To Sing, to Turn, to Driftaway

Serendipity, a happy accident, an unexpected twist of fate. You don't realize what's happening until you're in it.

Wednesday my day was rubbish, I started on point but my day took a downward spiral quickly and for the rest of the day I felt completely off balance. At some point in the middle of my day I see a new email from my boss and take a preemptive effort to start a new project. I unfortunately clicked on the wrong email and ended up looking at my weekly update from Joe's Pub.

As I scroll down the email, looking for the message from my boss, I faintly see a picture of Fran Healy and Andy Dunlap, of Travis. Being taken aback, I scroll back up to look at the notice and think to myself "Cuss, I was supposed to get tickets for this show ages ago..." Quickly I look for as many details as possible, hoping beyond hope that I haven't missed the show.

I find they are playing all week, two shows to go, I sigh a huge sigh of release and with out hesitation I click on the link to buy tickets.

Sold out?! If that night wouldn't work, I could at least try the next night. Also sold out. CUSS! I click back to the first date to miraculously find tickets available. With out hesitation I attempt to buy a ticket. I'm too slow. CUSS! I don't give up that easily though, I refresh the link until a ticket becomes available to me and then I buy it.

Once my ticket is secure, I turn to my boss and say, "If its not too much trouble, I need to leave precisely at 8pm tonight." No contesting, I leave precisely at 8. There is no way in hell that I am going to miss this.

Literally, I get home, drop my stuff off, grab a bag in which I put my wallet, my book and an umbrella, and head out the door. The entire way there I am thinking that its too good to be true. In almost a trance, I hop in the line forming outside the venue, still listening to them on my IPod. I guess I never took it off when I got home because I don't remember putting it on.

I pick up my ticket and go inside, the deal is sealed! I am in!

The venue itself was quaint, tables for parties that had dinner reservations and standing room by the bar. There wasn't one place in the bar that didn't allow a decent view of the stage. Cozy and perfect to share the night with fellow fans.

Fran Healy walks out on to the stage promptly at 9pm. I have a perfect view and wish I'd though to grab my camera, but, when you're racing time to get to something you're still not quite convinced is going to happen, cameras are your last thought.

The show starts and I relax, I'm there, watching Travis, finally, in a cozy intimate setting where you feel like you're getting on on one attention with the band. To me its not just about the music, its about how it makes you feel, its about how it speaks to you. My favorite part about the show was more than the music, it was the stories shared by Fran and Andy about how the music came to be. Equipped with guitars, and a slide show, they took us on a musical journey through their trials and success. It was as if time stopped and I, for a moment, was in heaven.

There were too many good stories to recount, too much shared for me to even explain... well that and maybe I you would think I'm crazy. Before the stories my favorite song was "Driftwood." After the stories, it remains "Driftwood." A song Fran started humming to himself while thinking about "Cheers" and avoiding doing actual work. He went upstairs, recorded what little he had to revisit a little later. He came back later only to find he hit record at the end of his little session instead of at the beginning. Technology is a cuss. He sits down and listens to the entire tape to see what was recorded, hoping beyond hope that it was there. He heard some walking around, papers shuffling, walking down stairs, walking upstairs, He and Andy listening to REM Daysleeper a couple of times, and finally at the very end he hears himself walk down the stairs and hum the song while he is barely in range of the recorder. Immediately, to not lose it again, he gets to work.

The concert goes on, the hours fly by and were I to try and describe how enamored i was, I could never begin to convey it in words. Its all about how the music makes you feel and for me listening to Travis is pure ecstasy.

As they are wrapping up they explain they didn't want to bring more people on this tour than necessary (in order to promote new work), so they would be selling all the merchandise after the show. That way they could also have a chance to meet the fans. For them they actually wanted to see who in their right minds invested themselves in their music.

I'm dreaming right? This isn't happening, right? No it was and, cuss, I spent the only cash I had on alcohol because I didn't want to pay the minimum bar tab. I have my ticket stub and my phone, that is good enough for me.

I wait in line for an hour, what's an hour when you feel like you're life was changed because of their art. After thinking of what I was going to say to them, I get there and my mind goes blank. I walk up, shake their hands, and wing it. I wish I could be their best friends, I am there with them and I truly feel I could die happy. Fran actually takes picture of us with my phone... its amazing. I love them. I leave feeling complete bliss. I leave knowing that I was supposed to be there and experience Travis in that way.

What better way to further your musical and emotional understanding of the world than by listening to musicians tell stories of their inspirations to create: from grandparents, to love lost, to love found, to innocence, to children, to altered states of being, to experience, to pop culture, its all life, its all passion and its all art.

Oh This Crazy Adventure

I wake up on a cool, dreary Sunday morning knowing my exact plan. This is a rarity, but it seemed like a perfect Sunday: "Where the Wild Things Are," brunch with Emily, football with Lauren, and then home to relax before my long week on late shift. What more should I do on a Sunday?

Plans never happen as you plan them. I wake up and start the plan. I move a little slowly this morning. Of course as I am getting ready to walk out the door, my roommate confronts me: "Maura, can you take out the bathroom garbage?"

"Is it full?" I ask. Says its not and I say that as its my week to do the bathroom I get to decide when to take out the garbage. Its not full I will take it out later.

She tries to object, but I have to go... she starts complaining as she always does. But I actually am on my way somewhere, so I go.

Great, now I am running late. I get to the theatre, buy my ticket and notice I have two missed calls... from my roommate. She left me two messages, long and confusing... that I only deciphered after I called her to apologize for running out. She thinks my verbal cues in my conversations are all wrong.

I go to the movie, love it and forget about her. Post movie, Emily calls to say our brunch space is full for a football game, so we change locals. Mara calls me and asks if I want to go to a show in Peirmont NY. I detail to her my perfect Sunday, but say maybe.

Em and I brunch, but half way through I get a call from my boss asking if i can send out a few things that need to go out. I say yes and he tells me I have about an hour and half until he can send it to me. I have to be home at four, damn no football with Lauren.

I call Lauren, but she admits she never made it to the game... awesome I'm not missing a thing. I head home to Brooklyn. As I get home, both Mara and my boss are calling me. I concede to go with Mara tonight and I assure my boss everything is fine with the pages.

As I run out the door, I miss the shuttle bus (because the train is messing up) wait 15 minutes and the bus doesn't come. I call Mara panicked and walk to the train. I of course beat the next shuttle bus. I get on the train and am making pretty good timing, until I transfer trains. I have to go two stops once I transfer and it stops for 10 minutes in between stations. I can't even get off the train and make a run for it.

I finally get off the train 5 minutes before the bus is supposed to leave, Mara is waiting with tickets. I sprint, through the station to the bus to meet Mara. I am at the top of the escalator, I can see Mara standing outside the bus. The bus driver closes the door. Mara bangs on the door but to no avail.

We meet up and she calls her friend who' show were going to, to decide whether to wait for the next bus or take a cab. Her friend goes on at 7, we dash to the ticket window to return the tickets because of the stupid bus driver. We have to fight with him but he gives us a full return. Score!

Now we just have to find a cab to take us to this town in NY. After about 10 cabs we find one willing to adventure with us. Its supposed to be about $50, not including tolls or tip and the route we wanted him to take did not involve a toll.

Problem... we are using our phones to direct him because his GPS didn't know where it was going. He then decides to stop listening to us, and we start to get scared. Then the guy gets pulled over. He was speeding and got pulled over, and because of us the nice cop let him off.

He FINALLY gets us there, after getting us lost. A half hour trip took us an hour and then he had the audacity to try to charge us 150. umm no Hun, we did our research. We paid 70.

We got to the show as it was starting, and ran into one of Mara's Coworkers who had two seats at his table. Happy accident and then we shared our story with everyone there.

The show started and I was taken a way to a magical place where all emotion is conveyed through guitar and lyrics. Jill Hennessy was sheer brilliance and exactly what I needed after such a crazy day.

Mara and I made it back to the city in one piece, by bus and we all lived happily ever after.

Take a Chill Pill

I was talking to my friend last night. What was he doing? Just wasting time. At the time I was a little jealous. When I got home at 10:45, my intention was to simply waste time. What did I do though? Watched TV shows I missed during the week, I journaled, I talked with friends, I had 2 glasses of wine, and I did some reading. This wasn't entirely productive, but it certainly wasn't wasting time.

This morning I woke up at 830 am when my super was supposed to come fix my bathroom sink. While he did that, I compiled my laundry and changed into running clothes. When he was finished, I went out, put my laundry in and ran 3 miles while it washed. I came back, put everything in the dryer and did yoga until it was done. I folded my clothes, took them home, took a shower and then got dressed. I was out doing errands in the city by noon. (I think somewhere in there my roommate also complained to me about something or another).

Is there such thing as being too efficient, or too active? Is it bad that when I do one thing, I am thinking of 10 more I need to do? As much as I want to, unless I have a few people with me, I don't go to sports bars because I can think of a million grander things to occupy my time. How much of any of it is really important? I feel like i spend my time filling it with things I don't really need to do, but in some way feel some need to do so. I shouldn't spend my 20's like that. I shouldn't be that girl who is told at work "relax," "go home and take a load off." Then again, I have always taken after my mother. I have always been that go, go, go girl. I think I need someone to teach me how to slow down.

