green noise

Wonderful things are afoot…school is within days of being done for the summer, we’re starting to have more beautiful weather days than nasty gray drizzle days, and I’m in the beginning stages of of making some great strides on the career front. I don’t want to say too much at this point, but I’m really excited! As soon as there’s more definitive news to report, it’ll be posted here. Watch this space……!!!!

I can honestly say I’ve never been much of the crafty type. I’ve had my moments of artistic glory, but that’s been more along the lines of writing and visual arts. Things like scrapbooking and sewing, while I’ve always found really intriguing, have eluded me, though. I’ve never known how to get started, and my initial results were always poor enough so as to be thoroughly discouraging. It was the same story when I decided, many months ago, when I decided to learn how to knit.

In New York City, it’s not unusual to see people knitting on the subway. I’m commute via subway at least 3 hours a day during the week, so I see them all the time. And most of them are geek girls in their 20′s and 30′s – my peeps! I have to admit, knowing that knitting has become so popular with a younger set and is no longer relegated to mothball smelling grannies on their plastic covered armchairs, really spurred my desire to learn. So I bought a “teach yourself knitting” kit with two skeins of yarn, some needles, and a book. I studied the book for a while, then tried to replicate what I saw. I think I tried for about an hour before I decided that it was shit and I’d never learn. I put my knitting away and left it for a few months. I’m a poor sport when it comes to a learning curve.

Well, fast forward to about 2 weeks ago. I can’t recall exactly what it was that made me decide to try again, but I did, and with a bit more patience this time. I sat down with my needles, yarn, and book, and tried again, without success in even casting on. Instead of tossing it aside again, I decided that the problem was not that I’d never learn, but that I’d never learn from looking at pictures. It dawned on me how difficult it can be to learn a three dimensional, movement skill (such as knitting, dancing, Formula 1 racing) by looking at two dimensional illustrations and photographs. And this is when my digital obsession steps in.

YouTube, in this scenario, has been my salvation. A simple search for “how to knit” yielded a treasure trove of video tutorials. I could watch different methods from different people, and pause, rewind, and rewatch to my heart’s content. And within about 10 minutes, I had my first row cast on. A little more watching, trying, rewatching, and retrying, and I was actually knitting! Ain’t life grand?

So it’s been a couple of weeks now, and I’m nearing completion on a scarf I’m making for my niece. Is it beautiful and perfect? Not by a long shot. But 1. She’s only 15 months old, so I can pretty much guarantee that she won’t give a shit and 2. It’s a result. I’m learning the skill, and having a hell of a blast doing it. I’ve bought multiple needles in different sizes, and different yarns to work with, and I can actually see myself doing this as a long standing hobby. It’s relaxing, and the result of actually making something (Crafty? me? Whoda thunk it??) really makes me proud. I’m really looking forward to getting better at my new-found skill (and obsession, I think!) so I can make all kinds of lovely things. Grand things are ahead, from humble beginnings.

It is official. I hate tourists. Not even a little – I hate them a lot. Like in a shooting-poison-daggers-with-my-eyes, wishing-fire-and-brimstone-upon-them-all kind of way.

Every weekday morning, I have to fight through the crowds to get to my office…I have to stop multiple times so I don’t end up in someone’s photo of smiling relatives in front of the WTC (it’s a fucking construction site that was previously a mass grave, people – it’s not Disneyland), and I’m sick of having to take off my headphones to direct them to whatever place is apparently more important than what I happen to be listening to (I can be a little less uptight about this one now that Lost is on summer break and I don’t have to keep up with the podcasts, but I still get a little ansty when someone disrupts “Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me). These things annoy me a bit every day, and it builds up after a while into an all encompassing grump-fest.

This past Monday morning, however, they were in rare form. Not only were they blocking the sidewalk (hey, here’s a hint – the word “walk” in the term sidewalk? It’s not merely a suggestion – it’s what you do on a sidewalk. As opposed to congregating like cattle. Get out of my fucking way!) but there were so many that I had to go around them and walk into the middle of the street to get by. Or I would have walked into the middle of the street had I not been bumped on the way, which caused me to step onto the curb, where I immediately rolled my ankle (the same one from the infamous Dance Dance Revolution incident of 2006), which caused me to fall (of all the days to be wearing a dress), subsequently skinning both my knees and jamming my wrist (2 days later, and I’m noticing pain in my ribcage, too. Joy!). In front of about 75 spectators. With cameras. I am not pleased. And something tells me that I ended up in someone’s “Hey, look what I saw in New York!” vacation photos.

