This post is dedicated to all my trill roommates, past & present.
Oh, roommates!
A few months ago I stumbled upon this blog post about the benefits of living alone. At the bottom of the post, readers were asked to post their own roommate horror stories. It bummed me out times one-thousand. As I read, I noticed a pattern in the comments (and the preceding post), they all reflected the belief that the most desirable trajectory for adult living situations is this:
Roommates until you can afford to live alone—->Live alone—>Live with a romantic partner.*
That trajectory doesn’t sit well with me. I’m sure there are a lot of valid reasons to live alone, and I don’t doubt that for some it may be ideal. But I don’t think it would be ideal for me, and I think it’s problematic to consider it ideal for everyone.
There are the obvious reasons. Number one: it’s expensive. Not everyone can afford to pay 100% of rent, utilities, and household expenses. Number two: our planet’s pretty crowded. I’m not sure it can support 7 billion private kitchens, living rooms, and bathrooms. Even 3.5 billion seems a little high.
Then, there are the less-obvious reasons. Perhaps my biggest reason for questioning the ‘roommates suck’ paradigm is the general consensus that living with roommates is the WORST but living with a significant other is the BEST. I mean, helloooo, isn’t a live-in partner just a roommate with benefits? Well, sort of. The primary reason for moving in with a significant other isn’t usually saving money. (I have heard of some couples moving in together because ‘the rent is too damn high‘, but I’m pretty sure that’s mostly a New York thing…)
This might sound kind of crazy, but I think roommate-ing would be so much more fun if we treated it like living with a significant other. No, I’m not suggesting everyone forms weird cults. What I mean is that living with other people is much nicer when the primary reason for living with them isn’t that you can’t afford to live without them. For me, living with roommates is fun because I am the nosiest person in the world (no, really. I find even the most mundane details of other people’s lives interesting. What did you have for lunch? I would love to know. Feel free to text me about it every day!). I love learning people’s favorite foods, hearing childhood stories, catching up on everyone’s days, and being able to ask for recommendations for things to do. Living with other people has broadened my horizons. All of my roommates have prompted me to cultivate new interests; they’ve helped me have spontaneous fun; they’ve shared some really good music, movies, and TV shows with me.
I will admit that living with roommates is hard in some ways. But living all by yourself is hard, too.
As a lone dweller, I couldn’t call someone to let me in if I locked myself out. I’d have to take out the trash all the time. Nobody would remind me to pay rent if I forgot. I’d have to eat or discard all my food because I wouldn’t be able to share with anyone. No one would say ‘Welcome home!’ after a hard day at work.
There exists, at 77th and Lexington, an establishment by the name of ‘Hot & Crusty’ specializing in all manner of hot and crusty things, from croissants to pizza to a dessert case so full you wonder how often they run out of anything and have to bite your tongue to keep from asking, ‘Just how old are those danishes, anyway?’ It is neither beautiful nor friendly—as evidenced by the 20-minute time limit for customers to sit and eat.*
I found myself there on my way home from work last week, needing some water and time before descending into my commute. I was staring at my phone when in walked the most elegant Upper East Side socialites I have ever seen (and you know competition for that distinction is FIERCE). One had a short bob and wore camel slacks that were just the right length to showcase her red block heels. Of course she wore red lipstick, perfectly applied. Her friend wore a dress I can best describe as both billowy and crisp. Her snowy white hair was tucked into a French twist without a single bobby pin showing. It was a hairstyle so impossibly perfect that Newton would have been forced to re-examine his whole gravity idea, had he witnessed it.
They looked out of place in the Hot & Crusty, like the kind of New Yorkers who would refuse to set foot in such a dingy place, yet they seemed at ease. That’s the thing about New Yorkers. In some ways they are snobby and pretentious, and in others they are so, so, so not. How else do you explain all the Gray Papaya hot dog restaurants in Manhattan?
As the ladies shared a copy of the Financial Times, which by the way is the only newspaper I know that’s printed on light peach paper (and do you think that is to appeal to aging débutantes?), I couldn’t help but overhear eavesdrop. And I even went so far as to transcribe some of their more outrageous statements.
Here are my favorite quotes. They make much more sense when read aloud by two people, so please, grab a friend, don some hats, and get into character! Who knows, maybe if we role-play enough, we’ll develop that crisp socialite accent and get invited to all the galas.
Lady the First: Heavens to Betsy! It’s even hotter in Paris than here. I was thinking of going on the 1st, but I won’t be going unless it cools down. Lady the Second: What’s happening in Paris? Lady the First: Oh, nothing, but there’s always something to do in Paris.