Rambling Thoughts of an Unfocused Mind

I'm sitting here in my usual coffee shop, two tables back from where I usually sit, playing with the foam at the top of my cappuccino while looking out at the very gray day. Its the perfect fall day and yet today feels a little off. I never order caps, minds a little burnt, when I paid for it neither myself nor the barrister could remember whether I gave him $3 of $4. We decided 4 and I tipped him $2. I am feeling very generous as I made $100 more after taxes this week.

I watch the barrister outside on a smoke break. He's got facial expressions like Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl. As I think this it starts to pour outside and I wonder if its worth it to go home and get my rain boots? We will see how I feel when I leave. For all I know the rain will have subsided. Then again, maybe its one of those days where I just don't care. Its Friday, I'm wearing jeans, a tee shirt and my snuggly sweatshirt.

I'd be willing to bet that right about now everyone is glad we are on the stages today. I'm already starting to think that I should have gotten that extra shot of espresso. No matter, I'm sure I will have an espresso at work. Along with a bagel or pastry to tide me over until catering. Mmmm catering.

I see a penny on the ground. I look at it, acknowledge it an the thought that someone is thinking about me. I do not pick it up. My two childlike notions of pennies: 1. find a penny pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck- translation, heads up pennies are good luck and tails up pennies are bad luck. 2. when you see a penny it means God or someone is thinking about you. Though I love the second thought, I still play by playground rules. Its a bit like four square, school rules all the time.

I pull out my planner to write down my friend's wedding, but come to find its already there. I flip through and wonder how. I carry it around with me everywhere and have five things written in it, including my contact information. I guess I seriously cant be tied to a planner. Part of me wishes I could be, and part of me loves not tieing myself to any specific schedule. Its so hard for me to think in terms of dates. Maybe I have been freelancing for too long, and maybe I have simply found some career suitable to my needs.

A woman walks in with her 3 year old daughter. She is bundled up, wearing a pink chucks and carrying a pink carnation. She has braids in her hair and says "HI" to everyone repeatedly. I want one, one day... not now but one day.

I take the final sip of my coffee and examine the foam residue on the inside of the cup. The intricate burnt brownish pattern on the white ceramic cup is most mesmerizing. I shake my head and come back to the real world. It's 10:45, I should get going so I can get there early and take the mail. Why can I never remember to grab the mail.

The chalk sandwich board outside this place says "They should have given the Nobel to coffee." What a wonderfully random thought.

The rain has come and gone, I will not be stopping back by home for my rain boots. I wish I could actually have written something profound or interesting this morning. Alas, I haven't and now its hi ho, hi ho its off to work I go.

Time is of the Essence

Typical for so many kids my age, my friends don't wake before noon on weekends. I on the other hand am lucky if I am able to sleep until 930. I suppose years of baseball and mom trying to wake me up at 7 and college friends who rarely slept in either have chiseled into my head that if you're not up when the sun is up, you're wasting your day. Does this mean that I am destined to one day be that crazy mom who tries to wake her kids up before they need to be on the weekends?



Already I have been up for 2 hours. I walk down 2nd Ave on my way to Starbucks, I pass a street fair along 10th st. Initially I pass it, thinking that all I want to do this am is grab a coffee and write before I do brunch with Emily. It's 1030, the street fair is just getting started, I have 2 hours before brunch, a little side trip won't hurt me.



I peruse the little antique booths, hoping to find some unique piece of jewelry with character that I just cant say no to. If I were to stumble across a pocket watch I could wear as a necklace, life would be wonderful. I had one, but it was cheap and it broke so I am now looking for a replacement.



No luck on the pocket watch. I do find some cute clutch bags, with out having to ask the woman selling them I know they are from the 1920s. I could very easily get it and add it to my collection of unique accessories... wait a minute, I already have one of those but mine is way cooler because it was from my great aunts. I don't need another.



Seriously though, how much of it do I really need? None of it. I continue to browse, but not intending to purchase anything. If I lived by myself there were a couple glass sets I would be all over, but I don't so right now I wont. I wonder if, when I one day get married, register for vintage items instead of at Macy's or Bed Bath and Beyond, or Target.



I leave the street fair having found no new treasure. A nice, quiet little detour on my way. Alas, I continue on to the coffee shop.



Its only 11:15, I have plenty of time to write before brunch.



What am I doing at a coffee shop at 11:15 on a Sunday morning. Already I have gone for a run, gotten ready, went to church (only sometimes right now), been cornered by one of my roomies, and made it into the city. I swear, I'm even strolling instead of walking at my quick pace. I like the feeling though. I like feeling like I have done something already today. This is why I need to move into the city. I love Brooklyn, don't get me wrong, but in my neighborhood nothing really starts until 11am and sometimes that's too lazy for me. If I want to watch a game or go to a movie or just hang around later, I want to feel like Ive accomplished some of the mundane things I'd rather not do.



Yes, I might be that girl that wakes up 9 at the latest on a weekend, well unless wicked tired OR hungover. And, yes, my friends might have forbidden me from calling or texting before noon (for the record where I grew up it was okay to call anyone after 8 on a week day and 10 on a weekend) this whole noon thing is an adjustment.



I suppose working 75 hours in a week will make you appreciate the time you have a little more. My time becomes so sparse, and where I value sleep, other things become more important. My biggest struggle right now is making a distinction between work and life.

Chasing Summer

As the summer draws to a close, the first thought that runs through my head is that of sorrow for the loss of the long hot days that are good for nothing more than lounging around in the sun. Farewell to the epic brunches, the ones where you start at noon and you stay all afternoon just drinking, eating and chatting. Farewell to the warm summer nights that beg you to stay out just a little longer, for one more drink. Farewell to the afternoons of sunning. Farewell to electric fans and AC. Farewell to cute little sun dresses and tank tops.

I spent the last day of summer doing as much as I could to hold on a moment longer to yet another glorious New York summer. I woke up around 9 to a cool breeze coming through my window and relaxed for about an hour. I got up, put on a sweatshirt to lessen that slight morning chill as you get out of bed, and then cleaned house cause I'm too busy during the week. I carefully crafted an outfit for the day, including jacket and scarf just because its been a little chilly.

Lauren Loeb and I met for brunch in the West Village. We went to this adorable little place with garden seating where we sat in the shade sipping coffee. What a perfect morning. Following brunch we wandered to a couple of stores before parting ways.

I then headed uptown to watch the Jets/ Pats (go Pats!) and Redskins/Rams (Go Redskins!) games with my older brother at this bar called "ship of fools." Perfect name for a sports bar. Its actually a really cool set up and you have to make reservations ahead of time to guarantee a table, not overly crowded. I was originally not invited to this event because it was an all boys event, but Tom told me to join when it was just him and Neal. We watched the games while drinking beer, though I was a little lost. Not going to lie I know baseball way better than I know football.

It was great sitting in the bar in a sweatshirt, jeans and flip flops. I was cozy but comfortable.

Following the games, we headed to my brother's neighborhood to get cookies at this fantastic little bakery. I love that late afternoon sun, when its starting to set around 5pm. I stayed over there, just chilling until the sun went down and I realized I had to get home to watch the Emmy's because one of my bosses was on it.

As I reached home, I realized that today I was not holding on to the summer but rather embracing the spirit of the fall. Sitting around watching football all afternoon with the boys was so much fun. I love that I can now comfortably wear a jacket or sweatshirt with out being to hot, and the cool breezes that help balance out the moments in the sun.

Fall finally arrives and I remember growing up with Fall Baseball, High School football games, theatre rehearsals, camping, smores, apple cider, hayrides, concerts on the beach while huddled in blankets and sweatshirts; fall is quite possibly the best season, the best of both worlds. Baseball and football, summer dresses and sweatshirts, Iced coffee and apple cider, campfires with warm glows. Its falling in love all over again.

Wine Tasting

As we know, I am a lover of wine. White or red, sparkling or not, I can appreciate a good wine. Its getting to the point again where a glass of good wine is necessary to calm me down after a long work day. Don't worry, this wont last long, we are just about to start production and my days are getting longer and longer. I come home from work pumped and need an easy wind down (I'm no wino...).

I could spend hours in a wine store. Examining the many bottles of wine, trying to decide what I want. Generally I go with a little of this and a little of that, stock myself up so that the time I spend seems well worth its while. Recently though I have been even more and more indecisive, its like I'm afraid to commit to a decision because I don't want to rule out some other wine I could be drinking.

There is always the type that is new and fresh. The label catches your eye, and the description intrigues you. You've not tasted it yet so you don't quite know what to think. It looks interesting enough, not too pricey, it could become my new go to wine. Is it worth the risk? What if it's too sweet, or too dry? Is the blend of flavors interesting enough, or is it too pretentious for your taste? It has a surprising look to it, as any red wine should. I certainly find red wine delightful.

Then there is the simple and cheep one. Its not bad, just never quite what you want. I mean it will make you feel good for a while? But how long? And how quickly would it turn to vinegar? Do you settle? I don't generally go for the sweeter reds. I mean there's really no risk involved, its kind of safe because its always there. They continuously try to sell you on it, but you're still not quite sold.

You're old faithful is always tempting even though you like to try new things. You know you shouldn't keep indulging yourself in it, but the quality only improves with age. Generally bold, surprises you every time about how easy and smooth it goes down. A deep red with deep flavor, you can never go wrong here and yet you can't always have it. As much as you hate to over indulge, you know you have to once in a while. Only because you never know when it will, if ever be available to you again.

