Tapes, by Alanis

I am someone easy to leave
Even easier to forget
a voice, if inaccurate
Again: I’m the one they all run from
diatribes of clouded sun
someone help me find the pause button

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren’t my own
Wreaking havoc

I’m too exhausting to be loved
a volatile chemical
best to quarantine and cut off

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren’t my own
Wreaking havoc

I’m but thorn in your sweet side
You’d be better off without me
It’d be best to leave at once

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren’t my own
Wreaking havoc

My feet were killing me but I couldn’t be defeated on one of my first outings since moving to New York.  After all, even though I was alone, I didn’t want to be home-alone.  I left the Mid-Manhattan library with my books successfully placed on hold for when they returned to the library itself.  I walked past the big building; library, and headed back to Time Square.  My strides were short and my feet felt of sharp needles with every step and although I wasn’t planning to stop where I did, I did.  I shrug.

The green on the left of me was such a beautiful juxtaposition to the hard windows and buildings to my right and the honking of taxis and chatter of people on their phones.  I thought about taking the book I had and plopping on the grass for a bit, giving my feet a rest, enjoying the daylight and being outside of the purple walls that surrounded me at home.  Beautiful, spiritual, purple walls, but they’d been closing in further on me since I’d been told I’d be single from here on out.  I thought about food too.  I had eaten earlier, but by now it was hours and if I was going to change my plans, I’d need to eat something.  I made it to the corner after almost passing up the park when I saw little booths it seemed.  Most of which were shaped like little hexagons with ” ‘wich craft” as a sign and coffee & pastries or sandwiches following the name, I couldn’t necessarily go wrong.  I stepped up and ordered an iced chai latte and a mini loaf of banana bread.  After what seemed like an obvious interruption to their day, I grabbed my drink and munchy and turned toward the park to seek out a chair.

There are so many parks, I’ve noticed.  Well anywhere from Central Park, to “well – there’s some land here with trees, so lets put benches in here and call it a park “- parks.  I have found that most of the highly populated areas will have more than benches.  They’ll have little cute round green tables, and green chairs, just – there…for me to sit and use.  

So I had successfully received my drink and bread and looked for a chair, I hadn’t realized how many people were actually at the park today but the lawn had seemed so empty I guess everyone was seeking shade and – music…???  I had recognized this park from when Kaza had stood in the rain to see John Mayer for free.  She had said that he took a water bottle and poured it over his head because it wasn’t fair everyone else there was getting wet from the rain, and he was protected.  I smiled at the memory.

Apparently I had stumble upon free concerts in the park, a series of Monday’s at 6pm, and the 14th being the last monday it was happening.  For a moment I was excited to know I could come here and get a beverage and just listen and enjoy, and was of course disappointed when I saw I was attending the last of the series.  (Although i’m sure there will be more, I’m told there is always SOMETHING to do in NY).  I had walked through the open sea of people and found a chair in the center.  There was a flutist and harpist.  The weather was still quite lovely for only 6pm ish and I had nestled in my chair and began peeling a way at my mini loaf.  They played a couple songs, and then the gentleman, whom we can only assume is the guy who organized the concert in the park, was interviewing the musicians allowing the audience to get an inside look at where these people came from, how long they’d been playing and what not.

The flutist was a grammy nominated woman, the harpist was…tiny.  A very tiny Korean woman.  =)  She explained how she got into playing the harp, that it had 47 strings and 8 pedals.  One for each note on the scale, so which ever pedal she pressed down would shift each string in that key.  The strings were also color coordinated and quite frankly the size of the harp didn’t seem at all daunting or overwhelming until you paid close attention to her playing it.  I listened to them speak until something caught my attention in the not too far distance.  It was twirling, and there seemed to be Christmas lights on it.  Maybe I’m easily distracted, maybe the talking didn’t really hold my attention, or maybe it was a sign.  Again, I shrug.

It was a carousel.  It was small, I could tell and the first thing I thought was “is that where Charlotte and Harry took Lily?” (SATC fans unite).  And while staring at it, it slowed and came to a stop.  The moment it stopped spinning, my mind did.  I wished K was there with me.  Listening to delightful music in Bryant Park, because it was there, and because we can, and then we could walk around the park together, look at the carousel, or sit and read together.  I felt the tears begin to form and tried to focus back on what the musicians were saying.  Something about the next song was originally written for a Harp & Violin, but I awaited the distraction of their music combo.  In the corner of my eye, as the tears slowly dried, having not streamed down my face, the carousel also began to turn again. I somehow felt better with the music playing and the carousel spinning.

I finished my mini loaf and chai, which unfortunately was not that great, and I head to the carousel.

