Donatella Says

7 Things To Do When Your Computer Crashes

                            

Hello loved ones. I apologize for being so absent but this whole trying to get seven hours of sleep every night thing has been well, exhausting. (See what I did there?) The other problem is that a few weeks ago my computer crashed, taking my running document of blog ideas along with it.

While e-mailing with a friend a few days ago he said “Keep on blogging - those posts/lists fuel us!” I replied: “I know I have been trying to write one for weeks-my computer crashed so all of my ideas I jotted down went right with it. Hopefully something will strike me today!” and he said “Top 10 things to do when your computer crashes :)” So since I am fresh out of inspiration, I am now taking requests. I hope that this never happens to you and if it does, that you have diligently backed up your files but just in case-here are 7 things to do when your computer crashes. 

1. Ignore the Signs

                         

So the beginning of the end for my hard drive happened when I spilled an entire mug of coffee on it a few weeks before the actual crash (yeah I know). Despite many suggestions of homemade fixes, I shut it down and took it directly to a computer guy I found Craigslist. In retrospect, he could have easily murdered me but a 5 star Yelp rating is about all you need to earn my trust these days. I walked into his apartment (the more I think about it, the happier I am to be alive), told him what happened, and he immediately began taking it apart. He did some diagnostic tests and returned it to me saying all was well but it was a good thing I brought it to him when I did. I was grateful that he saved the closest thing I have to a child (sad but true) however as the weeks passed I knew that something was off; the fan was extra loud, a few documents disappeared, and the rainbow wheel was getting a little too familiar.  It was the precursor to a bad breakup and I was just ignoring all the signs that my MacBook Pro was about to break my heart.

2. Try to Save a Sinking Ship

It’s going to be too little too late but that won’t stop you from trying. Subconsciously I must have known that the end was near so I decided  that I better back up everything on iCloud which I have on my phone but not my computer? (Still not 100% sure what iCloud is) I was still wildly unclear but knew that before I could do anything I had to do a software update. And so it began…

After doing the software update my computer automatically restarted but said that the hard disc would not support…ok I don’t really remember the jargon but it was no bueno. I couldn’t get to my desktop which is never a good sign. 

3. Freak Out

Once you finally realize that there is definitely something wrong it’s time to completely lose your shit. I’m talking major temper tantrum, panic attack, or uncontrollable laughter- really any type of extreme emotional response will do. Anything you’ve typed for work in the last year? GONE. The most updated copy of your resume? GOOD LUCK REINVENTING YOURSELF. Stress eat, don’t eat, cry, listen to some Alanis-whatever you need to do because things are about to get real grim up in here.

4. Get Advice from Everyone

Once you realize that your sophisticated plan of  turning the computer on and off is not going to work, start talking to anyone/everyone that you know for advice on what to do. Some will tell you take it directly to the Mac store but why would you listen to that rational thought? Go with the people who suggest putting your computer in a giant bag of rice or holding it over your head for 10 minutes. These fun misadventures will provide a few hours of distraction from the cruel cruel reality that your beloved friend and confidant is beyond repair. (Am I making my relationship with my computer sound weird? Because it kind of is.)

5.  Acceptance

   

Once you realize that your computer is fried and beyond saving even from the most tech savvy person in your office, you can begin to heal. Sure all hope is lost but this acceptance will allow you to mourn (now might be a better time for Alanis) . Pack up your damaged goods and prepare for the long pilgrimage to the computer store. 

5. Confront Adulthood  Not Backing Up 

          

By now you’ve accepted your fate, but need a professional diagnosis to make things official. This means taking your computer to an expert, who is going to tell you what you already know and then ask the age old question: “You’ve backed up right?” So they’ve already worded the question in a way that assumes your answer will be yes. WELL GUESS WHAT MAC PEOPLE? I might have health insurance and a 401k but sometimes I eat frozen yogurt for dinner and don’t back up the files on my computer, OKAY?! By the time I made it to the Apple store I had been on such an emotional roller coaster that I finally reached a serene place where I didn’t even offer any excuses. Although if I’m honest, a few did cross my mind: “While I had backed up but my lion dog ate the entire thing…”

6. Keep a Straight Face

             

If you have a Mac like me, than I promise that the person who’s going to help you at the genius bar is going to be a hipster cartoon that you could not imagine in your wildest dreams. Keep it together. This is the one person who can at the very least get your purchased iTunes back. I had a Persian man-boy with equally thick glasses and mustache but dude knew his stuff. 