Winery wines intrigue me most. You have to go away to sample, or happen to attend an event that chose to use those wines. Normally, with my luck, they are always ones that I can't quite find anywhere else. Its a subtle flavor that you don't always get, took you by surprise. Its not your usual glass of wine, but you were pleasantly pleased. You try it once and want more. Now you wander wine stores looking for something that intrigues you more or just as much, but you cant find something that quite compares. You consider traveling to go back for seconds? Is it worth it, you could make a weekend out of it? It might be nice to get away. Then again, maybe you were too buzzed when you first tried it to really appreciate it, wine always tastes better after a glass or two. Is it worth the risk?

Yes these thoughts run through my head, maybe I think to much? Okay so I definitely think too much, about everything. What can I say, I like to complicate things. I will probably just settle on something new and fun, like I always do. Syrah is a good go to one, never lets me down... I wish I could find a good guy like that

Runner's High

When I first started running I told my dad how incredible it was that running was the only activity I could do where my head just stops thinking and focuses on whats directly ahead of me. It's the only thing I can do to really clear my mind. He said something to the effect of: its amazing what happens when you deprive your body of oxygen. Thanks dad, now people are going to think I'm obsessed with some weird fetish. No, no, just running.

I do have to say though, the more I ran, the more my mind cleared. As someone who puts too much thought into everything, it was nice finally being able to turn it all off. I have never experienced a more calming activity, I have never experienced my own ability to really focus on one thing for a while. It helps me better appreciate and understand the rest of my world.

I won't lie, the single greatest moment of my year thus far was crossing that finish line. Something I had worked so hard for. 6 months ago i might not have crossed it. But I did, and here I am a week later still riding on that runner's high.

The actual day of the race I was nervous. I had butterflies in my tummy and I didn't know what to think. My friends were up in the 17th Corral and I was suppose to be in the 26th because when I signed up I had no concept of timing .

My friends and I got stuck in a bathroom line and by the time we were done the groups were lining up. My friends told me to just start with them and I could lag back when ever I needed to. So I did. The race had begun, I started my play list with "Dirty Little Secret," and I paced myself with my friend Sarah.

I paced with her for 9 miles, making brief stops for water, cytomax and disgusting goo. At mile 6.5 we saw two other JMU girls and so we started the fight song, quite a few more JMU alums joined in. Go Dukes! We reached mile 3, Sarah looks over at me and says "Maura, Ive hardly run a half mile with you before and here we are on mile 3." She kept checking in on me, but as long as we were both still chatting, we knew our pacing was good.

Camp Pendleton killed me (go figure) because it was out in the open sunlight for 3 miles. Because of it I had to stop at mile 9 and start walking. Sarah and I did a cheer for mile 9 and she kept going while I walked a bit. Soon enough I was running again. Run walk, Run walk, for the rest of the race.

As I near the boardwalk my theme song, "Hanging by a Moment," comes on. How appropriate, you have no idea. I am jogging there and determined to full out run the last half mile. So I do. I'm on the home stretch and "Harder to Breathe" plays. I start to sprint. I cross the finish line after 2hours, 27 minutes and 54 seconds, 3 minutes (to the second) after Sarah. I am in a state of pure ecstasy.

Two thoughts run through my head: 1. Oh dear lord, I just finished! 2. WTF did I just put myself through? Beyond that I didn't think much beyond "keep walking," "ooh water," "ooh cold towel," "ooh banana."

We all might be crazy. Yes, I probably should have tried a 5k or a 10k before I tackled a half marathon. When have I ever done things the logical way though. I dove head first. When I do things, I do them right; Go big, or go home. It was amazing.

I don't remember when I was last so focused or so committed to anything. I spend most of my time making sure I am not tied too tightly to anything. Sometimes I wonder if I am missing out in this way. The feeling I had here was one of the most amazing things I have ever felt, definitely one of my top 10 all time best moments.

And to think, I was never a runner until I decided to run a half marathon. Rock and Roll it.

Finishing Moments, but before reflective post

Last full song listened to: Hanging by a Moment
Song I crossed Finish Line to: Harder to Breathe


You have no idea how appropriate these two are

Rock and Roll It

So here's the deal, as it is the Rock and Roll Half Marathon that I am doing, I thought it only appropriate to share my playlist with the world: (You get bonus points for commenting on my musical preferences for running- upbeat and fun)

1. All American Rejects: Dirty Little Secret
2. Cartel: Honestly
3. GooGoo Dolls: Slide
4. Ace of Base: The Sign
5. Artic Monkies: I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor
6. Bad Wizard: Sky High
7. Britney Spears: Baby One More Time
8. Michelle Branch: Everywhere
9. Guns and Roses: Sweet Child of Mine
10. Heart: What about Love
11. Jimmy Eat World: The Sweetness
12. Justing Timberlake: Sexy Back
13. Journey: Dont Stop Believing
14. Kelly Clarkson: Since You've Been Gone
15. Goo Goo Dolls: Black Balloon
16. Black Eyed Peas: Lets Get it Started
17. Cranberries: Linger
18. CheapTrick: I Want You To Want Me
19. Aerosmith: Love in an Elevator
20. All American Rejects: Swing Swing
21. Amy Winehouse: Rhab
22. Bangles: Manic Monday
23. Dave Matthews Band: Crash
24. Dave Matthews Band: Satellite
25. Eagle Eye Cherry: Save Tonight
26. Eddie Money: Take Me Home Tonight
27. The Fray: How to Save Life
28. Quietdrive: Time After Time
29. Rock Kills Kid: Hope Song
30. J. Giles Band: Centerfold
31. Rick Springfield: Jesse's Girl
32. The Clash: London Calling
33. Guns and Roses: Paradise City
34. Hootie and the Blowfish: Hold My Hand
35. Incubus: Drive
36. JoJo: Fairy Tales
37. The Killers: Somebody Told Me
38. KT Tunstill: Black Horse and Cherry Tree
39. LifeHouse: Hanging By a Moment
40. Maroon 5: Harder to Breathe
41. Matchbox Twenty: If You're Gone
42. Michael Jackson: Billie Jean
43. Nine Days: Story of a Girl
44. No Doubt: Just a Girl
45. No Doubt: Spiderwebs
46. N'Sync: I Want You Back
47. Oasis: Champagne Supernova
48. Pink: Who Knew
49. Pearl Jam: Light My Fire
50. Raconteurs: Steady as She Goes
51. Sister Hazel: Change Your Mind
52. Spice Girls: Wannabe
53. Sugar Ray: Every Morning
54. Third Eye Blind: Never Let You Go
55. Travis: Side
56. U2: Beautiful Day
57. Van Halen: Man on a Mission
58. Vertical Horizon: Everything you want
59. The Wallflowers: Letters from the Wasteland
60. White Snake: Here I go Again
61. The Who: Pinball Wizard
62. Spice Girls: Love thing
63. Puddle of Mudd: Blurry
64. Paula Abdul: Straight Up
65. Panic at the Disco: I write Sins Not Tragedies

No Couples and No Etchasketch Artists

Looking for roommates in New York is like finding a decent guy in New York, is like finding a needle in a Haystack. Hundreds of people looking at any given moment and yet it ends up being way more difficult than it needs to be. When in a pinch, you have to continue searching for the roommate or settle on someone less than adequate; where as searching for a boyfriend doesn't land me in such dire straits.


You have to know what you're looking for when looking for roommates, whether you have the apt or are looking for the room. If you don't, you will begin to feel overwhelmed like when you used to walk into a test with out having studied, been there done that a countless number of times.

I started out looking for rooms, but I found myself in a repeated pattern: find a posting, respond to posting, no response; or, find a posting, respond, get reply, play tag, then no response. First thing you should know is that they were real, honest to God rooms... not that lady who wanted a tenant for her bathroom, and I only responded to the seemingly non crazy. This goal is hard, as there are so many really crazy people here in NYC. Is it too much to ask for a seemingly normal roommate? I mean we are all a little crazy... but its ridiculous out there.

Finally, I make an executive decision to stay in my apt and look for roommates. I mean after, awkwardly knowing a guy who is walking out of a room i am looking to rent, seeing cockroaches, finding a room actually too small, meeting crazies, and not actually meeting roommates, I think i am better off just finding new roommates.

I meet a lot of interesting people. Generally, until the last week, the people who were willing to jump on the apt were not the ones I wanted to live with. Damnit. I thought I was cool enough to have weeded those people out of my viewings. Clearly not. When you have Couples and Etchasketch artists looking for places and they respond to your Ad just pray you don't get too desperate.

When I finally think I have found a couple of people they bail on me... go figure. I had to start the search all over again.

In the end I found some pretty cool roommates. Next time though I think I am going to start my ad with something along the lines of "No offense but please no couples, etchasketch artists or others of such a disposition."

My only concern is that I would attract even odder people... oh dear

Yet another incomplete post that has been in my edit box for ages...

The days a becoming more and more crisp as the weeks go on. Fall is truly beginning to creep its way in. Every morning the same stout man stands outside his auto shop, smoking a cigarette. "Morning" he says cheerfully as I walk by. I always smile and return the sentiment.

