You guys? It is fall. Thank GOD. I really hate summer. The sun is my mortal enemy. Most people find this very, very odd, including almost all of my friends, but really, I am pale as moonlight and burn to a crisp even while layered with SPF 50. In summer, I try very hard never to leave my apartment. Plus, in New York the summer is gross and muggy and smoggy and rainy, not hot but dry like in California.
The funny thing about seasons in New York is that they pounce on you like a jungle cat. There’s no gradual decrease in temperature over a few weeks to ease you into another season. Oh, no. One day it’s summer, and the next day it’s fall. Boom, just like that. And winter will come the same way. I guess it keeps you on your toes, but I like some warning. Yesterday I almost left for work with just a t-shirt on, and that would not have been good, because I would’ve frozen to death in the shade.
Yesterday I chatted with Joanna and she was like, “So are you going out to celebrate this weekend?” And I was all, “No, I am SLEEPING. I’ve done enough celebrating.” The thing is that I have a lot of wonderful, supportive friends, AND I’ve been getting a ton of good news in a very small period of time, so this has been a very celebratory week and I was planning on giving myself a little R&R as a reward for all my hard work. But last night, even though I’d decided to stay home, I got roped into going down to 34th St (something I never do except to go to the movies, because the Macy’s/Herald Square/Empire State Building area is my least favorite part of Manhattan but for Times Square) to go sing karaoke.
You guys, it was so much fun. We got our own room and everything and belted out all kinds of ridiculous songs. The only thing about the place was that its selection wasn’t the best–I really wanted to sing “Life Is A Highway”, but they didn’t have it. Nevertheless, two hours of karaoke was magical fun, except now my throat is so hoarse I’m afraid it might totally go by Monday. Whatever! I should probably talk less, anyhow.
Saturday night we went down to Stout (also in the 34th St area, why do I spend so much time down there these days?) to watch the UT game, but UT was wailing on Rice so we left before it was over and headed down to Alphabet City to visit our friends Brett and Monica, who had just gotten finished throwing an engagement party. We went up to the roof of Brett’s apartment building and enjoyed his spectacular view of the Williamsburg and Queensboro Bridges, the Empire State Building and Chrysler Building, and all of Lower Manhattan. Then we went out and, well, the night got weird when a long, confusing conversation came out of nowhere, but I think that’s all settled? I’ll have to wait till tomorrow and see.
Also this weekend I finished a really cool YA book that I picked up off the shelf at work. It’s called Cycler by Lauren McLaughlin, and people have been talking about it a lot on the YA blogosphere because it’s a really funny, clever, slightly unnerving treatment of gender and sexuality. I actually never used to give those issues much thought–I guess that’s what growing up in a politically moderate but socially conservative suburb will do to you, but even when I was in college I was fairly blase about gender and sexuality. It wasn’t until I went to the University of Chicago and then moved to New York and started rooming with a women’s health advocate and reading Jezebel that I started to see what a contentious, amorphous, definition-resisting arena gender is. Diana Peterfreund is giving away a copy of Cycler on her blog (I think you can still enter to win by commenting, but you might want to double-check that) if you want a chance to read a copy of the book before it comes out (which actually isn’t that long from now–WOW September has flown by).
Also (and I know I’m just rambling, please be patient with me, long weekends with very little sleep turn me into a blathering idiot), I went to Borders the other day to buy a specific book and ended up leaving with two other books instead, totally forgetting the one I had originally meant to buy. As you do. I picked up an Agatha Christie novel and also a hardcover copy (which is a big deal for me, I almost never buy them) of Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games because people have been just raving about this novel. As far as I know it takes place in a distopian future America where children are forced into a death match for the sport of the rich ruling class. Blurgh. Sounds great, though.