Going Jersey

I consider myself a pretty nice, relatively even-tempered person.  In fact, while I am quite opinionated, I am more concerned about putting people off so I try not to be too loud about said opinions unless I'm really pushed.

I think a lot of that has to do with my dual background: asian and southern.  Between the two cultures, I was not really encouraged to speak my mind too much. I was pretty comfortable with that, which was a huge reason why I was hesitant to move to the New York City area.  But...

I distinctly remember when that all changed.  I had lived in Hoboken and worked in Manhattan for only a couple of months.  I was still getting used to parallel parking, maneuvering a mass-transit system and not making eye contact, but the trigger was something fairly innocuous.

I was at a CVS store and as the cashier handed me my change, I said, "Thank you."  So far so good, right?  Well, she looked at me like I had 3 heads, glared at me and mumbled something back that didn't even resemble "You're Welcome."

I was shocked, semi-insulted, and...about 5 minutes later...really irritated.

And thus began my slow yet steady transition, for the better, I think, of standing up for myself more.  That 5 minute reaction time decreased until, very slowly, I became used to giving an immediate reaction that was a little more expressive than a look of shock and hurt.  In fact, it can get a little angry.  And occasionally, I will go beyond that.

I will Go Jersey.

Long before Jersey Shore became well-known for the almost weekly brawls, I credited living in the NYC metro area with bringing out a certain...pugnacious side of me.  It's not that I would intentionally pick fights, but when pushed to the limit, my sweet demeanor could turn. Quickly.

My friends and I started calling this, "going Jersey."  It would come out at predictable moments: when people cut me off on the Turnpike, when oglers would get too aggressive on the streets of the city and of course, when people yelled at me.

A classic story of going Jersey happened while I was in, of all places, Baltimore.  ProMo and I were passing through on our way south to visit our parents, and after a fun night out with some friends, we decided to get a slice of pizza to eat in the car before we hit the road.  Now, at this point my car...excuse me...my Pontiac Sunfire sedan...was pretty banged up from, well, living in Jersey and staying generally parked on the streets.

They call them "bumpers" for a reason.

So there we are, ProMo and I, listening to some rap music, windows down, singing along, eating our pizza and savoring each delicious, greasy bite as if our lives depended on it.  Just then a car pulls up ahead and attempts to parallel park in the spot in front of us.  Now I know that I was and am biased, but even to the novice parallel parker, this spot was a no-brainer. The driver (a female) seems hesitant.  She tries, fails, and re-tries.  ProMo and I, in a fantastic mood, are happily cheering her on.  She almost has it.  I, in the driver's seat and still singing, jamming, and eating pizza, gesture for her to keep backing up.  The windows are down in the car and ProMo and I are both saying things like, "keep going! You've got it!"

Actually, she's still having trouble.  Our cheerleading is not helping.  At this point, her boyfriend gets out of the car to help.  Our eyes start rolling.  Now all three of us are coaching her.

She is close to my front bumper but this is her best attempt yet at actually getting into the spot. Boyfriend looks nervous. ProMo and I are STILL gesturing for her to keep backing up. Between greasy bites and singing, I'm saying things like, "That's what bumpers are for!" and "My car is crap anyway!" and my personal favorite, "Keep going until you hit resistance! Trust me!"

And again, this was a HUGE spot.

Boyfriend's worried look is slowly turning into a look of annoyance. In my head I'm thinking, "Surely this annoyed and suddenly sour face isn't directed towards me.  I'm coaching her, for goodness sake."  He then opens his mouth and yells...YELLS!... "MOVE!...BACK!"

ProMo and I are dumbfounded. Silent. Music is still blasting but I am acutely aware of at least 2 seconds of silence as I blink and stare with pizza grease dripping from the side of my mouth.

At that point, I'm not exactly sure what happened.  I remember lots of yelling and gesturing (if you know me, you know I talk A LOT with my hands), pointing and cursing from both me AND ProMo.  Pretty sure pizza bits were flying out of my mouth too.  At some point, ProMo either stopped for a breath or realized what we were doing and stopped which made my final words all that much clearer: "...AND BY THE WAY I COULD PARK TWO F-ING CARS IN THAT SPOT!!"

Now it's boyfriend's turn to stare and blink. He quickly and quietly gets into girlfriend's car and they speed off, abadoning the spot and presumably their dreams of pizza for the night.

It's quiet (except for the rap music), I'm still fuming and ProMo says quietly..."I think maybe it's time for us to move away from Jersey..."

And that, my friends, is what it means to Go Jersey.

Thankful

This week, I have started a few blog posts related to funny stories from the weekend, my dogs, my klutziness, and other assorted encounters I've had recently.  But in the back of my head, I know what I really want to do is write something related to 9/11.