Now, before all you travelers out there get your panties in a bunch, please let me make a distinction here. Travelers are not the same as tourists. Travelers are capable of visiting a foreign and exotic place (such as Manhattan) and not going batshit fucking crazy. They can take in the sights, read maps, take photos, ride the subway, and all manner of wondrous feats, all without being a nuisance. They understand basic courtesy, and the fact that even though they’re on vacation, not everyone else in the city is. I love these people. Their excitement at being in my city makes me proud that I live here. And their ability to keep their heads on straight makes me not want to smack them. This is a good thing.

Tourists, on the other hand, are the loud, obnoxious, ungainly subset of this otherwise delightful group of people. They’re the ones parading around the city in their “I <3 NY” shirts and fanny packs, taking up space on crowded subway with their fully unfolded city maps, and stopping short on the sidewalks to take snapshots of every building they think *might* be the Empire State (here’s a hint – if you’re downtown, it’s not it. And don’t get annoyed if I end up bumping into your fanny pack. You stopped for no reason, and those things are tacky anyway.) These are the people I encountered on Monday, the ones that make me want to say and do things that will set back the progress of NYC’s “tourist friendly” reputation at least 30 years.

But I don’t say or do these things. I’m a lover, not a fighter. So what do I do instead? I hold back the tide of rage, preferring instead to let it go in random, snarky Twitter posts. And now, I’ve decided to do one better and offer you, potential visitors to my city, the Greatest City in The World, some tips on how to enjoy your time here without incurring the wrath of locals less restrained than myself. And now I present you with:

8 Simple Rules for Visiting my Fair City

1. That city map you cling to that folds out to roughly the size of the Yankees infield rain tarp? Ditch it. It only draws attention to you and your family, which makes you a prime candidate for a mugging, snide comments, or both. Plus, if you’re reading it on the subway, you just look like a jerk. There are lovely maps on display in all the subway cars; they’re encased in Plexiglas, and you don’t even have to worry about refolding them. See, this is all about you.

2. If you’re going on a sightseeing outing (particularly with a group of people), DO NOT INSIST ON WEARING AN I <3 NY SHIRT! You don’t look original, or cute, or (bless you for trying) a local. You look like a sheep. Yes, New Yorkers do “heart” New York, but it’s more complicated than anything you could express on a t-shirt, and it’s certainly not something that can develop over a long weekend of sightseeing. Just throw on whatever you wear when you’re in Topeka or Austin or wherever you come from and go do your thing.

3. Fanny packs. I believe I’ve covered this. If you have to carry more than a wallet and a cell phone, may I suggest a backpack? Practical, comfortable, far less douchey. Enough said.

4. Don’t ask the locals where the tourist spots are. All this does is piss us off. New York is full of so many wonderful places to see, and we’re happy to direct you to them. Hell, I’m more than happy to recommend a whole slew of nifty “only in New York” kind of places. But all of the touristy places are sign-marked, and any cabbie or city map (bearing in mind rule 1) can direct you there. Also, many New Yorkers are touchy about the World Trade Center (wounds like that run pretty deep) so it’s not uncommon to ask how to get there and end up being directed to Harlem.

5. If you must ask someone how to get to your intended location, look for someone who’s not listening to headphones or in the middle of a phone call. This isn’t particular to New York, it’s called common courtesy, and you’d be surprised how often people forget that.

6. Keep your wallet out of sight! Not all New Yorkers are out to beat you up and take your lunch money. But it does happen. Whipping out your wallet on a subway or in the middle of a busy sidewalk is an invitation to get ripped off.

7. Keep the sidewalks clear!!! Like I said before, the “walk” part of that word is key. I’m not suggesting that if you have to stop, you step out into the streets (as I learned, that’s dangerous.) But at least move to the side. People in this city are always on the move, and having to stop because a sidewalk full of people is entranced by the sight of a genuine New York hot dog cart can really mess with our groove.