It was smaller than I thought, even though I thought it was small.  But it was charming and there were children getting in line to climb on and ride. I grinned at the blue butterfly and took out my camera, smiled at the gentleman running it and he nodded and returned the smile.

On my way out of the park I passed more people, enjoying the day.  These particular people were enjoying what seemed to be the free games at the park.  Tables with chess and checkers and other games.  

As I smile and nodded to more strangers the porcupine feeling in my feet began to rise again and I felt as though I were walking through a small fire.  It was time to get home.  I found an exit from the park to the streets again and stopped to admire the light post, reminded myself where I lived, why I was living there and that as much as I may have wanted him there with me, he just wasn’t going to be.  So I needed to enjoy this myself.

And no, having a broken heart is not the end of the world, but it is a piece of my world that shattered and crumbled.  I don’t have a large enough vocabulary to express what my world is like right now, or how it was a week ago.  I know that sad songs are more sad, love songs hurt to hear, and “I miss having  a man in my life that cares about me.” (Thank you Carrie Bradshaw)  Cares enough to want to read a book with me.  Cares enough to want to talk to me, cares that I have feelings and appreciates that I express them.  Cares about art and would adore a light post like this.  Shrug.  Is romantic and wants to take me through Central Park on the horse drawn carriage. And much more.

It’s hard to be pushed away, as if 3,000 miles wasn’t enough already.  I just wish I could share all of this with someone special, and important who also thinks I’m special and important, and worth it.

But for now, it’s just me, my camera and these pages.

Info on Bryant Park

I absolutely had to make myself get up, and get out of the house. No one was home, no one was coming home, and I couldn’t just rot there, on the couch, on the bed, as I had all week. Mother said to do something for myself, so I thought of what I wanted to do.

I wanted a library card.

There are many many….many libraries in NY. The closest one to me is closed until August or September due to asbestos, the second closest is 10 blocks away (walking distance) but I haven’t bothered to go. It’s too dirty here, and “ghetto” as some people (myself included) are calling it. It exists, and I live in it – the end. So I decide today is the day I go to “the big building.” I log onto the computer and type in NY library and find the New York Public Library, where Carrie Bradshaw & Mr. Big were supposed to have their huge wedding, until he didn’t show – hmm??? Sex and the City fans? I see pictures of this big building and the stairs and the lion statues and I realize that’s where I want to go. I then go to http://www.hopstop.com to find out HOW to get there, this website is the only reason I’ve figured out my way around here, it’s very…very helpful. All I needed to do was hop on the 1-train heading downtown and get off at 42nd street (that’s Time Square) and head south a couple blocks. I was not going to be out long and I have been wearing nothing but jammies or green apron attire so I grabbed a pair of jeans a sleeveless top and my grey heels.

I paused only for a moment staring at the heels. I didn’t for a second think about blisters, or achey feet, I thought about him, my lovey: K. The last time I wore those heels was when we took pictures together, reflecting our love for each other and happiness with the other. I put the shoes back and brushed the clothes that were on my bed, on to the floor and curled up and cried. Hard. It’s like being consumed, and in the worse way. I looked up and saw the two prints I had chosen to display in the red frames I purchased hours before he ended it. They were on the shelf, still are, that I assembled in the humidity and lack of fan-ness one afternoon. After I could breathe again, I walked to the bathroom and washed my face, then brushed my hair. I walked back to my room and put my clothes on and grabbed the shoes. I sat on my bed with them on debating on whether or not to stand. I could just lay back down and let the day pass and call it a survival method. I could just kick the shoes off and throw them away and grab a bottle of wine and watch more TV on hulu. And in a Matrix quoting moment, out of no where, I said out loud – Get up Trinity. . . get up.

And I stood up and grabbed my bag and left the apartment. Every step down the five flights I could tell the shoes were a bad idea. My feet were already swollen, it was a perfect contradiction to the last time I wore them, practically hiking in the middle of SLOville in a dress, holding the hand of the man I loved. I got to the train and sat down and read my book. I always have it with me, whichever book I’m reading at the time. A book K bought me because he knew I wanted it and wanted to send me on my plane a happy camper. He bought me three books that day…

The train ride was easy, I exited at the right stop and only walked one block in the wrong direction…The avenues are long in NY. The streets, or the distance from street to street (42nd, 41st 40th) is much shorter than between the avenue (7th, 6th, 5th). I turned around and was headed in the right direction. Women passing by would glance at my shoes, and at one point some woman pointed and said something like “you know she live here, wouldn’t catch a tourist in heels.” I half smiled and wished I was somewhere near Barneys trying on Monolo Blahniks. 42nd hit 5th avenue and I turned right. it was on the corner so approaching the big building wasn’t a mystery, but it was – under construction.