Lady the First: My brother and sister-in-law have a mold problem in their crummy apartment building on 5th Avenue. They expected the work to be done before their return, but of course the workers haven’t finished. Lady the Second: Anybody could have predicted that. Lady the First: Yes. But they were surprised, and now my brother wants to stay away until the workers have finished. They’re in Austria, but they don’t know where they’ll go after this weekend.
Lady the First: Well, like all philanthropically-minded people— Lady the Second: Heaven save us from them. Lady the First: Yes, Heaven save us.
* I generally avoid the phrase ‘Only in New York!’, but I think this warrants it.
I haven’t written much about planning a wedding, mostly because I don’t know the first thing about it. But this week I am in Portland with my mom to see Devin and start putting some real thought and effort into figuring out the beginning of our plans! This trip was planned on the shortest of notices. And I mean that. Here’s the timeline:
On Wednesday, Devin & I decided to have our wedding ceremony & reception in Portland.
On Thursday, I realized I have this week off from work.
On Friday, my mom and I decided we should come to Portland. We bought plane tickets in the wee hours of Friday night/Saturday morning and flew in on Sunday! I had never bought a plane ticket/packed my bags on such short notice.
Phew. I am also working on a very big translation project, which is fun but time-consuming work. I can’t really remember the last time I slept a full eight hours, but I am very happy about the reasons I haven’t been sleeping. My brain keeps having these pop-up notes like: Translating? Hanging out with my mom? Seeing Devin? Portland? Biking seven miles with Devin…and my MOM? Wedding-planning? IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?!?
It is actually happening, and I am posting this before I go to bed because I try my hardest to update this thing once a week, and I doubt I’ll have much time tomorrow. Sorry if it isn’t a very interesting post.
Let’s close with some engagement pictures!
Here we are sitting on the grass looking like your average engaged couple.Here we are showing off our watches like the feminist engagement super(s)heroes we are!
Funny story about these pictures. I made this grand plan for Jo to take our engagement pictures. Only I forgot to tell Devin…and I also forgot to tell Jo. Until the day I thought the photo session would be. Luckily, they were both free and such good sports about the whole thing. I guess after you know me a while you realize that while I might be good at planning, I am not always so good about communicating plans (some would say that’s the most important part, but what do they know).
Like every movie ever would suggest, New York is full of diners. One time Devin went to one and reviewed its chocolate milkshake.
Due to this pesky-but-wonderful thing called employment, I was unavailable to photograph the event. Sadly, Devin is not the type to take pictures of himself, or the world around him for that matter. In February he went to Singapore for a week and didn’t snap a single picture. Granted he was there for a conference and didn’t have much free time, but still! (Somewhat related: I sometimes try to imagine what Devin’s Instagram feed would look like, and I am stumped.) I am the type to photograph any and everything (Instagram: smoothliminal), so I managed to take this picture of EJ’s Luncheonette another time. And now…without further ado, I present unto you, the third installment of Devin’s search for New York’s Best Shake! (Note: Devin uses a 1-5 scale with 1 being the worst and 5 being the best.)
EJ’s Luncheonette
Exactly what you would expect from a diner shake.
FLAVOR: 3.5 – Hand-scooped but not gourmet ice cream.
CONSISTENCY: 3 – The man behind the bar could have used a little less milk. The shake was pourable.
PRESENTATION: 4 – As I said last time, everyone loves a bonus, and this shake came with a healthy extra 8 oz in the steel mixing cup. However, the plastic (though reusable) pintglass lost a few points. Also, there was no cherry as one would expect at such an establishment, but I didn’t mind.
AMBIANCE: 3.5 – EJ’s is a surprisingly classic diner for the Upper East Side.
ETHICS: 2 – The employees seemed happy but no guarantees about the cows or cocoa pickers. Kemps ice cream and generic chocolate sauce are classic diner, but one would hope Upper East Siders would demand better.
OVERALL VALUE: 3.5 – $5 is exactly what I would expect to pay for this classic diner shake; I only wish they used glass pints and local dairy.
New York and I are on awfully good terms lately. More than that, really. I think I might be in love. My breath catches and my heart beats fast-fast-fast, and I grin goofily for no reason other than simply being here. I wish I could time-travel a few months and tell myself, ‘It’s not that you don’t like New York. Just wait until summer!’
Here are some of the ways New York has given me butterflies lately:
+ I ate an awful street bagel with Issy in front of Zara, kicking myself because we could have gone to about a million other bagel carts in a three-block radius. There are millions of everything here! Friends come visit you here!
