Le Delice

Around the corner from my apartment is an old school bakery called La Delice. I used to walk past it all the time on the way to and from the 28th St subway, and inevitably more times than once I'd find myself walking into it without much thought after smelling the baking sugary goodness in the air as I walked on the south side of 27th street. Since August however, the 28th St subway has been closed for renovations, which also meant that I now walk a different route to get to and from the 23rd St subway (as an aside - I really dislike the 23rd St subway because walking to it involves navigating down far more crowded and busy streets; it also has no convenient MacDonalds right by it for sudden french fry cravings). This inevitably resulted in me ending up at La Delice far less. As a substitution I supposed I ended up buying Lloyds Carrot Cake, especially since my student teaching school was a stone's throw away from its East Harlem outpost.

Anyway I didn't give it much thought until today. I was walking back home from Burlington Coat Factory on 23rd St and 6th Ave when I thought to pop by La Delice. I had originally forced myself out of the house for the sake of health (mental and physical) and had embarked on a rather joyless trip to Burlington because I needed to at least walk for a bit. Burlington was very crowded, and the lines were long, and people were angry (I don't know why I still find this surprising about NYC; everyone is always pissed and testy). I ended up finding a small gift for Merlina, and also purchased a bag of Albanese gummy bears as I heard they were supposedly the best tasting gummies around. After spending sufficient time spent standing and out of the house, I walked home and kept thinking about how the fact that I had finished that activity meant I had made it for yet another day - something rather bleak and pessimistic in tone.

Just as I was walking down 26th St, it suddenly occurred to me that I should pay a visit to La Delice, especially since I had originally left the house just over an hour earlier thinking about picking up a sweet treat for Jon. So to La Delice I went, and I selected a slice of white chocolate and chocolate mousse cake, and a chocolate chip cookie. As I went to pay, I looked at the lady serving me and wondered if she was the same assistant that always helps me, but she looked more made up and so I wasn't sure. It wasn't until she handed my change back to me, smiled at me and said, "Welcome back!" that I knew it was her. Walking out, I then started thinking about how it indeed had been a while since I was there. Sometime a few months ago I wandered in to buy macarons, but that had been at least two months ago, especially because I've been so sick. I also thought about how her comment made me feel warm and fuzzy inside - it's always nice to be recognised - and how that comment has definitely made my day.

It's the little things in life.

More Books

I finally finished student teaching last week Wednesday. It was probably the most tiring, health-draining, emotionally exhausting few months I've ever had in my entire existence. Yet at the same time, it was also extremely emotionally rewarding and bittersweet. Since finishing student teaching, my priority has been to try and get well again, as my health has suffered and I'm currently the weakest that I've probably ever been. It also doesn't help that the gym I usually go to is closed for renovations, and so I am also deprived of that activity to help gain my strength back.

Last week I finally finished A Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich. I had originally started the book over a week ago, when I started teaching the unit on Westward Expansion to the 8th Graders. I ended up being so ill and tired that I couldn't finish the book until after student teaching ended, because all I could do when I got home was nap and hope I didn't get more ill. Anyway, A Plague of Doves turned out to be a very different book from The Round House, which threw me off a little. A Plague of Doves was a lot more nuanced, and read like a study about the overlapping lives of the Native Americans and the white settlers, and their respective descendants. Unlike The Round House where there were clear villains, most of the characters in A Plague of Doves were presented as figures in different shades of grey morality - human and relatable. 

Since then, I have also finished two more books, The Wild Inside by Christine Carbo and Strike Your Heart by Amelie Nothomb. The Wild Inside is part of a series of mystery thriller books set in Glacier National Park in Montana, which I enjoy for its unusual setting, and Strike Your Heart is a slim novella that I received as part of sponsoring something on Kickstarter. Clocking in at 135 pages with a medium sized font, I ended up finishing Strike Your Heart in less than 12 hours after picking it up last night, and it definitely stands out as one of the more unusual books that I've read in a long time. A simple and sparsely written prose about the damaging effects of selfish motherhood, Strike Your Heart is able to paint complex portraits of emotions with very little words. It reminded me a little of Edeet Ravel's The Cat.

Accountability

The ultimate number one way to end up with messed up children who don't contribute anything back to society is to never hold them responsible or accountable for anything - the actions they take, the things they say, the decisions that they make as conscious human beings. I don't what else more I can say. 

Gilead

This week, I finished reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Although on a level, I could appreciate at artistry that went into crafting this book, on another level I found it hard to relate. It felt very much to me a book that would have better appealed to someone who was either middle aged or male, preferably both. The overall narrative is of the loving yet tumultuous relationships between 4 different sets of fathers and sons - John Ames' father and grandfather, John Ames' father and himself, John Ames and his young son, and John Ames and his namesake godson John Ames Broughton.

While I appreciated that this book was very well done, the narrative didn't quite strike a chord with me. Maybe I needed to read it as an older person, or read it in quieter spaces (e.g. not on a NYC subway). I did however, enjoy the historical details about John Brown and the abolitionist movement in Kansas. Overall, I would give it a 7/10. 

