Definitely Not Bragging About Accurate Grammar Usage in This One

The happenings of THURSDAY AUGUST 2, 2012 SINCE I'M SO BEHIND:

I woke up at 5AM on this day. 5AM. To get to Manhattan by 8AM. And it takes me maybe 30 minutes to put my game face on in the morning. I had to be in the city so early this day because I went out on a site visit to the Hamptons with work to see the progress of a project. This is a residential summer home built from scratch and I had worked on little things for this house so I knew a bit of its back story and seen some images of the computer model. Seeing it in person though was breathtaking. I was amazed at every little thing from the reveals to the baseboards to the doorknobs, the floor, the ceiling, the walls and partitions, the stairs, EVERYTHING. And the house wasn't even finished. To go from a 3-D computer model to a real live house that you can smell and touch; I was in awe. It was awesome. This day helped me realize that it does get built. Sooner or later, virtually everything you do becomes real. I feel like I'm not at liberty to post pictures, or I feel too lazy to find them.

After the day, I attended a little goodbye interns picnic in Central Park with some more work people. The sun was out, and a couple to our right was hardcore making out while the group to our left was shirtlessly huddled in cult prayer. After much hummus and carrots, many cookies later, a cranberry vodka, and laughterlaughterlaughter the night was upon us and make-out session + cult prayer were still in progress so we stayed longer! It was only when we were finally alone in the park--in the dark--that we decide to clean up, and while we're cleaning up what better to do than TELL GHOST STORIES!?!?!? Bad idea. I still have trouble mustering up the courage to shower because showering is the scariest thing to do when you're scared. I can't bring myself to wear the color green either.

Then on FRIDAY  AUGUST 3, 2012 I completed my last day of my summer internship. It was a sweet sappy day. I really don't know how important an internship is in one's life. I mean, it's an experience that can only be classified as limbo between education life and the real life. I know some people who have been working internships since high school. They're pros. I need these hours to graduate college though so my time here was pretty epic, and there was something about it that just made me get all sappy in the end. I NEED TO STOP BEING SAPPY.

Frumpday

Humpday- August 1, 2012

I attended a Lunch-and-Learn at my internship today with a few product representatives from 3Form. I recall someone asking about the endurance of the product in a commercial environment. This lady, with no other explanation, answered, "Oh, it's very hard," and for some reason an image of Paulette from Legally Blonde came to mind. It made me stifle a chuckle, and I had to stifle responding with a that's-what-she-said remark. This day marked my growth here at my internship in the city, and Lunch-and-Learns are great thing. FREE LUNCH.

0:22-0:25 is the only part that matters.

Tuesday Trickery

It was a bittersweet Tuesday, July 31, 2012:

I was with a friend of mine and as all good conversations go, we were discussing one thing and it transcended into us talking about a secret abandoned subway station that the trains pass while turning around at the last stop to the first stop of the line. Her description prompted my imagination to create wild things in my brain wrinkles. I thought this subway station had a golden palace built inside and those who decided to stay on the subway for the creepy screechy U-turn were rewarded with treat for the eyes. It was an attraction that added to the mystery of the city and an attraction that would motivate its viewers to explore and discover more city secrets. I was intrigued. I became obsessed. I wanted to ride every single train to the last stop in hopes of finding this palace. Then I ruined it by looking it up online. I found out which train passes it and some pictures of the station itself. My expectations were crushed. It was a beautiful subway station, don't get me wrong, but it didn't live up to the hype in my mind. I still wanted to see it so we went on that train and rode it past the last stop. The only ones on the train with our eyes peeled, we spotted the station and I leapt to the window grasping the excitement of discovery, partly disappointed that the station wasn't even illuminated for us to enjoy its beauty accordingly/it wasn't an underground golden palace. *SIGH*

Pizza Day

I am capable of recalling Saturday, July 28, 2012 like the back of my hand:

I believe everyone who has heard me mention this is tired of me saying it, but I will convey my opinion in written word so as to immortalize my thoughts and feelings. There are some things in life one only needs to experience once. I am still adding to the list, but so far it's fireworks and pizza. If you've seen one firework show, you've seen them all, and pizza is pizza: eat one pizza, you've eaten them all. While I like pizza and I have and will continue to glutinously experience it many more times, the taste doesn't vary from place to place according to my tastebud friends. However, there is one exception, as is typical of the American way. 

