Day 109: Springtime in the Park(s)

I had a plan. I was going to take the A train (h/t Duke Ellington) to Sugar Hill, an historic neighborhood in Harlem. And indeed, Mr. Ellington did reside there. The neighborhood took its name during the Harlem Renaissance, named for the “sweet life” experienced by prominent African Americans. And yes, the Sugar Hill Gang (shout out, prom song) is named for the neighborhood. 

Getting there: Kind of a pain (the Upper East Side has its drawbacks). I took the 6 to the E and then to the A, going down to go up, and finally arrived at West 145th Street. First thing I noticed is that Sugar Hill is a lot less bustling and overcrowded seeming than some other neighborhoods. I walked along a street called Convent Avenue, aptly named for the number of churches present. 

I was walking along, looking at the row houses, when I spotted the James Bailey (yes, as in Barnum & Bailey) House a block away on St. Nicholas Place. 

The Romanesque Revival style mansion is a New York City Landmark and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Apparently, there are also beautiful Tiffany stained glass windows, but I didn’t get to see any of those. 

In St. Nicholas Park, a pre-Easter celebration was taking place. An (incredibly creepy looking) Easter Bunny was present, as was a DJ. For the record, watching little kids who are wearing bunny ears and dancing to Gangnam Style (still love that video) is hilarious. Walking along back toward the train (or so was the plan), I spotted some Gothic looking architecture above me and went to explore. 

As it turns out, I was seeing the campus of the City College of New York, which is beautiful. Honestly, I had no idea. The CUNY college with which I’m most familiar is Hunter, and trust me, that’s nothing to look at. The Neo-Gothic buildings of City College were largely designed by George Browne Post, an architect of the Beaux-Arts tradition who also designed the New York Stock Exchange. To my amusement, he also designed a home in Newport, Rhode Island, called “Chateau-Nooga,” for the president of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad. 

After walking around the 35-acre campus, I planned to get the train at 125th, but I felt like walking a little more, so I figured I’d get on a 116th. Then, I happened upon Morningside Park. I took a class at nearby Columbia University when I was in high school, but I’d never actually seen the park, so… why not? 

It was such a gorgeous Spring day, perfect for walking outside. It seems (please, please, please) that the cold is finally gone. I just hope it stays pleasantly warm for a while before it becomes unbearably hot. The park was filled with all these lovely yellow and white daffodils. People who think New York is all just dirty and pushy and rude (which, yes, a lot of it is) need to see places like this. 

Morningside Park ends at 110th Street, and a few blocks east, I came upon Central Park West, and the northern section of Central Park. At that point in time, I’d figured out that I was just going to be walking the rest of the way home (ballpark somewhere between one and two miles). 

I might have mentioned at some point that I have an abominable sense of direction, so I had to be careful to make sure I was heading the right way, but thanks to the iPhone compass, I kept my bearings and found myself taking a detour through North Woods. Honestly, does this look like it’s in the middle of Manhattan?

My only regret is not having the right shoes. And not just because my feet were hurting me (these boots were not made for walking, at least not walking 100 blocks, give or take), but because I really would have liked to have been able to traverse the woods in a more agile fashion.

Past the North Lawn, where the crowds were out, playing baseball, playing soccer, reading, sunning, and eventually toward 5th Avenue, and then home. 

Remember how I started this post by saying I had a plan? I had. I was just going to spend an hour or so in Sugar Hill, see some pretty buildings, check out a new neighborhood. I think my day turned out a lot better than planned. 

 

 When I took on this project, one of my goals was to cultivate a greater sense of openness and adventure. This is sense I definitely feel when I’m away from home, but sometimes, I let myself explore and observe my own backyard. Today was one of those days.

 

Day 108: Putting all my eggs in one basket

Or, more accurately, seeing if I have enough eggs to fill a basket… if one can refer to ones uterus as a “basket,” but people call it an “oven,” so I guess basket is fine. I’m not especially reverential about this topic. I use the term “knocked up” quite liberally, and I’m not into lotus flowers or Earth mother goddesses, so basket is good.

