As promised, I am writing to tell why I started to read blogs about Paris, a city I have never been and probably never want to go to.
Back in 2007 I used to read http://www.gringoes.com/ religiously. I love Brazilian culture and the language. They have a great segment everyweek called "Brazil Through Foreigners Eyes" where they interview a foreigner who chose to come to Brasil to live or work and find out what made them fall in love with the place so much they wanted to live there. I think I wanted to be one of those people but never got up the courage to do what they did. I can not leave the East Coast of the U.S. It's my home. I tried to do it once for a year and I missed everything there was to miss.
Anyway, one day on the website I started reading a blog written by someone who called himself Kermit the Vlog. Because he is French (get it?) and was writing a video blog. Anyway, he had links to blogs he followed that were fellow Parisians or should I say fellow ex-pats living in Paris who wrote about life being an ex-pat in Paris. One of these blogs was Petite Anglaise. I started to follow her trials and tribulations a little late in the game but found out how she started and wound up writing her blog, etc, etc. She no longer blogs but it made me seek out more Parisian ex-pat bloggers to get a feel and live vicariously through them I suppose.
But, this only recently started to fade for me. I used to read a whole pile of ex-pat Parisian blogs. Right now, I only read one. I think I would love Paris. It's a city after all, with tons going on.
But it got me started reading Brooklyn blogs and it turns out, I can relate to these a bit better than those Parisian ones. Not sure why it took me traveling south of the equator then across the pond to realize the obvious but I'm never one to make things easy, always gotta complicate shit and confuse the issues :-)
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I love this quote
John Muir was a naturalist, and an environmentalist before it was trendy. He spent his days hanging out in the Sierra Nevadas. Muir Woods in California is one of my favorite places. Found this quote on someone else's random blog today. So true, so true:
"I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in"
-John Muir
"I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in"
-John Muir
My response to this article in the New York Times
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/25/complaint-box-the-state-of-brooklyn/?scp=1&sq=fakelyn&st=cse
Here's the truth of it: You are "from" somewhere if you lived there most of your life and were born there. If you were "born" somewhere else but moved to your current location when you were like 2-5 years old and you have no recollection of where you were "born" then you are "from" that place. I even have examples, people:
1-Keanu Reeves, according to IMDB was "born" in Beirut, Lebanon but "grew up" in Toronto! He's Canadian!
2-Nicole Kidman also according to IMDB was "born" in Hawaii but grew up in Australia! She's Australian!
3-Anna Paquin acording to IMDB was "born" in Canada but grew up in New Zealand. She's a Kiwi and a Canuck because she lived both places for a good portion of her life that she can remember and has an accent!
4-Pam Anderson was "born" and "grew up" in Canada, lived in the U.S. for most of her adult life and just recently got her citizenship here so by all rights she is Canadian but now is American as well!
It's about being accurate and precise, people. Don't be lazy about it because it's cooler to say you're from somewhere that you're not.
My other caveat I had was for folks who just arrived from overseas. If you came here when you were an adult, then proceed to live the rest of your life as an adult somewhere else, then you are "from" where ever you came from originally, have lived [insert new location] for most of your life (20+ years) so then "consider yourself from" [insert new location]. But if you have lived here less than ten years, you are still "from" somewhere else.
These caveats need to be included. This is the main point. If someone asks where are you "from" v. "where do you "live" or where were you "born" these are very, very different things. They may all have the same answer but rest assured if you are living in Brooklyn in the trendy hipster re-gentrified areas they are not!
Example: I lived in San Francisco for 1 year (in my adult life) but I would never, ever say I was "from" San Francisco. I would never, ever say I was "from" Maryland because I have been here a relatively short amount of time in a person's lifetime.
So people, please don't put on airs to say you are "from" somewhere cool, when you know you are not because you are truly "lying".
You know who you are trendy hipster jerk-offs.
This article out-raged me. Is that correct grammar? I don't know but the main point that EVERYONE seems to skim over and glaze over is that you can't be "from" somwhere you weren't born or grew up. End of story, no contest, give it up and just stop. It doesn't matter if it is Brooklyn or anywhere else. If you claim you are from somewhere you've only lived a short period of time, you're lying! My response was something like this:When I travel, if someone asks me where I am "from" I say I "live" just outside of Baltimore, because that is the truth. I am originally "from" Brooklyn but I do not live there. I would never, ever say I was "from" Maryland because I have only been here 11 years and anything before 1999 means nothing to me. My boyfriend and his friends reference things that went on in Maryland before I got here and I have no idea what they are talking about. Granted some of it has to do with the Colts leaving Baltimore or the Orioles and I wouldn't care either way but that is a different story.
