WE MET ON THE INTERNET

photo by overshadowed

This is a photo of me and my pal S, fellow blogger otherwise known as Two-Minute Happiness. We met three years ago - three? - on the internet. Yes. On the internet. She is from Australia. Moved to Tokyo and now lives in London. Talk about a world traveler. I kept hoping to visit her in these various places but she moves so fast it's hard to catch up.

She was breezing through New York recently - her second visit here. Her first visit we walked over the Brooklyn bridge and had pizza. This second visit I told her I'd meet her and a group of pals at Congee village for a round table meal of yummy Cantonese cuisine complete with tasty pina coladas. Typical us - on my way down to meet her I had a feeling that we might run into one another. Sure enough as I boarded the subway down to Congee village I did. Out of all the cars and times and trains to get on New York City there was my little internet pal S from Australia who just lived in Tokyo and now lives in London wearing her cool scarf that she made featuring a happy snake head on it. There are so many reasons to like such a person as S. And this is just one of them.

*On a side note apparently I have the longest arm in the world based on this photo

FAT SUIT

You know what is annoying? The media. Specifically morning talk shows that I tune in to only for the purpose of distracting me from my boring morning excercises. I hate how they always get stuck on one subject and all of the sudden it's all the rage on every network.

The subject this week seems to 'fat suits'. Yes. That's right people. Out of all the important things going on in the world currently the news media feels they need to focus on 'behind the scenes' experiences of various pretty girls and models wearing 'fat suits' and how people treated them. Badly. Gasp.

Have you ever watched something so annoying that you just physcially want to scream in frustration? That is how it felt this morning as I watched Katie Couric wearing a blazer apparently made out some NBC CEO's former office drapes, scrunch up her well plucked brow in deep concern as a model shared her story about wearing a fat suit and asking Katie to please repeat the question.

NOW

Last night I left work early and headed to the middle of Brooklyn to volunteer tutoring high school teens on writing their college essays. Finally a chance to tell kids the real reason to go to college: get wasted and hook up.

After I emerged from the subway, I asked some local cops to point me in the direction of where I was headed. One cop that sounded like The Terminator suggested cutting through the Brooklyn college campus. I signed in to get a visitor's pass from a surly cop resembling Janine Garofalo, and grabbed my visitor's badge and headed for the main quad. College is so funny. No matter what campus you are on some things stay the same. Kids smoking outside the 'mess hall'. Guys playing guitar for a group of girls on the grass. Little nerd kids with stacks of books so high they can hardly see their way to the lab. The accents I heard on campus were quite a mix - Russian, Polish, Israeli, Jamaican, Pakistani, etc.

When I arrived at my destination, the small group of tutors and I waited a while before a handful of kids showed up. We were told not to worry about spelling mistakes which made me happy because I can't spell. We were only to focus on the content of what the kids were trying to write. I was lucky enough to work with a young woman for close to 45 minutes who was feeling stumped on her essay. She had attempted several times to start but couldn't begin. I shared with her my experience in writing for television and how I often worked backwards starting with my punchline and then working my way back up to the start. She seemed relieved that this was an option for her and quickly we started to toss around ideas.

Her college application asked to define who she was due to her heritage and her interests. She loved photography and her family's history was an interesting mix of Dominican, Black and Cherokee Indian. Her past was a rich mix of hardship and loss as well as stuggles to achieve. She was the child we all read about that is constantly swimming upstream doing her best to tune out the bad influences. Towards the end of our session we had grown comfortable with one another and yet still struggled to write her first line.

There was a pause and then she turned to me and said, "You know...I don't know how to say this but...if there was one moment in time that I could capture in a photograph...it would be now." Now as not in our tutoring session. Now as in being on the brink of opportunity. Going to college and changing her life. I smiled and congratulated her. She finally had her first sentence.

DONORSCHOOSE.ORG

Important in today's New York Times:

"Americans are a generous people, but the sad truth is that charitable giving is just not keeping pace with income... Why? For many potential donors, the biggest obstacle is lack of faith... They just aren't confident that the money they give will actually end up helping people... DonorsChoose.org, is not just helping — directly helping — New York City kids, it may eventually change the face of philanthropy."—Newsweek

Please sign up. It is amazing, easy and so worth it.

Examples of how you can help schools in your area (not just New York)
with small donations:

A Brooklyn school that wants to start a
Digital Photography Program

A Brooklyn art classroom looking to buy
Paper Cutter

CLAMTASTIC

This weekend our good friends invited us out to Long Island. Another friend joined and it made for a fun group of people to hang out and relax with.



One of the main activities planned for the weekend was a clamming trip. I was excited when I heard the news. As kids we grew up clamming in the bay near our house but only in the summer, in fairly deep water and with our toes. The clamming scheduled for this trip was with rakes (similar to a three-pronged garden tool) and in ankle deep, low tide water.



Overall I found the whole process quiet and relaxing. Much like the bay at home the mud was thick, smelly and rich with oysters, mussels, clams of all kinds, snails, hermit crabs and beautiful red brain-like sea coral. I was able to rake in 1 oyster, 4 regular bleach white clams and 2 razors. While it wasn't a huge bounty by any means it was sitll fun and challenging. The most challenging part was how often my boots got stuck in the mud. Most of the time I had to claw each boot out individually. If I didn't work fast enough before I knew it the first boot I'd clawed out moments before would already be sinking back into the mud. When you are stuck in the mud you are literally...stuck in the mud. Don't panic. Breath and determine your next move rationally without moving two quickly. Twice I lost my balance while trying to rush and set myself free. Both times I nearly fell face forward only catching myself moments before I got a taste of nature's very own mud mask.



And as a side note, guys may like fishing and clamming because of the gear. So do girls but I must confess I was also in it for the boots. Who needs Uggs when you can have $10 white shrimper boots?



I found the rake I used quite helpful although I still liked using my hand despite the water being cold. I used my rake to clear away the layer of floating seaweed, I listened for a 'clink' and if I hit something I would then reach my hand in the smelly, murky mud and hope for the best.



By the time we waded our way back to the car, the sun was setting, a chill was in the air and we could hardly believe we had been out there for a few hours.



When we got home, we made a fire, opened some wine and everyone helped prepare the fresh seafood feast which combined lot made a huge meal.



This weekend made me nostalgic. Memories of my parents, sister and my many cousins clamming in our local bay together in the summers. How we liked to surprise our city house guests by pulling up clams with our toes mid-swim. How my mother was able to convince even the biggest city dwelling skeptic that they too could catch their very own clam. And how the whole lot of us complete with scraped toes, chipped toenail polish and handfuls of clams stuffed in our bathing suits would swim proudly back to shore.



Most of us spend our lives trying to forget where we come from. As I get older I struggle to find the balance between living my life independently of my past while still holding on to some of the better memories. For me many of those memories are often quite simple and lovely. Candles on the backyard picnic table. Fresh clams on the bbq. Good local wine. The sounds of happy houseguests as they try to recall the last time they caught their very own meal.