A passion renewed

I have been told time and time again to read a little book by a woman named Anne Fadiman. The cover of said book is enough to create envy in me, and yet I had never gone beyond said cover. I have entered more bookstores than I can count, only ignoring the book as it stared back at me from the shelves.

This little book changed my life. Or at least reminded me why I am obsessed with reading and writing. The book Ex Libris is a collection of essays about reading and words. Its a brilliant piece of literature and entirely consuming. Each essay paints a better and more complete picture of Fadiman's slightly bizarre family whom all have the same obsession with words.

It reminded me that I had to write and write and write and write. And so I have been. Or at least trying to.

Fight the Good Fight

I've moved again. 7th time in just under a year and a half. I have moved from Colorado to Cambodia. Cambodia to Colorado. Colorado to Massachusetts. Massachusetts to Colorado. Colorado to New York (Manhattan). Manhattan to Brooklyn. Brooklyn to a different place in Brooklyn.

I'm spent.

Amidst my piles of books and mismatched socks there is a beautiful apartment. 12 foot ceilings. An archway. Old etched glass doors. Its paradise.

But i still can't shake the feeling of "oh shit" I continuously have regarding New York City. The "oh shit" feeling I have that I am living in the wrong place. Pursuing the wrong dream.

I know the dreams I want most. They are the ones I etch into journals swathed in faux leather covers. The writings I carve deep into their pages, aching for a life of a more pastoral nature. A life where I work on my art. Write my stories. Breathe fresh air daily. And yet, I stop short of truly chasing such dreams. Instead I put myself into jobs that eat all my time. Classes that just don't do my life dreams justice.

I want more.

I want an outdoor shower covered in ivy. A barn where I can create. A house where I can bake bread. Daily.

I. Need. Out.

Two years to go, maximum. Two more years.

Poor Soup Choices

Today I went to Union Market in the slope and bought a gazpacho. I spent quite a few hours angsting over the choices. The gazpacho is too spicy. I should have picked the bell pepper vichychoisse.

Poor choices indeed.

Uptown 6 Musings

So when I started writing down my subway experiences and putting them into chapters in the book I am writing, I worked in the Upper East Side.  Everyday I walked to the Spring Street Uptown 6 train, despite having much betters options for transportation.  There was something therapeutic about the experience.  It was the walk that was therapeutic, not the subway itself, at least not initially.  At this time, I hated the subway and was angry I couldn't get to work any other way easily.  (I biked from time to time, but it was a long miserable bike ride in traffic)  

But it was those slogs on the 6 train that kept me going, the things I saw, the people I began to recognize.  It was during those sticky fall days that I realized I could write a book about these people, about my move from idealistic perfect more-days-of-sun-per-year-than-miami Boulder to the big city.  And so I started.  I wrote chapters of my book on this train, noting the posters which advertised the "Good Day Dance" which in my humble opinion, was an adult version of Skinamarinky Dinky Dink.  I noted the man I saw nearly everyday who looked vaguely like jesus.  I watched a woman unpack and repack and entire suitcase of food (4,5 not 6 in full disclosure) and sweat profusely into a bag of dorritos which she inhaled in a matter of seconds. 

I began to settle into my life in new york, I slowly but surely found joy in riding the subway, as it was a way to let go of control and read a book.  People watch.  You name it.  

And now I almost look forward to the subway every day.  But I think, in reality, that has to do with the A/C.

What Nau?

So in my very waxing poetic post about nau, I told you a bit about what happened. But guess what? They are back in action!

So go load up on the cheap stuff (all at 50%) off while you still can! And be excited for all new stuff coming up in August.

I'm pretty excited. Won't lie.

The Things you See on the F Train to Brooklyn

1. A man holding steamed crab in his lap. Its precarious, he's asleep, and I am convinced that by the next stop I will be covered in the remnants of crab and clarified butter. And yet, as much as it dangles and the claws shake with every movement of the train, it remains unmoved.

2. A pile of destroyed fried chicken in the corner. As if no one would notice an entire KFC bucket of bones. Oh I noticed. And it made me hungry.

3. I was asked if I was married or had a boyfriend. (Please note: At the time I had a fauxhawk, was wearing baggy jeans, no makeup, a purple polo shirt and aviator sunglasses.) I stared at him, and screamed in my head "LOOK AT ME!!! DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!" My blank stare obviously confused him, as he sat done next to me and proceeded to ask if he would date me. I got off at the next stop and changed cars.