3 Memorable Books

Since student teaching has started, I haven't had much time for reading at all. Still whenever I have the chance, I read. These days I get most of my reading done on the 6 train, as I go to and fro school. Back and forth from my subway stop to the school's subway stop, it's about 15 minutes each, and since I usually get a seat, I am able to read for that time.

So far I've finished a few books this week, but out of these books, 3 stand out (well +1, if you include the sequel to one of the books). These 3 books are Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows (+ the sequel, Crooked Kingdom), Julia Alvarez's Yo!, and Edeet Ravel's The Cat, the latter for which I just finished this morning.

I read Six of Crows early on in student teaching, as the students in 7th Grade were reading that as one of their books for Lit Circles. It turned out to be a very well written and entertaining young adult fantasy book, with some very memorable and well-sketched characters. The moment I finished the last page of Six of Crows (which had been loaned to me by the 7th Grade ELA teacher), I ended up going onto my Kindle and immediately purchasing the sequel, which I then finished over the rest of the weekend. I would describe the plot as a mixture of fantasy Oceans's Eleven, but executed in a way that felt more entertaining and meaningful than The Lies of Locke Lamora, which I had read during the Summer. I would rate these books both 9/10.

Yo! was a book that I had picked up on a whim at Housing Works. I had previously read In the Time of the Butterflies before, and thought it was just OK. I did not feel very impressed with it, although it was obviously a book written during a very important historical period for the Dominican Republic. Yo! has a similar narrative structure to In the Time of the Butterflies, alternating between different narrators. A key difference of course is that Yo! revolves around one person, the titular protagonist Yolanda and her journey through life as an individual. By focusing only on a singular person however, Alvarez managed to flesh out a very human character that is equal parts flawed, confused, and heroine. Though at times bordering on the absurd and silly - I really disliked the part about the stalker and thought the nonsense about her old college professor seemed unrealistic - the book still possess enough artistry to get away with those two low points. I would rate this book 8/10.

Another book picked up on a whim at Housing Works was The Cat. I was - of course - initially attracted by the title of the book, but it proved overall to be a very moving and simple read. Unlike many authors nowadays who can write mountains of text based on the most prosaic of events in their characters lives, Ravel does the opposite and is sparing, almost stingy, with her words. She also breaks up her narrative into short chunks, separated by line breaks. Somehow, even by doing these two things, she still manages to paint a deep and rich world in the reader's mind. One example is this short section: "The leaves are turning. I lower my blinds against the glowing forest, the clear blue sky. I don't want to see what my son can't see." The result is a heartbreaking portrait of a grieving mother trying to navigate a new world without her son, and the cat, Pursie, which is enough to keep her going just long enough for her to find her own momentum to keep moving forward in life. I would rate this book 9/10.

Saturday in Astoria

Yesterday Jon and I had one of those rare, free and spontaneity filled days. He had the idea of taking the NYC Ferry across the East River to Astoria, and for us to visit the Socrates Sculpture Park. Then I had the idea of visiting AbuQir, which Marc had told me about a few months ago. This then made me think of asking Marc and his girlfriend, Amanda out for a beer if they happened to be free, and so I texted him. And with that, we had the bare bones outline of a plan for the day.

Jon and I took the NYC Ferry to Astoria from the 34th St dock, and it turned out to be a very nice ride. The Ferry was 90% empty, and made stops at LIC and Roosevelt Island, before dropping us off at Astoria. We then walked about 3 minutes to get to Socrates Sculpture Park, which was quite small but filled with people. There were sculptures scattered all around the park, and a mixture of volunteers helping sweep up fallen leaves, and families with small children goofing around. There was a lone market tent open, for Hellgate Farms which turned out to be a local city farm with apiaries on top of buildings in the LIC area. Intrigued, we bought a bottle of spicy ketchup. We ended up spending around 15 minutes in total at the park, and then walked to meet Marc and Amanda at Astoria Bier and Cheese. It was interesting walking through that stretch again, because I used to do observations at a school right by the park, and the area has definitely changed since I was there about a year and a half ago - for starters there were a lot of Japanese places, complete with actual Japanese script.

Astoria Bier and Cheese turned out to be a really cute shop and bar kind of place. We ordered a pretzel with bier cheese, and Jon ordered some sort of beer, and I had a wildberry cider which was really good. After a while Marc and Amanda came, and we ended up hanging out for about an hour. I also bought a spicy prosciutto spread that I saw in the cooler, and a bar of blanxart chocolate (I had it years ago in Spain - and remember it being the best I've ever had - but haven't seen since). Then we walked down the Broadway to catch a bus to Little Egypt, to AbuQir. AbuQir turned out to be packed, and almost exactly like Astoria Seafood, but much more smaller. The food took a while to come because it was very busy, but it was very good. The only regret was that I wish we hadn't ordered so much fried calamari, but instead had smaller portions of everything else.

