OK, so I am officially moving to blogging at: kristin5683.wordpress.com
I'm also a new co-editor at Madator Nights, so see me there as well!
16 September 2010
21 April 2010
Well, this sucks
OK, so I have to admit to being a full-blown romantic; I love the ideas of romantic comedies and the love of Jane Austen books. I was fully convinced as a child that my Mr. Right would be blissfully easy to find and just as easy to hold on to. And yet...and yet...real, adult, non-happy ending for sure life has reared its head to let me know that it is, in fact, hard work and not at all like the movies.
I met what I considered to be a fairly close proximity to a guy who could become Mr. Right. Tall, well read, loves to travel, likes to debate philosophy and psychology over a glass or two of wine, ta da! I had done it; I had found him. Easy to talk to, makes me laugh, just a bit dorky and awkward (much like myself!), prefers living overseas as compared to in the US, and at a crossroads in his life and prepared to travel the world until his money runs out or he finds a place he falls in love with.
All of this would be fantastically wonderful if at this crossroads, I was invited along. When I broached the topic, with my summer plans of cat-sitting in Paris, asking if he'd come and visit me, he said "we'll see." OK, so that's not a deal-breaker. A few minutes later, after discussing the volcano that had cancelled his much-anticipated flight to Europe, he burst out with a brief diatribe that sums up to: he can't wait to leave and never come back to America, he's debating skipping out on his best friend's wedding (for which he agreed to be the BEST MAN) so much is his passion for not ever coming back here, he has no personal ambition for life, he has no attachment to anything that relates to America (hello! I'm here!), he wants to completely disappear, and he sees himself becoming a monk because there is no other life he'd be suited for or interested in.
Fan-fucking-tastic. If he can skip out on his best friend's wedding, who he's known for over a decade, how much easier to skip out on a woman he's known for 6 months and only been in the same country with for 6 weeks. As much as I feel like I should have seen this coming, and how I really shouldn't have let myself fall for him, it sucks.
On another note, check out my articles at matadornetwork -
http://matadornights.com/best-10-out-of-900-brighton-pubs-english-seaside-drinking-at-its-finest/
http://matadornights.com/the-good-the-bad-and-the-beautiful-of-barbecue-in-kansas-city-mo-ks-usa/
I met what I considered to be a fairly close proximity to a guy who could become Mr. Right. Tall, well read, loves to travel, likes to debate philosophy and psychology over a glass or two of wine, ta da! I had done it; I had found him. Easy to talk to, makes me laugh, just a bit dorky and awkward (much like myself!), prefers living overseas as compared to in the US, and at a crossroads in his life and prepared to travel the world until his money runs out or he finds a place he falls in love with.
All of this would be fantastically wonderful if at this crossroads, I was invited along. When I broached the topic, with my summer plans of cat-sitting in Paris, asking if he'd come and visit me, he said "we'll see." OK, so that's not a deal-breaker. A few minutes later, after discussing the volcano that had cancelled his much-anticipated flight to Europe, he burst out with a brief diatribe that sums up to: he can't wait to leave and never come back to America, he's debating skipping out on his best friend's wedding (for which he agreed to be the BEST MAN) so much is his passion for not ever coming back here, he has no personal ambition for life, he has no attachment to anything that relates to America (hello! I'm here!), he wants to completely disappear, and he sees himself becoming a monk because there is no other life he'd be suited for or interested in.
Fan-fucking-tastic. If he can skip out on his best friend's wedding, who he's known for over a decade, how much easier to skip out on a woman he's known for 6 months and only been in the same country with for 6 weeks. As much as I feel like I should have seen this coming, and how I really shouldn't have let myself fall for him, it sucks.