There is a little pizza shop in Brooklyn called Di Fara's Pizza where an old man makes every single pizza. He allows his minions to prep ingredients for the pies, but it is only him who does the deed. There is a much better description of Di Fara's in Broke Ass Stuart's Guide to New York or whatever that book is called, but there is something about this pizza that deems it the exception. I will never find out, and as long as they are always graded with an A for sanitation, I am content with not knowing. Every year I visit, my sister and I come to get a pie. This is a very bustling shop, and we have been very lucky to have dodged crowds in the past. Today was probably our longest wait of about an hour. So we get a whole pizza. Now, this is a piece of information that influenced vital decisions made this day: earlier in the summer a friend and I downed a Grimaldi's pizza 50-50 so I went into this current pizza thinking, "I've done this once, and I felt utterly sick afterwards, but it's Di Fara's. I gotta give it the respect it deserves and finish half the pizza while it's fresh." The task was to eat 4 slices each. We sit under a tree and eat 2. It's amazing. There are no words to describe my joy. Then we decide to take a break and walk to Brooklyn College for a change in environment during the last 2 slices. We sit on a bench near a pond with scholars scattered on the other park benches doing scholarly things like reading or Facebook. 

As I finished my 3rd slice, I could feel the descent of my euphoria plant a seed for the anguish that grew in my stomach as I begrudgingly pursued the the 4th slice. If you have ever wanted to get into the mind of an obese person here it is: I finished the 4th slice as did my sister (mostly >:| ) because it would have been a hassle to carry a huge pizza box everywhere with only 2 slices of pizza in it, and it would have been regretful to toss the leftovers because these tasty morsels is valuable; we only get this once a year so might as well indulge, right? Wrong, but there were many more wrong decisions made that day. 

Sister described the pizza as matter filling her lungs, and I felt like the boy who ate the chocolate cake from the movie Matilda or Ella when she described her cake own cake frenzy in the book Ella Enchanted, whichever reference summons more insight. We needed something to erode the pizza clods in our body so what better choice than to order not one large sweet tea from Mcdonalds but two large sweet teas from Mcdonalds? As a nod to our luck, we actually didn't get sweet teas, we were rewarded with two colossal cups of syrup that unfortunately had an adverse effect on the pizza clods. 

So we hobbled on over to the nearby Target because we were going to anyways, and made a pit stop at the soda fountain to pour out half of the syrup and fill the buggers with ice and water. We still weren't having it, but as obese people do, we figured we paid $2 for this so might as well drink it right? Wrong. The rest of the day disintegrated into hours of us laying in bed trying to digest as fast as possible and going for a jog/bike ride to speed the process and attempt lessening the effect those calories will have on our sad bodies. Don't get me wrong, I STILL LOVE DI FARA'S.

Mr.Di Fara

Beautiful.

We were so excited.

The joy in my eyes is how I want to remember the pizza.

At Target. There's a glint of pain in that face.

My Mood Pool

When one sense goes, they say the others get stronger. Being blind, I suppose my imagination has benefitted.  So I lost one of my contacts today. Good thing I have glasses that slide off my nose when I sweat. Good thing it's humid so I'm in a constant sweat. I went for a bike ride, with my glasses, along the Verrazano Bridge and at the end of the path there's a pier with a view of the NYC Skyline. When it began to rain, I sat in it, no big deal. Then it began to pour, still no big deal. Then, I began thinking, "I have electronics in my pocket, I should probably salvage them before they drown," so I walk up to the frozen yogurt truck and ask if the guy has a small plastic bag. He hands me one and asks if I want to jump inside the  truck for shelter. I'm already drenched so there's no point, and I can't ditch the bike in fear of it being stolen. No matter how tempted I was to see the inner workings of a food truck, I declined. In retrospect, I was totally being lured into some guy's truck.