After AbuQir, I googled 'feta Astoria', because I recalled Irias talking about a place in Astoria that sold several types of feta cheese - her favourite kind. I ended up finding Titan Foods, and we decided to walk there since it was right by the subway anyway. Titan Foods was a cute small Greek specialty supermarket, and we picked up three things: a decadent chocolate cake with almonds, 1/2 pound of Bulgarian feta, and 1 large takeaway carton of fasolada (Greek Bean soup). We then lucked out with the subway, as it came about 4 minutes after we were waiting at the platform; when we passed other stations we saw that the duration for the subsequent trains were about 15 minutes each.

We got off at 23 Street, and then went to PetSmart, which was right by the subway. It was Jon's first time there, and I have to say it was probably the most crowded that I've ever seen the store. We ended up not buying anything because the lines were very long and we didn't want to wait.

By the time we arrived home, I felt utterly exhausted. I ended up sitting on the couch, all zoned out. Jon joined me after a while and we ended up watching a silly and raunchy Korean movie called Love Clinic.

All it all, it was a very satisfying and enjoying moderately adventurous day.

Memories of Student Teaching

I will miss this school when I finally finish student teaching. Although I have never felt more tired, I have also never felt more proud of the hard work that I've been putting in, and the relationships that I have formed with the students and teachers. For many of the students especially, as I never expected to feel such close bonds to them within a short period of time, given that the gulf between cultural backgrounds and experience is so large. Almost everyday I come home with an entertaining story to tell Jon.

For instance in these past few days alone:
- Telling students that we need to shove a little bit because tourists were cutting us for the Ellis Island security check, and one of them immediately said, "Stiff shoulders everyone!"
- A student taking coffeemate creamers from the cafe on the Ellis Island ferry, drinking them proclaiming to me that they 'tasted really good and were free!'
- Half-heartedly telling a student to stop feeding the birds when we were eating lunch on Ellis Island. He ignored me, I didn't care, and he kept throwing the bread closer and closer to where he was sitting with another student. Next thing I know they're all screaming and freaking out from 1) watching the seagulls bully the pigeons, 2) from the birds flying too close to them. Finally the other male student who was sitting next to the perpetrator somehow got bird poop on his jacket and sweater, even though no one knows how that happened
- A student telling me that I should be on My Weird Addiction because she always sees me drinking Juice Boxes. Now she calls me Ms. Juice Box
- A Grade 8 class bursting into the Cellino and Barnes song while I'm talking about the Haymarket Affair, because that's what they strongly associate any legal/court cases with

Some of the other more memorable events thus far also include:
- A student giggling like mad to himself because he contoured Margaret Sanger's face on a handout. I didn't even notice what he did until he showed the original to me; his contouring actually looked really good
- Watching students roll down the grassy slopes in central park, after the Grade 7 field trip to the Natural History Museum
- Figuring out how to replace the staples in the Lanier photocopier on the 5th floor

I should really take more pains to record things down, so I can recall them in the future.

A Typical Sunday

Things to do today:

1) Laundry

2) Visit Trader Joe's

3) Gym

4) Cook dinner

5) Prepare lunch things for week ahead

6) Grade student work

7) Plan lessons

8) Call my parents

Since student teaching has started, I have never felt more busy or tired. Although I can go home some days at 2:20 pm, right on the dot, I often stay for at least 40 minutes afterwards, if not for hours more. The hours seem to just melt away when I'm in the classroom after hours - there is always more planning, more grading that can be done. Although I am really enjoying myself, finding the experience rewarding and a learning a lot, I feel exhausted. 

First Day of School

Today was the first official day of school, and I ended up going up and down the 5 stories (the Social Studies room is located right on the top-most floor, the 5th) what must have been at least 10 times. Around the 5th time I went up and down, I started wishing that I had invested in a fit bit watch, just to see exactly how much unexpected of a cardio workout I was getting just by doing my 'job' as a student teacher. By 9 am I felt so completely disgusting and sticky all over that I wanted a shower, and by lunch break, I was pretty sure that I could smell myself even though I deliberately wore the strongest, sweat gland clogging-est deodorant that I had.

Just my luck that the first week of school coincides with another wave of heat, and that I picked a school that has 5 stories and no lift. At least the deli next to the school seems pretty good, because the school also lacks a staff fridge for me to bring and store my lunch in.

Pachinko

Earlier today, I finished reading Pachinko by Min Jin Lee. Although seemingly as equally thick a tome at The Luminaries, Pachinko is considerably shorter, clocking in at only 479 pages. Told through a very simplistic third person narrative, this book was nevertheless an easy read that kept me turning the pages. I finished it in just under 36 hours, and Jon kept commenting that I looked very absorbed as I was reading - an apt description of how I felt about the narrative.

Compared to The Luminaries, I felt a lot more drawn in by Pachinko, probably because I was a lot more familiar with the geographic locations - Korea and Japan - and the history behind it. I had also long heard of the burakumin ethnic Koreans in Japan, and the societal discrimination that they have historically faced. Generally, I also enjoy epic narratives that follow the stories of characters over a long duration of time, and Pachinko's narrative fit neatly into this category. I would rate Pachinko 9/10.