Anyway, I got this test today — the AMH (Anti-Mullerian Hormone) test, which as far as I understand it, measures the presence of a hormone that more or less predicts how many eggs you have at present, or what your “ovarian reserve” is. I say “as I understand it” because I’ve not interviewed any medical professionals or fertility specialists, on the matter. No, it doesn’t actually tell you how many eggs you have, it (according to my doctor) basically tells you “cool for now” or “not cool.” And no, it’s not just something New Girl made up.

As it happens, the test itself is just a blood draw. Nothing new. The part that’s different is the reason for the test. I don’t really have to think about getting a routine CBC, and I’m an insane hypochondriac, so I’ve had a bunch of “check for diseases” kinds of tests. This one, though, I actually had to think about. It’s new because it’s a conscious decision to collect a very important piece of information.

I started to go over all the “what if” scenarios in my head. Which, in some ways, is a little foolish because the purpose of this test is to help curb the “what if’s.” It’s that lovely juxtaposition of “knowledge is power” and “ignorance is bliss.” That is, until it’s not.

Actively considering ones fertility, and especially talking about actively considering ones fertility, feels complicated because, well, babies are a loaded topic. We’ve all heard about the biological clock, but there’s also the sociocultural clock, the one that strikes when it seems so many of your peer group are having children, and more than that, that social connections are dependent on it. Many of my friends who have children have more “mommy friends” than non-mommy friends. If people have babies, you have to talk about the babies. And then if you don’t have babies, you’re like, “well, now what?”

But the other side of the sociocultural clock coin is the one that says “put off your personal life (marriage, reproduction, etc) until you’ve achieved an acceptable level of professional/financial/artistic success.” And in that case — again, I’m no expert here, but I do know this — your biological clock does not give a rat’s ass about your sociocultural clock. Your ovaries do not care whether you’ve made partner at your law firm. They also, by the way, don’t care about how you look. I have a very young face, but my plumbing knows I’m not that young (34, for the record).

And I won’t even get into the shit that comes down on women who say they don’t want babies at all. Clearly, I’m interested, otherwise I wouldn’t be checking to see if I’m short on eggs, but I have friends who don’t want kids, and they get “well, maybe you’ll change your mind” reactions. That’s so rude. No one ever tells a woman who says she wants to have children “well, maybe you’ll change your mind.” Jesus. Why do we want to guilt people who don’t want kids into having them? Aren’t there enough crappy parents in the world?

Back on track…

Last year, The Atlantic published a really good article that basically says “look, don’t flip your shit about fertility, but don’t wait too long either.”

So, today was about me, not waiting too long (hopefully), but not flipping either.

For the record, this was actually kind of uncomfortable for me to write, because it feels a bit more personal than I want to be, but The Metropolitan Opera doesn’t do rush tickets on Friday night, so I couldn’t go see La Boheme. So checking out my potential egg supply was my newest experience of the day.

Hey, at least I’m timely.

 

Day 107: The Jesus is a true ladies’ man

John Turturro is a fairly ubiquitous, versatile actor with nearly 100 film credits to his name. I mostly associate him, however, with his role in The Big Lebowski.

That is, until tonight.

I saw a preview screening of Turturro’s new film, “Fading Gigolo,” which he wrote and directed. He stars alongside Woody Allen (playing a prototypical Woody Allen part; when I saw the trailer, I actually thought it was a Woody film) and Vanessa Paradis about a man who becomes a sort of “accidental” gigolo, and the very sweet relationship that he forms with a Hassidic widow. 

Turturro was present after the screening at the 92nd Y for an interview with Annette Isfdorf, director of Undergraduate Film Studies at Columbia University. Frankly, I find her insufferable. She’s way too impressed with herself. She spends too much time showing of her vast knowledge of film and not enough time actually asking questions. 

He, however, was excellent. He was funny, humble and very thoughtful. Both from the film and from his interview afterward, it was clear that Turturro has a great respect and appreciation for women. 

“There are men who are very comfortable with women,” he said. “I could always see my mother as a woman and not just as my mother.”

The women in the film were very nuanced, an opportunity he said he regrets women, especially those “of a certain age” don’t get as often as they should. In particular, Paradis’s character of Avigal, a young Hassidic widow who struggles with the laws of her community, really illustrates a woman in conflict. 