8. New York City is not a theme park. Therefore, if you bring your kids, you don’t want the locals to have to parent them for you. Because they’ll be treated just like anyone else. If Billy and Susie are bouncing off the walls (particularly on a subway during commuter hours), being loud and disruptive, or bumping into people left and right in Times Square, they will be treated exactly the same way as an adult would if they were doing the same thing. This isn’t out of cruelty or rudeness or because we don’t think your kids aren’t “so adorable” when they’re singing “Spongebob Squarepants” for the 57th time or using the subway bars as their own personal jungle gym on a packed train during afternoon rush hour. It’s because you’re in our universe, and we implore you to remember that. All due respect to how things are done in Mayberry, but this is New York, and we’ve got our own issues to deal with.

I don’t want anyone to fear coming to New York. Like I said, this is the greatest city in the world. But you have to keep in mind the personality of the people who live here. We just want to live our lives without being intruded upon or inconvenienced. So when you step into our city (or nearly any vacation city, for that matter), take these rules to heart. Unless you’re on vacation someplace that’s going to cater to your every whim, chances are you’re going to encounter people who live their everyday lives in the places you choose to visit. And if you want to have great memories of that place, it’s best not to piss off the natives.

I’ve been somewhat off the radar for the last few days. I needed time to get myself together, to deal with the aftershocks of the stupid, thoughtless, selfish acts of one person.

I’ve explained the situation too many times of the past couple of days, to family, the police, detectives…I don’t want to rehash it any great detail here now. The less I think about exactly what happened, the more I can almost sort of deny that it did. I’ve been bombarding my conscious mind with TV, internet, sleep..short of drugs and alcohol, anything to keep my unconscious mind from reminding me what happened. Not that I really the reminder, since I can’t get the feeling of that motherfucker’s hands out of my head and off my body.

I don’t know what part of this whole thing bothers me more – the fact that I was violated, or the fact of who it was. When you choose a doctor (not the doctor I blogged about before – this is a specialist I’d been seeing) there’s a level of trust implicit in the very fact that you’ve chosen them. You sign paperwork to protect your privacy, you’re seen in a private treatment room, your medical history isn’t discussed openly in front of others. These things are all part and parcel of the whole trust thing we, as patients, are supposed to have with doctors. They’re not supposed to violate that.

But, as I’ve come to find out firsthand, apparently those violations happen. I’d rather have had my medical history discussed in front of people or my medical file shared with the entire world than have to go through this. At least those things I could maybe chalk up to negligence or a filing accident. But how to you explain away an egregious act like this – how do you make sense of the fact that someone you’re supposed to be able to trust with your health can’t even be trusted to keep his hands to himself?

I don’t blame myself for this. I know it’s not my fault, and that he’s completely in the wrong. But I still want to know why. But instead of going out and looking for answers, I’ve been shut away in my apartment for three days because I’m too scared to leave. His office is right around the corner, and I have to walk right by to get on the train to go to work. He parks on the street next to mine, the same street I walk up everyday. I don’t know what I’ll do if/when I see him. The thought makes my physically ill.

I’ve filed a complaint with the NYPD. I talked to an SVU detective (no Benson or Stabler in sight – pity.) Nothing has happened yet. I was told that it’s very difficult to make charges against a doctor stick, especially a doctor whose primary method of treatment involves the use of his hands. But they tell me that they’ll be “checking him out” to see if anyone else has filed a complaint against him, and as soon a detective is assigned to my case, I’ll be contacted.

So in the meantime, I have to sit in limbo. I’m still afraid to leave the apartment, I don’t feel like myself anymore, my voice doesn’t sound like mine – it sounds timid and weak, I haven’t really laughed or smiled in days, and there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I’m looking for a counselor, but can’t seem to find one (yet) who 1) isn’t aimed at treating children victims and 2) who can see me on the weekends, the only time I have free. I have to go back to work tomorrow, and I’m scared out of my mind. Not sure how I’ll deal. I guess we’ll see. For now, I get my thoughts out of my head and into black and white, and then back to the assault on my consciousness. Hopefully tomorrow’s a better day.