7. Start Fresh   

Try to see the silver lining. Sure you failed as a computer owner and adult, but you’ve been granted a blank slate, a chance to do things better. Maya Angelou once said “When you know better, you do better.” and although she probably wasn’t talking about dumb 20-somethings and their lack of external hard drives, I think it still applies here. Use this as an opportunity to start anew like this chick. (Just maybe think twice about the lime green yoga pants.)

Resolutions

If you’re anything like me, you don’t have one resolution you have a hundred. Not because I’m wildly unhappy with myself, it’s just that a new year fills me with so much promise and therefore a million things that I think I could be doing better. Like many, my resolutions often remain unchanged year after year as I can always afford to write more and eat less however; I continue to be optimistic for a clean slate and the opportunity to become a new and improved version of myself.

Last year I wrote a wrote a detailed resolution list for 2012. Most were not only crazy specific ie. read 5 pages of Italian every day (chyeahhh right! Not if Law and Order’s on.) but also strict, unrealistic, and well, not happening. Since last year’s list was a major flop, I decided to do things a little differently in 2013. I took my pen paper and quickly jotted down what I want more and less of in the upcoming year. The list is simple, honest, and hopefully doable. So here’s to a little less, a little more, and having a year filled with everything you hope.

       

(cursive/bad handwriting translation)

Less

• processed food
• gossip
• social media
• complaining
• bad reality tv
• envy
• misspelling (2 s’s?) (apostrophe?)
• gramatical errors (see above)
• excess
• split ends

More

• family brunches breakfasts
• time with friends
• being grateful, thankfulness, gratitude 
• exercise
• writing
• reading
• calling Grandparents
• Italian
• sleep
• adventure (corny? I don’t care!)
• flossing

About the Same

• sarcasm
• hairspray
• sunscreen sun protection
• leopard print
• almond butter

And yeah, I know it’s January 8th. but I think our new years can start whenever we want. Here’s hoping that more sleep does not coincide with more adventure and that my family can wake up early enough for breakfast. 

10 Things To Do While Home For Thanksgiving

             

So it’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. You probably have your bags packed and are salivating like a Pavlovian dog in anticipation of your favorite pie. If you’re anything like me, you still have to clean your apartment, do laundry, pack and will probably do this all between the hours of 1-4AM. I currently reside in New York but will be heading to my small-ish hometown in Ohio for the holiday.  

When I tell New Yorkers that I went to college in St. Louis they usually say “Oh that’s somewhere between New York and LA, right?” Yes, it is the continental United States-you win a BIG prize! Life does exist outside of the 5 boroughs and towns like Youngstown, Ohio and St. Louis, Missouri are in fact, very real-like Bruce Springsteen song real.

Lots of you in similar situations love to talk shit about the places that you once called home and I am here to tell you to stop that silliness. Sure, we may not be from bustling metropolises (metropoli?) but I LOVE going home and you should too. To help you enjoy your visit and not die of boredom, I have compiled a fool-proof list of things to keep you busy over the coming week.

1. Eat, Eat, and Then Eat Some More

Hopefully like me, you have one Grandma or relative who will say that you look thin no matter how much weight you’ve gained. I recommend seeing that person before Thursday so you do not feel guilty about eating turkey, pie, and all the fixins to your heart’s content. Once the best meal of the year and its leftovers are digested, dive in to those hometown delicacies. I fully intend on eating pizza until I am unable to comfortably sit up. Gluttonous? Maybe, but tis’ the season!

And lucky for me, my other Grandma is no BS in the most hilarious way possible. She will ask questions like “Did you paint those pants on?” but says it in a way that’s so funny, it’s not even mean! Basically she’s my idol. I usually get some false positive reinforcement from Grandma 1, eat profusely, and then get a reality check from Grandma 2 to reel it in. Both are equally necessary.

PS-Now no one can ever say that I’ve never used a bad photo of myself.

2. Drive by Your High School

For old time’s sake! You will think that the kids looks like amoebas and swear that you never were that young or wore your pants so low. (Except that you were and you did.)

