Workin Nine to Five...

The Organic Pick-Up

Last week instead of being lazy and taking the downtown E train one stop to transfer to my downtown Brooklyn train, I decided to have a nice quarter or so mile walk into the west-village to catch my train home. I had Sade blaring in my headphones and the weather was almost as perfect as could be; the sun was still shining brightly at 5pm, and the breeze was the type that caught your hair and allowed it to have some organic movement while you walk. I was feeling great – no negative thoughts of Daniel had entered my mind – and I was off the next day to head out of town to a friends house for some much needed away from the city time. Seemingly, I felt on top of the world.

I was strolling east when I noticed a nice looking guy take a double look in my direction. He was noticeably older than I was – but his clothes and his style stood out to me and as a result, I suppose my gaze made its way over to him as well. I continued forward at the same pace I had been walking but he seemed to slow down a tiny bit. In a very adolescent yet charming way, he purposely however accidentally almost hit me with his outstretched arms while he let out a relaxing “what a great day” type of yawn. When he veered back to apologize for almost catching me with his arms, I smiled and said “not a problem”. We strolled together for a block or so and made casual chit chat about the gorgeous weather, the need to go outside on a day like this, and the whereabouts of my office with proximity to where we were currently. “My office is right over here”, he pointed to a tertiary street that only native NYers know exists – and in the next movement he handed me his card. “Do you have a card?” – In my mind I told him “no, my boss doesn’t consider me even nearly important enough to warrant a business card and even if he did my company is so fucking cheap they’d never approve the expense”. Instead, I smiled and apologized for not having one to return to him. So he did what any over 35 year old person would do these days, he asked me for my phone number – not my IM screenname, or if I had a Facebook account he could check out, or whether or not I was on a dating service, or my e-mail; he asked for my phone number. We exchanged digits right as I was about to head down the steps to catch my train back into Brooklyn and I had a Kool-Aid smile on my face for a good 15 minutes afterward.

There is something to be said for the organic ‘pick-up’. It’s been such a long time since something like that has happened to me that I forgot how good it makes a girl feel to have a man sort of court her. We are in such a digital world these days that even as I consider stepping back into the dating world, my first inclination is to activate my various dating profiles to see what’s out there. Has digital media made us that anti-social that instead of putting on a hot outfit and coloring my lips, I’ll sit at home in my living room, hair in a bun, and rock it out? I think it may have done just that.

There are various positives to doing the digital thing and highest on the list for me is that when you are engaging in an online world, you are immediately made aware of your potential matches aptitude with respect to literacy. To some, this probably sounds silly but it has become increasingly more important to me to have a partner who is able to handle their own in the literate universe. Granted, I realized there are probably myriad grammatical errors in my postings (Daniel was my resident editor!) – But on a comparison stand point, I think I do A-OK with the ink-sword and I really yearn for a partner who will bring it correct on the language tip. Believe it or not, this is progressively more difficult to find in a partner. During one of my many Daniel stalking sessions during which I read his Match.com profile, I veered off course and went to the “men seeking women” section to check out what was available with in 5 miles of my area and in the age range of 32-38. God – help – me and keep me strong; Brooklyn is crawling with the uninformed. It wasn’t a total massacre, though. There were quite a few profiles that seemed attractive enough to maybe ‘wink’ at some day and I’m sure when I’m ready, I’ll send them a little nod.

Whether or not my friend of last week calls is really immaterial for me at this point. One significant point I didn’t mention earlier with respect to my organic-suitor is that his business card told me he was the principle of a NYC based Real Estate firm. This may seem like nothing – but in a weird way this sort of validates my growth process. I realize the guy could be a complete scumbag and still have a lot of money and success, but the fact that he is a successful man at all and was attracted my way means that I am omitting something different to the world. Remember my post sometime back in which I mention that the universe watches? I believe this was a bit of an example of that happening in real time. Up until shortly before meeting Daniel, the general type of dude that was attracted my way sat somewhere on the low-level street thug scale and that has seemed to completely cease. I have no doubt that it is what I am giving out to the world in terms of my attitude and my belief that things are going to work out in my favor that is no longer attracting the dregs of society.