I used to do my own taxes. Back in the days of living and working in the same state (even when I worked two jobs) it was easy. I made this much, you took that much, here’s how much you now have to give me back. But once I took a job in New Jersey and moved to New York, things got complicated. I decided to save myself the stress and for the first time in my tax paying life have someone else do my taxes. I chose H&R Block, because 1) they’re well known within the realm of tax preparation and 2) they have an office located a short subway trip from my apartment.
My first experience with H&R Block seemed like it was going to be okay. Until my tax “pro” got flustered when I told him I had, for most of the year worked and lived in Delaware, but at the end of the year had moved to NY but worked in NJ. So flustered, in fact, he had to not only bring one of his co-workers over to assist, but had to call his boss (twice!) on the phone to walk him through the process of crediting my NJ state tax to NY. I was tweaked, but eventually, it appeared that he had it all worked out. I paid my fees and left.
Cut to several weeks later. I’ve receieved my federal return, as well as my Delaware return. I paid what I owed to NY. But no NJ. After several phone calls where I was told “Just give it another week”, I got fed up and spoke with a supervisor who told me that my tax “pro” had never even FILED my NJ return. Warp speed to Bitch-ville!
The supervisor listened patiently as I gave her an earful. Granted, it wasn’t her fault, but even the most tenuous connection to messing with my money was enough to incur my (rarely unleashed) wrath. She conceded that this was their mistake, filed my NJ return (never got an explanation on why that wasn’t done in the first place), and refunded my tax prep fees. End of story.
Until the following year. My taxes were still somewhat complicated – even though I no longer had my Delaware taxes to contend with, I still felt it would be worth the money to pay someone else to do the hard work for me. Deciding that the previous year’s adventure was a fluke, I went with H&R Block again, this time opting for their “Online Office” package. I scan all my tax documents to them, answer a couple of questions, and they do all the work. I didn’t even have to put my pants on. The following day, I received a notification that all was done, and I just needed to review my return. I looked at my documents, and discovered that none of my NJ state income taxes had been credited to NY.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t be the only person in the NY tri-state area that lived in one state while earning income in another. Why is this so difficult? I posed (a more nicely worded version of) this question to my tax “pro”. She seemed a little confused by this question, but by a day later, she said she had it sorted. I paid my fees and breathed a sigh of relief that my taxes were done. I owed considerably less to NY this time around, which was reason enough to rejoice. And then I got a notice from the state of NY that I owed them another $87. FAIL!
Have you ever heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results? Well, this year I truly became insane. For the third time running, I decided to go with H&R Block (yes, I’m a glutton for punishment. And cheesecake, but that’s another story.) I figured there’s no way I’d get saddled with another incompetent “pro”. Well, to this person’s credit, she very well may be competent. However, her poor spelling and grammar (can we say PET PEEVES!?!) as well as her sheer rudeness prevented me from finding out.
I began my taxes in February. It took me a week or two, but I eventually sent in my W-2 (isn’t the purpose of starting early so you can procrastinate?) and waited for the magic of the interwebz to reward my laziness. Later that day, I received an e-mail requesting to see my 2007 tax returns. This was on 3/13. I answered my tax “pro” by telling her that I filed online with them last year, so it should be on file, but to let me know if she still needed me to send her a copy.
On 4/10, I decided I’d check in to see if my taxes were done. I sent an e-mail, asked if she was able to find my 2007 return, and if there were any other documents she might need from me to finish things up. The following is her exact message:

Dear Melissa
I don’t believe you respond back to me almost a month later.
Your option is that file base on what you have.
If you find anything else later on.
You can amend your tax return.
Since you didn’t respond back to me I have rejected your tax return.
If you decide to finalize it, let me know, I will have to retrieved it.
It’s getting close to the due date. Please respond back asap!
Diane

She admonishes me for the fact that she didn’t respond to me for a month. She tells me to get back to her asap so she can (as I interpret her tone) go through the trouble of retrieving the file she rejected. At least that’s what I assume she meant, after wading through her horrendous spelling and grammar.
I’ll admit I’m a total stickler for spelling and grammar, but I can be forgiving. I’m not perfect, and will be the first one to say so, so how can I come down on others for falling short of the grammatical mark? But when you’re acting in a capacity as the face of a company (as all customer service representatives do – it’s the nature of the beast) you should be held to a somewhat higher standard. That standard does NOT include repeated errors in tenses, bad punctuation, and sentence fragments. And it doesn’t include being rude, either!!
So, needless to say, my ire was up once again. Rather than going into mega-beast mode, though, I took the high road that so many of us uppity grammar nerds do. I sent back a reply that used proper grammar, and lots of big words. Needless to say, she won’t be doing my taxes this year. In fact, I did what I should’ve been doing all along. I did them myself. Apparently I’m the only tax “pro” I need.