+ I scored big at the Zara semi-annual sale before going to work. By ‘scored big’, I mean I got a shirt for $9. The point is I can eat breakfast on the street and go shopping before work just like all the wimyn in the rom-coms.
+ I’m hot. Like all of the time. Except when I’m cold because the A/C on the subway is too high, but then it’s only for like five minutes. I think sweat suits me.
+ The other day I passed three frozen yogurt places and four nail salons in a two-block distance on the same side of the street. I don’t even know what was on the other side of the street because I was too busy comparing mani-pedi prices to notice. (The mani-pedi prices are as follows: $35, $30, $26, and $20.99, in case you’re curious.)
+ The man who works at my favorite fruit stand remembered I love mangoes and gave me free bananas. The boy who works at my subway stop’s newsstand is my friend. We talk about his high school, energy drinks, and how now that he is getting transferred to another newsstand, we’ll be L-train friends instead of newsstand friends.
+
This neon sign. New York just tells it like it is, y’all.
+ Before I wrote this post, I saw a middle-school boy mapping out what exhibits he was going to see at the Natural History Museum. He was going by himself. While I was writing this post, I watched a respectable gentleman in a business suit reach into a trash can and pull out a copy of the New York Times. While I was writing this post, I saw a womyn wearing a pastel stained-glass skirt I had when I was sixteen. I got it an Ann Taylor because I wanted to feel confident when I took the PSAT. Yes, I shopped at Ann Taylor in high school. It was one of the few places that had a Petites department, and sometimes a girl needs something a little dressy for Spelling Team competitions or standardized tests, okay? My point is: PEOPLE. All kinds of people doing all kinds of things all day every day. I’d always suspected this, but now I know: my favorite animal is the human.
+ I realized that New York is the city of ‘No’. No bathrooms, no space, no warning before the MTA interrupts train service, no money in my bank account, nothing for free, no street without litter, no air conditioning, no effective communication of the many, many silly rules. But somehow, all these no’s add up to a big YES. It’s like New York is a paaaaaaain, and I am a paaaaaaain; so we understand each other.
In May after going to Portland, I got to go to Mexico to visit my family. I went for my cousin Nolan’s wedding, which was beautiful and fun, and did I mention they are sooooo in love? And have been since high school? I was super excited for them to get married because a couple of years ago, Devin and I went on a double-date with Nolan and Anakaren. Afterward, I told Devin that I really wanted Anakaren to be my cousin-in-law. And this year Nolan made my wish come true. Such a good cousin, that one.
Whenever I spend time with my family, I get really happy and silly and want to tell everyone how much I love them and why. I could go on and on about the hilarious jokes my cousin Gaby makes or all the vegetarian recipes my aunt Minou teaches me or how when we laugh, the twenty of us sound like a barnyard full of clucking chickens. The problem is that my rambles can’t really communicate how it feels to have a large team of people who have known me my whole life and who love me and inspire me in countless ways. Maybe some day I will figure out how to say it, but for now, I’ll just share this prize-winning essay my cousin Carol wrote in 1995, at age 9.
In case you didn’t catch the fact that I’m from Mexico, please note that Carol wrote this in her second language at age nine. It’s neat to read this and know that the little girl who wrote that essay grew up to be an English teacher! Carol is also the mom of my niece Victoria, who will certainly grow up to be a polyglot genius.
Oh, and when the author mentions ‘Kristy’ in the above piece, she definitely means me. That’s pretty cool, too.
‘Home’ is the word I most strongly associate with Portland, Oregon. It is far from the only thing I associate ‘home’ with—shopping malls, telenovelas, Christmas, American commercials from the 90s, and Mexican junk food all rank high on the list. But Portland is a special part of that list because it is the only place where I have felt at home from the moment I arrived.
I remember landing in PDX airport in August of 2007 and running to the restroom. When I turned to flush, I saw my first dual-flush handle (it allows the user to control how much water is used to flush, which saves gallons of water.)
It was love at first flush.
Everything I encountered after that was just as perfect: farmers’ markets, efficient public transit, bike lanes, flowers the size of my face, trees the size of my dreams, public parks, and delicious vegan food everywhere…
Because I moved to Portland for college, it became my first home apart from my mother’s. And what a home it was! Fittingly, Portland also has some of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen. While I was visiting last month, I tried to capture some of them.
