Oh the places I go

One of my conceited day-dreams involves someone following me around in order to experience a "day in my life." Why anyone would want to do that, I don't know, but it's something I imagine on those, the world revolves around me kind of days. I try to think of the places that I like to go, which I would show them as a window into my life. This preamble is pre-pointless.

I recently satisfied my long-carried desire to go to The Book Corner, the Free Library's used book store on 20th street, right behind the Central Library.  Since I now live around the corner, I had no excuse but to venture in. I must say, it was everything I had hoped it would be. It's actually a lot larger than it appears from the outside. There are three seperate rooms, all packed full of books. It has that great, cramped, full of hidding spots and nooks and corners book-store feel, but is also very well organized by type of book (down to details, i.e. poetry, plays, mystery, horror, biography, anthology, etc.). And, the icing on the cake is that the most you can possibly spend on a single book is $3, for hardbacks. Even anthologies and text books, if the cover is soft, cost only $2...I asked, just to be sure of this seemingly too-good-to-be-true price tag. The first time I went it was with my Alabama/the south themed reading list in hand. I found nearly everything on this, rather long, list, and ended up purchasing 10 books for $20. The second time I went I brought along my class syllabi and found only one of the assigned texts. Both trips were successes. There is certainly something to be said for a book store that keeps you guessing. She keeps you coming back for more and when she's good, she's oh, so good.

Even if you're not interested in walking a mile in my shoes, it's worthwhile to wander into this shop. April 15th and 16th is their annual booksale from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. http://www.libraryfriends.info/book-corner/big-book-sale.php. I hope to be in attendance, so maybe I'll see you there. If not, remember I'm just around the corner and I'd love to see what treasures you found- and ask to borrow them.

The big ball's gonna drop! The big ball's gonna drop!

The new year is rapidly approaching and time and circumstance have once again brought me back to Bangor. Although I would have to rank Christmas 2011 as worst-Christmas-ever, we're all moving past it together, and I'm once again reminded of my place with my family here. As always, the promise of New Years Eve follows quickly on the heels of "the holiday season", and brings with it the hope for a better year.
This past year brought many changes for me, but not nearly as many as the next one teases with. I still get to spend a few more months living in Philadelphia; the city has truly captured my heart and imagination within the past four years and I will always consider it a type of home. Who knows, maybe Alyssa will hold down our Philly home for the next few years and I really will have a place to return to in my favorite U.S. city. I plan to attempt to have a few more Philly adventures in the midst of attempting to wrap up my academic career at Temple. With 2012 only days away, graduation feels even more imminent.
2012 will bring lots of changes including two drastic changes in location/residency, one change in career (as in starting one) and one long overdue addition of a vehicle into my life-this could come before new years too, I'd be fine with that. Being back in Bangor always reminds me of the things that won't change, and I'm happy about that. I'm grateful that no matter what happens, I'll always have lots of homes to come back to and a huge, wide spread family to love from near and far. I'm not going to post new year's resolutions because I don't feel like it, although I realize that's where this feels like it's leading. Feel free to comment with some of yours though! I'd love to read them.

Happy holidays!

Dueling Majors

Here's something a bit different, a post for my more literature-centric readers. You never get to hear from this side of my brain though, so enjoy this passage I stumbled upon in Wordsworth's Preface to Lyrical Ballads. I'm afraid of the implications it has for someone, such as myself, who is a Journalism/English major.

"For a multitude of causes, unknown to former times, are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor. The most effective of these causes are the great national events which are daily taking place, and the encreasing accumulation of men in cities, where the uniformity of their occupations produces a craving for extraordinary incident, which the rapid communication of intelligence hourly gratifies."

...Story of my life.

The Stare

Saturday I attended my first event for my new job as publications intern at the Temple University College of Education, the Dean's Fall Reception. In order to get to the restaurant, I took the Broad Street line to Olney where a co-worker picked me up and drove me the rest of the way to Germantown- so nostalgic, by the way. On the train a crazy man decided for some reason to target me with his loony antics. He sat next to me and began loudly speaking gibberish, insisting that I acknowledge him. I glanced and then continued reading. This angered him so he reached over and tapped my arm. I'm not really a fan of being touched in general, especially by strangers and even more especially by crazy strangers. I snapped up from my book and said, "No!" very firmly. He just stared at me blankly. I held his gaze for close to a full minute, scolding him in my head and channeling my most commanding demeanor, while simultaneously praying that he would just move on to the next victim in his little game. Finally he looked down and sat quietly for the rest of the ride. When I got off at my stop, a guy who had seen this take place- like the rest of the passengers- came up to me and said, "How did you do that?"

