a New Year's night, part 1

On my first ever - to my recollection - New Year's Eve alone, I take a first sip of the one treat I have given myself. Sharp, with the softest hint of sweetness, its warmth sizzles in my lips and tongue for long, delicious seconds. For months I have been awaiting my next chance to taste this spirit, all the while singing its praises to any friend who will listen, and now, it is just as special as I had remembered.

I think of my past New Year's Eves: many were spent with my family in the living room of our house, watching Dick Clark's traditional show, and laughing when we found out how old the champagne my dad dug out of the cabinet was that year. Then we lounged on the couches, catching up on popular music for the next hour and a half or so, until we all got tired enough to go to sleep - perhaps each with our own musings about how we'd make this year different and better.

From the next apartment over come many sounds of celebration. I receive periodic updates by text message from my boyfriend about the party at which I had intended to join him, until I had realized how completely exhausted I was at the end of the day. Now after the little webcast of the ball dropping in New York City is over, I sit, feeling very quiet. Feeling like I'm waiting, but not quite sure for what.

I take this moment as a time to let the thoughts really come to me, about not only 2012, but where I am, and who I am.

I think of my parents. I have become very much more appreciative of them in the months of late. How blessed I am to have their pure, joyful, total love. Of course, this meant so very much as I was growing up, but even now, when I am living many miles away, they are always, always there for me. They still want to do anything they can to help take care of me.

I think of the crazy experience of making decisions to change not only my job, but practically my whole life by moving to DC. I remember the fears that made me take action. I remember the moments of panic. I remember not knowing what would come next, the sense of following a path of opportunities unknown and changing every single day, the excitement and allure of big new Life Things. I remember the people who helped me along the way; those I didn't know, and the friends that I did, who held me in hugs, listened to my fears and wonders, gave me advice and encouragement.

Deciding to avoid the conclusion that being alone tonight is a sign that my life is lonely, I think of those who love me. My family. They surrounded me with love, whether intentional or not at any particular moment, for a whole week just past. Having that environment to return to is so beautiful. My dear friends and the dance community... those who welcome me with warm hugs, who tell me "you have to come back to Philly!", who invite me to events, who share moments, and passions, laughter, and life.


I think, as well, of my own imperfections. I know that I've long needed to patch myself up in terms of some pretty basic elements of life. Much of it comes down to some common threads: taking care of myself, and just getting things done. Though I have some deeply set habits that oppose these goals, I can feel it that if I work on them, I will truly make myself happier, more comfortable, less stressed. So what can I do? I figure I'll work on tactics for putting things into motion; or even throw plans to the wind and just start doing little things towards making bigger changes.

Here's to it all!

On: a productive Sunday

Today was, most likely, the most productive single day I've had in months.  I managed to wake up around 11:30am -- impressing myself both by waking up to the single alarm I had set for that time, and because I had been up til nearly 4am after a wonderful late night out for salsa and bachata.  Thus, in the still-early afternoon, I ventured out to the nearest mall containing a JC Penney and had a surprisingly successful bra shopping experience.  Upon getting back home, I cooked and ate dinner, then started in on laundry, including long-overdue bed sheets.  While the sheets were in the dryer and a load of clothes in the washer, I went out and got my grocery shopping done, which was also overdue.  After once again returning home, I retrieved and folded up the bed sheets and moved the other load to the dryer, then later retrieved that one as well.

I have long internally chastised myself to a degree for the many weekend days during which I accomplish little if anything of use.  Not that I believe every weekend should be as packed with chores and errands as today turned out to be, but I have often found myself thinking I would feel more satisfied if I had gotten something done during the day.  And then if I had, I would consequently feel that I had better "earned" some sort of lazy or fun activity that evening.

So at the end of this day, I pulled some ice cream out of the freezer and watched half of a favorite romantic comedy on Netflix.  This was delicious and enjoyable (respectively) for sure, yet... I realized I didn't feel as contentedly satisfied as I had hoped.  Yes, I am definitely proud of myself for all the necessary things I crossed off the to-do list today.  I certainly think I earned movie time tonight, too.  But, sadly, I still feel an emptiness from my day.  I realized that over the whole day, I had only spoken a few words to the cashier at the mall and a fellow shopper at Safeway.  And as busy as I was, a bit of loneliness still crept up on me.

