COFFEE, coffee, coooffffffeeeee!

I'm a big tea drinker. I have a large collection of tea--herbal teas, black teas, white tea, lots of green tea. There is nothing like a cup of English Breakfast, a little honey, and a splash of milk in the morning. I drink hot tea in the summer, and far too many cups of tea per day in the winter. It has been like this for years. I used to drink coffee, but it's been so long, I forgot why I had stopped in the first place.

I've been spending a lot of time with coffee drinkers so I thought I might have a cup, just to see what I've been missing out on. When I was offered a cup of coffee a couple of weeks ago, I imagined that maybe I'd discover that this is the magic tonic I've been searching for. I imagined after a cup of coffee that I'd be really motivated. I'd suddenly feel compelled to do all the things on my to-do list that I keep putting off and transferring to the next to-do list; I'd start training for a marathon; I'd figure out how to fit more hours into a day. So, I said, "Sure. Can't hurt. I'd love one. Milk and sugar, please."

Fast forward a week and I'm ordering a large cup of European style hot chocolate (at Naked Chocolate) with a shot of espresso. Everything is grand! Coffee is my new best friend. I do feel a bit more vim after a cup of coffee. I like it. I'm excited, slightly convinced that I am more productive. I walk faster.

Then, on Friday, I decided to go for a mochaccino before I headed up to New York. I'm having a lovely time, chatting at a cafe. When I finish my drink and stand up, I feel dizzy. I start sweating. What's wrong with me? I'm having a heart attack, maybe an anxiety attack; NAUSEA, I've been poisoned; an explosive device has gone off inside my body--Suddenly, I remember why I stopped drinking coffee. I can't believe I have to get on a bus for two hours. Not now, not now, NOT NOW! I'm dying, I'm sure of it. It was the coffee.

I run home and collect myself. I still feel a bit like a strung out parrot with an awful tick, but I look okay. I get on the bus and plug myself into my ipod. Somehow sitting still while jazzy tunes bop around my head, I attempt to do some deep breathing and to go to sleep. I drift off finally as I reach the end of my jazzy playlist. The music stops and the conversation between the two women sitting next to me starts to seep into my semi-consciousness. "Oh look, it's the Joyce Kilmer rest stop. She wrote that poem about a tree. You know, 'I've never read a poem as lovely as a tree,' " One lady says. "Oh did she?" the other replies. At this moment I blurt out, "Joyce Kilmer was a man!" My eyes are still closed. I realize that I said that out loud. I open my eyes and the two women are staring at me, like I'm strung out, so I repeat myself, "Uhh... Joyce Kilmer was a man." One of the women, shocked that I've butt into their conversation to correct them then tells me that she'll have to google that when she gets home. Oh god, I'm totally never drinking coffee ever again. I still try to redeem myself and explain why I'm still talking. I add, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I always think about the tree poem, and the poet with the girl's name, when I pass that rest station." I didn't mean it like that, but it came out like that. "Joyce is a man's name," the googler retorts, "Just like Vivian. Actually, I have a male friend named Vivian."

I fumble around looking for my ipod to listen to something else. I tell myself to stop talking and try to make a note this time of the reasons why I stopped drinking coffee...
1. serious delirium
2. feeling like I'm going to die
3. the shits

RZA & GZA put it best in Coffee & Cigarettes:

Coffee and I are NOT friends.

kyotofu

"My new favorite ____ "

I recently decided to stop proclaiming everything as my new favorite _______ .  It's just wrong to have so many favorites, and I wore out the true meaning of favorite.  However, I found myself declaring Kyotofu as my new favorite place, and their pastry chef as my new favorite person (as I hugged her)--and I meant it sincerely.  This wasn't like the time that I told Neil Diamond I was his biggest fan.  

I had just enjoyed some green tea soba noodles, followed by a soy ice cream sundae; I was content on a nice Saturday in NYC.  Life felt good. As the pastry chef handed over a Miss Koco & Sugar Monk sized bag of assorted mini desserts and delectable treats, my heart fluttered.  A true and profound burst of love flowed from me.  If I were to try to create a visual for you, it was a lot like a Care Bear Stare. Not that I was fighting off evil and bad vibes, but it was like an intense beam of light from my chest filled with joy, happiness, love, and goodness.  Bliss. I zoned out.  I couldn't hear anything. 100% Bliss. 

In this bag of immense yumminess there were two dark chocolate things that looked like mini brownies. One was filled with some smooth chocolate fudge-like stuff and the other had a spicy filling.  Spicy chocolate was unexpectedly, yet fully, enjoyable. Then there were cookies and a small green tea muffin!  I savored them, eating one at a time throughout the day.  It was exactly what I needed.  My new heroes: pastry chefs.