I spent a month in Brooklyn one night

Once again I am guilty of shameless neglect of my beloved blog. I don't forego blogging just for the pleasure of having my ramblings requested, honest- I'm not waiting for a written invitation and I'm purposely not going to say, "Back by popular request." Cliches aside, here is my attempt to get back in the swing of things.
Two weeks ago I visited my good friend at PRATT in Brooklyn. It was my first excursion to said temple of hipster-hood and I must say it was everything I had hoped for and more. It was also my first experience with Megabus transportation, and I was most impressed. I for one am even glad that they allowed the nice couple to bring their adorable sick kitten on the bus, despite the regulation against it.
Upon arriving in Manhattan, Arline and I grabbed some victuals in the form of splitting a veggie burger in a restaurant called Trailer Park Burgers- don't let the name fool you, they were NYC priced burgers. After wandering around Chelsea a bit, it was time for another first: a journey in the Subway. An aside, I'm fairly sure I rode the Subway once before with my mom on a school trip in seventh grade, but this memory is so hazy that I'm really not sure it happened. Three transfers later and a hop a skip and a jump and we arrived at PRATT. The campus was beautiful and I especially liked the wicker tree huggers and the metal pillows (used as a fire escape, I believe). Don't let the prestige fool you, the best thing about PRATT is the aptly named Pratt-cats. Why was I treating Pratt as if it was an acronym? Is it? I'm going to desist until further research.
Arline and I then ventured to Pete's Candy Store. It is not, in fact, a strip club, but rather a very small, hip bar. We enjoyed free live music and slightly pricy beer and made some new friends in Hey Ana (check them out):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atT7fBRkDTA&feature=youtu.be

The next morning, I convinced Arline to lead a trek all the way to and across the Brooklyn Bridge. It was so worth it. For me, it conjured up images of The Newsies, for Arline, Kate and Leopold. We strolled along, heroines in our own big apple escapade, taking in the sights, sounds and smells.

I've always enjoyed visiting New York City. When I was 14 I asked my dad to take me to New York City to go ice skating at Rockafeller Center- more movie induced dreams no doubt. We walked all the way from 52nd Street to Greenwich Village to go to Trash and Vaudville. I always find myself wondering if I could ever live in New York. I'm still uncertain. I'm holding off on purchasing an I Love New York t-shirt though, just in case that's where fate leads.

It's Pippi, It's Pippi, It's Anika and Pippi!

Being the thrifty-liver that I am, I generally dig my heels in when it comes to paying SEPTA's rediculous fees for transportation. Literally that is. I dig my heels in, grind my toes and hoof it to wherever it is I need to go. This miniature form of protest was easier before my bike wheel was stolen, but even in the face of this unfortunate incident- which has since been resolved- I still chose to walk to and from work at The Philadelphia Inquirer.
Generally, I walk home along Broad Street, seeing as it is between 10 and 11 at night. Sometimes (*cough*all the time), I'm too lazy and forgetful and leave through the back door and then end up taking 15th Street- only one block off, but in North Philly, you'd be surprised at the difference this makes.
I never had an incident (knock on wood, since tonight is my last night there), however on one memorable night as I neared 15th and Poplar I saw a gaggle of young teen girls ruling the road and headed my way. As we neared the moment of truth, I braced myself. I know enough about gangs of ghetto girls to know that they could not let me pass without at least comment. One skinny, baby momma in training (literally...maybe) broke off from the group and approached.
"Can I have a dollar?" she said.
"No, sorry, I don't have one." I said.
"Well, can I have a cigarette?"
"Nope."
Tick. Tick. Tick. Step. Step. Step. The space between grew as I walked on, holding my breath.
Then, once they felt they were a safe distance away, they exploded.
"You can't give her a dollar?!?!?" "She really need it, she pregnant!?!"--hence why she really needs a cigarette, see previous "baby momma" statement.
And, a few beats later, the comment I will never forget:
"I hate to tell you white girl, but you aint got shit on Pippi Longstocking!"

Urban Farms Bike Tour

They say you never forget your first. I wrote my first paid piece of writing this past weekend, and it was definitely something I will remember for a long time. I will remember it first because having someone offer me $100 for 600-700 of my words was one of the most thrilling feelings I've ever experienced. I'm not the most humble person when it comes to my craft and my passion:writing. However, having a monetary value placed on each precious word did allow for a feeling of recognition and may have fluffed my pride a bit.
The Urban Farms Bike Tour will live on in my short-term memory due to the sore ass I took home as a souvenier. Biking from East Mt. Airy to North Philadelphia, to West Philadelphia and back over a 6-hour span on a day with temperatures around 100 degrees is not something my body will allow me to forget.
The experience itself was wonderful. Word spread slowly among the group that a dreaded journalist was in their midst. Cyclists began to ride up alongside me and say, "So, you're writing an article?" Everyone was more than willing to share their story, whether it was their family history with the a specific Philadelphia neighborhood, a love of farming or just an interest in biking- often a combination of all of these and more. You can hear all about the ride itself in the article.
Without further ado:
http://www.newsworks.org/index.php/neighborhoods/mt-airychestnut-hill-/item/23622-weekend-urban-farm-bike-tour-becomes-test-of-endurance