Walking to work is such a simple pleasure that is often overlooked and undervalued. For the past 3 weeks, I have walked to work, half hour each way. It's a consistent commute, unlike the Metro that could take anywhere from 20 minutes if you hit everything perfectly, to 50 minutes if the G train hates you on a particular morning (the G train and I have a Love Hate relationship, it can't be trusted). Recently its been the favorite part of my day.

Finally I have time to think again. I lose out on quality reading time, but replace it with quality thinking.


The more I wander the streets of Williamsburg and Greenpoint, I realize how much like a small town it is. After a week store owners started to recognize me, and said hi as I walked by. Sometimes I answer, but if I'm listening to music I will simply acknowledge with a smile. Who knew that such a big city could feel so small in places? Sometimes I feel like I am back in Virginia Beach where everyone knows me, and sometimes I feel like I am in London getting to know shop owners and the community through my morning walks. Either way this simple notion starts and ends my day on the right foot. Amazing what feeling like part of a community can do for you .

Community and family keep you going in this crazy world. This recently I was at my cousin's wedding, and above all else I love seeing the new family created from two. And, though it scares me to no end that she is married now (shes 2 months younger than me), the whole weekend it was nothing but smiles. Two families, coming together to celebrate. Why can't everything in life be so simple as a celebration between friends and family?

My Next 25- (this one has been sitting, waiting to be posted for a while now... whoops)

Another year goes by and I find myself embarking on my third year in New York as I hit the quarter century mark. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was just another year in my life. One year older, one more year of life experience. 26 was going to be my mile marker because of my silly association with the number 13.

This year wasn't just another year though. Close friends (not just people I know from college and high school) started to get married, started to have kids, bought houses, got promotions, finished grad school... the list could go on. Here I was sitting around in New York, no closer to knowing what want out of life, no closer to having a boyfriend, no closer to growing up. New York is my Neverland in that way.

I am normally the one to brush off birthdays, go out for drinks with friends but I don't like making a big deal out of them. I am normally the one who, if starting a new job would say we can just do a birthday dinner later, after Ive settled in or when I have time again. I love them, but I don't need to make a big deal of them. This year not so much. The week leading up to it, I started a new job, had no idea what I was going to do about housing after Sept 1, hadn't seen friends in about a week, for once I felt alone. I tried, I really tried, but when it came down to it; I wanted to at least spend my birthday with family or with friends. Which I did :-)

It's funny how quickly 25 hits you. Since I turned 18 my life has been, literally, a blur; and, as you're trying to sort trough everything, more stuff just piles up. How do we do it? How do we process it all? How do we keep going? These are the years that Media and Television hype as the best years where everything happens, and yet I feel as if Ive been barely floating in a sea of possibilities that are sometimes too overwhelming to fathom. How do I do it? I juggle, paying attention to the balls in the air because if I stop to see what has dropped, I will lose them all.

It seems to me that 30 will be much easier to handle; by 30 I will have accepted my fate, where I am headed and all that is to come. 25 though just sneaks up on you. I had one hell of a year though.

Top 5 from my 25th year:

1. Older Brother getting Married
2. Going to California
3. Deciding to Run a Half Marathon
4. Thanksgiving in NYC with my friends
5. Getting a hand written response from the Producer of Harry Potter, after sending my resume and cover letter for possible employment

There have been times where I feel like I am constantly losing and finding faith in the world around me. Yet I keep going. I may not know where I am headed or even what I really want out of life, but that's part of the fun of my adventure. Things are always thrown at you to make you question, to really think, to help you understand yourself a little better. I can only hope that I am answering them correctly (but then that is all relative).

Right now who am I?
I am Maura; I like to write, though can never finish a story; I am seldom late; I make masks; I have an unnatural love for that upbeat 90s music; until this year I was never a runner; I like a boyfriend but with no definitions- I can hardly define my own existence; I never know what I want until I am in the middle of it; I need my friends; I love Shakespeare; I have been known to sit down and drink a whole bottle of wine in one sitting (but not often); I actually like scotch and whiskey; I still have stars on my ceiling; I am not a New Yorker, just someone momentarily living in New York; If I could wear heels everyday I would; I feel most comfortable in jeans and flip flops; I won't slow dance with just anyone; I am a temporary vegetarian, but is almost certain she would give it up for a good steak or burger; I am ticklish, and as a result I find guys who are ticklish wickedly sexy; I am sure the guy for me is the one who makes me want to stand still for a bit; I am addicted to True Blood; when I watch TV its generally reruns of CSI or bad movies; I like to be able to do yoga in my room; I am more likely to be a pirate than a ninja; I still play super Nintendo; I actually like traveling by bus; I sometimes find myself keeping myself closed off from close friends; I am slightly anxious about living in the same apt for a third year in a row; I have a very dry sense of humor; I am an eternal optimist; I define family as those closest to my heart, the most important part of life.

That is me right now, at 25 as I embark on this new journey. What will be will be, and the only thing I know right now is that I will continue to go with the flow and take risks when I can. Life happens; sometimes I think we're all mere passengers trying to backseat drive, and sometimes I think its pure chaos where nothing is determined until we make it happen. Either way I will make the most of my next 25 years because my world as I know it is going to do nothing but change.

That Long and Winding Road

Life has a way of working itself out exactly as its meant to, yet I still try to have control of what's going to happen. One of these days I'm going to learn that no matter how i try, its not up to me. With out turning this into a "Fate vs. Free Will" debate, I just mean to say that there are always other factors involved that you can't control. In the end all you can do is put in your best effort and what will happen will happen.

This past month has been rough for me. Not because I've been out of work too long, this is not the longest i have gone with out a job. More because I went on more interviews than I normally go on while out of work and couldn't land one of them. Because of that and because I was reevaluating my situation, where I want to be and whether or not the path I'm no will get me there, I had a slight existential crisis. Am I doing what I want to be doing? Will this take me anywhere? Am I happy? What's the point of it all?

Every question could be answered in so many ways. I was living a dichotomy, a contradiction and I was focusing on me way too much. I started turning on the morning news while I did yoga every morning, trying to bring a new focus back to my world. I am not the only one out there with out a job, I am not the only one out there questioning where I want to go, my problems are nothing compared to the problems facing the country. I am able to breathe again, and the world comes back into focus.

I am 25. I don't have to know where I'm going yet. I don't have to know what I want. I don't have to have it all figured out. Questions are allowed to be unanswered. I am allowed to say I don't know.

Two years ago, on a whim, I hopped on a bus and moved to New York. No job, just an internship and a couch to sleep on. From there I had to see how it went. I had no answers then, only more questions. The answers had to be found along the way.

The more I think about this whole existence, the more I think maybe its not about having answers or knowing where you're going. Maybe it's about having some idea of what you want, knowing what you're capable of, being fearless enough to risk it all and knowing beyond all doubt that there are always people looking out for you.

Only once we realize we are not alone can we muster the courage to journey onward. We don't always have a travel companion, or guide, but the connections we make along the way make the journey worth taking.

Coffee Date

A girl, mid-midtwenties with light brown hair tied back in a pony tail, sits writing in a coffee shop. She seems quite focused, having not noticed her coffee for the past fifteen minutes as she works on her writing. Periodically she looks up and around to gather her thoughts, then puts her nose back to the grindstone.

Her papers are spread everywhere. Fortunately for her she had won this table fair and square, through careful planning and a little luck. It was all hers.

Quite suddenly though a man sits down opposite her, tossing his Coach and PINK shopping bags in a free corner of the table. He pulls the chair out so he is facing the coffee bar, not her, as he rests his Iced Latte cup on the table.

The condensation drips down his cup, on to the table and creeps towards her papers. She hastens to move her work, the last thing she wants is water wrinkled paper. Her actions go unnoticed and she glares at the disruptive ma as she takes a long sip of her forgotten coffee.

The nerve of that man. How dare he invade her work space. She would have no problem with it had he simply asked if she minded him sitting down for a moment, but the fact that he has clearly invaded her personal space with out consideration really bothers her. The man is probably on his way home after a long morning of shopping as stores she can't even dream of being able to afford right now. Just because he can be that guy, doesn't me he has the right to just take over anyone's personal space. Okay so it might be a public area, but still she won the talbe fair and square twenty minutes earlier. Now she can't get herself back on track.

He shakes ice in the bottom of his cup around, trying to mix the water with coffee just so. She glares at him again. Has he no respect?

She, with out looking, reaches for her coffee accidentally knocking it over. The cup is recovered but not before a considerable amount spills out. Her first instinct is to again pull her papers out of the way. She looks up and notices the man jump up, the coffee has made its way into his lap. She looks at him innocently and shrugs as she slides her stack of napkins in his direction, looking down again at her writing.

She didn't to spill coffee on him, but now maybe next time he will ask before imposing himself on some stranger.

Stroke of Lightening

Clouds began to roll in as I lay out on the beach. The waves get rougher and rougher while the wind starts to pick up. I had been reading journals I kept in college, not living in the past, just trying to understand a few things that had come back into light lately. In all the time I was out on the beach, I made little progress. I just sunk deeper and deeper into a mess that perhaps should have been cleaned up a while ago, and confused when, while in the process of that, I uncovered some other question.

Of course that is how it always happens.