Here's the truth of it: You are "from" somewhere if you lived there most of your life and were born there. If you were "born" somewhere else but moved to your current location when you were like 2-5 years old and you have no recollection of where you were "born" then you are "from" that place. I even have examples, people:
1-Keanu Reeves, according to IMDB was "born" in Beirut, Lebanon but "grew up" in Toronto! He's Canadian!
2-Nicole Kidman also according to IMDB was "born" in Hawaii but grew up in Australia! She's Australian!
3-Anna Paquin acording to IMDB was "born" in Canada but grew up in New Zealand. She's a Kiwi and a Canuck because she lived both places for a good portion of her life that she can remember and has an accent!
4-Pam Anderson was "born" and "grew up" in Canada, lived in the U.S. for most of her adult life and just recently got her citizenship here so by all rights she is Canadian but now is American as well!
It's about being accurate and precise, people. Don't be lazy about it because it's cooler to say you're from somewhere that you're not.
My other caveat I had was for folks who just arrived from overseas. If you came here when you were an adult, then proceed to live the rest of your life as an adult somewhere else, then you are "from" where ever you came from originally, have lived [insert new location] for most of your life (20+ years) so then "consider yourself from" [insert new location]. But if you have lived here less than ten years, you are still "from" somewhere else.
These caveats need to be included. This is the main point. If someone asks where are you "from" v. "where do you "live" or where were you "born" these are very, very different things. They may all have the same answer but rest assured if you are living in Brooklyn in the trendy hipster re-gentrified areas they are not!
Example: I lived in San Francisco for 1 year (in my adult life) but I would never, ever say I was "from" San Francisco. I would never, ever say I was "from" Maryland because I have been here a relatively short amount of time in a person's lifetime.
So people, please don't put on airs to say you are "from" somewhere cool, when you know you are not because you are truly "lying".
You know who you are trendy hipster jerk-offs.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Brooklyn Through and Through
Back again in the BK and what a weekend it was. I drove around the streets of Brooklyn neighborhoods I missed and reminisce about on almost a weekly basis. It feels good to be home and in my element. When so often I am out of my element I feel exhilarated and happy. Clearly and most definitely happy. Brooklyn of my youth, you are there in spirit and essence. Some of you is gone but most of you welcomes me with open arms and I thank you.
I took my dad for a haircut out in Gravesend. We drove down Ocean Parkway to Ave T and then Ave U and then down to West Street, just shy of McDonald Avenue. Across the street was an Italian food shop, luckily open that early in the day so A and I went to check it out while my dad waited his turn. It had all of the things you could never, ever get here. Fresh mozzarella, fresh tomatoes caprice, fresh cheeses, biscoitti, coffee not from Starbucks' brand, fresh salamis and deli meats, fresh pastas hand made and rolled. There was so much it was hard to choose. We settled on some plain and pumpkin filled gnocchi and a salami. We paid and left and expressed some remorse for things we should have gotten too like the spinach pies, or more cheeses like the fresh mozzarella. But, it would not have made the 4 hour + drive home the next day and it would seem a sin to ruin fresh mozzarella like that.
But I felt at home and revelled in my being there and I felt confident and sure of myself just ordering the food and paying for the items. Like it was my everyday thing to get fresh products like these at my neighborhood Italian deli / goods shop. I e-mailed a fellow blogger who grew up in Gravesend. She told me I was in her old stomping ground. A small world it is.
Later that day I had to get fish from the fish store my mom usually goes to. I drove down to Ave U and 27th. Just in time, too because all of the fresh fishes were put away for the day and the floors and display areas were being cleaned by a group of latino men. The man who took my order (the owner?) was kind and efficient and pleased to have my business. I ordered the farm-raised salmon. 2.38 lbs. For six of us it would be plenty. We were in and out in less than 10 minutes. I got a parking spot right in front. I am quite certain this would not be on any other day and if I lived there but it was nice to have things fall into place this way.
Later we celebrated my dad's birthday with cupcakes from Magnolia, now near my brother's work so he had ordered a bunch the day before. What a nice way to spend my weekend: with my family, in the place of my birth and my youth, so much more familiar to me than where I am daily. What a pleasant feeling and thought I have because of it: a warm feeling in my inner being that brings a smirky Brooklyn-smile to my face.