I'm not sure if it's a flaw -- to not be able to spend a day doing things on my own without feeling at least a little lonely.  I know I can mostly hide it from myself with some distraction or other (most likely the boundless lands of Facebook, and Netflix, and catching up on email...).  But I can feel myself quietly longing for companionship; for the mood lift that comes from interacting with a good friend; for the comfort, care, and peace that (I imagine and so hope) comes from having someone to come home to at night.

music fixing me

The Sunday evening is waning in concert with its sunshine, and I'm left in my usual slightly incomprehensible mood.  The walk home is short and the scenery distraction enough that I needn't really trouble myself with figuring out any thoughts -- or having much of them at all, really -- and once I get home, the perfect distraction is a quirky Jane Austen love story encapsulated in a two-hour movie.

The two hours end and I'm left with the warm fuzzy feeling for which I'd hoped.  Time in the real world keeps on going, though; it's now 9pm and I haven't had any real sort of dinner.  Orchestral music and proper English conversation are still in my head from the movie; while these are lovely, they're something of a fantasy world, and I need something to bring me back to the routine.

Pandora is the best bet, I figure.  I fire it up to see what my eclectic little indie rock/dance station can throw at me, then walk barefoot to the kitchen.  As I make a sandwich, I get lucky.  Whatever song has started playing first is the perfect movie soundtrack song for my life at the moment.  The words don't matter because the mood is right.  And I can take a moment of the bittersweet, and I can smile, and I sit down with the window wide open to the cool night air and eat and drink water.

And I can make jokes, and say "I miss you" with a smile, because missing someone means you know it felt good to be with them, and I can reach out because I'm lucky enough to have good friends.  And then I can dance in my chair because the next song is that good.

And I'm on my way -- not without looking back, but with living it all.

Notes from the first milonga of my life

When I was taking the beginner Argentine tango series with Lori and Sam at Sangha Space, they talked about how great the monthly Tango Hop dance is so much that I had to try it.  My schedule finally allowed it this weekend, so I took the train out to Media in time for the intro lesson.  (Figured it's been a month or longer since I finished the lesson series, so I may as well remind myself what was going on.)  At the end of the lesson they tipped us on how a milonga is structured: a sequence of three songs of similar style is followed by a short non-tango clip (someone later mentioned that's the 'cortina') during which you lead your partner back off the floor; then repeat.  So it seems people usually dance the three songs in a row with one partner before switching.

I watched quite a lot, especially as more experienced dancers filtered in over the course of the night.  Many of those who looked like they know what they're doing were probably middle-aged (much more in line with the westie scene than the lindy/blues scene).  Over my first half hour or so of observation, I began to pick out a few who looked like the good leads I might want to dance with, to begin - theoretically - picking up more of this dance by following.  The beginner's fear/respect kept me from asking any myself, but oddly enough, three of them eventually came and asked me to dance.  Maybe I looked lonely sitting by myself sometimes...?

All of them were quite forgiving and even ran through moves that confused me a couple times or paused to show me how to follow something.  I'm sure I was lacking knowledge of many moves (most noticeable to myself being the flicks, I think) but as to actually following where leads were trying to move on the floor, I think I did pretty well.  Many thanks go to all my following practice from blues for this, I'm sure.  One of them did say I was doing well, which was a lovely compliment for me.  Of course I'm hoping I wasn't screwing up following in a way that somehow still fit into the flow - if I start picking up wrong technique, it'll be detrimental...

The music was mostly traditional but a few of the three-song sets (there must be a name for those) were not tango music at all, so this was basically fusion and of course that made me all happy.  A Melody Gardot song and that song Cyclone both made me want to do blues, naturally.  Others sounded like they could work for country two-step?  But I'm probably just ignorant.  Seeing people dancing to the fast tempos was pretty interesting.  I even survived a round of fast songs myself - a whirlwind ride around the floor; have to say the lead was excellent at weaving around everyone, haha.

I met a girl and a guy who I think both have been taking lessons through the Penn Tango club, as well as a guy who lives in Glenside, and I tried to explain to them all what blues dancing is.  Not that I'm ever able to give a simple yet satisfactory explanation or even demo it too well on my own.  They were all intrigued though which was fun (and sometimes I can't help myself telling how much I like it).

A hilarious surprise was seeing a guy I knew from my original salsa days at Take the Lead.  I had NO idea whatsoever that he also did tango, and then when we danced, he was awesome at it!  And he also managed to correct/teach me a number of things.  Love it.