The number-one reason Portland houses are beautiful is, of course, the setting. The above picture is an unedited iPhone photo of a random house I saw on my way to the bus. Look how full of life Portland is! Look how tall that tree is! Look at that tangle of flowers on the mini-porch! There’s probably a more apt term than ‘mini-porch’, but I am not an architect!
Even if you subtracted the setting–as I tried to do for this shot–Portland is full of beautiful Victorian and Craftman-style houses painted in cheery colors. This house with individually-painted shingles in some of my favorite colors used to be my dream house. When I showed Abbita, my grandmother, a picture of it, she noted that it had too few windows for her taste. You can’t tell from this picture, but I agree with Abbita. My dream house should have no fewer than one million windows.
Portland residents also like to add fairytale touches to their already magical real-estate realities. This Craftsman has miniature toy dinosaurs on every rock in its front yard! I’ve also seen tiny toy horses tied to horse rings in sidewalks. (Horse rings are what people in the 1800s used to ‘park’ their horses. Read more about Portland’s toy horse project here.)
But what’s a home without an interior? This picture of my friend Alex’s house shows two things characteristic of Portland homes: (1) amazing old wood details and (2) color. Sadly, the photo doesn’t do justice to the deep orange of this dining room’s wall. Another thing I love about this picture is the cross. Alex was my roommate freshman year, and this cross is the first thing we bought to decorate our room. We bought it at a store selling fair-trade artisanal goods from Latin America. From what I remember, it’s either from Ecuador or Honduras, but uh, don’t quote me on that. Living with Alex is one of the best living arrangements I’ve ever had—and that’s even considering the size of our room. It was so small that the next year it was turned into a single-occupancy dorm. Alex, if you’re reading this, I love you! Thanks for letting me crash in your perfect house.
When I walked into Jo’s house (a house I’d been dying to see ever since I saw this house tour on her blog), the first thing I saw was this yellow tea kettle sitting on the most darling gas stove I ever did see. I was breathless over the color coordination among the kettle, wall décor, and dishtowel. If I had a Pinterest, I would pin this soooo hard. Let’s focus on what’s important here, though: tea kettles. Every Portland house has one! A lot of them have a stovetop one and an electric one. I didn’t even know what an electric kettle was until I moved there, and I’d only really had two kinds of tea in my life: chamomile and peppermint. Then, I started drinking tea to stay warm, and pretty soon I was drinking it just to drink it. Once, when I was feeling very romantic and Devin was writing his thesis, I bought him flowers and fancy tea. Only the tea tasted like perfume, so I ended up using the tea bags as potpurri for my drawers. All my socks and t-shirts smelled really good for a few months. After I took the above picture, I discussed kombucha with Jo and her housemate Aria. It boggles my mind that a lot of North Americans reading this probably don’t know what kombucha is. If you have never heard of it, here is all you need to know: it originated in China, it’s fizzy, some people think it cures every disease ever, everyone in Portland has an opinion about it, and once Lindsay Lohan claimed it made her drunk.
Jo, Aria, & Chris also have the neatest book & zine corner. This picture is a testament to their design genius, in case you weren’t convinced by the kitchen shot. I know not everyone knows what a zine is, so I found this webpage from Brooklyn College that explains the concept. Basically, it’s cool writing made and self-published by cool people. Most zines are made using paper, scissors, and photocopiers though that has changed a lot thanks to things like computers and Photoshop. When Devin asked me to be his girlfriend significant other—he asked me to be his girlfriend, but I prefer the term ‘s.o.’ ‘Girlfriend’ is just too antiquated/normatively gendered for me. So is ‘fiancée’, but I haven’t found any accurate equivalent for that so most of the time I say ‘partner’, which doesn’t really capture it…ack sorry, what was I saying? Oh yeah, Devin photocopied every feminist zine he could find at the Portland Independent Publishing Resource Center, put them in a binder, wrapped the binder in newspaper from the New York Times Style section, and asked me to be his ___________. The rest is history! (Can you tell I miss Devin? Me too.)
Jo’s living room is one of the prettiest I have ever seen (I got to sleep on that couch, you guys!), but it also reminds me of every Portland living room I’ve ever been in. The vintage couch by a window, the glass jars and bottles on a coffee table, the laptop… The whole scene gives me goosebumps, in a good way.
P.S. Every time I rave about Portland, I feel a strong moral conviction to acknowledge the huge problem of racial segregation in that city. Portland’s racial inequality is increasing. Seattle—the other metropolis in the Pacific Northwest—is decreasing racial inequality thanks to bold, innovative policies. This episode of Think Out Loud, a radio show from Portland, is a solid introduction to the problem.