-----

For dinner today Jon and I met with Hannah outside our house, and together we three walked to the West Village to eat at Kish Kash, a restaurant serving Moroccan food. The restaurant's claim to fame is its couscous, which is made in the restaurant by the chef. The food was good, the price reasonable, and the decor pretty. Afterwards, we made a quick stopover in Milk & Cookies bakery to buy some cookies for dessert later, and then walked back home. In total, it was about 4 miles worth of walking, which was great since I had pretty much been sitting all day and reading. The weather was also nice and pleasant, and so, good for walking. In all, it was an enjoyable outing. 

The Luminaries

I have just finished reading The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton. Clocking in at a formidable 830 pages, The Luminaries is a large brick of a book that I've put off reading for some time because of its crazy size - it seemed like a book that would require time, focus, and staying at home, because of its obvious lack of portability.

I first heard of this book when it won the 2013 Man Booker Prize, and it was described as something like a murder mystery. When I came across it in the Barnes and Noble discount section what must have been at least more than a year ago, I purchased it with the idea of reading it in some sort of future time, as Man Booker Prize winners are usually worth a read. Earlier this week, as I was casting my eye over the brimming bookshelf after finishing The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch on Kindle (8/10), I thought of finally starting The Luminaries as this was the last week of my Summer break (sort of, Hunter has already started but I'm only taking one class; full time student teaching starts next week), and to clear out the shelf by tackling a very fat book.

Picking up the Luminaries to read, and starting the first few pages, felt intimidating. This was in part due to its size, and also in part due to the page introducing all of the characters, which listed about 20 different names and characters. I was afraid that I'd lose track as I read (I'm thinking about the annoying experience of reading A Hundred Years of Solitude). This did not happen at all, and I think this is because of the skillful way Eleanor Catton wrote her characters. They all came off as being very different people, with their own motivations and ways of doing things, and hence it was easy to follow along as to what was happening.

One thing I really admired, besides the carefully crafted plot, was the usage of two major literary devices (is that even the right term? I haven't been in an academic literature environment since IB more than 10 years ago): the usage of a 19th century writing style, and the use of different timelines. The writing style of the novel reminded me a lot of Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray, the last 19th century novel I think I've read, and this was very obviously a deliberate choice. The little summaries at the beginning of each chapter were useful in helping me follow along, and the whole omniscient narrator thing helped flesh out the motivations and personalities of each different character. As for the usage of timeline, the novel roughly goes from 'present', to 'past', and finally, 'past to present', and so the novel ends before the 'actual' end of the narrative. This reminded me a lot of the God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, one of my favourite books of all time, a writing technique I definitely appreciate.

I'd rate this book 9/10 - only because I'm not sure how the the narrative itself will stay with me.

-----

For the past month and a half, Jon and I were in Singapore, Batam, and St. Louis. I flew first, in the middle of July, and Jon joined me right at the end of July. Before we flew back to the US, we went for a 3 day 2 night stay to Batam with my family. At the end of that Batam trip, we were thoroughly sick of Chinese-style seafood, as my grandparents went totally nuts with ordering seafood. We then came back to NY, and about 2 weeks later we left for St. Louis as Jon had an interview there and I followed him. St. Louis seemed like a decent city, and we had really interesting and good conversations with all the Lyft drivers there - one driver, who was a male Jordanian immigrant, said the city had a huge racism people, another driver, a female tribal member from Oklahoma, talked about how Missouri had the lowest age of marriage in the entire country. We ate Gooey Butter Cake twice and thoroughly enjoyed it, and visited the National Blues Museum.

In the interim, I've been going to an Allergist, to try and figure out my allergy situation. I got both the skin prick test, and have just finished the skin patch test. I've also been cooking, and trying to go to the gym to lose the weight that I gained in Singapore. For the past two days, I also babysat Rudo. I was very happy to see him before student teaching starts next week, as I definitely won't be able to see him then.

It has been a very nice Summer, and I am reluctant to let it end.

Two More Books

Over the past few days I've finished another two books, Relics by Tim Lebbon and Family Life by Akhil Sharma. Relics was a low fiction novel, part one of a trilogy, and centered around a woman trying to find out what happened to her boyfriend. It reminded me a little of Neverwhere because of the whole low fiction setting in London, but that was about it. Overall it was not a bad book, but I don't think it'll be very memorable. I'd rate it 7/10.

Family Life by Akhil Sharma on the other hand, was a much more remarkable novel. The book is about a boy and his family, who live in India and then migrate to the United States. The book however, touches on several other topics beyond a straight forward immigrant narrative: a child's selfish/narrow point of view, having a disabled brother, family dynamics caring for a disabled child, bildungsroman, the Indian immigrant experience in the United States. As a result of these topics, this novel felt definitely relatable to me and my experience and knowledge - having a disabled brother and the strain on self and family, and personally knowing the geographical region (Queens, then NJ) where the narrator lives with his family. For such a slim volume, 218 pages, this book has sucessfully achieved every one of the ambitions it has had. I'd rate it 8.5/10.

