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After all my complaining about the new subway, i decided I should give it a try. It does make my commute easier and faster, except for having to take the elevator at the Lexington Station (claustrophobic me?). And of course I took pictures. The first set is from the 96th Street Station by Rite Aid. The roof over the entrances is clear. They look white because it had snowed.



This next set of pictures is from the Lexington & 63rd St. Station, elevator exit to 3rd Ave.

Second Avenue Subway

If you look at all the ads, you would think the new subway was the best thing to happen to the Upper East Side since Gehrig was born there.

As a resident of the UES, I can tell you that is a joke. First of all, it goes from 96th Street to Time Square, so if you need to go to GCT to catch the 7 train, well you still can, but you’ll be catching it from Time Square.

And tonight when I needed a train home from Harold Square, it wasn’t running. Add to that the fact that I am hearing rumors of huge rent increases leading me to believe I’m going to have to move and I hate moving … this is not helping my depression … new Q train is a fucking joke.

Depression is

Depression is a fucking bitch. As I say that I hope the people who I told to not read my blog, are not reading it, because they would be offended at my language. After years of denial, I have to face the truth, my BFF told me, Girl, you are so depressed. And then I spent an evening crying over Facebook. Not what someone posted to me, my hateful posts back to him. Amazingly, he still talks to me. Maybe he understands.

 

The first thing people say when someone says they are depressed is “What do you have to be depressed about?” That comment kept me from realizing my own depression. I now know. Depression doesn’t depend on external forces, depression comes from inside. Even though I am ‘living my dream’, my brain …. is fucking me up. Telling me, I don’t deserve anything good that happens to me. And, you don’t deserve to be happy, you don’t deserve the friends you have. I can’t figure out why these people who have it made want me to be their friend. And friends who have left me, because I couldn’t explain … I don’t know what I’m saying, “Depression lies & my brain is sometimes an asshole”. That’s all I got.

So here I am 

It was a frustrating day at first. Overslept so I missed church then was late to a new knitting group meeting. This one is a Ravelry group and there were just four of us but it was pleasant. 

Because of my screwups I didn’t get food. I was tempted to make my way to The Pony Bar for an avocado sandwich but opted for someplace I wouldn’t have to walk so far since my boot wore a hole in my heel. I ended up at the Dive Bar. 

Not “a dive bar”, The Dive Bar, 732 Amsterdam Ave., NYC. I had a Vegetarian Reuben. It came with a salad with no dressing, just the way I like it. Is it any wonder why I love this place? Well that and the power outlets under the bar and the access to free wifi. They also will fill a growler. 

It made me think of why I first came here, but it’s been so long I don’t really remember. I think I kind of stumbled upon it by accident the first time and was so impressed I keep coming back. Or at least try to stop here whenever I’m on the West Side. For a while I was writing snippy reviews on Yelp because the owner/manager would respond to any rating below a 4 and try to make it better. But I don’t know how this place could be any better than it is unless the food and drink was free.

Laundry 

Doing laundry is a pain, first there’s the whole actually having to wash my clothes. If i was rich and didn’t have trust issues (i don’t like people touching my stuff), I would pay for someone to wash my clothes.

It’s worse when it’s raining. Especially when it’s been raining all day so there are puddles i have to walk through. Add to that the construction workers keep moving the fences so i had to backtrack while pulling a rolling cart in the rain. Then i realized i had forgotten my laundry detergent, so i had to go back to my apartment to get it. I hate doing laundry.

Frustration

My plan was to log on tonight and clean up my blogs.

Today I went on WordPress and was appalled at how I had been neglecting my blogs. I started a new one to separate my stories from my crafts (because they are free so why not?) and saw how outdated they were. I was ashamed and decided that tonight I would fix that.

When I got home I …. started knitting. My red hat was just not turning out the way I wanted it to and so I had to start another. Then I opened my laptop and clicked on Chrome …. and nothing happened. An hour later after downloading and trying to reinstall, still nothing. I am fucking pissed.

Right now I am using Opera. But I couldn’t figure out how to transfer my bookmarks and of COURSE, I don’t have the websites names written down.

This is my life.