I know I should be asleep right now. Yes, I know! But now that I’ve finally (finally!!) got my domain set up, and my blog looking more or less the way I want it to, I just want to play! So many photos to blog, so many ideas swimming around my almost-but-not-quite-comatose brain. But I know if I stay up much later, I’ll really be paying for it tomorrow. Too little sleep + very busy work day ahead = very cranky geekgrl. So I suppose I should do the responsible thing. Which is, go to bed now and spend as much time as I can in my office tomorrow, pretending to work, but playing with this. Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. Now, do believe there’s a pillow in the other room with my name written all over it….

Ok, so it’s not my best work ever. But I’m so happy I took this picture! I was informed today that this photograph was being included in Schmap.com’s 6th edition San Francisco Guide!
No, I’m not getting paid for this. No, it’s not being printed in a book. But it doesn’t matter – it’s so cool to have my work included in something that’s so widely used, and is going to be seen by so many! So this is a great start to my Friday!

Christmas is but 2 days away, and I can’t think of where the time has gone. It really feels like just yesterday that my neice was born, and that was in May. And it feels like only yesterday that there was still plenty of time to do the shopping and wrapping…well, I’ve got the shopping done, but the wrapping remains, and I have VERY limited time in which to do it! Looks like I’m pulling an all nighter tonight!

But I can’t really complain. Tomorrow, I’m working an abbreviated shift because my new boss is AWESOME and said that I should leave early. And after a quick trip home to change clothes and pack up the car, Sean and I (and Luna!) will be on the road to Delaware for a few days of holiday reverie with my family. I don’t get to see them nearly enough (though I’m sure I could argue that, when I lived there, I felt I saw them way too often!). But it’s so nice now to have a chance to miss them, and it makes going home so much better.

I’ll also get to see Steven – I saw him briefly over Thanksgiving, but before that, I hadn’t seen him since Jess’s wedding, just before he left for the Navy. He has become a completely different person, and I think it’s overall been a good thing for him. He’s not drinking or doing drugs anymore. He seems so focused on his future, and for once seems genuinely happy. I’m digging this new version of him.

So that’s about it. I know these next few days are going to go much too fast, but I’ll do my best to hold on to each little moment. I live for this time of year

I recently was made aware of an article written by one Paul Carpenter at themorningcall.com. His article, which can be seen here discusses how the prevalence of tattoos in today’s culture points to the ultimate demise of society. As a tattooed person, I took offense to his words, and was moved to write a letter. Below is my response to his article. If you read his article and feel like I do, please write to this guy and make your voice heard. There’s no need for this kind of ignorance and intolerance in our society.

Paul,

As a member of the tattooed community, I have to express my extreme displeasure at your article that refers to tattoos as “disfigured skin” and a sign that our culture is in decline. I am specifically disturbed and insulted by your flat out statement that people with tattoos are no better than prostitutes, pimps, Klan members, and child molesters. How dare you. You do not know me, and have no right to judge me based solely on a choice I make that has absolutely no impact on your life at all. And you make a totally unfair correlation between tattooed people and what their socioeconomic, intellectual, or criminal status might be. I have no criminal record. I graduated high school with honors at the age of 16 and am now gainfully employed as a supervisor for a multinational corporate solutions firm. I also have 6 tattoos and several piercings. I know more people from backgrounds similar to my own that have tattoos than I do people of criminal backgrounds or from “low segments of society” that are tattooed.

I honestly thought that in 2008, our country would be past the point of judging people by the color(s) of their skin. But according to your logic, it’s perfectly fair that since there are so many minorities involved in violent crime, to assume that all blacks are criminals. Is this in line with your judgement? If not, why the hypocrisy?