It must be my attitude because physically not much has changed on this end. I am still the short white girl with brown hair and strong yet nice-looking looking face that I have been for the last 10 years of my adult life. My frown lines are a tiny bit more defined now and there are some prominent grays atop my head, but all in all I am the same physical specimen. My body hasn’t changed much; I go up and down a range of 10-15lbs as often as people change their panties but all in all I lay somewhere in the range of a size 10-12 American. My tattoos haven’t gone anywhere, so it can’t be that… All in all, I really believe it has to do with looking at the world through a different lens and the lens I am wearing now is somewhat clearer than the murky frames of yesterday.

My personal efforts are paying off and it feels really good to recognize that.

Brooklyn: Unite!!

 

 

I’ve been doing some thinking – Yes, that’s what that smell is.

 

Through various conversations I’ve had recently both as a result of this blog and utter randomness, I have come to the conclusion that I have no one to fault but myself when it comes to choosing to exclude myself from various artistic events happening in the BK. Yes it is certainly true that half of the reason I avoid most of these things is because they’re generally swarming with hipster wanna-be Brooklynites who make my skin crawl, but looking past their dirty-on-purpose vintage store rags and Ray-Bans, some of these fuckers may actually have decent taste in art. I realize this statement may be met with major criticism from my fellow native BKers, but I will stand by it – for now, at least.

 

I have, in-fact, attended various artsy happenings in gentrified Brooklyn in which I actually had a decent time and got to take a peek at some interesting stuff happening. There’ve been readings, film-screenings, and various gallery-events that were not completely dominated by an unimaginative trustrafarian’s attempt to be the next Andy Warhol. I realize they are few and far between, but the reality is that they do exist and by avoiding the gentrified areas of Brooklyn, which unfortunately is where the bulk of the events are, all I am doing is robbing myself of whatever good I may be able to find in Brooklyn while I am still here.

 

My days here are numbered. That number may be high right now, but it’s certainly not infinite and I intend to, at minimum, attempt to grasp on to whatever fun can be had here while I’m still around. I’m met with a couple of roadblocks when I enter this thought pattern. As previously mentioned in a few of my posts, I don’t have a very exposed social circle. This leaves me with a limited amount of folks to which I can forward an event happening with the hopes that they’d be down to join me. Second, and this one really angers me to throw out there but I realize that I may actually be the minority at these events and it does leave me feeling a tiny bit uneasy in terms of having a go at it on the solo tip.

 

The uneasy feeling of facing these events alone brings me to a memory I have of Daniel and I at a rooftop party in Bed-Stuy this past summer. Hipsters love to take advantage of rooftops. When I was a kid, rooftops were used for taking the sun with a visor but these days anywhere north of Brooklyn’s Mason Dixon line which I might go so far as to say sits somewhere between Dark Slope and Sunset Park, rooftops are used for parties, bbqs, and late night movie screenings. Daniel and I ventured out to this event and I was literally the only non-hipster type there, save Daniel (although I am beginning to wonder about this). At some point up on the roof, the I-pod shuffled its way over to Biggie Smalls’ Gimme the Loot. This being one of my all time favorite Biggie tracks enabled me to get my bop on in a serious way. My Kitty emblazoned doorknockers bounced about freely while the beat filled the air and with my fast flow was re-mark-able as I threw out word after word along with Frank White. Daniel knew every word too, and he joined me in the little sing-a-long. We volleyed the verses like Serena and Venus – and our energy was on some serious love shit. I have to admit, I was kind of diggin’ it. Looking around me, I saw Brooklyn to the left and right. I was on a rooftop in Bed Stuy enjoying the likes of one of the very reasons I am proud to be a Brooklynite; good hip-hop ala The B-I-G. All was great and dandy until I noticed that all around me these pasty skinned, too concerned about what every other person at the party thinks about them, daddy-pays-my-rent mother fuckers, were giving me dirty looks! I mean, it wasn’t at all something I needed to figure out here, they were completely giving me the up and down eyeball thing while probably commenting inside their pigeon holed minds about my obnoxious behavior. Man, this is Biggie Fucking Smalls. This is a rooftop in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn. You want to move here and party here? Celebrate Brooklyn. Fuck another person’s opinion. Live it, be it - Rock out to Biggie – Now, I realize there is a great chance that Gimme the Loot may have been a foreign thing to the rest of the attendees. They were probably much more familiar with Juicy or Big Poppa – but don’t be giving me dirty looks cause I know my shit – you fuckers. Shortly after my realizing what was happening, my tone for the remainder of the evening changed. I announced to Daniel that I was pretty much ready to go. He wasn’t, so I went downstairs grabbed my shit and waited on the front stoop until he realized I was gone. About 20 minutes later, after at least 4 sewer rats walked by the stoop as I sat on it in the dark, the tunes of Brand Nubian and Tribe Called Quest filling the summer air around me, he finally came out. We called it a night shortly there after. He never fully understood what had changed and why I needed to get out of there – but you, my native Brooklynites, I trust you get it and that I don’t even really need to decipher the situation.

