Tag Archives: Hoboken Progress column

May 04 2010
Leave a comment
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.

Tagged
Apr 29 2010
Leave a comment
Apartment Life, La Splenda Vita

A New Fact For The Resume

From the April 30th edition of Hoboken’s Progress:

When asked what your strengths and weaknesses are during a job interview, you need to be able to admit a weakness, but then try to make it sound like a strength. For example, if you happen to be a control freak, you’d spin it to sound like you are just painstakingly detail-oriented.

Lately, it has come to my attention that I have a weakness, which cannot be euphemized.

Ladies and gentlemen, I talk to myself. And no, I’m not wearing a Bluetooth.

This realization arrived slowly, but now my eyes are still wide, even 24 hours since I’ve made my discovery.

It started with a bug. (Stay with me.) Not a roach—but it was a water bug. The corners of mouth turn down as I type that, that word, “water bug.” I’m perpetually ill-equipped to kill or catch a bug due to my squeamishness.

Maria, my friend/roommie doesn’t help. In fact, we only egg each other’s screams on when we try to get rid of a bug. To my dismay, placing a bowl over a bug is only a short-term solution.

Long story short, the water bug that I had seen a few days earlier that mysteriously disappeared was found dead under a slipcover in our living room. Time of death, unknown, but the other roommie probably sat on it.

Regardless of it being dead and practically snapped in half, Maria and I screamed as if it were alive. To get rid of it took a team—me to lift the slipcover, Maria to suck it up into the dust buster. Neither one of us will empty it.

After cooling down, I started to reflect on the situation. With my throat still hoarse from screaming and laughing, it occurred to me that if what you’re yelling at is dead, aren’t you essentially just yelling at yourself?

I never thought that I talked to myself, but then I realized this wasn’t the first incident. As it turns out, I’m quite the “Chatty Cathy” in my apartment, and half the time my conversations aren’t directed toward anything with a pulse.

As someone who doesn’t like loud noises, I find that when I clink together a few plates and glasses in the kitchen sink I’ll call out “SHHH!” or “Oh, shut up,” to the inanimate objects. But, since they don’t have the faculties to respond back, who am I really talking to? You are correct. Yet again, I’m just speaking to myself.

I also sing to appliances. “I am unplugging you now!” I’ll sing to my hair straightener, or a “I’m turning you off now!” to the coffeemaker. Not very creative, but I must admit, it’s been quite effective since I apparently blackout any time I unplug something.

I’m not quite sure what to make of this discovery, or even how to make it sound like a strength. But, it’s slowly becoming one of my top eccentric traits.

Who needs to ace a job interview when I have the capacity to become a crazy character in Hoboken?

Someday me...only with dogs...

Tagged
Apr 07 2010
Leave a comment
La Splenda Vita

A Choo.

It’s official. It’s not Spring for me until I feel my first pangs of itchiness in the corners of my eyes. Hayfever season is upon us, with my pockets full of Zyrtec.

I suppose it bodes well that I’ve always loved the Stay Puft marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, since I’m pretty much the spitting image of him after my eyes blow up. Ah. Such is life. It’s not going to stop be from being outside to enjoy the nice weather.

But, before I wax poetic about my desire to frolic, I will vent one more little rant, since for me, springtime is not only the time for itchy eyes, but also, the season of the sneeze.

The season of the sneeze. Big deal, you must think. It’s a natural response. It’s like breathing. You do it when you have to. Or do you??

You see, in a perfect world, the cycle would be easy: trees make pollen, pollen makes me sneeze, I sneeze, I blow my nose and then feel better until the whole lather, rinse, repeat cycle starts over.

But for me, I like to pick my battles, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I’ve picked a battle with the institution of sneezing.

I do NOT like to sneeze, or blow my nose in public, and I refuse to do so.

This may sound odd. I’ve been told by CP that he wasn’t aware that you could even take a stance on sneezing. Oh, but you can. Ladies and gentlemen, just like Jerry Seinfeld admitted “I haven’t thrown up since June 29th, 1980!” I too have a confession: I have been blocking my sneezes for as long as I can remember.

