kept looking for other reasons.

Anyway, back to this weekend, these teenagers were yapping on about their various forays into the wide world of sex, both homo- and hetero-style, and how they sometimes did so with hesitancy and sometimes with great enthusiasm, depending upon the other person involved, the amount of various intoxicants in their systems, and the suitability and romance of the atmosphere. And they were doing that thing where they were actually looking right at me and projecting in my direction while they ostensibly talked to each other. I provided an audience for them, which made the whole thing more interesting to them, I suppose. At some point, something so very ridiculous was lobbed so obviously in my direction that I audibly sighed, rolled my eyes, got up and packed up my sandwich and moved on.

I began looking for another deserted stretch of park, when suddenly, I had the inspiration to sit instead right smack between two older couples who were each murmuring quietly to each other while glaring at everyone passing by.

It was the best decision I ever made! I enjoyed my sandwich in peace and solitude, buffered on both sides by a cranky, old couple that didn’t want to look at me, or for me to overhear word one of their conversations. And it was at this point that I realized why people had always been coming to sit by me: they had been doing it on purpose precisely because I was quietly reading a book! They knew that they would be able to dominate the space, and that my presence would ensure against any louder people coming to sit next to them.

In New York, you never sit in an empty area, because no area is empty for very long. Rather, you pick the least offensive strangers, and then you scooch in right on top of them. That way, you have some control over your fate. I put this new theory into practice over the rest of the weekend, and I have to say, my quality of life has improved by leaps and bounds. I feel less angry, less hassled, happier and more well-inclined towards my fellow man. And I’m beginning to think that perhaps New York is somewhat livable after all, if you just learn how to work with it.

Speaking of despicable haters, I have really taken note of the passing of Jesse Helms. I think that the worst possible thing that you can do with your life is live it in such a way that, five seconds after you’re in the ground, people everywhere burst forth with celebrations of your death and denunciations of everything you were. Scores of private assholes are despised posthumously by everyone who knew them, but it seems like, if you are going to be an asshole, at least do yourself the courtesy of limiting your own exposure. Because to be a hated asshole on such a very grand scale as the late Senator Helms seems to me to be far, far worse than spending your entire life in your room doing nothing and seeing no one. I really hope that, whatever I do or don’t do in life, I don’t do such a grandly awful job of it as to be remembered as the world now remembers Jesse Helms.

Of course, if I can’t be confident of the purity of my heart saving me from such a fate, at least I can rely on my lethargy and ineffectiveness.

Related, what does make people so social? Mirror neurons:

Mirror neurons are the only brain cells we know of that seem specialized to code the actions of other people and also our own actions. They are obviously essential brain cells for social interactions. Without them, we would likely be blind to the actions, intentions and emotions of other people. The way mirror neurons likely let us understand others is by providing some kind of inner imitation of the actions of other people, which in turn leads us to “simulate” the intentions and emotions associated with those actions. When I see you smiling, my mirror neurons for smiling fire up, too, initiating a cascade of neural activity that evokes the feeling we typically associate with a smile. I don’t need to make any inference on what you are feeling, I experience immediately and effortlessly (in a milder form, of course) what you are experiencing.

(via 3QD)

Here in America, even in our public parks, everybody thinks it’s their own, personal bench. Blame it on the Renaissance:

This focus on the individual, and its false equation with democracy, began back in the Renaissance. The Renaissance brought us wonderful innovations, such as perspective painting, scientific observation, and the printing press. But each of these innovations defined and celebrated individuality. Perspective painting celebrates the perspective of an individual on a scene. Scientific method showed how the real observations of an individual promote rational thought. The printing press gave individuals the opportunity to read, alone, and cogitate. Individuals formed perspectives, made observations, and formed opinions.

The individual we think of today was actually born in the Renaissance. The Vesuvian Man, Da Vinci’s great drawing of a man in a perfect square and circle-independent and self-sufficient. This is the Renaissance ideal.

It was the birth of this thinking, individuated person that led to the ethos underlying the Enlightenment. Once we understood ourselves as individuals, we understood ourselves as having rights. The Rights of Man. A right to property. The right to personal freedom.

(via 3QD)

Briefly:

Kids make their parents miserable.

Noooooooo!!!!! 99% of my diet is soy!!! It was the one thing that was never bad! That’s it, screw it, I’m going back to living on microwave burritos and beer.

This is good stuff to know.

March 17, 2007

NYC Apartment Hunting

Having recently spent a freezing long-weekend in January apartment hunting in NYC, I so appreciate the following:

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2007/3/16sweeney.html

Really, this is so accurate, it barely qualifies as satire.