Fuck all that noise.

 

So, from that warm night with Biggie and a bunch of douche bags comes a bit of an idea. As I mentioned, I was digging the overall tone of the evening. I had my borough around me and aesthetically the night was beautiful. I really want to be able to experience these types of evenings but I want to experience them with my kind of people in tow. This means going out to events – not necessarily those that are completely hipsterfied, but going out to events that give me that same general feeling of ‘I dig this’. Artsy environments do this for me. Being around folks with brains does this for me. Unfortunately, I have a hard time finding things in my part of the BK that satisfy the need for culture and in order to get my fix, I’ll need to venture a bit North.

 

Who Is With Me?! Who’s with me?!? Who – Is – With – Me?!  (Jerry Maguire, anyone?)

 

Are any of you readers out there down with the idea of starting a Real Brooklynites meet-up type of group, in real time, where we can scout out events that may be to our liking and head on over to take advantage of whatever the evening is offering? I am talking about film screenings, poetry or spoken-word readings, (no pansy hipster shit), gallery viewings for mixed media art events, concerts, hiphop nights at bars/clubs, etc., and all other things Brooklyn history and the likes. I am contemplating creating an aggregator – or, at minimum my myself becoming an aggregator, of events that I feel us native and real Brooklynites would be attracted to and I’m thinking of including it as a feature on this blog.  What comes out of it will shape the future of the blog itself but I really believe this may be something that is needed for ‘us’.

 

Let me clarify, too, that a “Real Brooklynite” is not necessarily someone who was born and raised here like us natives. You may have moved here at 10 or even 15 and experienced Brooklyn during its more authentic period. This would constitute you a Real Brooklynite in my opinion. Anyone who did not move to Brooklyn because it was socially expected of them to do so would probably be on the same level of thought as me and those I keep company with. It’s not about geography – it’s about so much more than that. It’s about a state of mind and of consciousness. It’s about having an opinion and sticking to that opinion. It’s about expressing a thought and not being easily wavered when someone chooses to challenge that thought. It’s about being real – and being tough.
 

It’s about being about Brooklyn – not being about the social status being about Brooklyn will bring to you. Do you get that?! If you do – and you want to venture out and experience many of the things that have been somewhat hijacked by the hipster-holes, comment back to this posting and lets see what we can create.

 

Creation, hipsters. Creation. Try it on for size. I bet you an egg-cream it will look better than your too tight jeans. 

 

 

 

 

Fuck you, Daniel ---- and a little more, too!

I’ve been having a bit of a ‘block’ with respect to writing this week. I don’t know why – my thoughts run rampant on a daily basis and I’ve got so much shit trickling through my mind that I can’t even keep track of it. Sometimes I envision the scene in Hackers when the mainframe is attacked and they’re showing all the rambling lines of code – and every now and then a number or a letter becomes illuminated. I suppose the same could be true of the DiVinci Code movie. It’s a constant borage of thoughts floating through the cerebral fluid that is Kitty G.

I’ve had a lot of shit plaguing me this week – There’s the thoughts of Daniel and his would be Match.com meetups that are consistently making me sick. I know I need to not worry about this but it’s really a lot easier said than done. I think one of the major things that is fucking with me is that in his new profile, the section that asks whether or not you want kids is answered with a “definitely”.

Really, Daniel? ‘Definitely’ - ?

