"I've made a huge mistake"

Well guys, I think the short hair days for me will relatively soon be over. For the past six months I have been growing my hair out, but when I was at my haircut today I impulsively decided to go back to short. I'd always liked it before, and I was sick of those days when my long hair just wouldn't cooperate. But I regret it. I really do. I think I am a long-hair girl now. Or will be when this grows out. Guuuuuh, I hate haircut regrets! I want my hair back!

I guess it's kind of silly how much love I have for fictional characters...

I've been rewatching Six Feet Under for a month or two. I love this show. This round, this has been one of my favorite little scenes, the very end of season 4. It occurs a while after David has a traumatic experience that he's a having a difficult time dealing with. He's speaking with his father who died a few years ago.

dance dance revolution

Here in my hermitage I am a fan of HBO, as any repeat reader of this blog would know. I am really enjoying this season of Big Love, and I thought this simple scene from last week's episode was especially fantastic. I am sorry to say that I can apparently no longer post youtube videos straight onto the blog, so you'll have to do a little work in clicking over there.

A little background: this character's mother recently passed away, this is apparently how she's dealing with it. I love how sweaty she is, her dance moves, and her face. I think dancing is so beautiful. The general perception of dancing is that people dance to have a good time. If you just happened to pass by this character's door and didn't pause or look closer, you would think she is just dancing for fun. But here it is an expression of so many different, painful, complex emotions. She's having a difficult time processing, and trying to exorcise them in this physical manifestation. I think that translation from feeling something to the impulse of dance is gorgeous.

This weekend I went dancing twice (which was unusually but delightfully frequent). Saturday I went to a club for Valentine's/my birthday in Hell's Kitchen. Sunday I went to a Dominican club in Brooklyn to see a friend's gig, he plays merengue tipico. Different kinds of dancing. Some people go dancing for the opportunity to get close with a member of whatever gender they're attracted to. Some people, like me, love the exorcism. To lose (and find) myself in dancing. My roommate dances to feel a part of the music (only if it's good), or for it to feel a part of her. My friend Sara dances because it's in her, this vibrant, powerful force, and it has to come out.

When I was at that club in Brooklyn last night, watching people my age get out on the dance floor and dance merengue or salsa, or whatever latin derivative, with each other I thought, how sad that modern white American culture doesn't grow up with dance in their life like this culture does. Like so many other cultures in the world do. Yeah, we have ballet and hip-hop, but I mean dance that everyone grows up doing on a regular basis with each other as a cultural, social activity and expression. It just seems so healthy. It's something that I feel we have missed out on. It brings people together and gets them moving. I keep coming back to this idea of dance as exorcism because as much fun as it is, as much as dance can be an expression of just pure joy and happiness, I think it not only gets your body moving but your emotions as well. As much as science would like to separate the two, or explain one with the other, I think the synergy between the two is inexplicable, unpredictable, and, for lack of a better word, magical.

Dance used to be much more prominent in "white" culture. Country dances and balls in the 1800's all the way through swing in the '30s and '40s and even in my parents' generation. Even though they're not as earthy as other cultural dance, it still got people together and moving. I guess it's a recent loss, one that's occurred as other forms of entertainment emerged. I feel like my generation has really missed out on this.

Hermit Crab

My days of living while only marginally affected by the blasted economy are over. When I moved to New York I imagined scrimping and saving. Happily, that wasn't necessary, and I enjoyed buying a salad or sushi for my lunch break almost every day (not only was this convenient but also very healthy), while still having enough money to occasionally eat out for dinner, go to a movie, or even a play. Sure, I wasn't saving a cent, but you guys; I LOVE to eat out.

I love that someone else makes this delicious food and brings it to me. I love the constant water refills. I love the atmosphere (hopefully). I love the sociality of it. Just sitting down and talking and eating and drinking with a friend or friends? What could be bett

er?! I love how grown-up it feels to meet for lunch. I love not worrying about money enough to grant the luxury of eating out. I love the ENDLESS options in NYC. I love the regulars. Oh how I love the regulars. The places that you love so much that you want to go there again and again until you've gotten the chance to try every option and decide which one is the best. Friends, add something to my list of favorite things to do: it is Eating Out.

I wasn't eating out all the time. But I was eating out more 

than once a week, and this was in addition to the afore-mentioned salad or sushi I would purchase for my lunch break. And can you blame me? In a city where you can get anything and everything from anywhere in the world? And you're a twentysomething and friends from work frequently ask you to go out for a bite? Who wants to ever say no to th

at? Well thank you for ending this pipe dream for me, place-of-employment-that-

shall-remain-nameless.

This week they have halved my hours. HALVED. My hours? They are cut in half. What a karate kick to the gut. And the bank account. And eventually the savings account.

Well, I am trying to make the best of my misfortune. I am not going to quit the place-of-employment because 1) I need money 2)despite how they are currently treating me I like the place enough not to hate my life while spending half my days there

 and 3)they are sending me to San Francisco in March for a training program so I can't leave them until that happens at the very least.

Before you ask, yes, I have had a sit-down serious conversation with my store manager about this situation. And no, it obviously did not lead to a permanent solution. I just have to hang in there.

And perhaps get a new job. Here's hoping that Whole Foods would like to hire another part-time cashier, because I would sure like to have a discount on the only items that I am now allowing myself to purchase. And heaven knows, I really love Whole Foods.

Speaking of which, I am now, obviously unable to eat out. Happily, this coincides with a major effort I started a couple of weeks ago to eat healthy aga

in! Like, really healthy. With a giftcard to B&N I bought myself these three books the other night to usher me into this new era of preparing whole and healthy foods for myself:

Ok, that last one isn't healthy per-say. But it does allow me to make healthier and cheaper choices by using my own oven.

I am loving Animal, Vegetable, Miracle you guys. I definitely recommend it to anyone even remotely interested in farmers markets, our culture's food choices, eating organically or locally, leaving a smaller carbon footprint, or eating healthy period. It is really easy to read, and honestly more of a page turner for me than some fiction I've read recently. I am so excited for the Union Square farmer's market to start up again. This is weeks and weeks away and is only the tip of the iceberg of my SAD. But Whole Foods definitely embraces the eating locally effort. If you don't know, the book is written by a mother of a family that vowed to eat only what they could grow themselves or acquire locally for a year, and includes tons of research and exploration into the American food culture.

So here's to a new life of staying in, cooking for myself, exploring new delicious vegan recipes, pouncing on giftcards like they are blocks of gold, and all in all enjoying the life of an urban hermit. Hopefully not in a crabby way, but I'm sure some days will get there. Especially in this dead of winter.

It's a good things I have a couple of new roommates to entertain me:

This is the Craigslist roommate's dog, Scout. She's been here a month and half but is moving away soon. :( She's so well-behaved it's like having a cat.
This is Lennox. He was a sort-of-stray that my roommate brought home last week. He's not quite fully-grown and is a complete rascal.

You would not believe the knock-down drag-out play fights these two have all. day. long.