I more than welcomed the towering grey storm clouds that drove me away from the beach. After packing up my things, I walked over to the shore line and stood at the edge playing a cat and mouse game with the waves rolling in. I love the way the ocean appears to extend until forever, so many possibilities if only I could find a way to reach them. Sometimes I want to just hop on a sailboat and ride the wind to just see where it takes me.

I turn and head back, retrieve my things and head to my car.

I take back roads the whole way, in my mind that is the only way to travel in Virginia Beach. Nothing but grey skies and the tree line in front of me. The area changes so much every time I come back and yet I can always find a route that reminds me of a small town instead of sprawling suburbia.

The sky was a dark, deep blue-grey. The shade of grey just before it's about to storm. Someone once told me that grey was their favorite color, because they simply could find anything more beautiful than the sky before the storm. Likewise, my favorite color is blue because of the sky just after the sun has set but before the darkness has set in, twilight. Lightening begins to dance across the sky. I am mesmerized, I had forgotten how beautiful the summer sky was when illuminated by bolts of lightening.

How simple the beauty of summer, and how romantic the idea of a summer storm. The long hazy days of the beach can just be washed away by an unexpected rain storm and replaced by a cool, humid evening. You're never quite sure whether it will rain again; but as the sun creeps through the clouds just before sunset, you look to the sky in awe and with out a care. The brilliance of a summer sunset is equal to that of a winter sunrise in my opinion. Neither can be quite compared to anything else.

What does all of this mean? I don't know. Summer lightening storms make me feel a sense of renewal, the feeling that rolls in and takes you by surprise. It completely washes over to make you feel anew. This time was a bit more complex. I am left with the oddest sunburn I could have possibly gotten from laying on the beach and a lot of things to think about as I head back to New York.

A Midsummer's Night Dream

The title might be misleading, and stolen, but for me it was a dream come true.



As I believe I have mentioned before, I have a bit of a running love affair with Shakespeare. For this reason, I am compelled to go see every version of every play I am able to do. My favorites were in college, I was half an hour (or less) from the Black Friar's theatre, which housed the Shenandoah Shakespeare Company. Since I've moved on, I haven't been as fortunate to be able to see shows as frequently, but New York does have the wonderful Shakespeare in the Park every summer. Even better, its free. This year they were showing the Twelfth Night, which if you don't know is my favorite of the comedies. Between movie and stage versions, I have seen it at least a dozen times and read it at least 50 times more. There is something amazingly enchanting about this show for me.



The weather in New York recently has been absurdly chaotic. No matter what the weather man says, you have to be prepared for literally for rain or shine at all times. When I left to camp out for six hours for my Shakespeare tickets, I was ready to withstand a hurricane in order to get my tickets. Nothing was going to prevent me from getting them as it was the one thing I was looking forward to this summer. Needless to say, getting there at 6:30 in the morning, I got the tickets.



The day it self reminded me of the many summer days from Virginia Beach. Summers, to me, are characterized by long, hot, humid days. The days it doesn't rain, you wish it did. When it does rain, half the time its refreshing and half the time it becomes more miserable than it was before. As a result, there was no complaining about the weather. I mean you could, but there was no use, you might as well make the most of your time. So many of these days happened, of course, when we were going to Busch Gardens. Those were in fact the best days to go because you could get front row on all the roller coasters since no one was there. I didn't get front row at Shakespeare, there were people more crazy than I.



My day was spent, inside and outside. As the rain picked up, I popped into stores or restaurants and when it ceased I continued with my daily missions. This is after I get my tickets. Like I said, it reminded me of the days I would spend at Busch Gardens: slightly water logged, but still trucking through. After a while you give up worrying about weather you are dry or wet and just roll with it. Like so many of the days, the weather cleared up and I sat in a cool open air theatre watching the show I was there for. As the sun set and slowly faded into darkness, I knew that the night was the perfect night for me.



The show it self was magical. Personally, I don't think I have seen a better rendition of this show. (I don't know what that says about the interpretations I have seen) For the first time I actually saw just how each couple really fell and how it was possible for each to be enchanted so quickly. Most the times when I see this show, parts stand out and parts are lost. I really feel like most nails were hit directly on the head in this version. For the first time ever I saw a true character in Sebastian, who though he has a later appearance still needs to clearly fall and not just be whisked away by the allure of a strange new place. I don't think I can even begin to describe how impressed I was with Anne Hathaway's Viola, but I will save you from having to listen to me ramble on and on and on about the play. If this says anything though, I was so mystified with the show opening that I had tears in my eyes. It was the most interesting opening I have seen and I felt really set Orsino off on a different foot, when normally I find his character a little bratty.



I get flutters in my heart just thinking about it and, if I could see it every day I am not sure I would be bored with it. If this is what love feels like, I want to fall in love and never fall out again.

Flash Forward

Until three days ago I had always considered flashback moments in TV sitcoms to be a mere space filler at those points in the season where they aren't quite ready to develop some new story, while in the midst of a big one. Just an episode with no real plot to take up time. As my world is about to change though, I realize that life is full of these moments. They often happen when reconnecting with old friends, on the brink of some big event, or when things come to an end.

My roommate an I spent an hour reminiscing over our first few weeks in the apartment. It was just me and her while our third moved in slowly over the month. We laughed about how we had a mattress act as our couch for a good 5 months before we finally got one, that mattress was great for when we just were too tired to make it to our own rooms. Smiled, when we thought about how we kinda camped for the first week, using disposable silverware and plates. Discussed how freeing it was before our 3rd came in, realized we didn't have a shower curtain up yet and said "uhhh, that's not cool." I honestly think everyone, at some point should try not having a shower curtain. We each rearranged our rooms at least a half dozen times, and yet we never decorated our living room. When we had a rat under the sink, until our super could patch up the hole, we thought it was a good idea to clear everything out from under the sink, leave out rat poison, and tape the doors shut. Like packing tape was going to keep a rat out.

Were we in a sitcom, each moment would be followed by a clip from that respective episode. Life would be shown not just told.

After a while it seems as if we can reduce life to living, making memories, and reminiscing about them. Sometimes we seem to get too caught up in our own world to really take time to acknowledge the memories we have made, and they become lost in the abyss of the world. Its not so much that we live in the past, or have to; its more looking back to a more innocent time and seeing how far we have some. Its like we cant grow with out them.

Every so often I go back to read old journals. Most are filled with trite about the woes of my many, many crushes or the trials of friends. The things we thought important at the time. Then I see old friends and remember the time differently.

Our memories make up our past, our past makes us who we are. All unique and beautiful in our own way. Moments help to define where our future will take us.

The real life flashback moments don't happen, as I suspected with TV, to fill up time or when we have nothing more to say to each other. They often take up time that we should be doing other things, but again get caught up in a moment. Instead, they occur at critical moments of change so that we can see where we once were, that we survived and that we are now ready to move on.

No matter how well you now get along, or don't get along, these times are shared and you will always have that. Until the end of time, my first two years in New York were spent living with Lauren and Anna, just as my time in Detroit had characters and every time before that. We might part, but for the time being we helped each other grow. Its never clear why people enter our lives or why they leave, we just have to live and know that once we have parted ways for their influence we will never quite be the same as we were before.

You Are What You Wear

When it comes to t-shirt selection, there are 4 reasons I buy them:

1. Amazing fit
2. Versatility
3. Cuteness
4. Hilarity

Let me be more specific with number 4. If I find it funny, and I can pull it off, I will buy it even if it might get me joked. To tell you the truth, I will be the first person to joke me for it. Take my Zac Efron T-shirt. I bought it because I have a running joke with my friends that I have a Zac obsession, a Zac Attack if you will. Long story as to why it came about, but I decided to run with it because it was funny. It might have helped that I saw 17 Again opening weekend, it also may have helped when I put 10 photos and articles of him up on my cubicle wall, and when I have to announce every time Perez Hilton tweets about him. when my friend dared me to buy a T-shirt with his face monogrammed on it, I couldn't pass up the chance.

Crazy? Yes, a little. When I walk down the street am I the only one who gets it? Most likely. Do even my friends think I am odd? With out a doubt, but they still love me for it anyways.

Why do I do this?

1. Attention. I am a Leo after all. I do things advertently and inadvertently to bring attention to myself. Sometimes its not the kind I want and sometimes its awesome. I have come to terms with the fact that I am an attention seeker, whether I mean to be or not. Please, if I get carried away with myself, smack me around a little and I will come to my senses.
2. It's a great conversation starter. When you wear obscure things, people are generally interested in why you would wear such a thing, and if they are interested enough they will ask about it when the moment is right. I have this Punk Rock Care Bear shirt, for example, that my now former crush asked about. It was a complete conversation lengthener. Unfortunately he left the day after and after 2 or 3 months of me dropping the ball every chance I had, I could no longer even attempt to flirt.
3. It keeps me in constant amusement. As a result of other stunts like these, I have had multiple people tell me that its like I'm in on some joke that only I know. In my experience it either intrigues people or scares them away. The ones it has intrigued have come to be some of my closest friends.

Truthfully the art of T-shirt buying is fairly simple, if you like it, just feel comfortable wearing it.

*side note, I spilt coffee on my writing this morning and just watched the ink slowly bleed as the coffee soaked into the paper. Coffee stains on paper are a reminder that imperfection and fallibility are beautiful.*

Just a Thought

I wonder if the unintentional lengthening of my posts is preventing people from reading and or posting responses to my writing.