The story that really matters though, it my time in the local coffee shop afterwards. Mocha Mocha Coffee is a mediocre shop. The coffee and pastries are decent and the lighting is very orange. I feel like I'm hanging out in a lava lamp which isn't always a bad thing. This is a B-rated coffee shop in the sense of B-rated horror flicks--it's still a coffee shop, but it's kind of a joke with cult following potential--not in the sense of sanitation...I hope. Out of all the fancy, beautifully designed places in New York, this B-rated coffee shop got one thing right: it houses the most comfortable chairs in USA's Northeastern region.

I was feeling enigmatic so I later took a local train ride to Manhattan because the trains seem to be the only place I can read, and it seemed sitting on a bench in Columbus Circle, was the only place I could write--write about myself, of course, because I ain't about to go ballistic novelistic. And the train ride home seemed to be the only place I could sleep seeing that it is 0339 IN NEW YORK AND I AM STILL AWAKE BLOGGING.

See if you can find the skyline.

I need windshield wipers for my glasses.

Best chair evarrr. Looks aren't what matters in this situation.

This is how they club at Columbus Circle.

Subway Sleep Makes Me Feel Rested

Ever been laying down sleeping and then you bolt right up into sitting position because of a dream? That has never happened to me. Ever been zonked out on the Subway and the same thing happens except you're already in the sitting position so you kinda just jerk forward and hope nobody saw? Oh just me? MY BAD.

I think I found Carmen San Diego.

Master printer Pepe Coronado in the flesh. Don't worry, I didn't know who he was before today either. But he cool.

Train of Thought

The subway trains are organized by color/number/letter, and so, you're waiting for the D Train on the orange line to get home. Underground, the platform is hot, mucky, and you're sweating all kinds of nasty off your face. You see a bright, warm light at the end of the tunnel. This train is coming your way, it's going to stop right in front of you, and you don't even have to open the door yourself. What an honor! You feel like royalty. It's still a little far but the hope in that one orange circle on that train's facade eases your soul. Thoughts of a shower, a bed, a mumu fills your mind like quenching thirst with a glass of marinara sauce. So you hop on this heavenly metal swan that will fly you towards the comforts of home.

The train, oh the train!

Refreshing air conditioning showers over you, the fluorescent lights bring you back to elementary school where you attained a free education and a rectangular pizza with cubed pepperonis for lunch: the greatest gift of all, and a whimsical orange seat straight out of Charles and Ray Eames' office cradles you into the journey. You are on your way, my friend. You are on your way home. You are reminiscing the beautiful memories made that day as the train glides into Brooklyn for instance: dirt cheap dumplings for lunch as well as the choice to wear suede shoes in the rain and the wonders that will do to your feet. Then a muffled, "aslthisjskd jsiskdj a mmmmrgheeeee train, 7 Ave. is the next stop," and you think, "hm, the D train never stops at 7 Ave." Motivated to investigate, you pick up your eyes and look upon the subway wall. It is an orange circle. The letter inscribed to the center of this geometric delight is a B. SHIIIIIIIIIII-

D Train. D as in Desired Train.

B Train. B as in it-would-be-a-Big-ol'-biiii----Bother-to-attempt-getting-home-from-this-train.

How I processed it: 1. The D train is indicated by a D centered in a circle 2. My mind circled, enlarged, and centered 1/2 of the B from the B train; 3. I squinted and confirmed it was the correct train.

I was also pleased with a modified "Wet Paint" sign at some point during the day.

A Homage to Past Summers.

Today was a great day at work. So I feel that I am barely savvy with Photoshop but I spent the day SLOWLY workin' some magic on an image, and I got a, "good job," from the architect with whom(?) I was working. A compliment like that is just common courtesy if you haven't completely ruined everything, but then one of the graphic designers complimented me on my work as well which is an indication that I may have done something right this time. In honor of how esteemed I feel today I made a LITTLE 10-MINUTE SO'MMSO'MM:

Nico'Yo'; San Fran 2010 (?)

Mami y Papi; San Fran 2011

Vacationing Together; San Fran 2012

Look now. Ask questions later.

oh, hell no.