Taking The A Train (Maybe) Part 1 - A Rant on Transportation

 New York's transportation system is amazing. It allows for nondrivers like me (cantankerous road-ragers who dream of flattening pedestrians) to hop into a tin box that gets me from Point A to Point B. Generally it can get me almost anywhere and if I'm lost, walking enough in any direction will land me in one of NYC's many train stations. Of course, it is not without its faults.

Being forced into a small space with people who are different from you in smell, culture, economic status, values, dress code, etc creates a need for patience and tolerance. Sadly these are traits I myself do possess in great quantity  And this is where the point of my rant comes in:

Bad parenting on trains drives me crazy.

I'm waiting for my train, the 1 in a stop near my neighborhood on my way to work. I am sitting on bench, which is empty because the train was pulling out of the station as I reached the platform (it's the pits). I am trying to read Life of Pi by Yann Martel to assure myself that I have not because brain dead during the summer after rewatched seasons of Skins (the UK version) and Gossip Girl. After a few minutes the station begins to fill again and before I know it, I am surrounded by a family: a woman, young girl, and teenage boy to my left, and two more women to my write. I assume they are a family as they are conversing with other over me. 


It is immediately obvious that the children are annoying and the parents incompetent. At once the young girl is screaming to hear the sound of her voice echo off the old bricks of the dome-like station. Her mother sees the child is being disruptive but does nothing but try to converse with the woman on my other side over the noise. When the train finally does pull into the station, the little girl rushes to the door practically shouldering me out of the way even though I had stood from my seat was at the platform edge before her. And she does not wait for the departing passengers to leave as she charges through bodies (one of the rudest things people do in public transportation - and honestly, if you're below the age of 30, you're young enough to chance standing) to find a seat in a practically empty car.

When the train is finally in motion, I am subjected to watching the rude little girl turn my magical tin box of transportation into a jungle gym. She is yelling and standing on her seat throwing herself on the to pole in the center of the car and sliding down over and over and over again. The other passengers and I look on in horror.

When she becomes bored of this, she takes to walking on the empty seats of the car, seemingly fascinated by the changing colors of the seats: red, orange,yellow, red, orange, yellow. She throws herself onto the pole slides down, and starts again on the other side of the car. She flings herself back and forth, back and forth from side of the train to the other. She is an irritated primate at the zoo and we, the other passengers, watch her accordingly.

The adults meanwhile are conversing amongst themselves, seemingly unaware other the child's behavior. Meanwhile the older brother (a teenage boy of at least 16) has started banging on the empty seat between us as though he's a beatnik poet on bongos. No words are said to discourage the children's behavior until I get up to leave.

The fact that people need to be subjected to other people's rude children and that said people aren't versed enough in respectful etiquette to reign in their children is just unfair. It's like torturing strangers for the fun of it, ruining their commute. And worse, when someone does look over at the parents in horror or confusing, they generally stare back annoyed and insulted, as though, I'm the bad guy in this situation.

(sigh)

I have no more words.
Let me know if I'm being completely unreasonable.
Share your own stories.

Writing In New York - An After Midnight Rant

I am not a part of the Starbucks going, sitting in a loud place with my mac laptop, trying to write that next bestseller-type individual.

But I know people who are.

Recently I've been trying to write a novel, hopefully the first of four well planned out sagas because I have a love for writing, I love storytelling, and with a shortage of jobs for college students like me during this debt-crazed recession period, it's the one thing I know I can do without my having to send out a resume and:

1) not get a response
2) get a response only to find I am not qualified for said position
3) go to an interview only to be told the position is filled
4) be told I need a masters degree for something as ridiculous as a babysitting job
etc...

So, I've forced some of that pendant le semestre discipline and forced myself to study the structure involved in storytelling. Lots of books were read in order to help me become well versed in the functions of, how stories are structured with specific plot points in specifically marks sections of every novel, character arcs and development, etc. And it is daunting to see how many of my initial ideas have been tweaked or thrown out before the story has even started, before I've even put the pen to paper.

And this is where my slight condescension comes in for Starbucks addicted don't-I-look-cool-with-my-mac-laptop-while-the-barista-loudly-makes-her-seven-hundredth-frappachino type NYC writers. How can you focus with so much going on around you? How can you pay attention to your protagonist when he's just found out that person who murdered his wife was not the jealous mother but his overly affectionate adoptive mother? You can't unless you possess the amazing power of completely muting the world around you, a gift I certainly don't possess.

And I find a parallel between these people and people who share an English Major with me. I've found since starting college that the most "slacker" degrees out there are Philosophy, Psychology, and English. I feel that this is because with a moderate talent for bullshitting (excuse my French) one can pretty much "skate on by" an entire semester.

"Those are the majors people pick when they don't know what to pick. Those are the majors people pick when they don't have a plan."