On another note, check out my articles at matadornetwork -
http://matadornights.com/best-10-out-of-900-brighton-pubs-english-seaside-drinking-at-its-finest/
http://matadornights.com/the-good-the-bad-and-the-beautiful-of-barbecue-in-kansas-city-mo-ks-usa/
29 March 2010
750 Words
I have started dabbling with the website 750words.com. It comes from the idea of the artist's pages - that if you write three pages in the morning, every morning, without stopping and without thinking, then you get a chance to look into your subconscious and you get to cleanse yourself of your thoughts. It is also meant to help you do other writing and creating, by writing three pages without thought or concern, then you have more freedom to do other forms of creating - a way to combat writer's block.
Another nifty little feature of this particular website is that it analyzes your writing. And today, my writing was: introverted, negative, uncertain and thinking. I must say that it's spot on. I have to sign, or not sign, my lease today on my studio apartment. I must say that I do love my little place. I have it fixed up and decorated to my liking, and it's just me. I don't have to worry about crazy roommates, etc. But I wish that I could just pick up my apartment and move it somewhere else. I live in a city that I don't particularly like and work at a job that I don't feel passionate about. Yet, I have no idea as to what I would do if I were to leave. And I would have to figure that out in the next 36 hours, before my lease has to be extended. I have to sign a year lease, there is no month to month option or 6 month option.
I have some ideas as to what I would do over the summer, and yet, that all involves traveling and spending money. It doesn't seem particularly responsible or sensible to leave with no idea whatsoever as to what I would do. While I know that sometimes things shouldn't be planned, etc., I also know that having to move back in with my parents because I've run out of money, isn't a smart option either. So I want to be smart about things, but thinking of staying here for another year seems exhausting. But I don't have any idea of where I would want to go or what I would want to do if I left.
Another nifty little feature of this particular website is that it analyzes your writing. And today, my writing was: introverted, negative, uncertain and thinking. I must say that it's spot on. I have to sign, or not sign, my lease today on my studio apartment. I must say that I do love my little place. I have it fixed up and decorated to my liking, and it's just me. I don't have to worry about crazy roommates, etc. But I wish that I could just pick up my apartment and move it somewhere else. I live in a city that I don't particularly like and work at a job that I don't feel passionate about. Yet, I have no idea as to what I would do if I were to leave. And I would have to figure that out in the next 36 hours, before my lease has to be extended. I have to sign a year lease, there is no month to month option or 6 month option.
I have some ideas as to what I would do over the summer, and yet, that all involves traveling and spending money. It doesn't seem particularly responsible or sensible to leave with no idea whatsoever as to what I would do. While I know that sometimes things shouldn't be planned, etc., I also know that having to move back in with my parents because I've run out of money, isn't a smart option either. So I want to be smart about things, but thinking of staying here for another year seems exhausting. But I don't have any idea of where I would want to go or what I would want to do if I left.
14 March 2010
New Jersey, I have to quit you
Chris Christie, the round but not at all jolly new Governor of New Jersey, has decided the best course of action for the budget crisis is to cut funding to education. Over 500 school districts will have funding frozen, and higher education is facing massive multi-million dollar cuts. It seems like time to abandon ship. There is no incentive or security for any position.
The cuts will inevitably lead to higher tuition, larger classes, fewer instructors with an actual passion for their subject. And as someone who has had exposure to the level of education held by a wide variety of New Jersey students, it seems like the very last thing that the system needs is for cuts.
There are students, and not just a few of them, who cannot identify a correctly written sentence. The reading level of college students is hovering somewhere near what seems to be a 7th grade level at best. Teaching becomes more about explaining why you can’t write, “I is good at school” as a correct sentence, compared to discussing and writing about complex ideas and higher level thinking.
Granted, this is not the case for all students, but for a surprising number of them, they really can’t write at all. I don’t know how they got into college, and I find it endlessly frustrating to teach 4th grade level assignments to students who are supposed to hold at least a high school degree, which should mean they can read and write with some level of proficiency. And now, the schools will have less funding? It can only get worse.
The cuts will inevitably lead to higher tuition, larger classes, fewer instructors with an actual passion for their subject. And as someone who has had exposure to the level of education held by a wide variety of New Jersey students, it seems like the very last thing that the system needs is for cuts.