Singin in the Rain and Sunday Afternoons

An unusual occurrence for me, I wake up at 12:30pm on Saturday afternoon. It would seem more outlandish if I hadn’t gone to bed in the first place at 6am. The where, why and how of that is completely irrelevant, just know that it was a fun night that did not result in me being hung over, just very tired. I start to leisurely get up, and then I realize I have a package to pick up from the post office. So much for my leisurely Saturday.

I throw on jeans and a tee shirt. As I just have a 40 minute walk to the post office and a 40 minute walk back, I see no point in actually putting in the effort right now. The weather has been absurdly inconsistent recently and I find I have to prepare myself for anything. I leave and there is no rain, 5 minutes down the road it starts, and 10 minutes later its pouring. Thank God for planning ahead, and as my father always says: prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance. Or, in my case it prevents being soaked to the bone.

Despite the rain it was a nice walk, rather because of the rain it was a nice walk. I don’t mind walking in the rain, there is something oddly soothing about rainy days. Yes, I might be that kid who stomps in puddles every chance she can, from time to time still tries to soak her jeans to her knees through splashing. Rain after all is just weather, you can have just as much fun in the rain as you can in the sun. Part of this odd optimism about the rain is a result of the perpetual rain cloud we have been stuck under for the past couple weeks. Part is a general affinity for the rain.

I continue my walk; its funny watching all the people either surrendering to the rain or trying their hardest to fight it. My only fear in the rain is that I will have a Bridget Jones moment, you know the time where a car or bus cuts into a huge puddle as its turning and you get caught in the splash. That was not going to happen today, I was too carefree. If its going to happen, its going to be a big to do.

I pass a cute little coffee shop I might have to stop in on my way back, depending on the weather. It’s a bit curious how my mail gets routed through the post office in my area that is a 40 minute walk from my house, and not somewhere slightly closer. This thought is really not worth my time or energy, so I let it just drift away. What is almost more perplexing is how I don’t see a single person for the last 10 minutes of my walk. For a minute it seems as if I’m back on the desolate streets of Detroit.

Before I have more time to put into that thought, I arrive at my destination and find a line of people waiting for the exact same thing as me. Clearly I am not the only person unable to receive packages at home, I am only fortunate the package was USPS and not Fed Ex or UPS. This package my mother sent me has better have been worth the wait, and I need to get an apartment with a doorbell.

I get my package and set out again, though I feel like a slight idiot because according to the package slip I could have had the package redelivered and left at my place. The rain has ceased slightly, but doesn’t make it any easier to carry a package, and umbrella and a purse. Just as I reach the cute little cafe the rain picks up again and I take that as a sign to go inside. I order a coffee and a sandwich to tide me over as I wait for the down pour to subside.

This seems as good a moment as any to open the mysterious package. Inside I find 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies, 8 melted Cadbury eggs and season 2 of the show Get Smart. You know what I was most excited for? Get Smart.

I really don’t know why my mother thinks I need 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies (I appreciate the gesture and will probably share the wealth as I do not need 6 boxes of girl scout cookies). Get Smart however, one of the earlier loves of my life and I still can’t get enough of it. Had I a computer with me, I would have started watching.

As soon as the rain dies down a little, I set off home. I am eager to get home and clean my room as I can put in Get Smart whilst I do so. As we all know though, I have a short attention span and on my way home I am easily distracted by a shoe store. For the record though I have tried 8 different of these shoe stores to find my dream pair of Paten leather heels and they never have them in my size. They did! I bought them. Now I can successfully head home. What an afternoon to brighten up an otherwise dreary Saturday.

I get home and plan my adventure brunch adventure in Park Slope for the next day with LL.

The brunch adventure was something else entirely. I met up with Lauren at 11:15 (I was running late), and from Union Square we hopped on a train to Park Slope where we were going to try a new place for brunch. Of course with all the train dilemma's because of weekend construction, our train got stuck on the Manhattan Bridge. Go figure. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. Fifteen minutes for them to play while we all waited. It was all good, because we were in no rush.

When we got there we walked from the train to our new little spot. Don't ask me the name, I have already forgotten it, but it was really cute and organic and unlimited drinks with our meal. I seriously think that may have been the best brunch I have had in a while.

Post brunch LL and I wandered the street fair that ran the course of 7th ave. Fantastic little stretch and I we both decided park slope was too cute for its own good. Perhaps its a place to just pick up and run away to, like OZ or Neverland or Wonderland... tho those characters didn't really run to those places. In any case, Park Slope is cute enough to consider a move... at some point.

Down in the Underground, a Land Serene, a Crystal Moon

This was a few weeks ago now, but when my friend told me about her friend's underground art show, I couldn't turn it down. First of all, when I say underground, I mean underground. The art show was to be held in the abandoned subway tunnel in Brooklyn. How on earth could I imagine turning down an opportunity to spend a Saturday afternoon underground in an old subway tunnel.

The day started of slowly. Emily and I had gone to a friends party and then to get food. We were out until like 3 or 4; we were a little tired. I arranged to meet her around 1pm which should give us plenty of time to get there, see the show and play underground. Our plans never go that way though.

I get there at 1pm and of course we sit around for an hour, watching house I believe. We finally leisurely leave, stop for a breakfast sandwich on the way out and then hop on the F Train to Brooklyn. The only problem was that the F train wasn't running that weekend. We mistakenly hopped on to the A train that happened to be running on the F line, and didn't realize it until we were in Brooklyn and it was too late to turn back.

We hop off at a station where we can hopefully just swap back to the Manhattan bound tracks, because the A train was taking us away from where we really needed to go. This plan would have worked if the A train in Brooklyn was being screwy as well. Really, I don't see why they have to completely screw with the train lines when they want to do construction. People are going to get confused when the A train is running on the F line, the 4 train on the 2 3 line, the N on the B line and the F train not even running. I might be exaggerating some, but there are often times multiple weekend changes, that don't make sense and don't remain consistent from weekend to weekend. How are we supposed to keep anything straight?

So anyways, Em and I end up hopping off there and walking up 3 blocks to a street I know has a G stop a few blocks up. Providing the G line is running properly all will be well because the G and the F share a line after a certain point.

The whole train adventure took about an hour and a half, so we were arriving at the show at 4pm. At least we made it with an hour to go. Now it was just a matter of finding the place. We were told to meet outside the Trader Joes. My guess it would be that line in the middle of the street waiting to go down through a manhole cover.

How cool is that? We climbed down a man hole cover to get into the art show. While we were standing in line, I asked Emily which ninja turtle she wanted to be. She said Donatello, I said Michelangelo.

We enter and make our way through the tunnel, following the light. It was advised we bring a flashlight, we forgot ours. Alas. Surprisingly I am much more adept at walking in the dark underground than I am in daylight were I can see everything clearly. I felt like I was about to enter some alternate underground world, like in Labyrinth or Neverware or Wonderland. What magic and mystery was about us? Everyone was carefree, eclectic, underworldly and quite tipsy already.

The show itself was wicked awesome. The paintings were all based around the idea of rats. Being in the underground, I think that's a pretty clever theme. We peruse a bit, drink wine, and chat with fellow spectators. The scene is interesting and Em and I can't help but chat with others who were attracted to such an event.

Eventually the show draws to a close, and then we leave. Climb back through the man hole, and back to the real world. I suppose this is a better end than most of the alternate underground worlds, you don't often have the choice to leave as we did. Maybe though, just maybe this leaves room for more adventure.

I am repeatedly amused by the guy in the subway who plays Beatles songs in the subway between 6th and 7th avenues. He is so enthusiastic and showy that it makes me smile every time I hear him play.

Cigars and Circus People

On my way back from set yesterday I happened to sit down next to two young travelers. As soon as I sit down they say hi and ask if I'm from Boston. I promptly say no. They further ask why then I am wearing a Boston cap. I explain I am a Sox fan and that they are playing the Yankees tonight. They were quite interesting kids, but I can't imagine they were more that 17 years old. It frightens me that they are out traveling on their own like that, but at the same time It's a unique adventure.

The two proceed to tell me that they were in Cuba on a Church Mission trip, I was hard pressed to believe them until they mentioned they were kicked off because they smoked a cigarette (my guess is that it was actually pot). Huh, well that explains everything.

Prior to my getting on the train, they had been talking to a couple Turkish tourists. The tourists seemed quite relieved when they stopped bothering them and started talking to me. The thing with me is I think its fun to talk to everyone, and yet I can't talk to my crush.

Anyways Mike and Doug, for lack of their actual names, had spent the day at the airport selling cheep Cuban cigars and cigarettes to travelers after they missed two potential flights back to Chicago. Doug even sold his little IPOD nano, that he smugly told me he got for free so it didn't really matter. They were then on their way to a friend's in Jersey to spend the night with before they tried to fly out again the next day.

They talked a lot of crap, asking me questions, talking about menial things. Both confuddled that I don't watch that much TV, that my normal work day is 12 hours, that I still live with roommates though I'm 25 (well almost), that I can live on next to nothing if I needed to, that I lived in Detroit. Yet, when I asked them about what they were doing in Cuba, they said working at an orphanage with the kids was fun... but having done work like that fun can hardly describe the work.

