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.