 3. Revert to Childhood

When I am home I revert to some weird pre-pubescent phase where I didn’t pick up my towels and thought it was ok to leave my shoes wherever I please. I am obviously older and wiser (OBVIOUSLY), but still sometimes make my mom cut up my apples. What? Don’t look at me like that! They taste better.

4. Argue with Someone Eating Chick-fil-et

  

Whatever your political leanings, you will have the opportunity to have many spirited debates throughout the week. If you’re conservative, I’m sure you have a crazy Aunt who thinks that people shouldn’t be forced to wear clothing. (I see you guys peacefully meeting in the middle on Government deregulation.) And if you’re a crazy liberal like me, you have become the waffle fry police.

Listen, I love those nugs and diet lemonade MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW but if I see you eating Chick-fil-et, we are probably going to have some words. I’m pretty passionate about the legalization of gay marriage because you know…The Bill of Rights. (Also, in the depth of my heterosexual female soul there is a gay man just DYING to get out.) But you don’t need to have walked in the pride parade (although I highly recommend it!) to boycott an organization that has donated millions of dollars to certified hate groups. Ok, getting off my soapbox now but in short, get ready to throw down!

5. Sleep-In

Get. Your. Snooze. On. To the point where your parents have to check for a pulse. You’re worth it.

6. Get Your Hair Cut for a Reasonable Price

                                 

A woman cannot get her hair cut in New York City for less than $100 which is beyond insane. When I saw the receipt for my first New York haircut I was just like: “Oh, did she use diamond encrusted scissors from Narnia? Oh ok, got it.”  No matter how many different ways I say “Just a tiny bit!”, “A light dusting!”, or “No more than a half inch!”, I still end up paying an exorbitant amount and feeling guilty about all of the starving children. So when you get home, make an appointment with that lady who’s been cutting your entire family’s hair since birth. She’s been eagerly waiting to pinch your cheeks and talk about how much you’ve grown up.

7. Go to the Mall

If your mall is anything like my hometown’s, it’s a time capsule that in the best and worst way has not really changed since you were a small child. Sure, Abercrombie and Fitch went out of business and you swear the middle schoolers have gotten sassier but swing by the food court, grab an Orange Julius, and be transported to a simpler time.  A time when a sexual innuendo’ed Abercrombie shirt was all you needed to be cool.

(Yes that photo is of my hometown mall and no those are not marijuana leaves, they’re buckeyes! Whatever gave you that idea? Oh, because they look identical. Right.)

8. Visit Your Town’s Newest Hot Spot

After checking out your old haunts, it’s now time to explore the new. In my town it was Krispy Kreme doughnuts, then Caribou Coffee, and now I hear it’s this froyo place. Whatever the case it’s always great to see the newest place where EVERYONE in your town is going to hang out.  You’re going to see people that you haven’t spoken to in like 10 years, including friends of your parents who will inevitably make inappropriate comments concerning your marital status. Where I’m from, being 23 without a boyfriend is basically equivalent to having a rare disease.

9. Grocery Shop for Your Mom

The grocery store is every small town’s hottest club; this is where you go to see and be seen. You have to go looking your best because I promise you will see someone from High School for whom you will want to look really hot-like your old crush or girl voted “most talkative”.  The last thing you need is for her to go around town telling everyone that she saw you at the store and it appears you’ve “given up”. Also, be sure to have answers prepared concerning your personal life because someone will definitely be interrogating you while bagging produce. I guarantee it.

10. Listen to This on Repeat (While Eating More Pie)

And to all of my big city natives, I apologize if none of this really applies to you. You will probably spend your break eating fancy sushi and seeing awesome shows but you will never get to experience the true joy of Orange Julius from a mall food court.

                                                          

11 Signs You’ve Been Watching Too Much Law & Order: SVU

          

So as you all know the east coast suffered a devastating blow last week from that bitch hurricane Sandy. Although so many people were and continue to be affected by the fallout, I feel incredibly spoiled and lucky as I never so much lost my cable.  

Since the storm crippled all forms of transportation, I worked from home all week. When I wasn’t working I had nothing to do but stare at my TV.  Basically, I watched Law and Order: SVU until my eyes bled. Sure, I could have written my novel but gruesome murder is way more fun! And this brings me to today’s topic at hand: Law and Order: SVU.

