The good news that makes me so sad.

    

For years, long before I met Oliver, I thought it would be kind of cool to do a green card interview. The marriage kind, like you see in the movies whenever two characters get married solely so one can get U.S. residency. A sour-faced government pencil pusher takes you into a little room and asks you details about your relationship. Where did you meet? What are the names of your husband's siblings, and what is the order of their birth? What color is your wife's toothbrush?

Real life is a little different than the movies, of course.  In real life the interview comes years after your wedding, not weeks. After your foreigner spouse has had the probationary green card for two years s/he applies for a permanent card... and the government decides what to do with you.

Do they trust you? Do they believe, based on the stacks of paperwork you have provided, that your marriage is real? If they're not sure... interview!

I had my fingers crossed. I really did. This would be our big chance to prove our love to the world! It would be like Jeopardy, only a special version of Jeopardy with all questions centering around us! How's that for an ego stroke? Someone wants to know all about us! No, not just someone. The U.S. government. Our nation has taken a keen interest in the most mundane details of our life. He drinks his coffee black! She loves NPR! He pays the bills! We have a Netflix account!

Alas, when Oliver brought in the mail today his approval letter was in it. All done. The paperwork was believable. No interview for us. This is a good thing. It will save us stress, hassle, and a day of vacation time. We can move forward, plan vacations out of the country, etc. I'm really glad... I'm just a little sad at the same time.

Hi there.

Less than two weeks left of school, and this is where I'm going to try and spend my time until then. 

It's hard though, when the instrument of my productivity is also the instrument of my distraction. Curse you internet!

See you later.

Fresh Air, Brotherly Love, Prison

Philadelphia!

Let me preface all this with something I noticed when I was teaching in China. Teachers at my company were in Beijing on one of three contracts: 3 month, 6 month, 1 year. As the  first days stretched into the first weeks, it became apparent that the amount of time you planned to spend in China determined how you spent your free time. If you were there for only three months you inevitably tore up the town, rooting through every crack and crevice to soak up every experience as quickly as you could. If you were there for six months you tended to take it a little more slowly, but your weekends often involved a cultural to-do list. If you had a one-year contract (with the possibility of renewal in the back of your mind), you haunted the expat bars, slept until 2 the next afternoon, and kept talking about how much you wanted to see Thing X and Thing Y.

I have often thought about this "theory of leisure productivity" since moving to New York. For the first time in our time as "us", we aren't on borrowed time. Beijing was an extended vacation, Canada was a holding place, and New York? New York has no definite end in sight. Maybe this explains why we hit the ground running in Toronto, and have barely left the 5 boroughs in the past year and a half. Sure, there has been school... but there hasn't been that urgency to get out and see. Interesting.

With all this in mind, we packed up and went to Philly this weekend. What a wonderful place! I can't believe we didn't come here sooner. I won't do a laundry list of the things we did and saw (except to mention the amazing and disturbing Mutter Museum; a to-die-for salad at Farmacia involving pomegranate; pistachio dust and the creamiest feta known to man; Retrospect, and the incredible Eastern State Penitentiary) It was such a breath of fresh air, and an amusing one at that. "Oh, it's so peaceful here! It seems so charming and manageable - look, the buildings don't go higher than three stories!" Who'd have thought I'd ever think of a city of 1.4 million as a breath of sweet, country air? Adaptability is an amazing thing.

We alternated between semi-aimless wandering and structured sightseeing. It was nice to pause in the graveyard of an old church when the sun was hitting it just so... to see gravestones worn almost smooth by centuries of wind and rain... to admire the shadows on a brick wall...

On a different plane - an unsettling one - it was equally nice to wander the halls of the Eastern State Penitentiary. The prison has been closed for almost 40 years, and has been purposely left in a semi-ruinous state. The visuals are amazing, and so are the stories behind them. For the first decades of its existence the prison was an "all solitary confinement, all the time" kind of place. Prisoners received meals through a little trap door, exercised in their isolated 10-foot courtyards, and generally didn't see another living soul the entire time they were incarcerated. Insane. That's how I would come out of a situation like that - completely insane.

The Commute

 

I commute from Brooklyn to Rutgers about twice a week. It's two hours each way. Yikes, right? Whenever I mention this commute to someone I get a look of pity, and probably for good reason. Who wants to spend four hours of their day in transit? I read a book recently that cited a study on happiness. People who win the lottery, it seems, generally return to their old levels of happiness after about a year. Same goes for those who suffer spinal cord injuries. People can adapt to just about anything. Anything that is, but a long commute. According to this study there is no end to the misery you will suffer en route as you waste hour after hour, year after year.