I took my dad for a haircut out in Gravesend. We drove down Ocean Parkway to Ave T and then Ave U and then down to West Street, just shy of McDonald Avenue. Across the street was an Italian food shop, luckily open that early in the day so A and I went to check it out while my dad waited his turn. It had all of the things you could never, ever get here. Fresh mozzarella, fresh tomatoes caprice, fresh cheeses, biscoitti, coffee not from Starbucks' brand, fresh salamis and deli meats, fresh pastas hand made and rolled. There was so much it was hard to choose. We settled on some plain and pumpkin filled gnocchi and a salami. We paid and left and expressed some remorse for things we should have gotten too like the spinach pies, or more cheeses like the fresh mozzarella. But, it would not have made the 4 hour + drive home the next day and it would seem a sin to ruin fresh mozzarella like that.
But I felt at home and revelled in my being there and I felt confident and sure of myself just ordering the food and paying for the items. Like it was my everyday thing to get fresh products like these at my neighborhood Italian deli / goods shop. I e-mailed a fellow blogger who grew up in Gravesend. She told me I was in her old stomping ground. A small world it is.
Later that day I had to get fish from the fish store my mom usually goes to. I drove down to Ave U and 27th. Just in time, too because all of the fresh fishes were put away for the day and the floors and display areas were being cleaned by a group of latino men. The man who took my order (the owner?) was kind and efficient and pleased to have my business. I ordered the farm-raised salmon. 2.38 lbs. For six of us it would be plenty. We were in and out in less than 10 minutes. I got a parking spot right in front. I am quite certain this would not be on any other day and if I lived there but it was nice to have things fall into place this way.
Later we celebrated my dad's birthday with cupcakes from Magnolia, now near my brother's work so he had ordered a bunch the day before. What a nice way to spend my weekend: with my family, in the place of my birth and my youth, so much more familiar to me than where I am daily. What a pleasant feeling and thought I have because of it: a warm feeling in my inner being that brings a smirky Brooklyn-smile to my face.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
les bacteries chez les e'crevisses
I'm a translating fool! How many fish physiologists with expertise in endocrine disprupting chemicals do you know speak French and Portuguese?
A colleague was wading through papers yesterday and several months ago trying to find information regarding some bacterial strain. She is a microbiologist. Under both of these circumstances she was trying to find the main paper that was getting cited over and over in subsequent papers in hopes of elucidating some information regarding the beginnings of when the strain was isolated. Yesterday was a French paper, in the past it was a Brazilian paper. How good I felt when I could say, Oh, you need something translated in Portuguese, I can do that. You need something read and translated in French? I can do that too!
Yesterday's French paper happened to be a strain from some bacteria isolated from crayfish. Moribund crayfish. It described the infection in the hepatopancreas, and the digestive tract and some tubule. It described the strains and what they look like (gram negative, ciliated, size, etc.). A few months ago it was a strain used to ferment something to make a well-known drink famous in the Northeast of Brazil.
Yes, I can read technical biological papers in French and Portugese. I even learned a new word : souche; referring to the strain of the bacteria.
Damn that feels good. Still floating on my translating mega abilities. M'excuser pendant que je jubile.
A colleague was wading through papers yesterday and several months ago trying to find information regarding some bacterial strain. She is a microbiologist. Under both of these circumstances she was trying to find the main paper that was getting cited over and over in subsequent papers in hopes of elucidating some information regarding the beginnings of when the strain was isolated. Yesterday was a French paper, in the past it was a Brazilian paper. How good I felt when I could say, Oh, you need something translated in Portuguese, I can do that. You need something read and translated in French? I can do that too!
Yesterday's French paper happened to be a strain from some bacteria isolated from crayfish. Moribund crayfish. It described the infection in the hepatopancreas, and the digestive tract and some tubule. It described the strains and what they look like (gram negative, ciliated, size, etc.). A few months ago it was a strain used to ferment something to make a well-known drink famous in the Northeast of Brazil.
Yes, I can read technical biological papers in French and Portugese. I even learned a new word : souche; referring to the strain of the bacteria.
Damn that feels good. Still floating on my translating mega abilities. M'excuser pendant que je jubile.
Friday, June 11, 2010
A little dose of Brooklyn
I can not tell you how good I felt to be back in Brooklyn for just 4 days. I felt it the minute I got on 278, I got exhilarated as I turned off the Verrazano. I blasted "The Stoop" while traversing the Belt. I felt confident, secure and so sure of myself when driving down Avenue L and avoiding the crazed Orthodox Jews trying to get all they needed to get done by sun down even though when I arrived it was only 3:30 pm. I guess everyone was rushing home from work as well.