I have wanted to closely examine my love for Law and Order: SVU for some time now. Sometimes I worry that I find such a grizzly and violent show to be so soothing, but know that I am not alone. Maybe it’s because we’ve gotten to know the characters over the years? Or maybe it’s because we take comfort in knowing that every plot is going to end up essentially the same.

Sure, they try to rip stories from the headlines while delivering twists and turns, but the perp (see #3) always ends up being the seemingly harmless hot dog vendor that was interviewed 2 scenes into the show. Turns out he was having an affair with the vic (again #3) and they were part of an underground sex ring that centered around people’s weird meat fantasies. But not in the gross obvious way that you’re thinking! But like people getting aroused by eating bologna sandwiches while throwing relish at one another. How I am not writing for this show already, I will never know.

Needless to say, if you exhibit any of following behaviors, you my friend have been watching way too much Law and Order: SVU.

1. You start thinking about a serious career in law/criminal psychiatry 

        

If you’ve stared to think of dropping everything to become a lawyer, detective, or psychiatrist, you need to change the channel. I attribute my “law school” phase predominately to Casey Novak. I mean logically I know that being a lawyer is different than how it looks on TV, but Casey Novak makes it look so BA! And don’t even get me started on Dr. Wong. I barely passed Intro Psych but it only takes a few episodes before I start to believe that I could be a brilliant forensic psychiatrist/criminal profiler. It’s taken some maturity and growth, but I finally have enough self-awareness to know that I would make a much better Howard Weinstein than Dr. George Huang.

                 

2. You pick your characters favorite outfits.

        

Some day I would like to show you all my saved drafts on Twitter because there are some DOOZYS. I was in such a L&O daze that I almost sent this out to the Twitterverse: “The light denim jacket, dark jean combo is definitely my fav Stabler look.” It was only as I typed the words that I realized how desperate I was for (non-TV character) human interaction.

3. You think you know police slang

       

Did you notice in my description how I could not go more than a few sentences without using terms like “vic” and “perp”? Do real police even say these things? All I know is that I often feel like I can intelligently comment on crime discussions because of my excessive viewing of this show. Here’s some advice, if your sentence begins with “While I know from this one episode of Law and Order that…” just stop right there. You might  think that your viewing time merits a badge, but that is sadly not how the police department works.

4. You’re not sure if you’ve seen this episode before?

     

“Is this the episode where the twins kill each other or are secret lovers?” Well, in this case the girl was born male but raised female after a botched circumcision-neither here nor there. Anyways, pretty much all Law & Order episodes are the same so it’s really easy to get confused. And in my old age I often rewatch episodes because I can’t remember exactly how they ended. This happens to me all the time but the next time it does I think I might try and crack open a book instead. Remember books??!!

 5. You start to think your life is an episode

     

When I’m alone in a parking garage, public bathroom, or really anywhere, this thought always pops into my head:  “Any minute someone’s going to clock me over the head with a large shovel.” My fellow watchers totally get this, but the phrase “Ohh this feels like the beginning of a Law and Order: SVU. Hope we don’t get murdered!” is usually met with confusion and general weirded out-ness.  

6. You think you should cut your hair like Olivias

     

Mariska is not only sickening beautiful but can pull off any and every hairstyle…it’s beyond annoying. All I can say is that a pixie cut will take a reallllly long time to grow out and will most likely make your head look like a giant melon. Also, I promise those sweepy bangs will impede your vision and you will curse the day you brought a picture of Olivia Benson to the salon. 

7. You think that you and Elliot could really have a future together

                     

Sure, he has a maj anger problem and isn’t really ever there for his wife and children but you two would be different!! He is just so masculine…and strong…and ok so maybe he was a few weird tats (see above) but he is your soul mate!! I hate to do this but, I must inform you that Elliot Stabler is a fictional character played by a real person named Christopher Meloni:

                     

8. You can recite this by heart:

“In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad called the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.”

9. You jam out to the theme song

                          

You have to mimic the “Dun Dun” sound and there is definitely some air bass involved.

       

10. You start wanting juicer crimes                                                                                            

        

One of my college roommate and I both shared an affinity for the show. One night while perusing episodes on Hulu, we caught ourselves reading episodes synopses and saying “Nah kidnapping, too boring. Let’s try for a triple homicide.” We laughed about this, but were also kind of serious. We are really awesome fun-loving people (ugh that sounds like personal ad for adult scrap-bookers, but it’s true), we just also know what makes for a juicier plot. In the words of my beloved Whitney: “It’s not right but it’s ok.”

