50,059 Words

 

Woohoo!  I did it, and I can’t believe it!  With birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, zombie runs, and simply just running out of ideas to write about, 50,000 words seemed like an unattainable entity.  However, during the last week, I plopped myself at my local library and somehow managed to churn out the last 10,000 words in 4 days.

And now I have a novel that is in dire need of revising and editing.  But I’ll save that at the start of the new year.  I’m now working on the book proposal simply to help organize my brain in the hopes that I can make sense out of my story.

Eeek!  I wrote a novel!

Novella in 30 Days

As one of my Christmas gifts last year, I received Chris Baty’s “No Plot? No Problem!” book on how to write a novel in 30 days.  Chris Baty is also the founder of National Novel Writing Month (conveniently referred to as NaNoWriMo), held every November.  After months of this book collecting dust on a shelf, I finally browsed through it.  And now that I just joined the local NaNoWriMo group, I’m declaring that I will write a novel/novella in a month.  That’s 50,000 words in 30 days.  I’m fucking crazy!

This is indeed official if I’m announcing it on my (neglected) blog, right?  So now I have to do it.  No excuses!

Now, what should I write about?  I’ve been switching amongst 3 novellas the last four years plus I just started a children’s story.  As you can see, I’ve a problem with focusing on one thing as I get bored quite easily.  Hopefully NaNoWriMo will motivate me to finish at least one novella!  Out of the 3 novellas I already started, I’ve decided to choose the very first one I started, a bildungsroman (I love that word!) story set in Italy.  That’s all the details I’m revealing for now!

So no more vegging out in front of the TV/tele, watching Dog the Bounty Hunter and Border Security.  Let the writing commence! (as of 1 November)

Airplane Reunion

So I’m officially not a New Yorker anymore  Even though I’ll be back for a week in a couple of weeks, I’ll technically be a tourist.  Eek!

While waiting to board the plane, I spotted a jr. high and high school classmate.  It was one of those moments where I kept glancing back at her, and I’m sure she noticed me looking at her, but of course she didn’t recognize me and probably thought I was a creep.  Back then, she was the popular cheerleader, and I was the wannabe nerd.  Even though in jr. high school we were part of the leadership team – I was Historian (a precursor to my career as an Art Historian, whowuddathunk) and she was something I can’t recall right now.  I didn’t think much of it afterwards, but once we boarded the plane, guess who sat right next to creepy me?  She did of course.  Throughout the entire 5-6 hour flight I kept thinking whether or not I should say something.  ”Hey, remember me?”  ”Hey, aren’t you so-in-so?”  ”Hey, you probably don’t remember me, but I think we went to high school together.”  I even thought about calling a friend as an excuse to say my hometown in the hopes that she would recognize the city and then recognize me.  Midway through the flight she took out her laptop and started watching videos of herself weightlifting.  I thought, “is she training for the Olympics?”  Maybe I can start up a conversation about the London Olympics, mention I’m moving there, and eventually our hometown would be brought up…

Then I suddenly realized that she was the one that got me cut from the jr. high basketball team!  Okay, she didn’t really get me cut.  When I was a kid I liked playing basketball, however the only experience I had was really just shooting hoops.  When trying out for the jr. high team, we were doing drills where one person would dribble the ball across the court while another person would go against that person.  So as I was dribbling the ball, she was the one against me, and she successfully snatched the ball away from me.  That moment got me cut from the team.  But I don’t blame her at all.  It could have been someone with a broken leg and that person would have snatched the ball away from me.  I was cut because I sucked.  I’ve since embraced my wannabe nerdness (especially since I now have these uber geek chic eyeglasses), and I did chuckle when that memory came back to me.

But I remained silent the entire flight.  After dwelling on it, I just couldn’t be bothered.   I’m enjoying life now, and I really didn’t want to reminisce about high school nor did I want to talk about what we’ve been up to these days.  What’s the point?  So we exited the plane together but probably didn’t go our separate ways as I’m sure we were heading in the same direction – our hometown.

Partying Like Art Stars

What do Marina Abramovic, Gonkar Gyatso, Roy Lichtenstein, and Keith Haring have in common?  They  all came to my lovely friend Ryan’s 25th birthday party… in the form of her dear friends.

Let’s start off with the invitation:

Brilliantly creative, right?  The text next to the audio icon is the address but blurred for obvious reasons.

Apart from Halloween, I don’t remember the last time I dressed up for a party.  From meticulously painting dots to resemble a Roy Lichtenstein painting to placing stickers on one’s body to recreate Gonkar Gyatso’s sticker works, it was like being in a museum or gallery while tripping on magic mushrooms, with the paintings coming to life (and drinking alcohol).  As the birthday girl was Peggy Guggenheim, she didn’t need to sit back and admire her “collection,” but actually mingle with it.  What if the actual artists and actual works were able to speak to each other?  (Which reminds me of the popular question, ”If you could have dinner with any four people, living or dead, who would you pick?”)*  Could you imagine the social context of these human relations?!  What exactly would Vincent van Gogh (with the bandaged ear) say to one of Keith Haring’s characters?  Would Frida Kahlo and Marina Abramovic get along?  Who would win at a beer ping pong game?!

Check out these artists and art works and see if you can guess who and what they depict…

* I’d choose Pontius Pilot, Adolf Hitler, Pope John Paul II, and Isaac Newton**  (I wouldn’t say much but see if they can sort out their differences.)