The building was covered in tarps and platforms.  The slight breeze ballooned the tarps making it also look vacant and somehow, old or abandoned.  For a moment I stood in slight breeze surrounded by people taking picture after picture, posing with the statue lions, sitting at the tables, by the lawn and I remembered that I was alone and everyone around me, had someone.

Only one door was opened, and I walked up the stairs and opened my bag for security to look through.  Then I walked into the middle of the room.  It was white on the inside.  Pearl and marble white.  It was quiet.  It was breathtaking. No one was looking forward, everyone was looking up, and so was I.  And then another movie quote flew into my mind “oh! Beautiful, Gorgeous, wish you were here.”  and I walked towards the steps.  The light fixtures glowed in soft yellow – which my camera obviously couldn’t capture.  But I was so glad to have a camera, I wanted to be able to share it with someone.  And as I continued to click my camera, flash off, I remembered K had bought it for me when my other one broke.  He said I needed to document my last week in CA, and my time in NY.  And before the tears started rolling down I forced them back in and walked up the stairs further.  My heels echoed in the high ceiling and against the pale wall with every step.  They didn’t clunk, or clip along the floor, they knocked, gently, with each step.  The wide railing was comforting and solid as I continued up the stairs.  On the third floor there were paintings and carvings – everywhere…on the walls and ceilings.  The colors were royal but soft.  The arches were tall but inviting.  The wood was dark.   I walked further and asked where I could get a library card and was given direction.  Through the hall, turn left, apply on the computer, take the temporary number to the desk, the desk will give you your card.  I walked through the hall.   The books the same royal colors, lit with museum yellows and topped with a balcony I could only assume was for employees only.  A balcony that included more reference books and encyclopedias embossed in a probably gold lettering.  The shelves were dust free and the extended desks were decorated with mini lamps and large beautiful chandeliers hovered over the rooms bringing more warmth then the windows.  The windows.  They  were tall and arched, and square throughout the pane.

The floor soaked in the sound of my heels more than the stairs, it helped silence the room.  And after she handed me my card I turned around and saw all the computers on the extended reference tables with people looking at Lady Gaga music videos, watching TV, and some were even looking up things on the library catalog.  I stopped on the wood floor and looked up again, careful not to move and draw too much attention to myself by oohing, and awwing and silently took my camera out of my bag again, making sure the flash was off and attempted to capture the wonder of the ceilings. I eventually stopped looking up and looked forward as I began to leave the building.  It was also explained to me that this was a reference-only library.  No books could actually be “checked-out” of here.  And of course – what was I thinking?  This was a reference-only library.  Designed for me to come and be quiet and touch the bindings of important resources and return them for others to marvel.  But, with a couple books in particular in mind, today was not the day to just look-stuff-up.   So I began to exit when a gentleman, who noticed my picture taking, with a badge and security uniform asked me if I’d seen the ceilings downstairs by the gift shop.  I didn’t know what he meant, so I said no I only saw the white and he said the ceiling by the gift shop was wooden.  And carved.  I smiled and said thank you, and he returned the smile and I turned to go down the stairs.  Realizing I’d also missed the lights hanging above the stairs.  I shook my head at myself and paused for a quick pick… Everything was so elegant and a bit larger than life.  Ceilings with carvings and artistry, marble like brick walls and light fixtures taller than I was hanging from chains you only see in castles in the movies.  I had almost figured if I attempted to creep out the back way I’d have to ask them to lower the bridge for me to cross back into real life.  I made it down stairs and towards the gift shop and looked up.  Shaking my head in slight disbelief, and with my camera still out and ready, I brought the camera up and clicked away.

And I didn’t notice right away, but it didn’t just occur in sections by the gift shop, it had covered an entire hallway.