I met another man, Tony, who started telling me about how he's danced tango for so many years, is totally addicted to it, how his style of leading is different and pulls from the follow's footwork, and what it's like when he goes to Buenos Aires to dance: spending five hours on end dancing, and the older ladies are the best follows.  After somewhat intimidating me with this seemingly nostalgic speech he offered to dance the next little set, and he was really incredible.  I have some doubts that I was doing the footwork all correctly, though...  Wish I could see what I looked like following.

People I wish I had danced with: Sam, Godwin (not only because he's experienced and he rotated through the lessons sometimes, but he once tested my following and said something like, "okay you know what you're doing"...hehe), the guy from Glenside, and Josh who I know from blues - although, I think despite how many times I've danced blues or at Jetlag with him, I'm kind of intimidated to try tango as he looks really experienced too!  Anyway: reasons to go back again.  Excited!

things I've learned while living in the real world

Life teaches.  And living on your own, I mean for real (not in college; that's kind of halfway there)*, is kind of a big unknown before you start doing it -- so there is a high concentration of lesson-learning in the beginning.  I realized this applies to general lessons, and to lessons about myself.  I was musing in the shower, so here are a few.


A shower curtain is pretty critical.  Plastic bags cut and tied together will NOT make a very good substitute.

A good friend with whom to laugh and take two-minute breaks at work does wonders on days that drag.  And on days that don't.

Paying for Starbucks drinks with your college dining plan dollars truly rocked.  Now, anything but a straight coffee is expensive.

Being able to leave work at work, and to not feel obligated every single night to be working on some kind of homework or project, is an undeniably AWESOME freedom.
    Follow-up: who says college is the best years of your life?

Showering at night is far less stressful than in the morning, when bus arrival deadlines loom.

Philly is an amazing city for loving good beer.

I like managing my own place to live... but sometimes, it does feel lonely.
     Addendum 1: No way do I want to live alone for my entire life.

Making friends with people who have cars comes in handy.  (I mean real friends, of course, who happen to be kind enough to give you rides.)

Utilities included in rent?  Seriously convenient.

Family is still there for you, loving, teaching, and supporting.  (* This is why I'm not 100% there.  It's still a process.)

The college sleep schedule, um, doesn't exactly work anymore.  It's a little more feasible, though still unhealthy, when you have classes at all different times of the day across the week, and you can show up and in many cases not have to be particularly productive (just hope that you don't fall asleep, if it comes to that).  For a 9-to-5 type of schedule?  Yeah, really not so smart.

It's sadly too easy to lose touch with college friends when everyone scatters geographically and begins busy lives somewhere else.

The (swing/blues) dance community is full of basically the best people ever.  (Westie is seeming pretty good so far too.)  I could go on about this. :)

Two ways to improve your commute:
     1. Move 20 blocks closer to the office.
     2. Take a bus route that operates right on schedule.  So much frustration relieved!

Becoming a local is fun.  The pizza shop guy knows my order every time I walk in.  Albeit small, it's a nice way to feel belonging.

24-hour CVS is the best kind.

Student loan repayments are - shall we say, a little painful?

One reason it's great to live in a city: you can get by, and even access many places fairly reasonably, without a car.  However, then you start discovering places and events a little out of reach without one.  See previous related point.

and that's pretty much how it is right now

Tory says (1:43 PM):
  i don't even want to have my own kids i think.
  :(
  i still have ZERO desire to do that
Friend says (1:44 PM):
  you'll see
  give it 10 years
Tory says (1:44 PM):
  you aren't 10 years older than me
  and what
  who says i won't still be out dancing all the time
Tory says (1:45 PM):
  and drinking beer
  you can't drink when you're pregnant
Friend says (1:45 PM):
  hey, don't you get mad at me!
Tory says (1:46 PM):
  i'm nto
  just putting some logic out there
Friend says (1:46 PM):
  well, you never know
Friend says (1:47 PM):
  but accept that your maternity desires might, just might, naturally arise
  ;)
Tory says (1:47 PM):
  ffff

a new kind of freedom

It's 9:17pm on a Monday night.  In all normal Monday paths in my life these days, I would be, in the next ten minutes or so, getting dressed and ready to head to Powerhouse Blues.  Blues dancing is among the most-loved activities in my life now, and I don't miss the Monday dance for anything but a few very special exceptions.  In fact I am listening to a particularly delicious blues song at this very moment - John Hammond's version of Same Thing - and starting to half-regret the decision...