Cause, like, a month before our breakup you came to me on some “I never fully committed to having children, Kitty” and these remarks are what sparked one of the angriest arguments we’ve ever had. Now, all of a sudden, you’re ‘definitely’ into the idea of having children? Fuck you! – I told you from the very beginning that I wanted kids more than almost anything. My friends are having children left and right – and above all that, it’s not like I have an abundance of time left in which I can dick around. My biological clock IS ticking like Marisa Tomei’s and I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to perform one of life’s greatest miracles. Shit, even as I type this one of my friends is in the Labor & Delivery ward of a hospital in Staten Island preparing to give birth to her first child. FUCK! What the fuck, Daniel!?

The interesting thing about his “definitely” answer is that in the “describe your perfect match” section, under the ‘wants kids’, he notates that he’d be OK dating women who either “definitely, or someday, or maybe’ want children. – Do you even know what the fuck you want, Daniel? How can you absolutely want children - yet you’ll consider dating someone who may, or may not, mirror your desires? Get your ass to therapy and stop fucking with people’s emotions you heartless fuck.

I think I am slowly entering my anger phase. I wish it would be quicker and that the anger would be fiercer – but, I have to remind myself that I’ve made great strides in allowing myself to feel and that acknowledging my pain is A-OK. That said, I acknowledge that this all still hurts a hell of a lot. And I acknowledge that if I see Daniel with one of his fucking match.com dates in the Bay Ridge area, I will have to hold back on a preposterous scale in order not to spit in both of their entitled faces.

Phew -- Breathe, Kitty. BREATHE!

So – second to all that stuff, I am sort of bugging out on the whole school tip. I took the entrance exam last week and am waiting on the results. 10-14 business days is the expected wait time. It’s like a fucking gestation period… What will be birthed out of the result? I don’t know. I went ahead and did a bunch of additional research on the radiological field and job availability. Turns out that via the opening of tons of programs which suddenly offer this training, the market is completely over-flooded with candidates looking for jobs – and, well, we all know the current state of the economy. There are hardly any jobs, anywhere – even in the land of opportunity that is NYC. With this in mind, I am starting to doubt my next moves. I realize this could be my fear manifesting itself like I said it would – and I’m keeping a watchful eye on all of that. It cannot be denied, however, that facts are facts and if there are 1000 folks looking for work and only 100 jobs, my fears are very real and should be considered on a grand scale. I am looking at managing loan payments for a better portion of the rest of my working career. Do I go ahead and complete this program only to come out – unable to find work – and responsible to pay these notes? It’s a valid concern.

As a back up option to the Radiological program, I have revisited the idea of Nursing. I originally planned to try to get into a nursing program back when Daniel and I were living together. His mother is a hospital bigwig down in Florida and when Daniel and I were planning what I thought was the rest of our lives, Nursing seemed a very smart career choice for a number of reasons. Just because he is no longer a part of the future plan doesn’t mean that I should forget that there is a lot of success and, more importantly, merit in the nursing industry. I’m a caring person – and my bedside manner is amazing (just ask the trannys :P) – so, I’m sure this would be a smart career choice. The fact that all of my thoughts are centered around medicine in some respect is a bit calming. At least I know I’m not barking up the wrong tree completely.

In order to move forward and get into one of the two full time nursing programs offered in the evenings in NYC, I need to complete various pre-requisite courses on the Liberal Arts and Basic Sciences. I did the preliminary research and it looks like there are around 6 classes I’ll need to complete by June 2011. I think it’s certainly possible and I’m looking forward to this as a serious back-up consideration if the Radiological stuff doesn’t seem like the best way to go.

So, yeah – this is just a random spewing of the thoughts that are going through my mind today. I wanted to throw something out there in terms of a posting and I just didn’t know where to go with it. Sorry if it’s a bit of a ramble. I know I tend to do that on occasion. It’s the Brooklyn in me!

Speaking of Brooklyn – Tour De Brooklyn is June 6th – it’s 18 miles and it starts in Williamsburg and ends in Williamsburg with a stop off at Redhook Park. God, I never thought I’d be considering doing a bike tour that takes me to RedHook. Brooklyn sure has changed, huh? I know a bunch of you readers are Brooklynites. I see your locations on my stat-finder software ;) (big brother is always watching, motherfuckers!!) – so I am just throwing this little tidbit out there as an FYI.

A break from your regularly scheduled drama..