-----

Tonight I leave for a early Wednesday morning flight to Singapore. The airport shuttle is picking me up at 9:45pm. Because I forgot to early check in (though I'm a little confused as I thought I saw elsewhere that I couldn't check in until 24 hours before a flight anyway - which I did), I don't have very good seats on both legs of the flight. I am really not looking forward to being stuck on a plane for the next 24 hours, particularly because the very bad bout of hives that started last weekend has now become very bad eczema on my legs. I don't think I've had such a a bad bout of eczema before, and I worry it will become itchy or irritated during the flight. I've been stressing out over what to wear as a result, and even went to Old Navy over the weekend to try and find clothing solutions. Besides that I've also been worrying in general about what people will think - the patches on my legs are so big and red, that I worry that other people might think I have something infectious, or will merely be disgusted with me. For someone that generally has a middling self-esteem, this eczema flare-up is certainly not doing me any favours.

Fingers crossed that everything goes well for the flight.  

The Turner House

Last night in a bout of insomnia (I finally fell asleep around 4:30am), I ended up finishing The Turner House by Angela Flournoy. I had first heard about this book years ago, and had actually pre-ordered it for when it came out on paperback (I really dislike hardbacks, because they're far too big to hold comfortably in my small hands). I had heard it was about a black family in Detroit, and it had won a bunch of awards. Sounded good enough, but also like one of those novels that aren't brain dead, and so I put it off for when I felt mentally engaged enough to deal with the subject matter, which apparently happened to be this week.

Overall the book wasn't as wrenching as The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears and the Book of Unknown Americans (God, these long novel titles!), and so was a relatively easy read. Last Summer in my American History class, I chose to review Thomas Sugrue's The Origins of the Urban Crisis - Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, and so had some degree of familiarity with the problems that plague Detroit, and I found myself continuously thinking of Sugrue's book as I read The Turner House. But beyond history (The Great Migration, Detroit in its industrial heyday, mentions of the 1967 riots, the state of Detroit in 2015, etc.), the book also talked about family dynamics of a big family - the Turner family has 13 children (the closest analogue I could think of was my Mum's family of 7 children, and the associated family dynamics that come with an extended working class family) and gambling addiction.

At the core of most of the stories is, of course, the Turner family home in a now rundown and slightly dangerous part of present day Detroit; at the end of the book the oldest son, Cha-Cha drives to the family house and realises that scrappers have stolen the whole garage to sell for scrap metal - this part made me laugh because of believable and  how ludicrous it was simultaneously. As a bonus I particularly enjoyed reading the Acknowledgements section when I finished the book, and saw that Flournoy credited Sugrue's book for helping her 'establish' Detroit. Academia props!

I liked this book enough, but not as much as the previous two books. I give it 7.5/10. 

Immigrant Narratives

I recently finished two books that featured the narratives of immigrants in the United States. As an immigrant myself, there were many things that I found myself relating to about my experience here, and I found the two books to be good reads. The books were The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. I had bought both books at least a year before, and they've been hanging out on my bookshelf since. I picked them both up randomly, and I can't remember if I them back to back, or if there was a random trashy book that I picked up in between. Such is my vociferous consumption of literature during these summer months.

I enjoyed The Book of Unknown Americans a lot because it talked a fair amount about the American education system, and special education. I particularly enjoyed it because I felt like I knew exactly what was being talked about, like a chance to use the knowledge that I've gleaned from my current course at Hunter College. It also tried to incorporate many different voices of Latinx immigrants from different countries, socio-economic backgrounds, and ages, which I found interesting. I finished reading this book within 24 hours, because of how captivating I found the narrative. I give this book 9/10.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is the first published book by Dinaw Mengestu. I read his other book, How to Read the Air several years ago, I think when I was in between relationships. I remember that because of his excruciating depiction of the slow, dying intimacy between the couple in that novel, I felt glad to be single. Because of that memory, I was of course drawn to this novel when I saw it on sale at The Strand, but put off reading it for the longest time because I recalled how depressing the other novel I read was, and reading depressing stuff gets tiring, you know. Anyway this book was about a small group of male African immigrants living in D.C.. Besides the obvious theme of immigration, there was also the theme of gentrification, which has been quite a current topic, especially living in a pricey city like NYC. I give this book 8.5/10. 

Saturday evening, July 2018

Last night Jon and I went out for dinner with his friends. His med school friend Eric came early to hang out with us first, and so we went to a bar opposite Midwinter Kitchen, where we were going to have dinner. Upon reflection, and thinking about how fast the happy hour mimosa hit me ($5!), it was the first time I've drank since a disastrous booze-and-hors-d'oeuvres-only wedding reception I attended a few months ago with Jon (we were told beforehand to drink a lot to help make up the money for the reception rental, and didn't know there was no dinner served until about an hour and a half in; you can use your imagination).

At 6:30pm, we left the bar and went across the road to Midwinter Kitchen to meet the others. I felt a little excited as Jon and I walk past Midwinter Kitchen all the time, but never went in because we were usually en route to somewhere else. So finally after about 2 years of walking past, we were finally entering Midwinter Kitchen. We ended up waiting a little because Nuno had parking issues, and so he and Hannah were delayed. It was fine because the restaurant wasn't crowded at all, which was also nice because we could converse in normal, human, volumes when they finally came. I ordered the chicken, which came out really nice with crisp roasted skin, though it was a little dry on the inside in some parts. Jon and I also ordered a side of roman gnocchi, and when it came out as a slab like a cake, I wasn't super enthusiastic. I had envisioned normal gnocchi, and thought 'roman' was the style of cooking. I tried to hide my disappointment, though of course I probably didn't do a good job with it, and Nuno laughed saying, "She's not happy!". It didn't taste bad, but of course didn't have the texture I was looking forward to with normal gnocchi. Live and learn I suppose.