He answered some questions from the audience, and gave me a very well-considered and thorough answer when I asked him about what research he’d done into the contemporary Hassidic culture and especially the expectations placed upon women (covering their heads outside the home, not touching men other than their husbands, giving up their education, gender segregation). He said he spent a lot of time in various Orthodox communities, interviewing and observing people, he read books, watched documentaries. It reminded me that I’ve long wanted to delve into that community — from a journalistic perspective, that is. 

Turturro describes his character in the movie as being “confident, but not cocky” and said “he’s not shy, he’s just quiet.” I don’t know that I would have ever thought to describe him as sexy in any of his past roles, but he is really quite sexy in this film, and it’s not because of any sort of physical alteration. The film as written and shot (and acted) is very sensitive and intuitive. It’s funny, but it’s also very tender. And despite the title, and the fact that, yes, his character does take money for sex, it’s not about that. 

“It’s about touch,” he said to the audience. “There’s not a person in the world who doesn’t want a shoulder to hold on to in the middle of the night.”

 

Day 106: Tony the Tiger goes to Cornell

During dinner tonight with my sister, her fiance, and my uncle, the conversation turned to advertising, not unexpectedly, as my sister works in the field and my uncle studied it. 

In the course of the conversation, he brought up an article he’d read recently, describing how the characters’ eyes on children’s cereal boxes are designed to cast slightly downward to actually make “eye contact” with the small children who will be desirous of Froot Loops or Honey Smacks, or whatever other crazy stuff is being touted as appropriate for children to eat in the morning (says the mid-30’s woman who eagerly ate Lucky Charms last week). 

This particular phenomenon was discovered by researchers at Cornell University’s Food and Brand Lab. According to the website:

“The Food and Brand Lab is an interdisciplinary group of graduate and undergraduate students from psychology, food science, marketing, agricultural economics, human nutrition, education, history, library science, and journalism along with a number of affiliated faculty.”

This sounds like an awesome program. I love colleges and universities. If I had my druthers, I think I’d just be a professional student and rack up random, kick ass degrees. 

Goals for the next life

Day 105: I’ll pass (over) on this one, thanks

My fellow Jewish Americans: 

Y’all be crazy. 

In honor of Passover, for today’s new experience, I tried gefilte fish. For those who don’t know, gefilte fish is a dubious tradition of the Ashkenazi Jewish people consisting of oddly shaped mini loaves of ground-up carp or pike or… some sort of fish that people don’t actually enjoy eating. It looks like this: 

And, as I have just learned, it tastes about as good as it looks. 

I’m just sayin’, in the history of Jewish culinary traditions, this is not one that should be going on the resume. Now, where’s my wine? 

Day 104: A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ve Never Done

For my next trick, because I might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, I have decided to take on the modern literary behemoth: Infinite Jest. There are books written about this book. 

I expect that getting through this monstrosity could take me a year unto itself. I also fully expect to become an alcoholic, because I’m pretty sure I will need lots of drinks.

This will only be my second foray into the twisted mind of David Foster Wallace. I read Brief Interviews With Hideous Men a few years ago, and I can honestly say I’ve never reacted so strongly to a book. The margins are filled with notes, and notes on notes. There were times when I threw the book across the room because I was so frustrated by it. I can’t say “I loved this book,” but I respected the hell out of it. It made me think. 

Got to be honest, I’m already questioning whether taking on Infinite Jest is wise. Maybe I should work up to it, go for some more of the short stories before taking on the holy grail of DFW. But, we already established, I might not be smart. 

 

Day 103: Cherry Blossoms, Cleavage and Cookies

I lived in the DC area for a few years as a young child, but I hardly remember the cherry blossoms. That’s why this weekend was the perfect time to visit. Rather than brave the crowds at the Tidal Basin, however, I opted for something slightly calmer. Emphasis on slightly. 

In the Kenwood neighborhood in Chevy Chase, Md., about 1200 cherry trees bloom every Spring. 