**subject to change

Diego Rivera at the MoMA

I’m a member of the MoMA.  And one of the reasons why I became a member is because I’m a huge fan of Diego Rivera.  He had the second solo exhibition at the MoMA in 1931-1932 and 80 years later, his murals from that show are now on display.  Entitled Murals for The Museum of Modern Art, I went to see his exhibition on MLK day.  One of my pet peeves is crowded museums (and crowded subways, crowded stores, etc etc) but I thought that it was worth going and besides, I plan on going at least a few more times.

I downloaded the MoMA app for the iPhone and let me tell you, it is one amazing app.  It’s very interactive and useful.  I never was a fan of audio tours but this app also includes the audio for the show, and it was the best way to ignore and forget about the crowd.

The paintings were amazing.  But due to the massive crowd, I thought it would be best to take in those monumental pieces on a quiet day.  I focused on the information about fresco paintings as I didn’t know much about the process.  As explained in the blurred image I took at the exhibition, Rivera went to Italy to study the fresco technique.  The application of layers of cement and fresco mortar (aged lime putty and marble dust) was used during the Italian Renaissance.  As the murals from that period exist today in pretty good condition, it shows that fresco is a way of making murals durable and long lasting.  What I found most fascinating about the fresco technique was the term, giornata.  Meaning day in Italian, it refers to the area of the fresco painting that can be completed in a day.  In the same image below, MoMA shows how Rivera painted Agrarian Leader Zapata in three days.  He was clever enough to hide the transitions of layer applications along the outlines of figure and objects in the painting.  Reminds me of how tattoo artists cover up previous tattoos with a new ones (photos courtesy of OG Tattoos).

 

Going to see this exhibition is a must but if you won’t be in NYC before it closes on May 14, The MoMA’s interactive website on this exhibition can be viewed here.  Rivera’s approach to fresco is further explained here.  It also points out what buildings are represented in the mural, Frozen Assets. Quite helpful!

Subletting in NYC

First and foremost, Happy New Year!

Secondly, this blog is what people call “first world problems.”  So reader beware.

Excuses alert: One of the reasons why I haven’t been blogging is that I needed to find a sublet apt.  And finding a sublet is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done.  It is like looking for a job; you’re on Craigslist every second emailing potential places and IF they respond back, you visit the place, they interview you, and you have to wait whether or not you’ve been picked.  And you can’t really plan ahead because you can’t really start looking for a place until at most a month prior to your move out/in date.  In the one month that I looked for a place, I applied to about 100 places.  Out of the 100 places, I had a handful of interviews.  And out of those interviews, I was chosen twice.  I turned down the first place (it smelled funny okay?) and the second place was confirmed 5 days before I had to move out of my other apt.

The place I ended up moving to is in East Village – a prime spot in Manhattan where everyone goes out to bars and restaurants.  And I was ecstatic.  The first week I was there friends were telling me where they were going out and it’d be a block away from where I live.  Best part of my room – I’ve a view of the Chrysler Building.  My two roommates are sane, mature, clean people who I get along with really well.

Now the downsides of subletting – you’re not on a lease therefore you don’t really have any rights.  But hey, those are things that are not that important especially since I’m only at this apt for 6 months.  Right?

I found out that my roommate (who’s on the lease) has been charging me more in rent than himself, and he has the bigger room.  I’m not surprised; in fact, I was expecting it.  I told myself, it’s only 6 months, I get along with my roommates, and East Village is a great location.  Plus, the rent was within my budget.  But I woke up in the middle of the night last night and haven’t been able to sleep since.

“Oh but it’s happened to me so it’s okay for me to do it.”

That’s his rationalization.  No morals.  No conscience.  He’s motivated by greed.  Everyone else is doing it.*  Because he was fucked over, it’s okay to fuck other people over.

There’s a great article about why people do things psychologically because everyone’s doing it, even if it’s wrong.

I haven’t confronted him about it just yet.  Then again, is it worth it?  He can charge whatever he wants.  He could essentially live rent free.  But is it right?  No.  Does he care?  No.  Although it’s shady, everyone else is doing it, so he feels safe because he’s mentally part of the group.  Survival is in numbers.  He’s not alone and vulnerable (and finger-less and ear-less**).  But what about guilt?  I guess when one’s swimming in money, it’s quite easy to suppress it.***

But it’s okay because guess who’s cleaning the toilet with a certain someone’s toothbrush?  (Just kidding.****)

I didn’t mean to start off 2012 whining and complaining about life.  My life for the most part is pretty awesome.  I can assure you 2012 will be an exciting year, and I can’t wait to blog about it!

 

*So Why Can’t We?  (Great album.  Totally listening to Linger right now.)

**If you haven’t read the article, go read it!

***I’m essentially funding his vacation trip next month to New Zealand.  Asshole.

****Or am I?

10 Years Ago….

10 years ago, I wasn’t in New York.  I was fortunate not to lose any friends or family on that dreadful day.  I don’t really have a story to tell other than I was just a college student watching what was happening on the news.  And I was in complete shock.

10 years later, I’m in New York.  Today, I’m going to venture out into the city and grab me a slice of New York pizza with my New York friends.

9/11/01.  Never Forget.