Kyotofu is at 705 9th Avenue (near 48th) in Hell's Kitchen. It's a nice place to go as a treat, a prelude to other kinds of fun, for something different but quite delish.  

just like slinkies

Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything, but they bring a smile to your face when pushed down the stairs.

I haven't pushed anyone down the stairs, but I did have a moment where I thought it might be something that would make me feel better. I quit my job... or maybe I was sorta put in a position where I had to leave, so in a way I got fired. This has never happened to me before. I guess there's a first for everything, right? I'd like to look at the situation and say, "We broke up, it was a mutual decision." I mean... We didn't have the same goals. I cared about students, they thought I was negative and had a bad attitude. They were more concerned about dress code than curriculum. I was dedicated to providing quality education, they were confused why I'd be frustrated about students not having books--books they paid for as part of their tuition. I didn't really fit in there. I was leaving anyway, but it still feels all messed up.

I knew I should have just stayed in bed yesterday.

festival time!

Evidence that I'm clearly a product of the look-at-me! generation:

1. I have a blog.

2. I document the hell out of my life, and then share it on and off-line.  

3. I go to things I imagine are going to be cool, mostly about other people who are also really into people paying attention to them, so that I can tell people paying attention to me that I saw some cool stuff.

(Enter First Person Arts Festival, stage right)

So, here's my plug for cool stuff this weekend--GO TO THE FIRST PERSON ARTS FESTIVAL. I went to see the Complaint Choir on Wed. night.  I was super pleased to hear my complaint about how much I hate the Duck Boat Tours included in their performance.  I'm going to see Found tonight, The Grand Slam on Saturday, and I recommend that if any of you are free that you buy tickets ASAP to see Soul Supper this Sunday.

Soul Supper

Bursting with raw emotion to match its soulful score, the documentary Everybody Needs Somebody tells the story of Solomon Burke, a young Philadelphia musician lifted out of obscurity, catapulted to fame, and then largely forgotten. But the film and a new album by Solomon Burke are creating a revival of interest in his music and introducing him to new audiences. A blistering live performance by Philadelphia R&B sensation The Barbara Walker Story will follow the screening and will have you dancing in the aisles. A soul food buffet is included with your ticket!

In partnership with the Rhythm and Blues Foundation.

And here's a video of the complaint choir:

butterflies

I used to write the internet a lot to let anyone who was listening know how I was doing... just in case they cared. Life got so busy, it has been a while since I've had time for a good ramble about my life, thoughts, and other stuff.  Tonight though, I do feel somewhat inspired to let some things seep... here we go.

"Without change, there would be no butterflies."

I've spent so much of my life rejecting any new trend and dodging any catchy phrase or idea, but I guess the marketing  in 2008 finally figured out how to get to me.  GREEN (or "going green") became like the new black, and now CHANGE is the new green, yet that whole thing about change is all about it being black.  And usually all of this is soooooo silly to me, but I seem to dig quite a lot of it this time.  For once some of it makes some sense.  I've been drinking up the feel good vibes in the Obama-flavored Kool-Aid by the gallon--mostly because it does taste like exactly what I need/want/have been hoping to hear.

Over the past couple of weeks I've had an increasing sense of discomfort, one that churned in my stomach and created intense waves of nausea that prevented me from eating properly. It's the same feeling I always get when I'm being pushed towards another drastic shift in my life. After instances of lost love, before a big move, right before I accomplish something big, when I feel overwhelmed by uncertainty, I've stopped breathing for what feels like weeks. In all instances, I wasn't quite prepared for the changes ahead, but later found myself much better off than I was before. This knowledge still doesn't make me worry less or feel any better.

Yet... Last night, despite no resolution to my major personal issues, I started breathing again.  I found myself motivated to organize, clean, put things in order, purge the nonsense, tie up all the loose ends and make myself ready for all that is next. I started thinking about butterflies. Next for me includes New York City, teaching at Pratt (in Brooklyn!), and focusing on the development of my teaching skills. Next includes an ongoing sigh of relief that I feel like what I support, believe in, and vote for was heard this time around and might actually continue to be heard.  I'm letting my whole being soak up the positive energy and hope that emanated from this historic moment without a drop of cynicism. I don't care how cheezy I sound anymore. I'm thinking about butterflies.  This marked a shift in this particular time of shifting. I'm becoming more able to remind myself of the beauty that can come out of periods of uncertainty.  I'm allowing myself to just enjoy the process.  I'm pushing myself to be my best and strongest this time, and look hopefully towards next (as if it's all one big adventure) instead of fearing how this could possibly could end up.  

It's a time to recreate, to evolve, to improve upon the last created version of myself.  It sounds all grand and lofty, but I'm just gonna love it.  I'm going to keep dreaming of butterflies.