11. You know exactly how you would rank the ADAs

       

                                                                       The bomb.com                                                                                                                                                        

                                                                    A close second.

                               

                                                                    This bitch.

If you watch "Revenge"-read this!

An Open Letter To People Wearing Jeans at the Gym

         

First, let me be clear that this is not some humblebrag attempt to tell all of you that I go to the gym. I promise that no one despises people who FB post/tweet/text/verbalize/smoke-signal how far they ran, how many reps they did, or a picture of them doing either more than me. To all of those people, I say this:                                              

         

Oh yeah also, no one cares.

I am not fitness buff by any stretch of the imagination and have a very hot/cold relationship with working out; sometimes we can’t get enough of each other and other times I need my space. Sometimes I wear a cute Lulu Lemon workout-fit (you’re welcome) and sometimes I look like a homeless person in one of my holey t-shirts circa 2002. I am not workout Barbie. I do not wear my hair down to meet dudes. I am there to flip between “Dancing with the Stars” and “The Voice” while doing hill intervals on the elliptical.

As much as we all pretend to go to the gym for our “health” I am not afraid to say that if I could magically become one of those people (we hate) that can eat whatever they want and still maintain a hot bod, I would ditch the gym faster than you can say “THIS IS THE VOICE!” (STILL stuck in my head).

So lets get to the topic at hand: jean wearers at the gym. I am generally anti-pants unless they are stretchy and allow me the freedom to eat a large meal so I it is impossible for me to imagine a world where someone chooses to wear denim while sweating it out on a cardio machine. (Future post idea:  “Sweating Out Your Hangover: The Best of Times, The Worst of Times”.)

Last night, while stretching after my workout there was a boy/man (still unclear at which age this split occurs) wearing jeans and an Insane Clown Posse t-shirt while vigorously doing push-ups and squats. And in one breath I want to say “You know what Juggalo, you keep doing you.” but the other hand I just want to say “Why? Why are you doing this to yourself? And like talk to me about your thigh chafing situation? Wait you know what, don’t. ”

Upon reflecting on this, my brain’s first reaction is “Doni, you’re an asshole. Not everyone has the money to afford overpriced workout pants.” But then I remind myself that my favorite pair are from Target and only set me back about $10. So if you have enough money for jeans and a gym membership, you have enough for pants made out of breathable fabric.

Besides people who love Hip Hip clowns, the largest demographic of gym jean wearers has to be over 70 set. And as the thought forms in my mind, the guilt ridden Angel on my shoulder rears its ugly halo again and says “Wow Doni, first you make fun of the poor and now you’re moving on to the elderly. You’re a real peach.”

         

But like I have  thought through this argument and SORRY I’M NOT SORRY.  So maybe they’re too old to know that sweat proof fabrics exist but joining a gym takes some thought, mobility, and paperwork. If you were able to complete that task, logically you must have the mental faculties see that everyone around you is comfortably gliding along in fabrics that are not described on Wikipedia as a “rugged textile”.  Grandchildren of the world, can we promise to make sure that our physically able Nanas and Papas are properly equipped?

Another potential excuse for gym jeans is that these people left their gym bags at home and didn’t have time to go home and change. Well, I am here to tell you that if and when that happens, the Universe is telling you to sit this one out. Go home, get some rest, and I promise you’ll thank me later. Trust me. No convenience is worth a skin rash.

                                          

While finding photos for this post I found out that this glorious blog exists and I have to give credit where credit is due. Enjoy!

Ever wanted me to write something personally for you? Here's your chance!

Diary of a Juice Cleanse

A few workers and I decided to do a juice cleanse. I wrote about it. 

Day 1

10:30AM-Just had my breakfast juice which was more of a cross between a juice and a smoothie, a “jmoothie” if you will. It was pretty delish I’m not gonna lie but I cant get too excited for I know of the scarier, spicier, greener juices that lie ahead…

12:14PM-This is gross this is gross this is grossss. It’s called “spicy citrus” and kinda makes me wanna die. I’m drinking this while driving and pretty sure it’s more dangerous than colt 45.