After dinner we walked over to Momofuku Milk Bar on 2nd Ave and E. 13th, and Jon and I shared a soft serve cereal milk ice cream with cereal topping. It was the first time Eric, Nuno, and Hannah had tried the place, and Nuno looked a little confused and overwhelmed in the packed and tiny store. I vaguely remember my first trip there when I followed Shirin a few years ago, but I don't remember looking at the menu because I didn't want dessert. I probably must have been as confused when I went there with Marina about two years later around 2016. We then started walking up 2nd Avenue, and Eric peeled off around E. 17th to walk to catch the subway at Union Square. Jon and I ended up reaching home around 9pm.

Overall, it was a really enjoyable night. Good conversation, food, and weather.

Perfectionism and procrastination

I'm one of those absurd people who is a closet perfectionist. By this I mean that I typically come across as a very relaxed and chilled out person, especially to people who don't know me that well. This is usually because it's too tiring to care. This also means that for me, the adage, "If you can't do it well, don't do it at all," means I often either end up not attempting to do the aforementioned thing, or  put doing it off as long as possible because it will be tiring/not to my satisfaction and hence eat away at my soul.

Case in point: cleaning the bathroom. It usually takes me ages to do because I really remove every single speck of dust and lost hair follicle, and so I don't do it very often and put it off for a time even when I realize the bathroom is getting dirty. Well, I finally did it today after telling myself several times that I really ought to clean it, and it took me close to 45 minutes and a lot of shed sweat - and the bathroom isn't even that big at all! It's debatable of course whether infrequent cleanings means more effort needs to be exerted during cleaning, but between our combined hair dropping everywhere (and boy do I drop a lot of hair), dust coming in from the open bathroom window, and the inky dark sediment coming from the African Black soap that I've been using for my easily irritated skin, the bathroom gets covered in a light layer of gunk very easily.

It boggles my mind how people with larger families and larger houses keep them clean. I'd probably need to hire a weekly cleaner to help me :/

A summer cold

Since last week Monday, I've been down with a nasty cold that lingered until now - almost one and a half weeks total. Between the cold and the crazy heat from summer, I not only feel quite out of it mentally, but also feel very lethargic and achey, despite my best efforts to go walking for a few hours since I've been getting better. It's not a very nice feeling at all, both physically and mentally, the recognition that not only has my ability to do things been hampered, but so has my enjoyment.

On another note, for the last week, I finished 3 books: The Waking Land by Callie Bates (7/10), The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley (8.5/10 - I really enjoyed all the historical medieval bits, which I could easily liken to all the historical coursework I've done), and The Magicians by Lev Grossman (7.5/10). I always like to try and read books regularly, to try and counteract the rate at which I acquire them. As it is, my bookshelf is overflowing. Sometimes I deliberately try and start books that I know will have no permanent place in my bookshelf, just so I can make space. The end result however, is that the books that I think I will really enjoy and find meaty are left unread, in favour of fodder that I know I will donate after I've finished reading them.

I've really got to stop buying books - but goodness knows that's my number one weakness.

Beasts of Burden

I've been a longtime fan of comics ever since I discovered Archie comics at a young age, thanks to my Uncle KL. This love has since evolved into a love of graphic novels and other types of more 'mature' comics, and one of my favourite stops in NYC is the Forbidden Planet store by Union Square to browse through the comic titles available there.

Last Saturday after a sashimi/chirashi dinner with Jon at Kotobuki, we ended up at Forbidden Planet on our meandering walk home, and I picked up Beasts of Burden: Animal Rites by Evan Dorkin and Jill Thompson. Yesterday I finished the entire comic during the course of the afternoon, and I am now lamenting that I finished the volume and don't have any more of it to read. The book married two of my favourite things: animals, and weird things occurring. The art too is also on point (at least in my opinion - even though I might really like the concept of a comic, the art can kill my enjoyment).

Tomorrow I need to sit for the Educating All Students test, as part of my teaching certification for NY State (officially the long acronym of NYSTCE, something I've mangled multiple times in my memory). I am definitely not prepared at all, mainly because I've been procrastinating and also spoiled by other classmates who say that the test isn't really studiable, because everything is so subjective. This of course gives my kiasu Singaporean ass a type of anxiety, but one that has been tempered by the fact that I seem to have acquired a 'head cold' (as the Americans say), and am feeling at 75% of my usual functioning. I hope I feel better at least during the test tomorrow.