I guess I'm a unique individual then (my parents were right!!), because I've gotten used to it. Unbelievably, on a good day I even enjoy the trip. I took a camera with me today - this bleak, gray Tuesday - and took a few pictures. 

*          *          *

The walk from my apartment to the subway station. I love this stretch of street. Brownstones, old trees. 

My subway station. The frenzied scramble to the platform when I hear a train coming  (because waiting three minutes for the next train - death!).  Alternately--  pulling a book out on the platform while I wait for the 2 to arrive.

Penn Station. An uncharacteristically calm scene. Trying to walk among the throngs to my commuter train always reminds me of that F. Scott Fitzgerald quote: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." Boats against the current indeed. I've done some experimenting and have discovered that if I square my shoulders and stand up ramrod straight, people seem to block my path less.

NJ Transit to New Brunswick. Since I'm commuting against traffic, there are always plenty of seats. Paradise! Sip my tea, read my book...

Watch the poor, polluted Meadowlands fly past...

Catch a glimpse of Newark...

Arrive at my destination, a full day behind me and a full day ahead.


Yikes.

Holding Pattern

One month. That's all I have left of school. One month and I'm back in the real world, where assignment deadlines don't loom over me like a dark cloud and I can sit and read a book without feeling like I should be doing something else. 

Am I complaining? I hope it doesn't sound like it, because I've enjoyed these three semesters. And truth be told, I've had a lot more free time this fall since I have a smaller classload. Still, I feel like I've been sort of in a holding pattern, waiting for January to get things started again. There's so much I want to do! A short list:

1. Learn German. For real this time. Lessons two nights a week, driving toward a yet-to-be-finalized goal. How quickly can you become fluent if you take private lessons and really throw yourself into it? Two years? Three? 

2. Learn to sew. My mom gave me her trusty old Kenmore sewing machine last year (after I had conveniently convinced her to buy a new, nicer machine for herself. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha!) I've made a few things in the past - an adorable skirt last Christmas for example, with the help of the aforementioned mom. I've got decorative pillows I want to re-cover. I've got a ripped sheet I want to convert to pillow cases. I've got some other skirts I want to make. Etc.

3. Knit a hat. I've done scarves, but I think that now is the time to move on to something that requires a little more skill.

4. Become a regular attendee of The Moth and other such things. Really, this needs to be done. (I also secretly want to audition to be on the Moth stage.)

5. Learn to cook with tofu, seitan, tempeh, etc. A one-off class perhaps.

6. Ski! We got hooked last winter, and have great plans to hit up the reasonably-priced slopes located within a couple hours drive from New York. Next year Vermont?

Yeah. Many plans. And just one more month of standing in place, sort of shuffling my feet.

Signs that we are going downhill

I ate a box of Reese's Pieces for dinner.

Oliver came home raving about an adorable rat he had seen on the subway platform.

I had to set a timer for 15 minutes and physically pry the laptop from his hands. "We're going to sit next to each other and just talk, damnit!"

How Much Now?

I was out running a few errands when I saw the coat. It was in the front window of a store I pass almost every day but never go into. It was beautiful.

I actually need a new winter coat. I just bought one last year (a crappy one that started falling apart before the winter was over) though, and I kind of hate the idea of buying another one so soon. I've perused the racks of a few vintage/secondhand stores, thinking that would be a nice compromise, but nothing has jumped out at me yet.

So this beautiful coat; I had to go in and check out the price tag. It didn't matter so much that I was wearing a ratty t shirt, had wet hair and no makeup, and was carrying a bottle of grape juice with a picture of Grover on it. Just a peek.

I looked around a bit but couldn't find it on a rack, so I asked a salesclerk. "The coat in the window - where is it?"

"Oh," she replied. "It's made to order." You can try on the mannequin sample though; do you want me to take it down?"

"Um, that seems like a lot of hassle for you," I said. "How much does it cost?" ($200 or less, in my cost-benefit analysis, would make mannequin wrangling worth it)

"Well, you can choose which fabric you want the coat to come in. Wool is $980, a wool-cashmere blend is $1250, and all cashmere is $1600."

I left the store and walked home in a daze. Are there really people in my neighborhood walking around in thousand dollar coats?