My long drive gave me the time to think about being in Brooklyn by myself, without A. Although I love him dearly and find his companionship all I could ask for, he is no fan of the big city and I find that a huge point of contention. How can you love me without loving what is me? Or at least, understand how it feels when you bad mouth the city and that doing so hurts me, personally. And as the song goes, "...this 'hood is my home..." and so defines me. Understand that and hold off on your insults to crime ridden neighborhoods that make you feel unsafe and trapped, and open your mind to the culture and atmosphere that is there for the offering. I don't stand there and bad mouth your home or your roots so know that it hurts when you do that to me.
I felt so good the entire weekend because I was in the skin I am most comfortable with. I was surrounded by my family, in a familiar place and saw familiar things I have known since being very little. I need to do this for myself I have decided. I need to go back to Brooklyn as often as my free time will allow. And most of that time leave A home. Although so many people asked about the dog, I don't think I will leave her home again, just A. He can stay with the cats and fish.
But this is key. This is the key to my balancing my life I think. I just need a little dose of Brooklyn every month or so...to keep me going and to keep me in touch with the me I know and love and felt like for so long I had lost.
So, when I feel the current me dwindling down to that self-loathing, INTJ, anxious, unsure of herself, low confidence having unrecognizable me, I will know to book my trip, tell A in advance he needs to stick around and take care of the cats and me and the dog are going to get our Brooklyn on.
My long drive gave me the time to think about being in Brooklyn by myself, without A. Although I love him dearly and find his companionship all I could ask for, he is no fan of the big city and I find that a huge point of contention. How can you love me without loving what is me? Or at least, understand how it feels when you bad mouth the city and that doing so hurts me, personally. And as the song goes, "...this 'hood is my home..." and so defines me. Understand that and hold off on your insults to crime ridden neighborhoods that make you feel unsafe and trapped, and open your mind to the culture and atmosphere that is there for the offering. I don't stand there and bad mouth your home or your roots so know that it hurts when you do that to me.
I felt so good the entire weekend because I was in the skin I am most comfortable with. I was surrounded by my family, in a familiar place and saw familiar things I have known since being very little. I need to do this for myself I have decided. I need to go back to Brooklyn as often as my free time will allow. And most of that time leave A home. Although so many people asked about the dog, I don't think I will leave her home again, just A. He can stay with the cats and fish.
But this is key. This is the key to my balancing my life I think. I just need a little dose of Brooklyn every month or so...to keep me going and to keep me in touch with the me I know and love and felt like for so long I had lost.
So, when I feel the current me dwindling down to that self-loathing, INTJ, anxious, unsure of herself, low confidence having unrecognizable me, I will know to book my trip, tell A in advance he needs to stick around and take care of the cats and me and the dog are going to get our Brooklyn on.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Fuck Parkinson's Disease
I wanted to rant and rave. I wanted to yell and scream and punch Parkinson's in the face. I think it should just pack up and leave and never come back or show its ugly face around here ever again. No one wants you Parkinson's. You wreak havoc in our lives and make us all miserable. You turn the best of us into harrowed souls and diminish our strongest hearts and sharpest brains into dependent, vulnerable, shadows of their former selves.
You make us cringe and gasp and choke and fall and stress and raise our anxiety levels so high and think about what could have been instead. You make us avert and deny and forget and fall into habits we can not break nor do we want to separate from for fear of losing any semblance of control we once had in our life before we realized the deterioration of ourselves.
We fight you everyday Parkinson's and you sometimes seem to have the upper hand but we continue to fight. Fuck you Parkinson's for thinking you can win. Fuck you Parkinson's for all of your nasty treatment of our inner beings who only long for ourselves to be normal and our loved ones to feel whole and of themself. You take the tallest and most brave of us all and test us all everday with your slow and steady pinching grasp. Fuck you Parkinson's for your cowardly approach.
Fuck you Parkinson's for taking over the lives of those who were independent and strong and creative and quick-witted and who I most wanted to be like. Fuck you for taking that away from him and fuck you for taking that away from me!
You make us cringe and gasp and choke and fall and stress and raise our anxiety levels so high and think about what could have been instead. You make us avert and deny and forget and fall into habits we can not break nor do we want to separate from for fear of losing any semblance of control we once had in our life before we realized the deterioration of ourselves.
We fight you everyday Parkinson's and you sometimes seem to have the upper hand but we continue to fight. Fuck you Parkinson's for thinking you can win. Fuck you Parkinson's for all of your nasty treatment of our inner beings who only long for ourselves to be normal and our loved ones to feel whole and of themself. You take the tallest and most brave of us all and test us all everday with your slow and steady pinching grasp. Fuck you Parkinson's for your cowardly approach.
Fuck you Parkinson's for taking over the lives of those who were independent and strong and creative and quick-witted and who I most wanted to be like. Fuck you for taking that away from him and fuck you for taking that away from me!
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