Books on the Subway

Whenever I see someone reading a book in the subway, I always like to take a little glance at the cover to see if I recognise it. I'm sure that I'm not the only one who does this, and so on Friday when Jon and I were on the 6 and headed up to Pelham Bay Park station around rush hour and I saw a middle aged man crane his neck to glance at the book I was reading, I paused my reading and flipped the book upwards to show him the cover. We then had a brief conversation - he had initially thought the book I was reading, May We Be Forgiven by A. M. Holmes, was a non-fiction book about forgiveness, and remarked that it was a rather heavy topic. I told him that it was a fiction book, and that I hadn't yet reached the 'forgiveness' part of the story. I also handed the book over to him for him to browse through. He got off a stop later at 51st St, so the interaction couldn't have actually lasted more than a few minutes, but it was more than memorable for its substance.

Anyway I finally finished the book last night. Clocking in at 496 pages, it is a really fat volume, but worth enough the 496 pages. May We Be Forgiven reminded me of a more manic and bizarro version of The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, and one that ended on a far more optimistic note. It was an enjoyable read, though I'm not sure how memorable it'll be in the long run; I give it a 4/5. 

Barnes and Noble

When I was younger I used to write blog posts about all the books that I'd buy whenever I went on a book shopping spree. As I got older and had less time, I started writing much less, and posting about  books much less too. I've also started consuming books that are far less literary, books that require less mental input. As of a few years ago I really got into the whole new female driven crime thrillers genre, ala Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train - females who are unreliable narrators and not professional investigators - real page turner fluffs that I can plow through in a few days. In contrast, I spent about two weeks reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and found it utterly overwrought and unrealistic. At the end, I wished I had spent the two weeks reading enjoyable nonsense instead. Recently, I've also really started getting into fantasy novels, particularly those with female protagonists. Also enjoyable fluff that has larger ideas, if you feel inclined to use your brain.

Anyway yesterday I was babysitting, and Rudo's Dad came home early, so I unexpectedly had an 'extra' two hours to my day. Instead of dutifully going home and working on things for my horrid Summer Class (very badly taught and run), I went to Barnes and Noble at Union Square instead, since I'd have had to change from the 5 train at Union Square anyway. Happily, the Union Square market was in operation, and as I walked through to get to B&N I stopped to buy chocolate chip cookies and apples for $1.60 a pound.

At B&N I headed straight for my usual section - the discounted books on the 3rd Floor - and after browsing around I picked up a few nonsense novels and one slim looking literary book that had "10 Best Books - The New York Times Book Review 2014" on its front cover. I then went to the 4th Floor to look at the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, but couldn't really find anything new that I wanted to sink my teeth into. I ended up picking up a nonsense book from an overflow cart that someone had left by the Sci Fi and Fantasy section, and decided to get it since it was a mass market paperback at $9.99.

So this is my book haul from yesterday:
Family Life - Akhil Sharma
Last Train to Babylon - Charlee Fam
The Silent Wife - A. S. A. Harrison
The Other Widow - Susan Crawford
And an Archie Giant comics book, for bathroom reading.

In addition last night, I also purchased Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi on my kindle. I had heard about it for a while but felt reluctant to purchase a YA book. Last night I decided to bite the bullet and finally get it, as I think the inclusion of African folklore in a fantasy background would make it worth my while.

Very much a change from the books I would have purchased 10 years ago.

Confused Days

Today is Tuesday, but it really feels like a Wednesday. Yesterday was a Monday, but it really felt like a Tuesday instead. This is because on Sunday, Jon was working and I spent the day doing quite a lot of school work - it felt far more like a weekday than a weekend. And so now I feel psychologically confused, and need to think a little bit before I know what day it is. This in itself is a little disconcerting, but I suppose it must happen to a lot of people, for instance stay at home parents with newborns/babies, or someone retired. Either way, I don't quite like feeling so disoriented. 

Union Strike

Today while walking back home from another early morning babysitting session, I crossed paths with a grand total of three (3) striking workers. They were walking along E. 23rd St, and had that were tied to their necks with thin pieces of string. Their signs said that they were from AFL-CIO, and were electrical workers that were on strike. They seemed to be joking with each other a little, as they shuffled along the street.

I couldn't help but think that this was the saddest strike I've ever seen, not that I've seen a ton to begin with, mind you. But this is what unions apparently look like nowadays, almost 50 years after they had their teeth taken out of them from legislation.

Celebrity

For the past few months I've been intermittently babysitting a baby called Rudo. My babysitting gig is a little unusual in that I'm not with him at his place. Instead, we hang out outside the studios where his mum, Nefertiti, teaches. I also only babysit for about 2-3 hours each time, so not for long durations. I initially had hoped for longer hours (and of course earning correspondingly more money), but I soon realised that even just 2 hours of looking after a baby is super tiring - which of course makes me wonder how I'll cope when Jon and I eventually decide to have kids. Anyway overall, save for the early start times, I'm happy with taking care of Rudo once in a while. It's interesting watching him slowly grow up and learn, plus Nefertiti is a really cool and chilled out person too.