4. I was reading a book, a calculus textbook to be exact. Some man comes up to me and asks if I can stop reading my book because my elbows are taking up too much space.

5. (And on an adorable note) A pile of children with their mother. All children are asleep (probably aged 2-6), and she is reading a book. You have to wonder what she gave the munchkins to get them all to fall asleep in a proverbial pile on the F Train.

sense of loss

last night I discovered some sad news. My favorite retail company based out of Portland, OR called NAU filed for bankruptcy on Thursday.

About a year ago I was walking around the 29th Street Mall in Boulder, CO. I was soaking in the sunlight, breathing fresh air, and feeling genuinely happy about life. I passed an interesting looking store which was slated to open in a few days.

So naturally I went back. It was heaven. I have always been an outdoor clothes girl, I am a Boulderite of course. This left me less than fashionable. NAU transcended this and became known to enthusiasts as "patagonia meets prada". Their clothes made me feel like a million bucks. To top it of everything was organic or recyclable. Closed loop recyclable polyester, organic cotton, exquisite styling, neutral and wearable colors. The people they employed were a tribute to their company. Living breathing testimonies to living a clean, organic life with an emphasis on enjoying the outdoors. The business practices of NAU were unusual as 5% of your purchase went to a non-profit of your choice. During their first year of business, NAU donated nearly a quarter of a million dollars to charities. In addition, the highest paid staff member of NAU could not make more than 12 times that of the lowest paid. Being that the lowest paid staff member was only making 10 dollars an hour, the highest couldn't make more than 250,000k per year. Which may seem like a lot, but PALES in comparison to that of what a CEO at Nike makes (upwards of 5 million dollars a year, with the lowest staff member making 8 dollars an hour).

I was a NAU posterchild, and nearly 90 percent of my wardrobe became exclusively NAU. Now, I have a reason to branch out. But what I find most frightening, is that such a business model challenges the very way in which an organization functions, and became a mirror for many new business. If a business founded on sound principles cannot make it, that is sorely disappointing.

All I can say, is that NAU was a testament to the things that are good in the world, especially when it comes to positive business practices. Someday another sustainable clothing company will make it, but in the mean time, this is a sad day for sustainable retail.

much welcome.

just today i was sitting on the subway lamenting my past life in the little cow town. the smell of fresh air. the breeze that flows uninhibited, not forced through pathways of towers. the sound of. god forbid. silence. the way in which the mountains look at first light. i stared at the well dressed wall street crowd surrounding me, decked to the nines by people i have never met before. dolce. prada. fendi. jacobs. i was homesick. stifled. exhausted. subway weary (oh god how i hate the subway). i felt utterly out of control, with my destiny haphazardly placed in the hands of a drunken menace on a joy ride.

i remember, nearly a year ago, packing up my girlfriend's jeep and uhaul. loading up the dog and cat and heading east. uncertain but excited. i dreamed of the glitz and glam that new york city could offer me. the shimmer of sunshine on immense glass windows. the sound of a constant, neverending buzz that kept the city alive. i had friends sending me anything they could to convince me my decision was in earnest. blogs that documented beautiful burlesque dancers, party promoters, photographers. websites that touted potential employers. links to postings on craigslist for that vespa i had always dreamed of. reviews to restaurants i should try. you name it, it was in my inbox.

i had big dreams. monumental dreams.

and i exit the subway today in my schulmpy boots decked to the fours perhaps? toting with me only broken dreams, two twenty page papers, and the fear i will never succeed. dark circles, touseled hair. unkempt without remorse. weight of the finals session in academia on my shoulders.

as i mounted the last stair onto broadway i suddenly felt a vice-like grip at my back, shoving me out of my pessimism. without a warning i was surrounded by city hall park, cherry blossoms, and the utter bliss of warmth. i felt enlivened, and my optimism began to blush my cheeks pink.

my life today is anything but what i thought it would be when i left my home town, post college, with the belief i could tackle anything tucked delicately in my pocket. now i am taking comfort in my uncertainty, learning to embrace the pure potential this city has to offer.

lets hope this feeling lasts.

Wake Up and Pay Attention

I never look up in the city. I am always looking straight ahead or down at my feet which are moving as fast as humanly possible to get me to my destination.

After my last post I realized I am utterly clueless to my surroundings. When asked what restaurant a friend and I should go to for dinner I just blinked. I. Had. No. Idea. I just walk through my neighborhood to get from one destination to the other, I never stop to look around.