As part of my effort to get the hell outta dodge, I am working toward getting myself into a Radiological Therapy program that is set to begin in September 2010. I briefly mentioned this in one of my intro posts, but I thought I should elaborate. I realize this blog is becoming a ranting space for things that happened with Daniel. It's going to happen, as I need to work out all the kinks and get the pain of the break up out of my system. I also want to be sure to keep my eye on the prize which is, as we know, saying goodbye to Brooklyn -

I take my entrance exam on May 7th. That's 9 days away. If all goes well and I get into this program, I will be putting myself in every possible form of debt via student loans galore. The ultimate plan includes quitting my full time job and paying the rent and bills via loaned money at what I imagine will be an outrageous percentage rate. I am probably just communicating my fears. The truth is, I haven't shopped the loans just yet. I did, however, speak with the financial aid liaison at the school and he advised that they've only got one private lender willing to work with their students. Considering I have absolutely no idea what I am doing with respect to student loans, shopping them and/or any of that other fun stuff, hearing that there may be only one available option has created a bit of hysteria on my end.

There are a lot of fears involved with this decision. You have to understand something about me in order to really get the gist of what I am trying to say here. I have been working in a "professional" capacity since I'm a teenager. For those of you who are unfamiliar with a Co-Operative Education system to sum it up as easily as possible, it's a program that allows you to alternate weeks attending work and school. At sixteen years old, I was working in the corporate offices of American Express's Catalog Order division in the World Financial Center. The pay was minuscule but I felt like a big girl in my business suits and Zodiac shoes. More importantly, though, was that in addition to the small salary I earned, the work time counted toward High School credit toward graduation.

Even prior to my alternating weeks at work for chump change, I earned my keep doing whatever I could. My mother, during one of her better lengths of life, had the galley-portion of a charter fishing boat in the Sheepshead Bay area fall into her lap. She basically owned this small business and kept it stocked with various edibles. The keep wasn't much but it paid the bills. I would often work shifts for her and earn a $30.00 shift pay plus whatever tips I could ring in. I was a hustler before Jay Z made it famous.

In summary, I have been gainfully employed for the better part of the last eighteen years of my life. I don't know what it is to not be employed and earn a paycheck every week. I have no idea what it is to just trust that everything is going to be OK. The only point of reference I have to ensure that things are going to be OK is to make sure they are!. And, if all goes well with the entrance exam on May 7th and the 4 hour admissions interview to follow that, come August 2010 I will be handing in my resignation and entrusting in the universe (and a shit load of loans) to take care of me.

Holy fuck. I am terrified!

At the end of the two year program I am eligible to sit for the exam that will render me a certified Radiological Therapist. According to everything I have read the market is going to boom approximately 26% between now and 2016 as a result of baby-boomers getting older and sicker. Makes sense. Graduation will be August 2012 at which time I will be bordering thirty-four years old. I feel like I'm starting from scratch, but I suppose anything that is started is started from nothing.

Keeping the goal of leaving the city in mind, I figure Medicine is an excellent industry to enter. The fact of the matter is that people will always get sick and barring a major advancement in Cancer Care, or an outright cure, care will always be a necessity.

One of my favorite places happens to be South Florida. It has nothing to do with Daniel coming from there; that just happened to be a nice coincidence. Florida's scale of pay has always been substantially less than that of NYC and this is something I need to take into consideration for a number of reasons. There is some strange driving force that constantly tells me I need to be there. I really can't identify what it is but I have an irking feeling inside and have had this feeling for quite some time now. With what may turn out to be close to $70,000 in student loans accrued in the next two years of my life, I am wondering how I will afford to not only relocate - but live in an area where the rate of pay is undoubtedly less than the norm. This is just one of the many fears that are entering my mind at this point and I realize that these apprehensions are going to grow stronger by the day. I hope I have the strength to push through this and not succumb to the fear that has held me back from moving forward in this life to date.

I really need to do this!

Who - What - Where - When - Why - as it stands today

Dating Daniel was sort of a sweet escape from the usual men I've been with. He is originally from Florida, attended college in Minnesota and has done his share of traveling. He regularly commented on how NYC seemed like a great place to be for now but he couldn't see it being home. That made me hopeful, as having called Brooklyn home for the last 32 years has really weighed me down and I have no doubt that this won't be home forever. I have been contemplating leaving Brooklyn for years now.