Today my good friend at work reminded me that we have not gone out for a beer and a nice talk for quite awhile.  We almost waited til tomorrow, but at the last moment decided to hang out today.  We went to a bar I've passed many times on the bus and recently saw claiming to have 20 craft beers on draft.  We had a wonderful, in depth, and honest talk about some shared threads in our lives.  I am happy to have such friends.

So I made it home at 8-something in the evening and realized, man, I am tired.  And hungry.  I am so lucky as to have leftovers to eat this week, the results of my parents' visit and cooking with my mother (a well-versed experienced cook) over this past weekend.  So I microwaved a plate and it was utterly delicious.

While tired, I had been intending on heading to blues at 9:30 as usual.  Then I remembered this week is the once-monthly house party dance held two bus rides away from where I live.  Now, I know I am incredibly spoiled to have merely a 30-second walk to the regular weekly venue.  I am not saying I'm complaining about the change of location.  I merely had - for once - a simple realization and resulting decision: I'm feeling tired, in the mood for relaxing indoors, not for going back out a half hour from when I walked in the front door.  I realized that I don't have to bind myself to a weekly schedule just because the event opportunity is there and because I love it so much.  I realized I can listen to my gut feeling and take a night off, and while I'm lamenting a little bit that I'll now probably go two weeks in between blues dancing (such a painfully long time to wait!), I am okay with this for right now, and I think it will be good for me.

What do you know!  Life is changeable.

somedays

Someday, I will figure out a way to make my home feel a little bit like Barnes & Noble.  There is something about its atmosphere, its vibe, that calms me every time I walk in.  And I meander through endless passages, through more storytelling and knowledge that I could ever absorb, and finally bury myself in a corner to spend a half hour with whatever printed word has caught my mind.

Someday, I will have a car, so I need only depend on myself to drive to places I want to go, and events I want to attend, and to visit who I want to spend time with.  And I'll give people rides, because I know how grateful I am every time someone makes me life easier by giving me a ride now.

Someday, if I'm still living in the city, I will have a cat, because of the way my friend's cat - and seeing how he loves this cat - has forever endeared me to the species.  The kittens in the window in the shop next to my building entrance might have something to do with it too.  Or maybe I'll have a dog, a small one that I might be able to get away with having in an apartment, because of the way I smile every time I see my coworker's tiny white dog.

Someday, I'll take a SEPTA bus adventure.  I'll try all those north/south routes I've never taken, and at least observe if not walk around all the areas of which I'm rather unaware.  I so like to call this city my own, and it is wider than what my experience encompasses.

Someday, I will write a novel.  Despite my vast ability to be unmotivated to make progress on any of the personal projects I have in my head, somehow it will come together.  I will get over the times I can't string together the words to make a single satisfying sentence, to reach the times when it flows like this is what I was meant to do with my life.  I'll hole up in local cafes; the employees will know all the drinks and pastries that I typically order; I'll wear baggy sweatpants and nerdy t-shirts all the time; sunlight will stream in as the hours are whiled in narration, sometimes with a musical background because I can't take silence for too long.  And then I'll hope against hope that someone else in the world thinks the result is good enough to share with people.

Someday, I will go on a cruise to a tropical island.  The ship will have salsa dances, and a bunch of really good dancers will randomly be on the ship, and somehow I will be lucky enough to dance with them.  At night on the island I will drink, and dance, and get lost in house music.  I'll sleep til the sunlight wakes me, go sightseeing, visit tiny local shops, eat food I never knew of in the first place, lie tanning on the beach... forget the normal world for a little window of time.

Someday - though I cannot imagine it really exists - I will find a job of DJing for cafes and fancy lounges and bars.  How better to put to use the endless hunger for, the hours of time spent exploring, the depths of a genre of music?  The good stuff may be hard to find, but man, when it's found, it's good.  Eventually I'll find some avenue to create this vibe for other people.

Someday, I'll have an apartment or a house with an empty wood-floored room, so that at last I can host friends, from one to many, for dancing.

Someday, I will be married.  I'll have someone to kiss goodbye as we head off to work.  We'll spend perfect rainy Sundays cuddled up in a blanket with movies and really good beer - complete contentment.  And I will never go to sleep alone again.

philly bucket list!