12:52PM-This juice is still gross/burning a hole in my esophagus.

1:37PM-Someone is eating peanut M&M’s and I am about to go grab them out of his hand. WITH MY MOUTH.

1:51PM-I’ve wanted my third juice since 1:40 but am making myself wait until 2:00. Counting. Down. The. Minutes.

1:52PM-I heard someone chewing a chip and tackled them. Kidding! (But I almost did)

1:53PM-I have a headacheeeeee. Ugh I forgot about caffeine. Sweet sweet caffeine.

2:00PM-FINALLY. Oh God why do all of these have so much cayenne pepper in them? This one is called “Drink Your Salad” and I’m drinking it alright. This is like a weird bloody Mary without the fun of brunch alcohol. The word brunch just sent me into a spiral. I want every pancake that’s ever existed. (Even gross ones with raisins)

4:10PM-Time for another green juice and this one tastes like a pickle. Just asked my cleanse authority if I’m allowed to chew gum and she said no. This is cruel and unusual punishment.

5:26PM-Excerpt from an e-mail I just sent a co-worker: “This is what I meant to send but as I am on a juice cleanse, my thoughts are not my own. Here is the correct attachment.”

6:38PM-I just want to go to sleep as a means to not drink juice.

Day 2

9:45AM-Woke up without the raging caffeine headache yesterday. Some of the juices are so heavy that it takes over an hour to finish them. No wonder I’m not hungry, I’m constantly drinking juice.

10:00AM-Today’s breakfast is another jmothie and it tastes like adult baby food. I know this might not make sense but imagine a baby who was worried about aging. This jmothie was made for that baby.

11:47AM-I want a banana I want a banana I want a banana can’t I just have a bananaaaaaa? 

11:50AM-Drinking another juice to take my mind off of the banana but I still want a banana. Who ever thought the day would come when I would be pining over a banana? I kind of hate myself right now. 

2:07PM-Drinking my salad. Again. Still not at brunch.

4:05PM-Begin drinking my “gazpacho” juice. I take a whiff before I taste it and it’s not super bueno. The taste isn’t horrible it’s just very thick and onion-y. I take a few sips before I realize I need a break and switch to the watermelon cooler. Mmm tastes like I’m drinking a watermelon. Weird but better than onion-y grossness.

5:49PM-Take another crack at the gazpacho. Thicker than I remembered. A few sips than back in the fridge.

7:06PM-Headed to pick up tomorrow’s juice and grab another jmothie to replace the gazpacho that I can’t seem to get down. Wooo This. Jmothie. Is. Ginger-y.

8:14PM-One last shot at gazpacho. Now, I’m with friends who begin to mock it so hard that any chance I had in finish it is shot to hell. One friend examines the bottle. “Hey Doni, the label says “Food doesn’t have to taste like dirt to be close to the Earth.” They should have added: “but it’s pretty close”.”

Day 3

10:04AM In the words of Barry Manilow looks like we made ittttttttttttt. For breakfast I have a Jmoothie that is so rich to my non-food having body that it takes me a long time to finish it.

12:05PM-Drinking a green juice that has some apple in it which makes everything better. It’s pretty good.

2:07PM-Now on to grapefuit, lemon, and orange. It’s like the spicy one minus the horrific cayenne pepper. Surprisingly, it’s better.

3:19PM-I’m fading and an ice coffee sounds prettttty great right now. I don’t have a headache but I really could use a little pep in my step. I’ve come this far so I’m not going to give in but I reallllly want tooooooo.

4:07PM-Walk by the crafty table to get my next juice and there are roughly 37 things that I would scarf down in roughly 4 seconds (guesstimate). I cannot get this one delicious bagel out of my head. It’s the kind with the little oats on top and they seem pretty bombtastic. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!

5:53PM-We just broke for dinner and I really really want to eat. I was ok the first few days but now I really would like to eat something. All of us are past the honeymoon phase and just want food. We have a 10 minute fantasy session about what we’re going to eat for breakfast.

6:26PM-This is when the above photo was taken. I can bearly get this juice down. We chose our own juices for today but I tried to be good and squeeze in a few green juices between the fruity ones. This one is almost unbearable. My tongue is kind of numb. IS IT TOMORROW MORNING YET??