It’s a huge leap to assume that just because a person shares a trait with some unsavory members of a society, that that person is part of that unsavory group, or has been inspired. My brother is in the US Navy, a proud member of our country’s military. As do many members of the Armed Forces, he has tattoos. Does this mean that he and the thousands of other brave women and men serving our country are nothing more than pimps, ho’s, and thugs, or worthless lowlifes trying to emulate the dregs of our society? I suggest you choose your words carefully before answering.

Your words are hateful, ignorant, and hurtful. Blanket judgements such as yours are the reason that intolerance, fear, and separation still flourish in what should be a more enlightened culture. It’s ironic that your kind of “us and them”, xenophobic logic was typical of so many of history’s “Stone Age cannibal” tribes that you slam so ruthlessly and pointlessly in your article. The big difference there is that they didn’t have the benefit of broader knowledge and influence, and therefore didn’t know any better. You, as a supposedly intelligent and cultured human being, should.

You have a large audience, and with the internet, your words are even more far reaching than they might otherwise be. If your aim is to spread fear and hate, then you’re on the right track. But if you have any desire to share intelligent, thought provoking ideas that might bring people together, you might want to reconsider your words before hitting “Send”.

Disgusted,

M. Bock, an upstanding member of the tattooed community.

So, there. It pains me that this kind of ignorance exists, especially as something as increasingly accepted (and essentially innocuous) as a little ink under the skin. If any of you feel even remotely the same as I do about this, please e-mail this guy. 

I think, as we get older, we lose the feeling that doctors are caring, kind people who genuinely want to take care of us. I know when I was a kid, my pediatrician was totally that type. Dr. Katzman was a sweet guy who really looked after me, and made me feel safe and unafraid, even when I was hurt or sick. But as time went on and I no longer went to a “kid doctor”, I realized that everything changes when we get older. Doctors seem to have less time to spend, the emphasis is on “treat and street” medicine, where time is money. I started to view doctors as people that I’d rather avoid at all costs. Doctors are more inclined to treat the symptom than the patient, and the whole experience becomes even more unpleasant that it otherwise would be. This was especially true of my last doctor, who I don’t think afforded me than 3 solid seconds of eye contact in any single visit, and after waiting sometimes upwards of an hour just to be seen, would have me out the door in under 5 minutes, every time. I don’t go to the doctor often, but when I’m there, I’d like to feel like I’m not inconveniencing anyone.
After a year of going to the same medical practice (only continuing because they’re within a 5 minute walking distance, and are open at odd hours) I finally switched doctors. My walk to the doctor is now closer to 15 minutes. The hours are somewhat less convenient for me. But what I lose in those aspects is more than made up for by the care I’m now receiving.
Dr. Chandra looks a little Ghandi-esque. He greets all of his patients by name, offering a handshake or, more often, a hug. He asks how you are and genuinely means it. He sets down the paperwork, puts a hand on your shoulder and asks you why you’re there, and what he can do to help. I was recently in his office for an unrelated ailment, and mentioned to him that I was hoping to lose some weight, and wanted to know what he would suggest. Unlike other doctors I’ve seen, he didn’t judge or tell me “Yes, you really need to lose weight” and then leave me with no advice or suggestion. He spoke kindly to me, and we discussed my goals and some options. He told me that he knew I might think it would be hard, but he believed in me, and that I could do it. He hugged me and kissed my cheek and told me that I’ve done harder things (quit smoking!) and I could do this. When I left that day, he told me that he was glad to have me as a patient, and he meant it. On a follow up visit, I told him of my success (11.2 pounds lost in 1 month) and his face turned to a broad grin, and I was wrapped in another of his hugs. At the end of my visit, he sent me off with a reassuring pat on my back, and said I was doing a great job.
Dr. Chandra makes me feel safe again at the doctor. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in easily 15 years, and it’s amazing how something as simple as eye contact or a hand on the shoulder can transform what could otherwise be a stressful or traumatic experience. I feel like I’ve recaptured something from my childhood that I thought I’d pretty much just have to resign myself to. I thought that now that I’m a grown up, I have to deal with things like doctor visits in a grown-up, no nonsense, all business manner.
It may seem like an insignificant thing to be amazed by, but sometimes it’s so nice to forget that I’m a grown up and just be taken care of. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, every so often when I’m under the weather, it’s nice to feel like a kid again. Now if only he’d start giving out stickers…