-- inspired by The Bucket List.  I've been meaning to do this for awhile, but it's also totally meant to be a work in progress.

• Sundae party
• The Franklin - with Ben (seriously, how did I not know about this place??)
• check out Northern Liberties
• Silk City (been mentioned to me enough times)
• Cuba Libre - have to try out salsa there
• Vango - I've been there once, but should try out the salsa night there too
• browse Passyunk Ave
• go to 69th Street Terminal.  because I never have.
• really learn South Philly
• watch an entire Phillies game on tv at a bar
• discover and try out local cafés (in progress...)
• Argentine tango(!!!!)
• Fiume (45th & Locust) - mentioned to me the other day... again, how haven't I heard of this place?  Good things!

everything

Ever have an experience that is so wonderful that it takes you in completely; nothing else from your life is a consideration or even in your thoughts at all?  It's not something earth-shattering nor life-direction-changing, nor potentially even "crazy" in whatever sense.  It's just a fun, a joy so purely and naturally felt that that long moment is everything when you're in it.  And you probably didn't even look for the situation; but the beautiful path of life threw in a couple of unexpected tweaks in direction and the rest just happened.

The Feel Good Life

(Sounds like a book title.  If I was cooler, I'd be writing that book.)

stepping into a hot shower, immersing in the water

flannel pajama pants

when someone holds the door for you

laughing. making someone else laugh.

first time re-listening to an old favorite song

figuring something out that you've been stuck on (aside of all the time it took!)

letting go when you dance

finding the perfect music for your mood

hugs that make you feel their meaningfulness

comfortable conversation

delicious food and drink

the breeze on a hot day, and at the beach in the summer

the oddly warm day in a later winter month

when someone expresses concern for you

when you've just completed washing, drying, and putting away laundry

the bedgasm

first delicious sip of coffee

clicking with someone you've just met

a back massage

when someone keeps in touch with you

sleeping in

holding hands. cuddling. kissing.

cozying up in a blanket

songs that just make you want to dance

passing by cute dogs on the sidewalk

feeling another person's breathing or heartbeat

sharing a love of something with someone

new friends

sunshine

Little kid hates bus and loves trolley

I had an interesting little encounter on the 21 bus this evening.  Two moms with their young sons, who were about the same age, got on the bus at 34th street or so.  The little Asian boy seemed happy - chatting with his mother (and not in English!), he clambered onto a seat.  The other boy, however, launched into nearly a tantrum.  "I don't wanna take the bus!" was the main phrase, interspersed was "I wanna take the trolley", and the occasional "I want to get off the bus!" peppered his stream of upset pleading for good measure.  The Asian boy, whom I assumed to be his friend, at first patted the seat space next to him, but the upset boy paid no heed to this offer.  The Asian boy's mother tried to assist too, making another paper airplane to give him, but this boy's mother simply decided he was a lost cause.  It was all rather funny to me since I much prefer being on a bus to being on a trolley in most cases and ways.  I wonder what could cause a kid that young to have such a strong preference for one type of Septa vehicle and against another?

I got off at 39th Street. :)

we just relate as people

you know what is funny in the dance world?
age seems to melt away (mostly).
and most of us are in a similar range but.
i just don't even think about it
like suddenly i passed this line
left college
and people aren't confined to ages by their year in college
people are just people
like, i have adult friends now and we just relate as people.

(--chat conversation with David)

Sometimes I express things best when I'm not trying to write about them.

on being home for the holidays

Since moving to Philadelphia "for real" (I guess), I've been experiencing the transitional issue of wondering what the word "home" means.  Does that now by default refer to my room in the apartment I share in Philly?  Does it matter that I will only be living in that specific apartment for another five months?  It's automatic to fall back to the college student's mindset - referring to my parents' house as "home", and then, remembering that in all technicality it is no longer my primary place of residence, tacking on "in New Jersey".  And thus I'll say to people, "I'm going home to New Jersey".

Linguistic specificity aside, it feels pretty much like home right now.  Last night I went to our local Barnes & Noble with my mom to finish off the Christmas shopping list.  Once back home, my dad distributed glasses of eggnog with brandy (fantastically delicious - makes me want to get into brandy more) and we delved into unwrapping the ornaments.  My mom has a tradition of seeking out an ornament of a new material each year, one for each of my brothers and I, to add to the collections to eventually give to us.  Each year I hang the golden snowflake, the sheep decorated with buttons, the pumpkin-seed poinsettia, the cork reindeer, the flat felt snowman, and so on... along with a variety of ornaments handcrafted by yours truly from preschool, elementary school, and craft projects with my mom.