The trees were in bloom, forming archways over the streets. Thousands of petals drifted through the air, like floral snowflakes. It was absolutely stunning and Spring-y — there were probably hundreds of people walking around, taking pictures, picnicking, kids selling lemonade…. scantily clad young women selling baked goods: cherry blossoms, cleavage and cookies — what more could you want from life? 

Day 102: Dancing the Dream at the National Portrait Gallery

The title of this blog post refers to neither dancing nor dreaming, at least not on my part. It does refer to the title of an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, which I did indeed visit. Not only was this a new exhibit, it was also the first time, at least to my recollection, that I’ve visited the aforementioned gallery. I’ve had great appreciation for the Smithsonian Museums for years now (free!) but I have a tendency to be a repeat customer at the National Gallery of Art. 

The exhibition features photos of dancers from Broadway, ballet, modern, film and pop music. The pictures, offset by brightly painted walls, take a journey through dance in America. There’s an image of Liza Minelli in “Cabaret,” a portrait of a young Baryshnikov, an image of Gypsy Rose Lee with her backup dancers, and a holographic poster of Michael Jackson. 

The multimedia exhibit also featured videos of dance scenes from movies, including “West Side Story” and “Saturday Night Fever,” and those funny symbols that make things happen on your phone to YouTube videos like “The Evolution of Mom Dancing.” One of the galleries was even being used as open rehearsal space for the Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company, bringing a truly multidimensional element to the exhibition.  

“Dancing the Dream,” installed through July, 2014, is a great reminder of the gorgeous artistry of dance. 

 

Day 101: The Ten Million Dollar Dinner

I attended a charity dinner for Children’s National Hospital this evening. Please excuse the brevity of this post, but it’s after 1 in the morning, and I’m exhausted. I might see fit to edit for elaboration tomorrow. At present, however, a quick rundown of the new experiences I had at this event:

– trying black truffles

– seeing Wolfgang Puck in person (within touching distance)

– witnessing $10.7 million being raised in the course of several hours

– witnessing someone paying $9,000 for a puppy (a black lab, if anyone is wondering)

– seeing Jennifer Hudson perform

 

Day 100: Something Meta

100 days. 

I wish I had something big and exciting to mark this milestone, but in truth, the newest thing that happened today is that this is the first time I’ve consistently done something, with intent, for 100 days in a row. I’ve never stuck to Weight Watchers, or gone to the gym, or worked on a novel for 100 days in a row. There are things I’ve done for 100 days in a row — talked to my boyfriend, written emails, things like that — but I don’t have to make a point of doing those. So Day 100 of The Something New Project is marked by achieving Day 100 of, well, anything. 

In actuality, there were a number of new things I learned today, but they were all related to networking meetings  I had, as I am currently on the job hunt (joy), and thus it would not be prudent to discuss anything I learned as a result of those meetings. But, you know, just trust me.

I want to look back on what I’ve learned over the past 100 days, where I’ve succeeded, and where I have room for growth.

I feel like this project has encouraged me to both explore and notice the world around me more. I’ve taken the time to stop and observe interesting things. I might have otherwise been inclined to walk past certain subway performers, like Miss Union Square. I’ve also been more inclined to venture into different places, like the White Horse Tavern. 

I’ve also made a point of exploring more cultural opportunities, including seeing a performance by the wonderful Stolen Chair Theatre Company. I’ve had some new culinary adventures. 

Some ventures were more long-term. Going gluten-free for a month was very successful, I’m happy to report. I felt significantly better. I really need to get back to that. It made a big difference in my life. Other ventures, unfortunately, were not as successful. I regret to say that I was not able to follow my plan to give up unhealthy sleeping habits for Lent, and I’d like to apologize to my Catholic friends for that one. If I attempt to follow the terms of Lent again, I will give up something more tangible, like chocolate (perish the thought). I’ve also not been consistent about recording moments of happiness or gratitude. I would like to resume my practice of gratitude. 

Here are a few of my goals, large and small, for the next 100 days of this project:

Spend a day in silence

Try bikram yoga

 

Go somewhere I’ve never been

Bake a lemon meringue pie, from scratch

Get a new job 

As always, I am open to suggestions, feedback, critique, etc. In fact, I implore you to talk to me more. For everyone who is following along, thanks. Thanks a lot.