the astor turret

on the fourth floor of the american museum of natural history, behind the dinosaurs (think of it: dinosaurs!) is the astor turret...arguably my favorite place in all the city. 

full of light and laughing children it is a place of such peace and simplicity. a place for quiet thought. an escape overlooking central park.
a place i might one day take my own children (think of it: my own children!). might be some time before that last thing happens...

for your weekend...a halo of light.

they lit the big tree this week. the one at rockefeller center. but i'm gonna let you on a little secret.
the oragami tree at the american museum of natural history is the one to see. it's pure magic (and i'm not easily impressed). it emanates light. glitters. and when you go, because you must, look for the little space man--my personal favorite.

have the loveliest of weekends! but before you go, may i ask a favor of you? i want to know what it is that you the reader most like to see on this blog... a little feedback if you will. i ask because your opinions always provide me with such insight and inspiration. and on that note, happy weekend, happy holidays and happy, happy tree-gazing (wherever you might be).

a strange, rambling sort of post...

i hate the A train. let it be known: i HATE the A train.

(and i was in a terrible mood today).

uniquely enough the terrible mood had nothing to do with the A train.  i say uniquely because usually the two are connected. {and yes, i just placed uniquely where a strangely normally lives--what can i say, i'm trying it out}).

i haven't always hated the A train.

though, to be fair, i should have seen this coming.

when i moved to new york (at the wee age of eighteen) i dated a guy who lived just off the A.

turns out i didn't really like the guy. really not after he gave me a key to his apartment (did i mention i was eighteen?). call me old-fashioned but i think the giving of the key is kind of a thing. a big thing.

i promptly broke up with him in a diner on the upper west side. i remember walking out. the weather was suddenly cooler, lovely. oh, pathetic fallacy! (yes, i just said pathetic fallacy. if you must know i adore that term and have been trying to get it onto this blogspot-lover-of-mine for ages).

and then of course there was that time on the A when at the ripe old age of nineteen the guy i was falling deeply and desperately in love with told me his girlfriend (i know) was moving in with him. or moving to new york for him. bad either way.

heartbreaking, actually.

this all was followed by a man who couldn't be bothered to get on the A train to pay me a visit. actually, that's not quite true. but that's what it felt like.

(god i hope none of the guys ever stumbles across this).

no, really, God that's a prayer i'm offering up to you right now.

the point is this: i hate the A train.

i hate that in the early mornings it more a shuffle-step-dance than train ride. i hate that it sits at 168th for far too long and crawls past 135th. i find it offensive that it calls itself express when the local gets from point a to point b in the same amount of time, all the while making far.more.frequent.stop.s. (don't believe me? try. i've converted more than my fair share of non-believers).

i've been thinking lately that, given my druthers, i might never ride the A again.

you see, for me, the long subway ride is symbol of my struggling life. taking a little too long, to get not so far.

but alas, the A is the train closest to home.

and so i remind myself that this phase of my life shall pass. and soon enough.

this struggle (to be replaced by another, i'm sure), this subway line, this apartment, in this corner of manhattan, this job, and that job, and that guy, and this frustration--it all passes.

all of it--including my bad mood or the feeling that i'm not good enough or thin enough or strong enough.

it is a seamless quilt moving flawlessly across this loom of a life. the colors and mistakes and unexpected strands provide depth, dimension, even a little...dare i say...flare.

and you know how i know? because my bad mood passed tonight.

it passed just as Sting sat down in front of me in the movie theatre. yes, that Sting. let it be known that i believe him to be one of the sexiest men alive. (all that yoga or something). though, when i told my dad he kinda scoffed and said, so what? all that means is he sat in front of you in a theatre. 


but i saw it for what it was: a sign. that if i keep showing up, day after day, then given enough time, good things will come.

you see, Sting is my sign. his sighting--my little gift from the universe.

after all, wouldn't mind running into him on the A train.

oh God, please don't let this pop up in Sting's google alerts. 

the circus

on thursday night i headed to lincoln center to meet a friend and go to the circus.

yes, lincoln center. the great arts mecca of new york city (or one of them, at least).

and there nestled between the metropolitan opera house and alice tully hall and avery fisher and juilliard--right amidst all the towering white building made of granite or some such is the temporary white canvas of the big apple circus.

when kathy and i arrived and the show began we both quickly decided that perhaps we should have gotten a drink first. there was something a bit depressing about it all. the empty seats--the sense that the entire production was a bit worn around the edges. the feeling that the art form itself was struggling to find a foothold--to adapt to these modern times.

and yet given enough time and enough stragglers the tent began to fill with not only warm bodies, but the squeals of children. and if the squeals of children can't totally undo you, well then, i'm not sure what to tell you.

kathy and i ended up squealing a bit ourselves, or at least laughing deeply for a good two hours. there was nothing i loved so much as the dogs and horses and goats, i would go each night for that alone.

oh, to see a goat ride a horse--if you've not seen this at least once in your life: amend, amend at once!!

all that being said, i suppose there's something to learn from the circus. and so my goal for this week is to laugh deeply.

to laugh deeply, and love deeply, and live outwards in all directions at once. (that's not too overwhelming a goal for this thanksgiving week, is it?). nah, didn't think so.

happy monday (a very gray monday in new york) to you!

twinkle, twinkle.

holiday decorations have returned to my little corner of the island.

which means one thing:

i spend my days wondering when my daniel-day-lewis-of-a-canadian-tree-farmer will arrive on 181st just east of fort washington and i might get myself a little holiday cheer.