Case in point. My previous post about the subways and the musicians. The other day I saw a veritable onslaught of permitted performers with their own signs. I guess I have become so accustomed to looking down and getting myself to my train that I never actually took the time to look up. Just this week I saw a man play that awful Celene Dion/Titanic song on a saw. YES!!! A SAW!!!! I was impressed.

So why am I now looking up? What gross realization did I have that suddenly made me wake up and take notice to my surroundings? Ground Zero. Pure and simple.

I am a graduate student in Global Affairs at New York University. I study the hard stuff like terrorism and development economics. I spend most of my days either watching depressing documentaries or writing papers or reading about personal accounts of genocide. Its grueling, its enlightening, and it never ends. But the other week my first graduate class completed and we were asked to take a walk with my professor (who is a specialist in terrorism). He walked us a whole two blocks away to Ground Zero and told us to look at it.

Everyone looked down into this big gaping hole. Stared down into the depths of the city, hundreds of feet down. Everyone looked down. We continued our walk and he asked us to look again. Everyone looked down, us New Yorkers are well adjusted to look down. But suddenly it occurred to me "LOOK UP!!" So for once, I looked up. I stood at the precipice and stared directly to the heavens, it was so empty and vast for a new york city sky and I was in awe.

After a moment of my revelry my professor spoke. "I told you to look at Ground Zero, and so few of you looked up. You are staring at the onset of a new way of relating to the world. You spent weeks and hours of your life studying frameworks of international relations. Wake up kids, this shit is real. Some day you may be on one of these consulting firms that gets asked by the UN, or the United States whether or not we go to war, whether or not we bomb a country. Lives will either be saved by you or on your heads." He stared at us squarely in the face. This man was serious.

I pushed back tears from my eyes, and looked around at the hole, ladder 10, and the emptiness that is ground zero. He asked us to take a picture of the sky, saying that this devastation is what International Relations will be based on. I have looked at that photograph every day since I took it on my iPhone.

To say the least, I have started looking up.

Things you should do this weekend....

Go to the Streb slam show in Williamsburg!!!! These action geniuses will have you oooohing and aaaahing left, right, and center. Watch people wrestle with rebar, jump from impossible heights, dance up walls, and leap 20 feet in the air.

I have seen it a few times (granted I volunteer but still...) and its fantastic. For more information go to their website.

GET YO ASS THERE!

Music Under New York

The other day while transferring trains in the dreaded Times Square station I heard a very very melodious sound. Too melodious for a train station. As I am accustomed to be accosted by a cacophony of fairly talented musicians in the station on a regular basis, but never anything quite as astounding as this. So instead of heading to my train I followed the noise.

What I came upon was SPONSORED by the city of New York. It was by a program called "Music Under New York" and the band that was playing was a free form funk band. I can't for the life of me remember the bands name so I apologize. But to say the least I was truly impressed. And even more importantly it gave me an awe of NYC public transport. You would never even imagine seeing someone play in a bus station in Boulder, let alone supported by the transportation authorities that be.

And even more importantly, I had a photo op.

Things that I have learned about public transportation

See where I come from we have cute names for our public transportation system--which is made up entirely of buses. Each one has a pathway that is equivilent to one full street (it just runs up and down the same street day in and day out). This system is then linked by a bus that runs around the entire city. I live in Boulder, this does not have much area to take care of. So we have the Hop, the Jump, the Leap, the Bound, the Stampede, the Skip, etc. Pleasant names. They do the job required to cart a few hundred thousand people about.

Moving to NYC has required me to learn an entirely new system that is constructed of subways, buses, trains, and even monorails at the airport. For my entire life I have driven anywhere I want to go, generally in a cute little economical gas saving device.

Naturally being in such close proximity to people makes me: a) nervous, b) overwhelmed, and c) wishing I knew where I would actually end up when I get on a bus or train. And not to mention I begin to mix letters around when talking about the names of trains. And local vs. express. Crosstown, uptown, downtown. I get dizzy.

To say the least...I remain confused, less than pleased, and ready to be sipping tea on the veranda of my cute little cottage which exists only in my dreams.

Moving to Brooklyn

I have no new subway antics to share! Bummer. Truth be told I have been carting myself and my dog around in a car to meet potential roommates and see new places to live.

So I am moving to Park Slope. I have yet to decide on a location. But soon enough my friends!

And for added pleasure I have attached a picture of my dog whom I have deemed a "bona fide love bug"

Hard to 'Go Home' Again

I recently returned home to Colorado where we simply don't have subways. As a result, I didn't have much to say. But what I can say is that upon my arrival to Denver International Airport I noticed something rather odd--I no longer looked like a Coloradan.