There are students, and not just a few of them, who cannot identify a correctly written sentence. The reading level of college students is hovering somewhere near what seems to be a 7th grade level at best. Teaching becomes more about explaining why you can’t write, “I is good at school” as a correct sentence, compared to discussing and writing about complex ideas and higher level thinking.
Granted, this is not the case for all students, but for a surprising number of them, they really can’t write at all. I don’t know how they got into college, and I find it endlessly frustrating to teach 4th grade level assignments to students who are supposed to hold at least a high school degree, which should mean they can read and write with some level of proficiency. And now, the schools will have less funding? It can only get worse.
28 September 2009
I wonder what you intend
I wonder what you intend
It’s work exploring
why some do cry
when contrasted with the emptiness
of the dark
needing a close reading
to be a successful piece,
nicely unusual,
you try to be consistent
in simply saying
the unsubstantial opinions
of how you feel.
It’s work exploring
why some do cry
when contrasted with the emptiness
of the dark
needing a close reading
to be a successful piece,
nicely unusual,
you try to be consistent
in simply saying
the unsubstantial opinions
of how you feel.
19 September 2009
Pink
A week and a day ago, I woke up to the trilling sound of my cell phone alarm. Immediately my stomach began to flutter and jump. In a few hours I would be running in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Central Park. I wanted to grab some food, but my friend who I was staying with in Harlem hadn’t been shopping since her vacation. So my pre-race meal included a banana I’d brought with me from home, a cup of coffee, 2 glasses of water, and a mango ice cream bar. Perhaps not ideal, but I’d stuffed myself with pasta the night before ($30 for a pasta dinner; this is why I can’t live in NYC).
I took a shower (yes, it was basically pointless since I’d be showering again in about 3 hours, but I hate running with greasy hair. That sounds quite vain as I write it down, but so be it.) and said goodbye to my friend.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come and watch?”
She rolled over in her bed and looked up at me. “When you run the marathon, I’ll come and watch.” And she rolled back over.
OK, fair enough.
I got on the 1 train downtown, heels bouncing nervously as I sat on the hard orange plastic seats listening to the Black Eyed Peas “I got a feeling”. As I got off the train at 72nd street, I saw a large group of runners heading out of the park. Despite knowing that the race was in Central Park and despite having gone and eyed out the starting line myself the day before (in the rain!), I was somehow convinced that these people knew something that I didn’t and that the race had somehow been moved.
After I got over the irrationality, I headed towards the park. There were hundreds of people converging on Central Park West. 15 blocks had been shut down.
I met my friend and her boyfriend. They were both sipping on Starbucks. In my head (and in my elitist, I’m a “real runner” way), I thought, “Well that’s just stupid.” (But by mile 2.5 I was pushing myself to keep up with her....hmmm...)
There were thousands and thousands of people. Mayor Bloomberg was there. Along with Uma Thurman and Stephen Colbert. Well, theoretically. We heard them on the loudspeaker, but I never caught a glimpse of them. We heard the announcement, “Walkers, are you ready?” and looked at each other with some trepidation. We weren’t walkers damn it, we were runners! What was happening?
With 15,000 people, the run became more of an obstacle course. It was difficult to get a steady pace, though as my friend said, it was never boring. Our pace was about 10 minute miles, which is my steady pace on the treadmill. And speeding up after mile 2 seemed difficult. My body didn’t want to move or get any faster; instead, it wanted to stop. My muscle memory is set at a certain pace, and I’m finding it challenging to push through that and run faster and run longer.
My running issues aside, the run was to raise money for breast cancer research. I laughed at the t-shirts that said, “Save the tatas!” And on etsy I found some lovely pink items (some specifically for breast cancer, and some just beautiful pink items). Enjoy!
I took a shower (yes, it was basically pointless since I’d be showering again in about 3 hours, but I hate running with greasy hair. That sounds quite vain as I write it down, but so be it.) and said goodbye to my friend.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come and watch?”
She rolled over in her bed and looked up at me. “When you run the marathon, I’ll come and watch.” And she rolled back over.
OK, fair enough.
