Monthly Archives: May 2010

May 17 2010
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My Life in Hoboken

Stay Alert…Be Aware…

From the May 21st issue of Hoboken’s Progress:

The other morning, I committed a rookie mistake when it comes to commuting—I got on the wrong PATH train.

I can only blame myself, but instead, I’ll blame my body. Muscle memory is an interesting phenomenon. Like athletes and virtuosos manipulate their bodies to carry out skilled movements without even thinking, the same goes for how my body has learned to function in the mornings before work.

I, for one, am not a morning person. There are not enough words in the English language to describe how violently my body rejects the early hours. And so, I rely heavily on the fact that my body somehow manages to remember the movements required for brushing its teeth, getting dressed, and grabbing its apartment keys without the guidance of an alert brain.

But, even so, this method isn’t foolproof. Case in point, one morning after my body shuffled into the kitchen, it somehow filled a coffee filter with five scoops of coffee, poured five cups of water into the machine, and then switched “On.” It sounds productive, but my hands didn’t place the pot back under the machine. The counter got a healthy dose of caffeine. I got a headache.

Despite similar incidents, it still came as a shock to me when I saw Pavonia-Newport as the first stop,

the train I meant to get on...

rather than Christopher St. on my way to work the other morning. The worst part about it is that I feel as if my body and/or mind was trying to tell me that I sat down on a WTC train instead of a 33rd St. one, but I was still too half-asleep to really understand or listen. After clearing the turnstiles and seeing empty seats on the train that arrived on the middle track, I nabbed one. Why I was in such a rush, I’m not sure, since a lot of seats were oddly open for this time of the morning.

That was red flag number one. Red flag number two: I saw another 33rd St. train pull up on the track next to me that began to fill up faster than the one I was on. Squinting at the 33rd St. train, I thought, “Huh. Well, it’s nothing that reading New Moon can’t fix,” as I looked down to become engulfed in my story about werewolves, while my brain kicked the dirt, frustrated at my half-asleep body.

Before I know it, I’m in Jersey City. Not a total crisis—but still—I felt really stupid. Trying to cover how alarmed I was (I was finally awake), I walked off the train casually, nonchalantly looked around to see which track the 33rd St. train stops at, and subtly, walked up and down the stairs to get to the correct platform, and then stood looking bored, as if Pavonia-Newport was my regular station. I came this close to whistling.

Now, more than ever, those signs in the PATH that read, “Stay Alert, Be Aware…” remind me how it’s probably best to switch off my auto-pilot mode, at least after leaving my apartment.

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May 13 2010
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La Splenda Vita

Excitement and Impatience in Hoboken

From the May 14th Edition of Hoboken’s Progress:

I know it’s not the best idea to self-diagnose yourself, but I can’t help it. With so many WebMd type of websites out there, even answer sites like Yahoo! Answers seems like they have responses for every question imaginable. Type in a question like, “why does my foot hurt,” and you will arrive at a plethora of conditions just waiting to be discovered.

I believe that I suffer from an overactive fascination with exploring all things in this area. I believe it’s seasonal, as this condition affects my attention, especially during the warmer months.

Signs of the warmer months to come in Hobo...

Symptoms include: dog-earring every Time Out New York and New York Magazine that I read, bookmarking New York and Hoboken blogs on my computer, and leaving about 15 tabs and windows open on my computer, loading with interesting activities I’ve found to do, from museum exhibits to movies in the park. All this is happening, usually while at work. If I get one second that isn’t weighed down with a deadline, I compulsively Google for things to do outside in the sunshine, then match my desired agenda with my calendar.

You have no idea how many times I’ve refreshed links that will eventually reveal the “Movies Under the Stars” schedule for the summer on Pier A in Hoboken, or the HBO film series they play in Bryant Park.

Another side effect of this condition is an incredible lack of patience, due to acute excitement.

I’ve become so spoiled. There is so much to do in this area, I get overwhelmed picking and choosing what I want to do on days that I happen to find myself with a free afternoon.

Last Sunday I was lucky—my free Sunday filled quickly with the Hoboken Arts and Music Festival. It was perfect timing for a day to explore locally with friends.

Other times, I’m not so lucky. As of right now, I find myself faced with gorgeous weather, matched with a late dinner reservation in the city. My mind is now swimming with ideas for how to fill up my time until dinner.

Another side effect is indecisiveness.

Perhaps the boyfriend and I could check out Gallery Week, which runs from neighborhood to neighborhood from Chelsea to the Lower East Side, or maybe we could explore the new Limelight Marketplace, an old Episcopal church, now filled with 60 retail shops, including a Grimaldi’s outpost, on 20th St. and 6th Avenue.

Or, maybe we could hop back over the Hudson and enjoy the Riverwalk in Hoboken, and get a drink and sit outside, since the outside dining offerings we have here are infinitely cozier and intimate than the city’s, since it’s much quieter out here.

Though my attention may be limited and imagination heightened due to the sheer amount of opportunity for fun things to do, I would not have it anyway, since another side effect of my condition is happiness that there is never a dull moment.

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May 04 2010
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Apartment Life, My Life in Hoboken

The Ways In Which We Know Our Neighbors…

From the May 7th issue of Hoboken’s Progress:

A U-Haul van parked in front of my apartment building was the excitement of last Saturday morning. I wracked my brain to think of who could be moving out, and in between sips of coffee and scrambled eggs with my roommates, we came to the decision that it had to be the one neighbor who has really made himself known to us—the heavy walker.

It’s quite odd that we live in such close quarters with people that we essentially know nothing about. In my building, where there are only three floors, in which each floor has one apartment, there are probably no more than nine people living in this building, and yet, if my neighbors were to stand in a line-up, I would have no idea how to identify them, unless of course, they had to run up and down a flight of stairs. Then I’d most likely be able to identify at least one neighbor—soon enough to be an ex-neighbor.

Perhaps my neighbor aspired to be an extra in STOMP, and carried out his trash this way...

If you’ve ever lived in an apartment, you’ve probably experienced hearing the unfortunate sound of someone who experiences gravity with a bit more pull than push than other human beings. It’s a heavy burden to bear, and it’s even worse for those who live under them.

Ever since I moved into this apartment, back in August 2008, as I’ve mentioned in this column many times, I’ve had to get use to a few certain eccentricities around the apartment: the rattling pipes that sound like Woody the Woodpecker, early morning showers void of hot water, and then some other odds and ends, like its donut shape, where walking back and forth between my closet and my room make me feel like I’m running for high school track.

But, I have also learned what it’s like to live with a heavy walker. I’ve also especially developed an closer relationship with him since one of my bedroom walls is on the other side of the stairwell. Like clockwork, I know when the heavy walker goes to work, gets home, goes to the gym, gets home, goes out, gets home, and well, pretty much every time he leaves and comes home, because I feel the need to “hit the deck!”

Not only is he a heavy walker, but he takes the stairs like he’s being timed during a relay race. There are no words to describe the sound and volume of this repetitive act.

It wasn’t until early evening that we figured it was the heavy-walker moving out, since all day Saturday we heard him, up and down the stairs, though each step was slower, due to the fact that he was carrying his possessions.

Dear heavy-walker, though I won’t miss hearing your daily schedule, I wish you the best.

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