Mike and Doug seemed the typical, sheltered, suburban teens. They think the world is theirs, which it is to a point but they are too naive to appreciate what the world truly is or can offer. The rich brats that can't really yet see beyond their parents bank account. I know, I was there once. I completely spoiled my trips to Korea when my dad was stationed there because my world didn't and couldn't at the time extend beyond Virginia Beach and my circle of friends. I honestly think it took until my sophomore year of college until it all began to click for me.

We all go through these stages of naivety, some longer than others and some have to realize what the world is far to quickly. It doesn't make us any more or less of a person, it just ties into how we see the world. I mean, don't let my younger brother hear this, but I honestly think he is still in that little bubble and will be for a while.

I think I talked to these kids so long because I was there, I knew what it was like to be so consumed by my own life and my own thoughts of how things worked as I was growing up that I can't see beyond the foolish thoughts I once held. All you can do is watch, laugh, talk, share and hope that one day everything falls into place for them.

Thoughts for the Road

Quite the quintessential new york writer scenario at the moment. Prior to work I get up early, go get coffee and write until I have to leave to get to work on time. Its raining outside and I position myself in a table far enough away from the door that I don't get the draft from the rainy dreary day outside, but close enough that I can still watch the passers by as look up from my computer. The dreary weather the past couple weeks has made my writers mentality something like that of the main character in Wonder Boys: uninspired and clouded. Its not that I don't want to write but either too many thoughts are swarming my head or not enough, so I sit patiently and write whatever happens to come from my finger tips.

I hope you enjoyed this little excerpt from my head, these are the types of thoughts that my friends often find me vocalizing at work. They are, however, less detailed and even more random. In my office I have become known for speaking in non sequiturs, all the time. I have considered writing down all the man y random thoughts that run through my head each day and blogging about each one; but to tell you the truth, you don't really want to read half of them. By random I mean that to the onlooker my thoughts are unprovoked and with out any pattern or reason. Truthfully they aren't as random as my friends may think and then I have to explain myself.

• For example: the other day I randomly say I don't know why I even bother wearing a watch most days. My friends look at me and one says something to the effect of see maura, this is what I mean when I say the most random things come from your mouth. I then have to swear that it wasn't as random as it may seem and that it was provoked by the fact that 5 minutes prior I had deliberately taken my watch off my wrist, then just then I wondered what time it was so I look at my wrist only to find that my watch was not there. They look at me unconvinced. I lose my battle.

So, maybe my thoughts are a little random. So maybe when people ask questions I answer in non sequiturs. I am an extroverted person; if there are people around I, with out meaning to, share my thoughts. Not all of them of course, but quite a few. The funny thing about this is that the occasional day that passes where thoughts just stay in my head, my friends all ask me what wrong. I'm not positive what they mean and slowly I realize that I have become that person, its my thing and they love me for it. As long as my thoughts aren't too random, I am sure they will continue to love me for it.

I suppose I am like a child in that sense: saying whatever may come to mind and questioning all that I can question, not for any other reason than to better understand the world around me. Quite often I am so lost in thought that I can't vocalize remarks as they come to me, well part of that is a slight bout of shyness. For the past week I have been meaning to ask this guy at work what he sings when he sings to himself, but when I find myself in that moment when I catch him I never actually remember or think to do so. The one day I do remember, my boss has to call me, I answer "what'd I do?" He laughs

For that matter one of my friends is frustrated with the fact that I can tell adventures in every little detail, but when I have a conversation with someone I can't recall all we talked about. I always remember eventually, just not not right away. Some people think that I don't actually listen to people when I talk, and some would believe I don't process information until after I say it where most process it before. Its like I have to process it, or give it time to click in my head to be able to recall, or like something about the conversation really strikes me as interesting and so I focus on that and am unable to recall much else. Not really sure how my mind works, almost 25 years living with it and yet I am still amused that one of my first memories is of watching shooting stars in the parking lot of my brothers high school when I was 3 years old.

My roommate says that all of us, to some extent need shrinks. I disagree, I think everyone just needs an outlet. An outlet for their thought, feelings and anything they need to get out. Shrinks are kind of just there to help you better understand why you are thinking, feeling and acting the way you do. Why do we need to understand? Maybe its not so much that we need to understand where or why or how these things work, maybe its that we are who we are, each as unique and different as our individual finger tips. As humans I am sure we have some innate desire to understand fully the way everything works in the world around us. I do, to a point. I want to understand everything in terms of how I see things first and then how the world sees them, but that doesn't mean I think there is an answer to everything. I think it is foolish to think that such a thing is possible. If we focus too much on the wheres, the why's and hows we start to miss out on the right now.

Who Do They Think They Are?

So I’m going for my usual run along the Westside highway. I decided to head down town so I could run along the water as the sun was setting. With the Marathon only 3 months away, I am pushing myself harder and harder in my training.

The remains of last week’s allergy problems linger so I can only push myself so much. I run for a mile, push myself for five more minutes and allow myself to walk a little. Allowing myself to get lost in my music, I hardly notice the world around.

A young man stops me, he is foreign, asks me to take a picture of him. At first I thought he was asking for directions, and I, being the good Samaritan I am, stop to see what I can do to help. I realize he wants me to take a picture and I agree. One picture won’t kill my run, I am in walk lap anyways.

He poses, I take the picture. He says it didn’t go off and to take another. Again we go, He says again that I’m not doing it right. I roll my eyes, I know how to use a camera. His flash setting was on automatic and it was too bright to really use. Its not my fault his dark complexion turns him into a mere silhouette in the photo.

Finally he is satisfied with his picture and I can get back to my breathing exercises while am on walk mode. But no, the audacious male tries to chat me up. “You have beautiful eyes, do you live in the area?”

I didn’t hang around to see where the conversation could have gone, I politely said I’m glad I could help but I have to get back to my run. Instead of walking, I ran for another mile. Probably more as I am pretty sure my pace quickened.

Why is it that I always seem to get these guys that try to hit on me at odd times, and in odd places? Its one thing to randomly meet people in unexpected situations, but stopping someone in the middle of their work out to take a picture? Interrupting someone while they are reading in a coffee shop? Disturbing focus in writing? Holding someone up when they are on their way somewhere? (Yes, all of these situations have happened to me)

Some would say I am closed off. Really I am not. I am all for the random meetings, but if your’e actually paying attention to me you would be able to read my signals. If I have time, am intrigued, am interested, or just struck by you I will keep the conversation going. I will not be abrupt my responses. I will not ignore you. I will not make up some false story as to why I can’t go out with you right then. No matter who you are, if I am not interested, telling me I’m beautiful 10 times in the first 5 minutes we talk will get you no where.

In these situations, sadly, its 10 times easier to give the guy a false number (or real number if he insists on calling right then so I have his, then labeling it as DO NOT ANSWER). And no guys, if you are actually fortunate enough to have weaseled my real number out of me, calling me on 3 different numbers to make sure I answer at least one of them will not make you look any cooler in my eyes.

I often wonder where these guys get their nerve. Not that it’s a bad thing to talk to people randomly, but it’s always the same type of guy. Same with the random guys that decide to cat call or comment on the street. I appreciate your appreciation in the female aesthetic, but really, what do you think it will accomplish? I don’t know about other girls, but the way it is carried out most the time makes me feel uncomfortable and I want to wrap what ever piece of clothing around me and close myself off. I’m not sure what that says about me, but there you go.

For me, its odd having strange guys I had a 5minute conversation call me incessantly starting the night we meet. Not cool. Like I said, I am all for meeting new people. Just take it down an notch or 12.

Home is Where the...

I have tried to make it a weekly routine to pick one or two mornings out of the week, get out early to sit and write in one of my neighborhood coffee shops. My favorite is variety as they are open as of 7am, generally. This morning they happened to still be closed, and that made me sad. How hard is it to find a suitable coffee shop that consistently opens at 7am so that I, on my way to my way to work, can stop and write for a while? Apparently its harder than I thought because up until 10 months ago there wasn’t even a coffee shop in my neighborhood in Brooklyn that fell into this category.

This is just one stipulation I am going to have to place on my new and theoretical neighborhood to which I plan to move. Its odd, for me at least, to really put so much time into the idea of moving. Until now, moving had been a yearly thing for me, the Navy brat at heart with a bit of a nomadic nature. Since I graduated high school, I have not lived in the same place for two years running and it has always suited me just fine.

Unlike many of my friends in the city, I moved to the city and settled. Me, Maura Trail, settling? How is that possible when I am the girl that can’t sit still for 10 minutes, let alone two years? I suppose in a way its just easier. For two years it has been nice, comforting that there is at least one constant in my life. When friends, family, work, relationships, interests and activities are so sporadic, I guess somewhere in my head it made sense to settle myself in one way.

I must have become too use to the inconsistency in my life, because I am now beginning to get that itch to move around. I don’t so much want to change cities, I love it here and no matter how long I stay there is always something new to see, some new adventure to be had.

No, what I want is a change of scenery, a change of pace. I need a new environment, quite possibly in a new neighborhood, with new roommates. For the past three years I have been fine with roommates that were just over the friend line, but I miss the camaraderie my roommates and I shared in College. Is it to much to ask to actually want to live with the people you are living with? Not really, but New York makes it difficult when my friends and I all start leases at different times.