Everyone waiting in line for the AB bus from Denver to Boulder was wearing a Patagonia and/or North Face puffy parka paired with grubby jeans and Birkinstocks. I admired all of them, as I too dressed like that a mere six months ago. But as I watched them board the bus I was astonished to realize that was wearing skinny jeans, riding boots over said jeans, a boiled wool coat, and I had quite the 'New York' hair.

It was clearly inevitable, I have become a New Yorker.

F Train to Brooklyn

Today I was thinking on my way to Brooklyn how strange it is that I rarely see any Caucasian panhandlers on the train. More times than not, they just aren't there. There is of course the flute dude who plays everyday in the Downtown Broadway/Lafayette station, but he is the only one that I can place notably in my lexicon for folk I am currently writing about.

But today on the way home from Brooklyn I ate my worlds. I ran into an honest man, or seemingly so, seeking out money on the train. Considering I take this train back and forth between Brooklyn and I have never seen him makes me wonder if he was legit.

His speech was heartfelt and earnest and very well rehearsed (too rehearsed perhaps?). He was homeless, just out of jail, and kicked out of his family. He had stayed at a homeless shelter for the past two nights, but was recently attacked in a homeless shelter. He was seeking out a total of 15 dollars so that he could stay at the YMCA for a night.

Curious, I asked him how much he currently had. His reply, while emptying out his pockets, "About six bucks." So I handed him a dollar and I said he better get off the train at 25 bucks, otherwise I would be severely disappointed.

His response. "Ma'am, I don't want to be on this train anymore than you do. Its just a necessity. I start work Monday, so I will certainly be off this train by then. Embarrassment doesn't even begin to cover how I feel right now." I bid him farewell, and wished him luck. If I see him again in a few weeks, I will worry.

But then again, here I am calling him honest and believing his story. And he was the first panhandler I gave money to....I think this plays into so much of the racism that I had ingrained into my brain at a young age in Southern California. It was "common knowledge" that beggars weren't white. Right, common knowledge. That is until you see them and you realize that you grew up being lied to. But sometimes its hard to bury those lies....


I hope he finds what he is looking for....

Clarabella NYC and Quarter Life Crises

Today I dropped on into my friends shop in the Lower East Side to pick up an amazing little bracelet I ordered a while back. While there, I discussed with her all of my options in my life currently. I would list them all but the list is rather daunting and I would rather not.

She reminded me that I am young, have a lot of talent and will do just fine--Just need to find, ya know, FOCUS. (yay Erin for the pick me up)

So that said, I am slowly etching out a plan for the future. It feels good. I will keep you all updated on the process.

And if you ever need an awesome handbag, pair of shoes, belt, pair of earrings or whatnot go check out Erin's shop. Its pretty spectacular and the company ain't so bad either.

Annie Leibovitz

I believe from my heart of hearts she is one of the most fantastic portrait photographers in the history of mankind. There is something about her signature, slightly over photoshop-ed style that I just can't get away from. The use of color, her concepts, her models reaction to her work...its all rather extraordinary. Below is a video which I just found that shows how well she interacts with her subjects and the resulting work the occurs.

She is truly astounding.

Note to a member of the NYC Public

Dear Sir,

Pushing you way up the stairs on a staircase that is already full four across is not advisable. This is not spawning season, you are not a salmon, but you may need to get laid. Please note: This is not our fault, so don't act as if it is. Good luck finding sex, you most certainly need it.

Thanks,
Makenna

Not that I want to...

But I can't ignore this. Nope. Just can't. And I really hate dealing with politics on any blog I do. But this is not something to take lightly.




And this is why America can be really scary sometimes.

Commencement of a New Blog

Sound the horns ladies and gentlemen, a new blog is here on the internets.

This is a place for me to do quite a bit of things. But primarily it is a place for me to post partial chapters/whole chapters of the book I am currently writing. Please watch out for updates, and keep the comments a going.

Allow me to introduce myself (beyond the scope of my bio). I'm a recent Smith College graduate who is now studying economics and sustainability at New York University. I live in Manhattan with my lovely dog Kiri, my cat Colfax, and my girlfriend Kellie. I'm into photo documentary projects, protesting anti-queer folk, advocating for what I believe is just and right in the world, and being outdoors in the wilderness as much as possible.

I work for the infamous Pulitzer prize winning photo journalist Edward Keating. I also own my own marketing firm. I am always spread thin, but seem to manage my ability to balance everything...Although it can be challenging.

So there you have it sports fans.