And while I can see how this may somewhat be true, the same could be said for the flux of business majors graduating from colleges who chose their majors not for joy of the subject or any prominent skill in business but simply because they want to thrive in a capitalist driven society.

So I'm a little frustrated with Joe Shmoe telling me that he's going to write a book. I'm a little irritated with Hannah Montana and Lizzie Maguire and every other celebrity who decides they can write a teen fiction novel on the side, and for being one of those "aren't I such a hipster, I write stories- wait, make that a venti" type people. Not because I want to stereotype and not because I want to discourage them from writing - I don't! I think everyone should try their hand at writing because you'd be surprised to find what you come up with and how expressive you can be - but because I feel like there's some beatnik type fascination with the idea of write and not the process or the writing itself.

Like "I'm so deep and creative man, I'm writing a book and stuff".

And worse, to fuel my distrust of New York writers who don't belong to magazines and newspapers, I have no friends with a shared passion for storytelling, which only facilitates my apprehension.

So if you're a writer or an aspiring writer like me (a legitimate one) please let yourself be known. Let me know what you're into, what you're working on, if you'd like to get together for some creative synergy.

Hoping to hear from you soon!

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After post conversation to get the juices flowing:

me 2:43 am
    Sadness. But seriously though, this writing thing is no joke and I feel like no one takes it seriously.

 me 2:44 am
     A bit disappointing really. Especially when I need to defend novels to Business majors who say that the arts contribute nothing to society

 friend 2:44 am
    It's a lot to do with the strange hipster phenomenon that is sweeping society.
    And those Business majors aren't going to make any money ever.
    Art is the only thing that society needs it's the constant (other than obviously people).

 me 2:46 am
    True but any business major will tell you that math and science is the place to be right now and that an arts degree is pointless as it hinders society by luring away people who could be doing something more useful.

 friend 2:47 am
    ugh.

 me 2:47 am
    That's generally when I look at them and say that science and history are ridiculously linked with literature because novels record history. For example, The Great Gatsby (classic example of the 1920's)
    Or how science always tries to imitate what science fiction writers imagine in their novels.

 friend 2:48 am
    Yup.
    Or we can look at the numbers.
    Who makes the most money other than people who literally make money; entertainers.

 me 2:49 am
    Exactly. And these sorts of things are some of the few that the U.S still produces itself

friend 2:49 am
    Yeah.

* Let me know your thoughts on the matter! 

Let Me Introduce Myself

The start of any relationship begins with an introduction of sorts. I'll start by introducing you to my New York which is different from anybody else's really, as my NYC spans from my prodominantly Hispanic neighborhood of Washington Heights to the amazingly interesting and affordable streets of Chinatown. From here to there, large gaping holes of unknown avenues and street names mock and confuse directionally dysfunctional saps like me so that one wrong turn has me dialing my father in tears to pick me up because I'm lost and emotionally distraught.

My NYC likes to remind me that as a New Yorker I should know where I'm going and that if I don't, I'm doomed to circle the same block over and over until something looks familiar. It keeps me company when I walk immensely long downtown avenue blocks in the wrong direction and have to cross the street in hopes that no one notices me doubling back. My NYC is the nagging voice in my ear telling me to look unimpressed at the hot protruding light of Times Square or the bohemian chic feel of Union Square. It's what tells me to put on an English accent when I absolutely HAVE TO ask an officer for directions.

Quite frankly, it can be a bit of a bully.

But... it can also be the best companion you could ask for. When you're upset and need to think things through, to cool off, New York gives you miles and miles of park and sidewalk and street to walking, bike, drive, sit, read a book on. It forces you out of your comfort zone until you're sitting in a hot metal box smelling of damp air and sweat next to someone you would've never met, or spoken to, and half the time wish it would've stayed that way. It challenges you to be different in a city full of individuality and people who will put you down because they think everyone should be different in the same way. And it laughs in your face when you fall off your skateboard and eat asphalt or when a yellow cab drives too close to the curb and drenches you in dirty gutter water.

New York may be a lot of things but it is not without a sense of humor.

And its easy to feel overwhelmed and want to get away. Hell, I spend hours dreaming of impossible escapades in cleaner, more traditional, and romantic cities in Europe where the people will be hotter, the scenery more romantic, and the alcohol something akin to the nectar of the gods. But the only place that would get my cynicism, my ambition, my dislike of inconsequential small talk, my need to wear black almost every day, my unearned confidence is New York. My New York.

But New York is more than just most of the West Side and the Upper East side. It's more than just Manhattan. It's made up of all these other limbs: Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, and the ever under appreciated Staten Island - places I rarely travel to because of my comfort with Manhattan, the heart of New York, what people call "The City".

Eventually I'm sure I'll travel to these outer boroughs, finding good places to eat, cheap bars, obscure train lines, worthwhile band venues... until then, let me know about your New York.