They say you can't get where you're going unless you know where you've been, right? Well, with that in mind, let's talk about the who/what/where/whens/whys of Kitty Graves' life as it stands today:

The who: Kitty Graves, female, 32 years old. A mix of Italian (Siciliana), German and a bunch of other fun stuff. Born with a severe addiction to Methadone into a family of one 7 year old sibling and two parents both of which are also Brooklyn born and raised. Household was of the typical Brooklyn Italian persuasion and located right outside of Coney Island. Employed full time in Administrative Management in NYC. Sexual orientation: Straight (with a history of extreme experimentation) No children. Single. Under-sexed, Under-paid, Under-loved, Over-emotional. Lives with one cat and often thinks about getting another but doesn't want to be a Crazy Cat Lady before the age of 50. Education: HS Graduate with approximately 30 some-odd college credits. Currently in application phase for program at a Brooklyn based hospital program for Radiological Therapy. Physical description: Brunette, ultra-feminine with a propensity to rock Timberlands and Hoodies on the perfect spring night. Moderately tattooed. Size 10 all American chubby chick - full bust, full ass, full of spit & vinegar!

The where: I am one week into a new one bedroom apartment in the South West corner of Brooklyn, NYC. My neighborhood is one of the few remaining Brooklyn neighborhoods to have a heavily populated Italian immigrant population. Seeing as I am an Italian American myself, this works for me.

The why: Well - this answer will come in multiples -

(a) 6 months into living with Daniel he pulled the plug on our relationship forcing me to find a new place in a hurry. Part (a) of the why section brought me to the where section.

(b) I have been a resident of the South-Westish area of Brooklyn my entire life and it's familiar. It's interesting that as much as I seek a change, I continue to stay in an area that has not seen much in terms of the ever popular gentrification of Brooklyn. The truth is this: I am paying $850.00 for a one bedroom apartment in a very safe area (Wikipedia reports there was only 1 murder last year!). Now, don't get me wrong, I'd LOVE to live in a gorgeous area like Carroll Gardens, which by the way also has a decent Italian population left, but in comparison to what I am getting for my money down yonder, I'd be renting a closet converted into a bedroom. I, unlike most people who are moving into Brooklyn, cannot see paying more than 50% of my income on rent alone. That's just insane.

(c) I've been at this jumpy South-West Brooklyn thing for approximately 13 years. During High School I was lucky enough to jump into a program called Co-Operative Education. I worked one week and went to school the next. The program gave me the opportunity to get ties into fortune 500 companies in Manhattan and by the age of 19 I was supporting myself with a full-time job on Wall Street. This wasn't any Gordon Gecko gig - but it paid the bills and gave me the opportunity to get the fuck out of dodge (aka, home) when the environment became way too unhealthy. Since then it's been one big game of survival.

I envy those who have had education and a safe home life handed to them. I envy them more than you can possibly imagine. Only now, at nearly 32 years old, am I beginning to come up for air. Only now am I beginning the process of stepping out of survival and into success. This shit is scarier than anything I have ever had to do - and as this blog builds more of a foundation on my past you may find that hard to believe.. Because, frankly, I've been through some shit.


The when: There is no time like the present

The what: Damned if I know? The what? What is it, exactly, that I am hoping to accomplish by documenting what may be estimated to be the next two years of my life? Phew... You know, I'm not sure I can really answer that definitively. I have one ultimate mission in mind and that is to say goodbye to the borough of Brooklyn. I suppose it's safe to say that this blog will be a structure of sort? It may serve as a ladder I need to climb up and out. It may wind up serving as just a means to get out the pain I hold inside. The pain of a life that has been far less than fortunate, the pain of a break-up that has not only broken my heart but proceeded to masticate it, swallow it, regurgitate it and spit it in my face. Yeah, I can be dramatic at times. Get used to it. Ultimately, it may just be something to do to kill the time while I figure out the next steps in this 32 year stroll through life.

The one thing I can tell you for sure, however, is that the story will be a wild one so strap in and get ready to ride. I am happy you're joining me and quite frankly, I need you, so please, stick around.