I got on the 1 train downtown, heels bouncing nervously as I sat on the hard orange plastic seats listening to the Black Eyed Peas “I got a feeling”. As I got off the train at 72nd street, I saw a large group of runners heading out of the park. Despite knowing that the race was in Central Park and despite having gone and eyed out the starting line myself the day before (in the rain!), I was somehow convinced that these people knew something that I didn’t and that the race had somehow been moved.
After I got over the irrationality, I headed towards the park. There were hundreds of people converging on Central Park West. 15 blocks had been shut down.
I met my friend and her boyfriend. They were both sipping on Starbucks. In my head (and in my elitist, I’m a “real runner” way), I thought, “Well that’s just stupid.” (But by mile 2.5 I was pushing myself to keep up with her....hmmm...)
There were thousands and thousands of people. Mayor Bloomberg was there. Along with Uma Thurman and Stephen Colbert. Well, theoretically. We heard them on the loudspeaker, but I never caught a glimpse of them. We heard the announcement, “Walkers, are you ready?” and looked at each other with some trepidation. We weren’t walkers damn it, we were runners! What was happening?
With 15,000 people, the run became more of an obstacle course. It was difficult to get a steady pace, though as my friend said, it was never boring. Our pace was about 10 minute miles, which is my steady pace on the treadmill. And speeding up after mile 2 seemed difficult. My body didn’t want to move or get any faster; instead, it wanted to stop. My muscle memory is set at a certain pace, and I’m finding it challenging to push through that and run faster and run longer.
My running issues aside, the run was to raise money for breast cancer research. I laughed at the t-shirts that said, “Save the tatas!” And on etsy I found some lovely pink items (some specifically for breast cancer, and some just beautiful pink items). Enjoy!
Clockwise from top left:
- One 5 Ounce Cotton Blossom Breast Cancer Awareness Soap - Donation to Susan G. Komen for the Cure by http://layla.etsy.com/
- Breast Cancer Awareness Hot Pink and Pearl Sterling Silver Earrings (3) by http://pookieandpierre.etsy.com/
- Silk PEONY RHINESTONE GEM Flower CROCHET Waffle HEADBAND Baby Toddler HOT PINK by http://miaboutique.etsy.com/
- Pink Bird of Hope by http://middleburg.etsy.com/
- Large Frame - Brown on Pink Damask by http://girlbyaileen.etsy.com/
- Audrey necklace pink pearls and black ribbon by http://kristinmc.etsy.com/
17 September 2009
The art of losing isn't hard to master
Cold gel squirted onto warm white flesh. A fuzzy black and white image on the screen. Anxious and cautious excitement from first time parents at what they thought would be the first of many ob visits.
A mother’s heartbeat, even and strong. But no other. No reassuring, echoing thumpTHUMP thumpTHUMP from the baby inside. So not even a mother’s heartbeat, just a woman’s. (Does a baby that stopped growing after eight weeks still make you a mother? A bundle of cells half an inch long, but complete with fingers, wrists that bend, eyelids, a heart, though a heart that stopped beating.)
Calls were made a few weeks before. Too excited to hold in the news. A baby! The first baby! Ring the bells and fly the flags! More calls had to be made now. Oops. Just kidding. We take it back. No baby will be coming.
The aching impossibility and implausibility of life. How is it that any heart keeps beating? Why would one stop and not another?
A mother’s heartbeat, even and strong. But no other. No reassuring, echoing thumpTHUMP thumpTHUMP from the baby inside. So not even a mother’s heartbeat, just a woman’s. (Does a baby that stopped growing after eight weeks still make you a mother? A bundle of cells half an inch long, but complete with fingers, wrists that bend, eyelids, a heart, though a heart that stopped beating.)
Calls were made a few weeks before. Too excited to hold in the news. A baby! The first baby! Ring the bells and fly the flags! More calls had to be made now. Oops. Just kidding. We take it back. No baby will be coming.
The aching impossibility and implausibility of life. How is it that any heart keeps beating? Why would one stop and not another?
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