I had mixed emotions.  I was glad to be there.  To be out of the house and even though i wanted to cry all still, I was trying to…not just distract myself but…find myself maybe.  Just a piece of me that could be mine.  But in the end, I wanted someone there with me to point and say “wow” with.  And past the end I could always come back with Ro or Antoan, I know he’d love it in there.  But there is something about the arts, and the books, and the silence that made me want K with me.  And the moment I let those thoughts back in, a rushing, drowning feeling filled me and the weight of the silence began to push down on me.  Questions started filling my head, discussions were running a muck in my mind telling me how I reacted was wrong because it was emotional, telling me I know he won’t change his mind, but I still don’t understand and just as I felt the tears begin to well up, someone said “miss” and I was staring at the floor, not the ceiling, and I was standing still in the middle of the great white room.  I glanced up and a woman in a security uniform asked me if I was alright and I nodded and began to walk towards her opening my bag.  She looked inside it, then said thank you and I exited the building.  The big building in all it’s beautiful hush and light somehow made me feel claustrophobic and I was glad to be outside.  I walked down the stairs to the sounds of taxis and busses honking, people laughing and children crying.  I was almost relieved to have the noise.  And I started down the block to the light where I could cross to the library I was allowed to check out books from.  It looked like a normal building with windows and dirt and a turning door and open and close times printed on the door.  Mid-Manhattan library is right across the street from the big building.  I walked in, presented my bag to security – again and continued through the door to something more recognizable.  The smell of books, the stuffiness that went with a room that didn’t have much circulation.  People standing by shelves, carts wheeled over by shelves with books waiting to be placed back where they belonged numerically.  THIS, was a library.  The big building was an escape to beauty-bookville.  But here, here I walked to a computer and set my bag down to log in and look up what I was interested in on their catalog and could write down the section and catalogued number the book would be under.  And wouldn’t you know it, both books I wanted were not in the building.  So I put them on hold, knowing I’d be sent the email sometime this week that said they were there now and I could come pick them up and I left, feeling my feet convince me it was time to be done.  And also realizing I didn’t feel my feet until I was in the “real” library.

All my pictures of the big building

Love is my disease, by Alicia Keys

When your gone it feels like,
my whole worlds gone with you
I thought love would be my cure
but now its my disease
i try to act mature
but I’m a baby when you leave
how can i ever get used to being without you

baby, baby, baby, baby
in my addictive
when i need you here all the time
and I’m not sure if this is healthy
is it a sickness
cos i feel like I’m losing my mind

and i know that theres no medicine
nothing i can take, no remedy
baby please stay

When your gone it feels like,
my whole worlds gone with you
I thought love would be my cure
but now its my disease
i try to act mature
but I’m a baby when you leave
how can i ever get used to being without you

oh oh oh baby baby baby baby
i get a fever
just the thought of you leaving my side
its not the same till your back holding me
thats all i need

When your gone it feels like
my whole worlds gone with you
I thought love would be my cure
but now its my disease
i try to act mature
but I’m a baby when you leave
how can i ever get used to being without you

heres what I’m going through when your gone
some serious symptoms of withdrawal
so sick of turning in my bed
waking up drenched in a cold sweat
lying here lonely for you
what am i suppose to do
when im stuck and i cant get enough of your love

When your gone it feels like
my whole worlds gone with you
I thought love would be my cure
but now its my disease
i try to act mature
but I’m a baby when you leave
how can i ever get used to being without you

Love On The Rocks, by Neil Diamond

Love on the rocks
Aint no surprise
Just Pour me a drink
And I’ll tell you some lies
Got nothing to lose
So you just sing the blues all the time

Gave you my heart
Gave you my soul
You left me alone here
With nothing to hold
Yesterday’s gone
Now all I want is a smile

First, they say they want you
They haven’t really need you
Suddenly you find you’re out there
Walking in the storm
And When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
You’ve got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

You need what you need
You can say what you want
Not much you can do
When the feeling is gone
Maybe blue skies above
But it’s cool when your love’s on the rocks

First, they say they want you
They haven’t really need you
Suddenly you find you’re out there
Walking in the storm
And When they know they have you
Then they really have you
Nothing you can do or say
Youve got to leave, just get away
We all know the song

Love on the rocks
Aint no big surprise
Just Pour me a drink
And I’ll tell you more lies
Yesterday’s gone
And now all I want is a smile

i’m not sure what i deserve anymore. because i thought i did pretty alright as a human. as a daughter, sister, friend. girlfriend, and it seems that i still deserve to struggle and be cast aside. i didn’t know security, in any form, was such a high price.

The Show, by Each Passing Day

well i’d never ask, and you’ll never tell
so i’ll assume the worst, maybe that’s just as well
it still doesn’t feel, like you’re really gone
i still hear your voice, when i am alone
so i’ll close my eyes, and try not to think
about where you are, and how you’re not with me

‘cuz you’re letting go, and you’re moving on
from all that i know, and all that went wrong

i know what i need, it’s not what i want
i want you to stay, but i need to move on
well maybe this space, is just what we need
we’ve never been apart, for more than three days
but when i close my eyes, and i see your face
it’s so hard to recall, why we parted ways

but i’m movin on, and i’m letting go of all that went wrong, and all that i know and i’ll cut the strings, that bound you to me so we can both go, on with the show

but we’re letting go, and we’re movin on of all that we know, and all that went wrong and i’ll cut loose the strings, that bound you to me so we can finally go, on with the show