I started to just post an email that I wrote to my family and friends 2 days after 9/11/01 but it was (a) too long and (b) just a little too raw, still, for me to do it. 

If you're a regular reader, you may already know that I was in the middle of chemotherapy (but not actually getting chemo that day) and working in Manhattan when two planes flew into the Twin Towers just a few short blocks from my office.

Growing up, I never thought I'd live or work in the New York City area.  So it's pretty ironic that it is one of the places that I feel most connected to. I guess it's natural considering everything that happened in my life in the 3 1/2 years that I lived there.

I know my story and experience is one among billions, and you've probably seen or read a few of them this week as they are all over the TV and news.  If you were alive and old enough to remember that day, it is impossible to not have your own story.  And even though I rarely have a problem speaking my mind, I find it difficult to find the words that I want to say in this particular blog post.

I remember every thought and feeling I had that day. 

Of course there were the big memories of sights, sounds and smells that I won't forget.  But, whether it's a self-defense mechanism or not, I also distinctly remember the little things that made me smile, gave me some hope and reminded me to be thankful for the things that I had.

Another theme that you'll probably notice in this blog is that I get really attached to my friends.  I am forever tied to the ones that I worked with that day who, while time and distance have lead us to not communicate often anymore, I will always consider a huge and special part of my life. Not only did I experience every second of the morning of 9/11/01 with them, but they were also there for me in so many ways during my 8 months of chemo. While I try not to use people's real names on this blog, I can't help but thank them by their true (first only) names here, just in case they read this:

Tiff, Rob, Pete, Russ, Steve and especially my buddy Billy.

We've all moved on with life but I know that as long as I live I will never forget them.

So instead of re-living and expressing my thoughts and feelings from that day and the days and weeks afterwards, I'll simply say that I am so thankful for life, love and friendship. We shouldn't need a tragedy or an anniversary of a tragedy to remind us that life is so very short.

Live, laugh, love.

Taken June 2001 when some great friends who came to visit right after I was diagnosed and we snapped this pic from the park in Hoboken with lower Manhattan in the background.

Home Alone

ProMo is off on another international conference adventure which means over a week of "bachelorette" time for me!  Since we've moved to the 'burg, this has happened pretty often, which is great for him and his career.  For me, well...

Initially, I whine.  I say that I'll be lonely.  He and I hang out all the time and many days he's the only person that I talk to, so when he's gone I can go the entire day without talking to anyone.  But after a day or so, I start getting used to it.

Then, the inner OCD geek comes out.

I kind of like...OK...I really like being in control of my schedule, meals, and of course the television.  I should not admit this, but I even plan out all my meals (normal) and at least one household chore (not as normal) every day.  I print off a schedule - which is actually supposed to be a meal planner - and I change the column of "snacks" to "chores."  I really enjoy doing it and I follow it every time.

I know. I'm not right.

While I do get excited about it like the nerd that I am, I am also fully aware that my days are playing out like a scene (below) from the movie 40 Year Old Virgin. 

Seriously.  If I had little figurines to paint like Andy (Steve Carell) did in the movie, I probably would.  Instead, I do one or all of the following: play Wii, sing karaoke or do sudoku puzzles. 

It makes me wonder what I would be like if I were still single. While I would love to think I'd be sipping a glass of wine in a bubble bath every night, I'm pretty sure I'd just be curled up with some puzzles and a dog and maybe some Glee.  And frankly, that wouldn't be so bad.

Almost famous, again

Book signings and promotional interviews...

What did I almost have in common with Chelsea Handler, Kathy Griffin and Tina Fey?

Over the summer, I was almost an author of a major publication! Seriously!

Here's the story...early in the summer, an established author put out a call for co-authors through some academic circles.  And while the premise of the book was engineering, it wasn't a textbook. Instead, it was meant to be a collection of nuggets of info that one learns as an engineering student.

It was a book about engineering for non-engineers! 

Right away, I got excited. I felt like there was SO MUCH that I could contribute to this book.  It seemed like the perfect fit.

So I reached out to the author, forwarded him my resume and told him what I thought I could bring to the table.  He promptly put me on his short list.  What followed were a few weeks (which felt like months) of back and forth, bouncing ideas off of each other.  The further we got into the process, the more I felt like I was getting into a relationship.

First, the awkward getting-to-know you phase.

He called and we chatted and learned more about each other.  Of course, I tried to charm him with my personality.  And while he was a pretty serious guy, he still laughed at my jokes and sounded interested in my teaching philosophy.  He's an architect so we talked about how we both had preconceived notions of the other's occupation.  I listened to him talk about his journey as an author and why he wanted to write this book.  In the end, I hung up the phone and thought my chances were great.

Next, the bliss of the first dates.