How can I stop a natural response to a stimulus to my respiratory system? It’s quite simple, really. I’ve just learned to somehow shut off (or close, I’m not really quite sure what I do) my nose and throat at the same time.

I think I’ve always hated to sneeze. It’s just messy, and your eyes water, and your nose drips. AND–more than anything, I can’t stand when others sneeze. It’s not even so much the germ thing as it is the noise thing. Some people can really hit high decibels when they sneeze. The worst offenders are those who don’t have a warning inhale. “CHOOOOOOOOOO!!!” While they are left feeling better, I’m the one with the quickened heart beat.

And so, I decided to make the world a better place by taking myself out of the sneezing game. I thought of it as helping to defeat noise pollution. I became a martyr.

But, just like Jerry, today was the day I lost my streak. As he said, “Fourteen years down the drain!” I’m not quite sure how long it’s been, but today, while watching the Today show and drinking coffee, I sneezed, and I let it all hang out. Everything–from the little inhales in when you feel a tickle, to the release in which you feel your throat clench was not blocked. It made CP happy, and I suppose it made me happy for my health, since a Googling session yielded Yahoo answers that when you hold in a sneeze, you run the risk of rupturing blood vessels or ear drums, which I doubt are true. Well, I may blow out an ear drum…but this sneeze was to see if I could do it; if I still knew how to sneeze correctly.

Verdict: it’s like getting back on a bike. I still don’t like it, but perhaps it is good to not reckon with the force.

Happy Zyrtec season!

Tagged ,
Apr 05 2010
Leave a comment
My Life in Hoboken

April Showers

Sometimes, it’s the little things that teach you life lessons. You just have to keep an eye out. For example, I never thought that the recurring floods of Hoboken would teach me to be less hasty.


Let’s rewind to a recent Tuesday morning before work. Sensing rain, I pulled on my rain boots and scampered out the door. In the past, my rain boots have made me feel invincible, and perfect for what I call “fording the river.”


No, this was not an attempt to cross the Hudson, but rather, I’m referring to what it feels like to cross a street when it rains in Hoboken, while using a term that stems from my childhood and playing the computer game, Oregon Trail.


Intended for educational purposes, Oregon Trail was to help teach kids about the days of pioneers and Conestoga wagons, although the most kids pretty much remember is which family member got a snakebite or dysentery.


Despite all that business, personally, I loved when it came time to cross a river. There were a few options as to how to move forward, dependant upon how much cargo was in your wagon and the depth of the water. Though a risk, I always chose to ford the river with my oxen, despite what my situation was in my wagon. In my haste, I usually lost half my cargo, and my patience with the game.


I never thought that Oregon Trail really taught me much, but I was dead wrong. Nowadays, I still find myself wondering if I should ford the river, aka, the flooded streets of Hoboken, because, well known to Hobokenites, our town becomes something of a Venice during heavy rains.


That Tuesday, the skies had not let up since the previous Sunday, and there was a call to arms for my rain boots. And yet again, about 20 years later, I still chose to ford the river, rather than taking a moment to weigh my options, like walking a block down to avoid the water. I stepped right into the rushing waters, thinking my rain boots would be all I needed.


It was then that I realized I still haven’t learned anything from my Oregon Trail days. In my haste, and because of one tiny hole in my left rain boot that crushed my false sense of security, I once again lost my precious cargo that day—my mind.


As it turns out, it didn’t take the consequence of losing a whole wagon-full of goods for me to amend my ways, but instead, a wet left sock. For the remainder of the day, my damp foot served as a reminder that I should perhaps take a few seconds to think before plunging into any risky situation.


Faced with the approaching April showers, I’m not quite sure what I’ve learned from reminiscing about Oregon Trail so much, but I do know that I will use the Hoboken floods as an opportunity to focus on my new decision making ways.

Tagged
← Older posts
Newer posts →