This morning, after extracting myself from the blankets atop the air-mattress bed that now lives in my bedroom with surprisingly less difficulty than one might expect, we had a nice breakfast with our whole family.  A mug of Earl Grey tea accompanied mine; I'm still hoping it will mostly take care of my daily caffeine quota (normally fulfilled by coffee).

I've been lounging on the living room couch ever since, still in pajamas and wrapped in a fleece blanket.  The couch is awash with (occasionally blinding) sunlight.  The warmth and comfort is precious right now - enough that I've kept on delaying getting dressed and wrapping gifts for the past few hours.

Quick list of thanks

My swing buddies (Sloan, Ellis, and Robert).  And of course, our lovely friend and Rum Bar bartender, Zack.  Those blues dances that are completely magic.  Coffee.  My new friend at work, Stephan.  The unbelievably wonderful west coast swing community.  Going to Baltimore Fall Blues Summit.  Being able to go home to my family pretty much whenever.  Working at a company full of truly wonderful people.  Having my weekly dances to always look forward to.  Adding to my fledgling circle of swing dancer friends.  Wawa.  Seeing people with dogs on the sidewalk.  My favorite cafés to hang out in.  Jimmy John's deliciousness.  Sleeping in on Saturday.  Discovering new beers I like.  Keeping in touch with David.  Discovering fusion dancing.  Meeting people from out of town who want to get to know me more.  Having a bit of "me time" in the morning bus ride.  Boots.  That I found a place to live in Philly with near-zero stress.  That I got a job to start right after I graduated.  A comfortable bed.  Visiting my brother at his college down in South Carolina.  Learning PHP and Drupal.  NK happy hours.  Music, in so many kinds and ways.

Being so happy, and often - sometimes I can't completely take it in.

Danced 6 nights in a row

I have to say that having a night of dancing to look forward to most nights of the week is an excellent life morale booster.  It's a fulfilling answer to the question of "what will I do tonight?" - so much better than always going home to likely nothing more than being lazy and poking around on the Internet for several hours.  And it is a guarantee of having people to interact with (literally, given that these are partner dances); while I do talk online often, I really think it is a critical necessity for mental/emotional health to see and interact with other people.  (I think of how miserable it was during some final exams periods -- after sleeping late, I'd wake up and panic about how much study time I had lost due to said sleeping-in and thus immediately dive into studying, and hours later I had to escape and actually speak with someone.)  Eventually, if you keep showing up at the same dances on a weekly basis, people will recognize you and you'll start chatting in between dancing.  And the dance communities, I'm finding, are full of wonderful people.

On that note, here was my awesome week of dancing (not that every week isn't also awesome! haha):

Monday, as always: Powerhouse Blues.  All blues.  So much love.

Tuesday, as always: LaB.  Lindy and blues; the swing dance I've been going to longest.

Wednesday: Westie Wednesday.  West coast swing night at the Atrium.  I might just have to add this to my for-sure weekly schedule. :)

Thursday: Jetlag.  Night of DJ'd remixed world music at L'Etage.  I guess this is fusion dancing?  SO much fun.  I will be making every effort to attend this every month.

Friday: West coast swing dance held at Master Jay's studio in Center City.  Not much space there and a pole-dancing pole fell over mid-dance, but it was a fun little night.

Saturday: Baltimore Fall Blues Summit.  Thanks to Ben (my carpool driver), I got to go dance blues all night long with some truly fantastic leads.  What a wonderful wonderful night.  It was the night of the switch over to normal time so we had an extra hour, though maybe it didn't matter because by a certain time almost everyone was tired.  We got back at...7am new time?  (My photos are up on Facebook!)

Life status - Oct. 14, 2010

At work, most projects we have end up having a weekly status meeting on the calendar, to update everyone involved on where things stand.  Well, I've been living here 4 months and change now, so I thought I might collect a few conclusions and realizations so far.