First writing dates, that is.  I was one of about 5 finalists so for the next step, I had to come up with a few writing samples on the topic that we would work on together. The goal, of course was to see if we had the right "chemistry."  I quickly came up with a few ideas and sent them along. 

At first, it was great.  He had a bunch of suggestions and ideas that he bounced right back to me.  We were both excited.  I agreed with some of his ideas and disagreed with others, but when I made revisions, I always thought they were vast improvements.  We were working together to make ourselves collectively better! 

But then the reality of being in a relationship sets in...

I thought my ideas were fantastic and I began to think that this could be my moment of greatness.  We spoke a few times and we emailed each other frequently.  Every time I gave him samples that I thought could not go wrong, he would come back wanting something more, or something less. 

It got harder for me to predict what he would want from me.  I would tweak my samples and think that this would be the edit that clicked and he would offer me the job.  But after a day or two, he would  come back with more changes.  I was sometimes confused and other times frustrated by his directives, and I perceived that he was probably equally frustrated and confused by me.  We were both still hopeful, but we didn't seem to be communicating on the same plane.

We talk it out...

This was where I kind of felt like I was on The Bachelor.  He was having a hard time making a decision so he decided to call all the candidates one more time to talk about where we were in the process.  We re-connected.  He talked about what I brought to the table that he really liked, but also expressed his concerns over the things that I lacked.  His problem was that none of us (his finalists) really were the "perfect package" for him, so he was trying spark that additional something in all of us to see who could rise to the top. 

I said that I understood and that I still wanted to make it work.  We said we would re-group and I would send him yet another edit that would hopefully show that I could bring that extra quality that he was looking for.  Still, I could feel myself getting more detatched.

Will I get the proverbial "final rose"?!

...then I decide to end it

Maybe it was the amount of time the process had taken.  Maybe I panicked when I thought of how much time I had already spent on it and I didn't feel like we had made any progress.  Most likely, it was because I came to understand that he and I did not have the same vision for this book.  And since he was the primary author, I knew that if I did get the job, I would likely continue to be frustrated and confused for the duration of the collaboration.

The Break Up

I love a good challenge so I hated to quit, but I couldn't see the relationship going in a good direction.  After much deliberation, I emailed him and withdrew my name from consideration.  He said he was disappointed, tried to get me to change my mind, but in the end, he respected my wishes.  We wished each other well and moved on.

I hope he found what he was looking for and I am disappointed that I couldn't find the "magic" with him, but it just wasn't a good fit. And so it wasn't meant to be!  My brush with (almost) fame was just a brush.

Oh well, there's always that dream to be on Big Brother...

Happy New (Academic) Year!

Top 10 things that make me grumpy at back-to-school time:

1. The town and university have an uncanny knack for starting construction approximately 3 weeks before the town quadruples in size.

2. The impending doom of listening to lame excuses.  Do students think I'm that naive? Do they believe themselves? Tip: Before you give me an excuse, try it out on your roommates/siblings/dog.  If any of them burst out laughing, don't try it with me.

3. Most of the drivers on the road have had their license for 5 years or less, turning the town into, more or less, a student-driving closed course.

4. To quote a colleague, "Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part."

5. Weighing the cost/benefit of going to a bar that is fun and plays good music, yet is crowded by sweaty, wasted college students who scream your name from across the bar. Yes, I can hear you and yes, I am ignoring you.

6. Gross public bathrooms. On campus, in restaurants, and especially in bars.  Seriously - who potty trained you? And how long ago?

7. I am your advisor, not your mother.  I will not do your work, look things up or make phone calls on your behalf...and neither should you mother, by the way.

8. Pedestrian traffic jams.

9. This. question. "So, do you work in the summer?"

10. Bouncers that give you a hard time even though you're (technically) old enough to be their mother. Yes, that is my real ID. You should not question it for the mere reason that no one under 21 would really have the cajones to use a fake ID that says that they're 37.

So. Not. Ready. For. This.

Top 10 things that make me happy at back to school time! :)


1. Liveliness!! Nothing beats the energy of students coming back from summer break. This is the only time they're excited about doing work.

2. On campus eateries are actually open, which pretty much triples the number of places to eat in the 'burg.

3. More people to talk to. Followed up closely by...

4. More people that listen to, and with any luck, care about what I say.

5. A new TA to harass! Teaching assistant, personal assistant...same difference, right?

6. The return of college sports and rivalries...and tailgating. :)

7. Seeing what kind of fun new outfits and hair styles the students are trying to pull off this year.

8. Being thankful that I don't have to study or do homework on Sundays anymore.

9. Music, frisbee and sports on the Drillfield.

10. VISITORS!!

Heeerree we go!!!!!!!!!!!!!