 Day 4-Post Cleanse

 7:30AM- Chased a Starbucks spinach, feta, and egg white wrap with a grande iced Americano while listening to this:                 

           

                                                                               Fin!

Ever wondered if Dwight was an “other”?

         

Click and go to slide 7 to find out!

on falling in the subway

You know how sometimes things occur in your life that feel like the Universe is giving you a little tap on the shoulder? On this particular day, the Universe slapped me across the face. 

        

The subway is an integral part to every New Yorkers life unless you are so rich that you use $5 bills as tissues and have a driver. In which case, please stop reading; you are not welcome here. I take the subway everyday to and from work and despite wanting to say a lot of things out loud to my fellow passengers it’s usually a fine experience. I use the word “fine” because I feel it is the only one neutral enough to convey a trip on the subway. It’s not as horrible as walking on hot coals while listening to “Cotton Eyed Joe”, but it’s not lying in your bed and watching a SVU marathon either. It’s fine. (Wait that’s not your idea of an amazing time? Whatever.)

 When people ask if I like living in New York I usually respond by saying “I do. The pace suits me.” The pace does suit me but sometimes a little too well. The accepted rushed and blunt New York attitude indulges all of my worst qualities of being impatient, brash, and ok, sometimes a little mean. If you don’t get with the program quickly, this city will chew you up and spit you out. Someone isn’t going to tell you to get out of they way, they are just going to run you over with their bike. That is not a metaphor.

I recently moved, but my old subway commute required me going down 3 stops to switch trains at Rockefeller Center (because I’m nostalgic #pagelife). It took about 35 minutes if I caught the trains at exactly the right time and 45 minutes if I had to wait for a bit.

 On this particular morning, I woke up, brushed my teeth, washed my face, threw on a top, my favorite pair of jeans and leopard print sandals, and headed out the door.  It was a pretty normal day albeit stopping at Starbucks before the train and treating myself to a venti iced coffee. (Someone should teach a college course detailing the perils of adulthood and warn that in the very near future a venti iced coffee from Starbucks will be considered a “splurge”.)  I wasn’t in a rush. I wasn’t running late. I was just a New Yorker making my daily commute.

As the B train rolled into Rockefeller Center I could see the uptown F train arriving across the tracks. Anyone who’s lived in New York is well accustomed to something I like to call the “subway transfer sprint”.  This sprint is really representative of the city’s overall pace and occurs when you see/hear/smell/spidey sense the train you are switching to arriving in the station. It is necessary to sprint because if you don’t, you sometimes have to wait as much as 10 minutes for the next train time to come. Ok, now that I typed that sentence I can see how ridiculous that seems but 10 minutes in New York City is like an hour anywhere else. Every minute is precious and so we run like idiots to catch our train.

As the train doors opened, I clutched my laptop case and purse close and to my sides and prepared to run. Since this was prime morning commute time, I tried to be one of the first to exit the train and shoved a few people in the process. (You guys I swear I’m a good person but the MTA just does something to people!) I two-timed up the stairs, ready to push anyone who got in my way. As a barreled across the platform I could see that the doors on my train we’re open and so I charged down the flight of stairs ready to throw myself into the subway car.

Whenever I fall (shockingly it’s happened more than this 1 time), I find it nearly impossible to remember. All I know is that my sandal got caught on the step, my iced coffee flew in the air and I grabbed on to the railing but it was too late. Nothing could stop me from unabashedly falling down the subway platform stairs.

When I tell people about this fall (I am an open book of embarrassment), the first thing they ask is “Did anyone stop and help you?!” Just as a half naked homeless person riding a unicycle does not phase New Yorkers, neither does a 20-something girl tumbling down the subway stairs. The fall was witnessed by a mad rush of people getting off the train that I was trying to catch but none of them really stopped. I remember one person handed me my dropped cell phone, but that was about it. Any more than that would have caused a traffic jam and made things worse. Besides, I didn’t want more of a scene than there already was. 

Once it was over, I collected myself and began to assess the damage. My iced coffee was all over me and favorite pair of jeans split across both knees, resulting in large gashes as well as scrapes across the top of my feet. Falling is always bad but I promise you that falling in the subway is worse. Remember how you pushed the subway’s disgustingness to the back of your mind so you could bear to ride it everyday?  Well, there’s nothing like scraping your knees to remind you how very, very dirty it is. I tried desperately not to think of the New York filth seeping into my open wounds.