As I start thinking about it, what better time to try and move though. Right now it’s a buyer’s/renters market. If there were ever a time for me to try to move to Manhattan, now would be it. If there were ever a time to find a really, nice bargain of a place in Brooklyn, now would be it. With the epicenter of the city spreading outward, Brooklyn is becoming the new Manhattan, and it’s the only place in the city I have ever lived.

Do I want the option of living alone? Hell no. I am a social creature, I want roommates. I want to be able to have the option of being social or not being social. Where as when I live alone, I don’t necessarily have that option.

I am a nomadic creature, I have an innate desire to move around. No, before you ask, I know many of you might think I'm running from something. Really, I'm not. I merely have a desire to do as much as I can before I settle down. I know I am going to settle, I know I am going to eventually stay put. I feel like that's something I've always known.

So, what’s it going to be? Will I move in with friends, or will I play the random game from craig’slist? Will I move to Manhattan or Brooklyn? No matter what happens, no matter where I end up moving, I want where I live to have character, like it has some story to tell. When I was planning on moving back to London (which I am still), I said I wanted to live in the east end. Though it’s a little run down, it has character and I have never been more awestruck by a neighborhood than I was then.

Tune in more for updates on the wonderful adventures of Maura in looking for new places in New York. No matter what happens from here out, I know it will be an interesting investigation into the available places in the city.

Written in the Stars

Do you ever wonder where you might be if you chose a different path? If the tiniest detail in your existence were changed? Would you still be where you are today? Or, would those changes be enough to throw the world we know into a black hole and result in some alternate existence? Are we fated to still accomplish the same things in life no matter our history?

I began pondering this idea again after seeing the new Star Trek movie, truthfully though its a constant thought in my head. The movie proposes, much like the Butterfly Effect, that changing something in the past can spin the the rest of existence into an alternate reality. Can that alternate reality actually exist? Will one change really cause that much of a disturbance in the fabric of time? Will it completely change our fate?

What if it doesn't actually change anything but the minor details? I have always been a firm believer in the idea of fate and free will working together. I think that though we may have certain destinies we need to fulfill, the way in which we reach that destiny is entirely up to us. Star Trek puts forth a similar happenstance, though the pasts of the characters were eternally altered, they still ultimately achieved their destiny. Similarly in the Butterfly Effect, the main character ultimately determined that the only way everyone else would be able to achieve their personal destinies was if he did not exist.

I may not be making myself clear, and certain friends might be able to pick their way through my theories, but what if all the choices we make are ultimately leading us to our destiny. This would eliminate some aspects of free will, rather our destiny is set where our path is not. We live in a world where many paths lay before us. Perhaps in the way that in ancient times all roads led to Rome, perhaps all the choices we make will ultimately lead us to where we need to be. Perhaps the circumstances and obstacles placed in our way are a result of previous choices made, and exist to help us in some way reach out goal.

It's not taking away free will per se, its just saying that we all have some innate and unconscious destiny we are working to reach. If we are unconsciously working toward something, how do we know if we have free will? If we are choosing to do things, based on some innate desire we have to achieve this unconscious destiny, is it really the lack of free will when we still have all the same choices available to us?

To throw out a curve ball as I close: If our personality is innate, and we make choices by what comes natural to us, and we are innately working towards some destiny, how do we then define free will?

Two months ago was the last time I ate meat. Seriously. It started unconsciously, I wanted to get into shape and was thus eating more tofu and alternative forms of protein. Two weeks into it I realized what was happening and decided to see how long I could last. I decided to consciously weed meat out of my diet, fish not included.

Now two months in, I feel great. I have never before felt lighter and more energized. My body is no longer bogged down by the heaviness I often felt when meat was a regular part of my diet. In turn I have also tried to weed out unnecessary calories like excessive bread, too many sweets, etc. My new regime is not to try and lose weight. I am 5'1", 125lbs (last I weighed myself). I have no health need to lose weight, so I'm not trying to. I am not denying my body of these options, if I find myself craving something I have tried to weed out, I indulge a little. If I'm craving it, there is apparently something in my diet that is lacking. When I walk to the kitchen at work, I often choose a piece of fruit to accompany my mid-morning cookie, sometimes I only choose fruit.

To anyone who knows me, this is a stretch of the imagination. What happened to the Maura who loved her burgers and fries, who couldn't say no to a cookie or piece of cake, who could sit and eat a sleeve of girl scout cookies in one sitting, who used to indulge in a soda from time to time, who loved her pasta dishes?

Believe me she is still here. I still love all these things, but not in the way I used to. If i ate pasta every day, I'd be very sleepy. If I ate more than one or two cookies a day, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. If I eat food that's too greasy, my body wants to rebel. Me who has never objected to a good burger place, only yesterday opted against 5 Guys for a healthier sandwich place.

The one thing that dabbling in vegetarianism has done for me is made me very aware of the foods I put into my body. Yes, I still love french fries, sweets and all those other foods that are terrible for us. The thing is, I have to be very sure that by taking one thing out of my diet, I compensate for those nutrients in other ways. As I am running and working out almost every day, I need to make sure my body is capable of doing so.

For the first time ever, my body and I are on a great streak for communication. It tells me what it needs (more sleep, more iron, more water, less of anything etc...) and I make sure it gets it. In return, it makes sure I am capable of pulling the hours I know I can pull. When I am at my best, I wake up at 5am, do yoga, shower, leave the apt, write for an hour, go to work, get off after a 12hr shift, run for an hour, go home, journal, sleep and repeat. Insert social time, movies and TV when necessary.

How do I do it all? I donno, sheer determination I guess. It just goes to show you that even when you have hours as long as I have at work, if you want it enough you have all the time in the world.

As for my new lifestyle choice as a vegetarian, do I think it will stick? For a while yes, I think it will stick. There will come a day down the road where I will break down for a really nice steak or burger (and it will be nothing shy of the best). Until then though I am going to continue this regime for me, if for nothing else than to do something really good for my body for once.

Since January 1st of this year, I have been making a lot of life style choices that involve me committing to a certain routine, a new way of life. All is for the better, but I am committing myself to living in a way I never dreamed possible. It could all be temporary, but I am determined to get the most out of my time here, as much as I can out of every day. I am determined to try new things, broaden my horizons and allow myself to be forever changed by it.

When I say I am vegetarian, I am not closing myself off to eating meat ever again; I am opening my mind to a new way of living, eating and taking care of myself. These decisions help me take an active role in living a healthier, fuller life in the midst of a society that often doesn't have the time to think in such terms.

Passed Down Through Words

So maybe I'm not the best storyteller. My friends say I put in way too much detail, and where they heart me for it there are always details I could easily leave out. They often say to me "get to the point," long before I am actually done. Why do I continue to do so when I know my friends stop listening half way through?

Partially, and I won't lie, I like listening to my self speak. Alternatively, the details are what's important to me. The end of the story really doesn't matter. If they did, my weekend stories would often play out something like this:

• Friday I met up with some friends for drinks, we went to one of my friends parties, grabbed a late night snack and went home.
• Saturday I woke up, ran, did some errands, met up with a friend to go to an art show and hung out the rest of the day.
• Sunday I woke up, ran, dabbled around my room until it was late enough to call my friends, went to a movie, and hung out.

So, that might be a little extreme in my description, but at the same time when you leave detail out it reduces any adventure to mere structure. Its not the skin and bones that really interests me, its the journey of how I got from point A to point B, and stopping at Q, Z, H, P and M on the way. In many ways, no its not logical, and it sometimes prevents me from getting straight to the point when I actually need to.

When it comes down to it, I don't care that I went from my personal errands to an art show. I care about the minor adventure we had getting lost on the subway on the way there. I don't care that I went to a movie. I care that my friend and I missed the showing we wanted to see, bought tickets for the later show and then went to Virgin Mega Store where I bought a funny teeshirt.

Crazy, yes. The in between details are what makes the journey interesting. So many things happen to me unexpectedly that I tend to focus and attach myself to those moments rather than the things I had planned to do. So the main point of my day may have been to go to the movies, but I can do that every day. I like focusing on the parts of my adventures that make my day unique.

Though we might get into the same old routine, its the way you look at life that makes it interesting. I never just "wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep." If I did, my life would be hella boring. Instead my day might go "wake up, do yoga, shower, choose my daily costume, write for an hour before work, go to work, flirt with cute boys in the office, joke with my coworkers, take lunch orders from hell, grab my afternoon cup of coffee, be shocked by my Boss's occasional random and hysterical comments, go for an evening run, push myself too hard, take a walk to the subway station I usually transfer at, read on the train on the way home, get home, talk to roomies, journal, watch tv and go to bed."

No one actually cares about everything I did there, but what's more interesting? Mine or the skin and bones? Not to be full of myself, but mine.

Life itself, if we just go through the motions is reduced to skin and bones. We start to forget how to look for the more interesting parts, to look for the little things that will make us fall in love with our world every single day. Part of the problem is that we live in a very formulaic, product driven world. We want results and often over look the steps it took to get there. We pretend like we really understand how we got that result, and everything turns into something less that what it could be. If it doesn't produce results, we don't care and we move on with out giving second thought to what went wrong. Perhaps I think too much.

Maybe that's this world's problem. We get stuck in a routine, life starts to bog us down, everything becomes mediocre, and then we end up settling on something less than our own desires because that is all we know anymore.

Is this any way to live?

It is, perhaps, time for us to stop getting to the point and adding a little detail back in to our stories.