Snowpacalypse is a ‘new’ word, a made up word combining ‘snow’ with apocalypse, which shows you how much they (the ones that made it up) know since they spelled it wrong. It’s also a word i hate and never wanted to use. I find it distasteful to use a word that refers to God’s judgment for a weather event. It’s a blizzard, let’s stick with that.

While i’m on my soapbox, why are we naming storms? Hurricanes are named because there are several in a season, there are five lists of names to rotate between the years and the names are in alphabetical order. That’s how you know if it was a particularly bad year, if you can a hurricane Tanya, that was a bad year. This naming of blizzards is rather haphazard. Winter Storm Jonas? Why not just ‘the January blizzard of 2016’ if you are worried there might be more. ‘The blizzard of 2015-16 winter’ if this is the only one.

I knew it had snowed before i opened my eyes, the snow plows on 2nd Avenue woke me. When i look at my windows i can see snow on my windowsills. The snow plows came by again so it must still be snowing, i haven’t looked out my windows yet. Not even when i heard some guy screaming for help, once. I hope someone helped him, or it was a joke.

Normally when it snows like this i go to the park and take pictures. Maybe tomorrow, today i’m staying in.

Opposite day

Today’s commute was not a CFH, in fact it was the exact opposite. I did leave 15 minutes late but then I got to the bus stop before the bus. At the subway station, train pulled in when i was at the bottom of the escalator. Queensboro plaza the train was pulling in as i got to the bottom of the stairs.

The result was, i was only 10 minutes late to work.

Suddenly a shot rang out! Yes i stole that. I’m visiting my best friend this weekend, she needs help sewing a coat so i came up today. She cut out the pattern then left to go to church with her husband leaving me with the pattern pieces and fabric. Being the careful seamstress that i am i looked at the instructions to lay out all the pieces before i began cutting. There was a front, a gusset, an upper and lower sleeve, side panel and back, i picked up the last big piece of tissue paper, it wasn’t the back. The back wasn’t there. Her daughter came over from the couch to help me look for it, in the pattern pieces, the pattern envelope. We got crumpled pieces out of the garbage, no back. I wondered if the pattern company had forgotten to put it in, then i remembered she had held the back up to her to measure it. 

At this point i became convinced i had somehow lost the pattern piece and would have to leave not just her house but the country and berated myself for not learning Portuguese before having to move to  Brazil. 

Her daughter remained optimistic, with ideas and scenarios, “Maybe it fell on the floor when mom was carrying it over here.” So we started looking under things, she picked up the couch and i checked, no pattern piece. She found another piece of crumpled  up tissue paper the cat has been playing with and started to uncrumple it. “This isn’t it, too thin.” I stood next to her as the 9 became visible, “That’s it, that’s the pattern piece. Go get the iron and ironing board.”

Piece found, ironed out, and placed on the fabric. Now we can drink banana smoothies and laugh at ourselves. 

Back to running

Last Friday (October 30) I started running again, it was a good idea badly executed. I decided to run at night on the path by the East River. Going through a dark spot I didn’t notice the path was broken up and down I went. On my face, ouch.

This was supposed to be my first run after my ankle healed. My ankle was feeling good and now my face, wrist, and knees were not. My Friday ended with a trip to the Emergency Room, where the doctor looked at my face, ignored my knees, ordered a tetanus shot and had the nurse give me some bacitracin. I was sent home, no cat scan, no x-rays, not even a bandaid for my open bleeding wounds. Just instructions to see my doctor in two day.

So I made an appointment with my Doctor, he checks me out and says “Don’t stop running.” What? With my knees hurting? “Give it a few days.”

Today I went out to run, a few more days than he suggested, in addition to my knees hurting my ankle decided it wanted to hurt also. At 2K I decided my doctor is insane. My knee told me it was quitting. “No” I said to my knee (actually to myself) we are running 4K. My knee whimpered and wobbled. I walked for a minute and decided if I couldn’t run, I would walk very fast. Except that cramps my shins so I had to run, my knee shut up and I went to the diner when I was done. I run this body, my friend says that and I was never sure what it meant. Until today.

My time was pretty good, which is good considering my run is next Sunday. I hope to do great, by great I mean finishing without puking, fainting, or dying.