I barely had time to feel sorry for myself before another uptown F train rolled into the station. In true poetic justice, I had pretty seriously injured myself to save a whopping 2 minutes. Feeling tired and stupid as the air began to sting my cuts, I did what any other self-respecting New Yorker would do: I got on the train and went to work.

When I got to my office, I hobbled into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit with pretty much nothing left except enough gauze for a Civil War battle.  I took some burn gel (the closest thing in the kit to Neosporin), a few sheets of gauze (when in Gettysburg…), a half used roll of tape, and a few tiny alcohol swabs that I’m 99% sure were meant for eye glass cleaning.  I ripped my pants off in the bathroom stall (wayyy less sexy than it sounds) (oh it didn’t sound sexy? Yeah, that makes more sense) and got to work. The alcohol pads stung like crazy but I didn’t care as I was just relieved to be freeing myself from the filth of the subway platform. (This positive attitude did not last very long as later in the day a friend at work sprayed my knees with bactine and I swear if I could have bent my knees I would have tackled her.)

 In a perfect world, I would have crawled into a ball and my Mom would come rescue me with the tube of Neosporin she keeps in her purse, but alas I had to put on my coffee stained pants and get back to my desk. And speaking of coffee, the cinnamon I sprinkled in my Starbucks haunted me for the rest of the day. I smelled like a weird Christmas cookie that was dipped in milk like 5 years ago. Between this and the bloody gauze, I was a true delight to everyone around me.

        

It took weeks for my knees to heal which gave me plenty of time to think about the fall. I thought about the homeless person who had probably taken up residence in the very spot that I split my knees open. I thought about the heinous infection that could potentially result from said residence. I thought about New Yorkers and the crazy pace that we all embrace out of necessity for our survival. Oddly enough I am only aware of my New Yorkness when I am anywhere but New York. Upon arriving in another city, I am complaining about how slow everyone is walking before I even make it to baggage claim. If I had a nickel for every time one of my family members said “alright calm down New York” well, I’d have a lot of nickels.

Most of the time we aren’t even aware of this crazy pace because it constantly surrounds us: speeding cars, looming deadlines, and people who walk fast and know exactly what they are going to order from Starbucks. We have entered in a silent agreement with one another that our ugly tennis shoes are perfectly acceptable for a morning commute and the middle of the sidewalk is for confused tourists only. It’s a bond that is difficult to understand but one that we all share. For the same reasons that we get each other, we also cannot keep each other in check. New Yorkers are each other’s greatest allies and worst enemies.

Falling in the subway could have just been falling in the subway, but upon closer examination it was just a giant metaphor for my rushed, everyone walks too slow, no time for anything life. It’s too easy to get sucked in but sometimes we just need to take a step back and well, slow down-literally and figuratively.  We need to realize that the constant rush prevents us from taking it all in.

So now what? Well, now I never risk it. I walk (sometimes even mosey) when transferring subway trains. Is it difficult to hear the train and know I am not going to even try and make it? Yes, it can be torturous. And yes it is a huge pain in the ass to wait 10 minutes for the next train but you know what? It’s 10 minutes. Is it really worth shoving people and skinning your knees? Trust me, it’s not. 

This is not meant to be a Tuesdays with Doni life lesson lecture because trust me I am in no place to be preaching to all of you from a perch on high (I just realized that the shirt I’m wearing has a giant hole in the armpit).  But I process things by writing about them and thought that I might be able to share this little token of enlightenment. I use this example because well, I wiped out on the subway platform and that’s pretty good material but you don’t have to live in New York or take the subway to be missing it. Basically what I am trying to say it you better check yourself before you wreck yourself. Ok, that’s not exactly what I’m trying to say but you get it.

I know that if we completely slow down we will turn into one of those tourists that we all not so secretly hate and that New York life would become unbearable. But I also know that we can keep up without completely surrendering to the madness. Leave 10 minutes earlier, eat lunch somewhere besides your desk, and maybe even tell those confused, map wielding tourists which direction is uptown.

Due to your superior center of gravity, you will probably never fall in the Subway and I really hope you don’t. But I believe that the universe has weird ways of catching up with us, sometimes even slapping us in the face.