P.P.S. If you enjoyed the pictures of Jo’s house, check out her blog. It is my favorite blog in the whole of the worldwide web. Her latest post, especially, inspired and moved me. I cried the best kind of tears.
Welcome to the latest iteration of my blog. I changed the URL (previously http://www.kristythinks.wordpress.com [and before that, http://www.sensitivityandgrace.wordpress.com ]) because I wanted a name representative of my life right now.* The in-between place of college and adulthood, etc. You can bet I won’t be as eloquent as Britney Spears, but maybe I can make up for it by being grateful to you for reading. Or thoughtfully listening to your suggestions. Or maybe we can all agree that Britney said it best, but that doesn’t mean no one else should talk about it.
Sunday was a huge day for me. I started preparing for it in real life on Saturday in Times Square, but mentally and emotionally, I had been preparing for months.
Let’s begin at the beginning. On Saturday, I went to Times Square to meet my old boss for lunch. She was in town for a conference and only had a short break, so we had to meet there. Now listen, I’m not one of those people who hates on Times Square every chance she gets, but man, is it ever confusing!
It took me forever to find the Dean & Deluca even with GPS, and on my way, I saw way too many decontextualized cartoon characters (i.e. people dressed up in giant costumes, like Snoopy or Buzz Lightyear). Maybe this is weird, but decontextualized characters make me sad. I can’t imagine anything more uncomfortable than walking around in a huge, thick costume on a hot summer day and trying to get people to pay you for being in their pictures. Who pays them is what I want to know, and how do they pay the rent? Do they ever get those costumes washed? Also, if I give them money, do I have to interact with them? My instinct is to give each of them a dollar and then run far, far away before I have to touch them. ‘Please do not hug me, Times Square Clifford. Please! I am begging you!’
But back to the matter at hand: lunch with my former boss. The thing about her is that she is so good at sharp pop culture critique, talking social justice realness, and make-up. Over lunch she told me about this new Polish brand of make-up that is CRAAAZY. I’m talking every color you can ever think of in ONE SINGLE tube of lip gloss that when applied is the perfect hue of peony pink (magic, science, chemicals!). I don’t know much about cosmetics, so I ask her for advice whenever I get the chance. On Saturday, after our lunch date, I was inspired to buy an eyeliner marker. Then, I went to buy accessories. I ended up going to the Forever 21 in Times Square (not a lot of small, independent stores there) because I didn’t have much time before I had to go to work.
On Sunday, I raced home after work and got ready for the Mad Men season finale. I’d heard about a party very close to my apartment sponsored by an adorable vintage clothes-seller, complete with a costume contest. After weeks of agonizing, I’d finally come up with what I thought was the outfit. No one was available to take a full-length picture of me, and I wanted to get there early, so I didn’t spend too much time on pictures, but I did take some shoddy Photobooth ones.
I just got back from a lovely sixteen-day vacation. Seven of those days were spent in Portland with some of my favorite friends, flowers, and food. The other nine were spent in Chihuahua with my family & Devin. All were spent largely away from the computer in favor of real-life face-to-face fun.
While I was away, my blog turned one year old! This was my first post. (I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote that bland list with no final punctuation at the end of any sentence. I love punctuation. ?!.) Since then, I have written forty-four. It’s been really fun, and I hope to write at least forty-four more. Given that I love birthdays, I wanted to acknowledge my blog’s, if not with a cupcake, at least with a thank you.
I started this blog because after graduating from college I finally had the time. For the first time ever, I didn’t know what I would do in the upcoming year. I had some vague notions (Move to New York! Find a job! Try my hand at short-distance dating with Devin!), but really, it was mostly a blank page or a big scary question mark, depending on my mood.
A couple of months ago, it dawned on me that this is what I have to show for my entry into the homework-optional world. It has been an abnormal year for me. I’ve been here and there and there. I’ve had an oft-changing routine. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to document a lot of it and even more grateful to you for reading. I mean, it’s not like I think you’re obsessed with this little blog or anything. ; ) But the internet is soooooooooooo big. You could be reading so many cool things right now. Instead you’re here. Thank you. It really means a lot. After all, if it weren’t for you, all I’d have to show for the past year is a journal, which is so much less impressive than a blog, wouldn’t you agree?
With love and winky faces,
kristy
P.S. I added a lot of links to this post in case you feel like reminiscing or reading some of my older stuff (ha). And in case you’re curious, I went back and read through all my entries and these are my topthreefavorites. I think they’re pretty representative of the scope of my blog in general: silly, sappy, serious.
smoothliminal 