Today was interesting however because while babysitting, I saw a celebrity! Not exactly a huge celebrity, but rather one whose work I know and respect, which makes it better of course. While cuddling Rudo and trying to get him to calm down (he was very fussy today), I saw one of the doors of one of the many trailers lining the street open, and saw Keegan-Michael Key step out on a puffy black jacket with brown furry trim. At first I was thinking "Oh my! It's the guy from Key and Peele!", and then I thought, "No way, can't be. I must be mistaken." But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. Still, I was afraid to say anything without verifying what I saw, but in the end I decided I was right and told Victoria, who was working at the reception, and she got all excited with me.

Anyway long story short, I told Nefertiti too when she came out from her class, and she got all excited too. Shortly after Nefertiti finished teaching her second class, Keegan-Michael Key came out of the trailer again, and I told both her and Nefertiti, and they ran to the window to wave at him like maniacs and he waved back with a big smile before returning to his trailer. I feel happy that they got to see him too, and that I wasn't mistaken, hah.

Just last week when Sindhu was here, I was having lunch with her and Shirin at Big Daddy's when she told us that she saw Janelle Monae at a Pastafina near Hell's Kitchen, and I was telling them that I had never seen a celebrity before. I attributed it to the fact that I don't go to ~trendy~ places, and don't exactly pay attention to the people around me. Well, I can no longer claim that I have never seen a celebrity in person.

Valentine's Day

The best Valentine's Day present thus far has been a clear nose. For the past weeks I've been taking various antihistamines to try and deal with a nose that has been alternatively so stuffy that I can't breathe, or flowing non-stop. At several instances where I've laughed over the past week, snot has come out. Things were getting worse too - it was starting to adversely affect my sleep.

Finally yesterday after much complaining on my end, and me feeling like I'm at the end of my rope, Jon came home with Sudafed. I ended up waking up at 7am today with my nose completely stuffed and feeling unable to breathe, and took the Sudafed before returning to bed. I woke up at 10am, to two completely clear nostrils. The realisation was exhilarating. I'd forgotten what it's like to breathe completely unhindered.

Tonight we'll get Mexican takeout for dinner, and I'll probably buy some macarons from the corner bakery. Happy Valentine's Day 2018.

First Day of 2018

The first day of 2018 was spent partly in a car ride from Fort Salonga to Manhattan via Sheepshead Bay, in an old teal Sienna filled almost to the brim with groceries and luggage, and a cat of unknown vintage in a black harness with attached leash. This was the first time Saffron was out in a harness and leash combo, albeit within the confines of a vehicle, because he had meowed so pitifully the last few times he had been kept in a carrier during a car trip, and it was fast apparent that he enjoyed being on a leash more than being in a carrier. He was largely well behaved except for wanting to hop onto Jon and explore the driver's seat, but was kept away by Serafin-Dad holding onto his harness and me holding onto his leash in the back seat.

The success of the leash was far more than we could have hoped for given that earlier in the day, Saffron was very upset and resistant. I put the harness on him and he got upset, and when I emerged from the bathroom I was met by Jon telling me that Saffron was currently hiding inside the sofa in his parent's room (according to Daisy-Mum) because he was angry and had trying to escape the noise of the vacuum. This cued Serafin-Dad, Jon and me to try and coax him out of the sofa by closing the doors and alternating between using a hair dryer and treats. While this was going on, Mona, the ancient matriarch cat was sitting on top of the bed, watching us with little interest. Annoyed at seeing little progress in coaxing Saffron out, I went over to Mona and flopped onto the bed, when I realised I saw a darker coloured patch on the air bed next to the main bed. Taking another look, I saw Saffron looking at me, sitting in plain sight on top of the air bed. All this time, he hadn't been inside the sofa at all, but instead must have been wondering what the commotion was.

Now that we had found him, we then tried to feed him a mixture of cat treat and cat melatonin to calm him down for the car ride. He ate a little bit, and then started running around the room wildly. When he realised he was trapped because we had closed all of the doors earlier, he started pushing against the door and trying to scratch his way out. We finally let him out after about a minute, in hope that he would calm down.

About 20 mins later, when the car was fully packed, we were left with the task of grabbing Saffron and putting him in the carrier. Given that he already felt very aggrieved from recent egregious human acts, getting him to go in was difficult. Usually I get him into the carrier by putting treats inside, and he complies with little complaint, but yesterday he was pissed and in between the carrier sliding away from me as I held Saffron and the door closing as Saffron struggled, I had to grab him another time and force him into the carrier. He meowed in an upset fashion as he was carried into the car.

On the way to Manhattan, we stopped by Sheepshead Bay to drop things off at Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Bum, Uncle Boy and Aunt Lulu's houses. I didn't leave the car cause I was holding onto Saffron leash, but we opened the doors to let Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Bum see Saffron. He looked at them and then went to the other side of the car, not the least bit interested in the outside because it was also exceptionally freezing yesterday (as has been the whole of last week, and continuing onto this week).

When we got him, he was the first thing we unloaded. I put him back in the carrier for the trip from the car to the apartment, and he was compliant. The first thing he did after I took off the harness and leash was use the litter box, then drink water. As Jon and I unpacked all the things we had brought to the apartment, Saffron ran about re-exploring. Then for the rest of the afternoon, he lay on our bed and slept.

And this is how our first day of 2018 went.