• The Septa buses aren't always on schedule.  But sometimes they are, so don't be late, or I'm gonna miss it by 30 seconds.  I've done this more times than I can count.
• Try to do laundry more often than once every several weeks.  Otherwise I end up with three loads' worth to do when I'm running out of clothes to wear.
• No matter how tired I am on the night of a social dance, I should go to it anyway, because I don't think I have ever regretted it afterwards.
• The plain coffee at independent cafés is usually really good.  This does not in any way negate that Starbucks and Wawa coffee is also really good.
• Talk to people for a minute or two once in awhile at work - non-work subjects are preferable.  It might be the most welcome interruption of the day.
• Meet new people.  Especially social dancers.
• Buying coffee, breakfast, and the like on a daily basis adds up far faster than I like to think about.
• Visit family once in awhile for a change of pace.
• People don't often respond to really long emails at work.  (Not sure if they read them, at least.)
• Happy hour is a good thing.
• Walking feels better when I'm not rushing, so don't rush if I don't have to.
• Not having to work outside of work is probably the best thing ever.
• Sandwiches for dinner get boring fast.

Map of Philly bars I have frequented

Because I think making infographics out of life data is cool, I have created a Google map to mark all the bars at which I've had a drink at least once.  I wish there was a bit more I could do with the map than just save a list of locations (attach dates to each place, categorize the reasons I was there, etc...) but it's an interesting start.


View Philly bars...so far! in a larger map

30th street station

Three years or so back, when the morning was still too early, a sleepy girl followed her boyfriend up to the train platform to wait.  The city and all it has was still new and scary, and she needed someone with her.  Of course, then she didn't really need to pay attention.

Much later, the station became a test.  It was one more step in figuring out independence: to find one's way home.  But it's not so bad, really.  Read the signs and watch the times.  It'll even tell you... "The scheduled - 7: - 42 - R7 - to Trenton - next to arrive - on track 3."

This turns to second nature, easily.  The emotion shifts to comfort.  When you know you're going home, everything is going to be okay.  There's no worry of being alone, no want of surrounding and immediate love, no need for the concerns of taking care of yourself.  So you step on board and leave to soak in that world for a couple of days.  When you come back, it's: here's my city, baby.  And the routine is ahead, like always.

There's a spot outside where I stood, holding, holding onto, one whom I had no idea of when I'd next see.  The seconds I had were not enough time to learn the process of parting.  So I decided quickly that maybe I didn't have to.

There's a bench, the first one you reach in the Amtrak waiting area, where we sat together.  Everything I had inside begged for this moment not to be the last.  So I stayed close while I could, said what was right, and waited.

There's an Auntie Anne's inside, along my walk to the corner doors.  That's where he said I shouldn't let him stop, and I didn't completely pay attention, because I was a little weak with the happiness.  It would be short, but it would be.

It was: everything.

The café addiction

...I have it.

On any number of nights I am tempted strongly enough by the allure of the café to overcome my tendencies to bum the night away in my room and walk 2.7 blocks over to Saxbys.  At Penn, I went to Starbucks often to sit and (theoretically) work, and enough times in the mornings before class that the employees knew me and asked how my summer was at the beginning of senior year.  Any time I end up in a Starbucks, actually -- wherever it may be -- I feel a bit of a sense of being home.  Now, in Philly, I've kind of made it a goal to seek out small independent street corner coffee shops and spend my Sunday afternoons in them.

The café atmosphere has some kind of mental effect on me.  It has a peace and calm about it; makes me feel like things can't really go wrong.  Stress is lessened somehow, cuz you've got a couple hours of a squishy armchair, warm lighting, relaxing music, and probably a hot drink that'll either prop you awake or take up too much of your daily allotment of calories.  Or a muffin -- gosh, I have gotten bad about eating too many muffins.  Those and scones.  I probably consume one or the other of them on more days of the week than not.

Calories designated unimportant, I sit down with my muffin or my mocha and my laptop, whiling away the time alongside others in front of their own screens or books.  We're in our own little worlds, but together in one world as well.  And thus the time goes by.

Sometimes I picture my life filled by lazy days, writing and drinking coffee, staring out windows at the world and people-watching as customers flow in and out or join my habitat of the day for a few hours.  And my butt will probably hurt often, and I'll still eat too many scones, and the guy at the counter will know my favorite drink.  Maybe I'll get brave enough to wear pajama pants occasionally and really cuddle up in a corner for awhile.  (Not sure how acceptable pajama pants are as attire worn in public after, like, high school.  Perhaps if I'm a known regular at the place...)

Well, it's a dream, anyhow.  Someday maybe.