I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
Remember those excuse notes that parents have to write when their kids are out of school? “Please excuse Sally’s absence. She was running a fever,” etc. I hardly remember the ones my mom composed, only that they were to the point enough that details weren’t needed.
I caught these varmints when I walked up Central Park North tonight.
My lunch generally consists of a small fruit salad from the fruit stand. I eat a few nuts or dried cranberries at my desk during the day, too, but that’s it. This routine keeps me from going hungry while avoiding a food coma, which I used to get when I ate a heavier midday meal.
I saw this sign when I walked by a Burger King on my lunch break. Ugh.
I saw Jeffrey, the youngest kid I tutor, tonight. Since summer began, we’ve been meeting every two weeks instead of every Thursday. It’s nice having some nights off tutoring, yet I have to retrain him a bit when I see him. You wouldn’t believe how calm I am around kids. After seeing some crazy stuff in my two years as a Harlem schoolteacher, I just can’t lose my cool when a kid fidgets. This is Jeffrey’s problem.
My couch blog entry was linked by The New York Times yesterday. I’m tagging this with Everyday, but it was super cool extraordinary.
There are a few reasons why I wanted to move in the first place. I was committed to being a better version of me, one with enough counter space to pour a bowl of cereal. Also, the old apartment was small and dim - the most magical interior design could not save the space. As a few hundred square feet are wont to do, it held a lot of memories, too.
Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel like life in New York City gets too comfortable. You can cultivate routines all you want, but something is going to smite you. That place where you like to get the inexpensive fruit will shut down unannounced and leave you hungry. Your appointment postponements with be postponed. People will flit in and out of your life, as if in some migratory pattern.
There was a thought-provoking comment on one of my blog entries this week. There aren’t many I can allude to, so you can easily find it if you’re curious. What it boiled down to was this: Compliment + pointing out how much I’ve changed in such a way as to suggest that it’s a bad thing + somewhat affectionate parting words.
Beauty is only skin deep, but think of all the skin products you’ve accumulated in your lifetime. If the typical woman piled all of the facial cleansers, moisturizers, toners, and exfoliating scrubs she’s ever used on top of each other, she’d reach dizzying celestial heights. The typical guy might get to the top of a ferris wheel maybe. Because guys are living longer these days, and girls are only getting pickier.