March 6, 2007

Questions I’d Rather Not Be Asked

I have recently moved to NYC, and I’ve noticed in my initial conversations with New Yorkers that there’s a certain question set that seems to be addressed to each new arrival. I don’t have a good answer for any of these questions, and so they all annoy me to no end. Because I’m sure to be asked them again and again, I think it’s probably time I came up with some good answers in advance, as I would do if I were going on interviews for jobs or graduate programs. To wit:

 

1. Where are you from?

  • Problem with this question: I am from Knoxville, Tennessee, at least as far as I attended high school and college in that city. But to say that would lead the interviewer to believe I have recently arrived in Manhattan straight from a small, Southern city, which is quite far from the truth (also, it never fails to lead to the extra annoying and equally unanswerable ‘where’s your accent’ question). After college, I lived in Chicago for four years. I could just say I’m from there, but that is also misleading, because I haven’t lived there in almost a year now. I spent the summer in Knoxville again, and then I spent three and a half months backpacking Asia, but I can’t say all that, because it’s running on about myself.

  • Answer I’ll be giving from here out: I’m from Jersey.

2. Why’d you decide to move to New York?

  • Problem with this question: What exactly do they want me to say? Because the honest answer to this question is, ‘Why not?’ But I think they just expect me to say I’m an actor. Even though that’s true (more or less), I think it’s a lame answer. But it certainly saves time, and any other answer merely confuses everybody, so I think that’s what I’m just going to say from now on.

  • Answer I’ll be giving from here on out: I’m an actor.

3. Really? So, have you been going on auditions and everything?

  • Problem with this question: Because this question always follows the asked-and-answered ‘I’ve been here three weeks,’ and because the question is always posed by someone who is himself an actor (because it’s no mere stereotype that everyone in New York is an actor), this question always plunges me into a flurry of panic and self-doubt. Not only have I not been on any auditions, but I have no idea how to go about auditioning. I don’t even know how to find out about auditions, and I don’t know how I’d ever get up the energy to actually go on any and I haven’t auditioned in months and I’ve entirely forgotten how to audition and I hate auditioning and I don’t believe in the efficacy of auditions and I don’t believe it’s possible to show myself off well at auditions and I don’t want to audition and everyone else is managing it so much better and they’re all really fabulous and being an actor is stupid and unoriginal and I think I’m not really an actor but if I’m not an actor I’m just a server and but I really do want to be an actor but all other people are better at being actors and who the hell am I anyway and what is the purpose of life?

  • Answer I’ll be giving from here on out: I’ve already booked a national commercial and two short films! This market is incredible!

4. Do you like it here?

  • Problem with this question: Its vagueness. Like it? Like it how? Like it as opposed to what? Who really “likes it” anywhere?

  • Answer I’ll be giving from here on out (in a confidential whisper, while glancing furtively from side to side): Do you think it likes me here?

March 6, 2007

I Fucked Up the Recycling (and Everything Else)

I had some free time this morning, and decided to take advantage of that unusual occurrence by taking out the trash. In this household, we recycle, which means we’re supposed to sort, and I thought I remembered my roommate explaining that you really just have to separate out the cardboard. I didn’t want to risk dampening my enthusiasm for the chore by going out in the cold to check the picture-keys on the trash bins, so I just went with that memory. Obviously, I was wrong – it’s meant to be glass, metal and plastic in one bin, and mixed paper and cardboard in the other. I had all the paper in with the metal and plastic, but I just left it like that. I didn’t want to pick through the trash bags again. What happens if you do that? Does the recycling plant explode? Do Recycling Enforcement Agents deduce from your old mail who you are, and come knock on your door to lecture and/or fine you, because recycling just won’t work if everyone is too lazy and squeamish to sort properly? Does Al Gore cry?

I feel simultaneously righteous about making the effort, and guilty about not really making much of an effort. This caps a week of good intentions and poor follow-through. Here are some other lessons I learned from things I screwed up this week:

  • When one wants to gently and kindly turn a fellow down for a second date, because said fellow (although basically a nice enough guy) has a serious, long-term girlfriend, but sees no problem in pursuing other women behind her back, the best way to do this is not to say (and I quote): ‘It’s nothing against you; I just have a really fun and easy social life, and I don’t want to infect myself with your bad karma.’ Saying this will not result in a good, firm hug and no bad feelings on either side. Saying this will make things worse.
  • Actors improve with age. Not in their chosen vocation, but by a reduction in their overall obnoxiousness as people. Knowing this, one should not leave a job where one works in comfortable surroundings with many old, jaded, mellow and failed actors to go work in extremely confined and chaotic surroundings with many young, peppy, hopeful and eager-to-impress actors. If one makes this move, one will be entirely unable to control one’s temper.
  • When one grows weary of endlessly trying to find a satisfying answer to the constantly posed question, ‘So, why exactly did you decide to move to New York?’ one should not shriek in exasperation, ‘Because New York fucking begged me to come, okay?’ For some reason, other New Yorkers find this answer more abrasive than amusing.
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