“I did try very hard to tell the whole truth without violating my literary instincts. One can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a window pane.”
-George Orwell
Wine-less Wine Class
Over the weekend my friend, we’ll call her Z, and I attended a wine class. We had signed up for it over a month ago and had really been looking forward to it; what better way to spend a brisk November afternoon then to learn about wine with one of your closest girlfriends and be warmed by it. We had thoughts of coming out of the class slightly tipsy and then of continuing out festivities into the evening. We would be onto our nightcap while everyone else was just starting their night. Little did we know however, that things were not going to go exactly as planned.
As I hauled my ass into Manhattan from Queens my friend impatiently tried to hail a cab from the east side. Despite the fact that I got into Penn Station about thirty minutes before the class was going to start and it was only a few blocks away, I took a shopping detour and then had to rush down through claustrophobic sidewalks to get there. Z and I try to make it to places early but we always end up comedically rushing to get anywhere on time.
We got to the class about five minutes late but luckily, there was only a handful of people there and a long list, so the instructor informed us that it would be another fifteen minutes before the class started. We found a spot away from the rest of the people and after playing musical chairs to get the ones that were the least uncomfortable, we hunkered down with lowered voices to get a little girl talk in. The only thing that was missing of course was the wine.
About twenty minutes later, after more people had shown up, the instructor came up to the front of the room and said that he was going to begin. The first thing that he told us was that there wasn’t going to be any tastings. I think all of us probably looked at him in shock. What did he mean no tastings? Was he serious? he went on to clarify that although we were going to be discussing wine and learning the basics, we would not in fact be drinking any. He should have put that in his course description, because I doubt that that many people would have signed up for a Saturday afternoon class with the knowledge that there wasn’t going to be any wine. I mean, how can you actually learn about wine without tasting it. Z and I looked at each other, each giving the other the let’s-get-out-of-here eyes, we even turned and spoke to a few of our neighbors and asked if they knew that there was not going to be any wine, and they were just as shocked.
During the beginning, Z and I kept looking at each other, wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. We were sort of half paying attention and then we got into it. It turned out that it wasn’t so bad. It would have been nice to actually taste wine too and we weren’t going to pretend to understand why there wasn’t any when the class had, after all, not been free, but we ended up having a decent time.
More than half of what he had been saying, I realized that I knew…an old friend of mine from high school and junior high is an assistant sommelier now, so, he must have taught me more than I thought. I know that I’m going to sound a bit pretentious when I say this (my uncle’s words, by the way, which I had to laugh at), but I liked the class more, knowing that I knew most of what he was saying. It’s silly I know, but true.
After the class, Z and I were both starving, so we set out to find something to eat, and wine. We had walked halfway across town when we decided to walk back towards the direction where we had just come from and go to this cute little irish Pub right near Penn Station. It’s the spot that I used to go to with my aunt for burgers and wine. They have delicious burgers and fries there, and I believe that if a place does not have good fries, then you just simply cannot have burgers there.
Before we even decided upon the food, we b-lined it for the wine list. Since we hadn’t actually tasted any wine, it was only fair that we test out out new found obnoxious wine skills on these unsuspecting victims. Z picked out an ’06 Bordeaux and, because it was French wine, I was satisfied with the choice. We told the waitress about our now infamous wine class and she didn’t mind our obnoxious behavior at all. Needless to say, the Bordeaux turned out to be fabulous. I love a good Bordeaux. Actually, I love French wine in general. Oh, and the food was really good too. By a quarter after seven, we were out of that restaurant and onto our nightcap.
What we learned fromm all of this? Just because you sign up for a wine class, don’t expect there to definitely be wine. Also, Z and I can pick out an awesome bottle.
How Do You Know?
There’s an old line of advice that people give out when others find themselves with a broken heart; love will come to you when you stop looking for it. I, the hopeless romantic that I am took that literally for a long time. What I didn’t realize was that that statement doesn’t just apply to love, it applies to life. Things always happen when you least expect them, whether it is meeting a new friend, finding the perfect job or discovering your new favorite song. Life happens while you’re living it, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t question things.
How do you know when it’s okay to let down your guard and trust someone? What has to happen? I believe that there’s always a moment when the line gets crossed and if you can’t think of that moment, then it hasn’t happened yet. It’s not easy to let someone new in, but if you have the courage to do so, it can be inspiring. I was recently inspired by someone in ways that I had long forgotten and it is nice to be able to feel that way again. Everyone who comes into our lives has a purpose, whether it be minute or profound. Everyone is there for some reason to help you discover something new about yourself…or something old.
My issues with trust stem deep. In the past I’ve tried to pretend that they didn’t exist, but that’s the thing with trust issues…they always resurface. I’ve learned to accept the fact that they are there and the causes of them, and deal with them instead of pushing them away. This way, they breathe instead of fester.
“I have more than once observed that, in my second character, my faculties seemed sharpened to a point and my spirits more tensely elastic; thus it came about that, where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment.”
-Robert Lewis Stevenson
Jekyll & Hyde
“When asleep we go back to the old ways of looking at things and of feeling about them, to impulses and activities which long ago dominated us, in a way which seems impossible in the waking hours, when the later self is in the ascendant. In this way the rhythmic change from wakefulness to sleep effects a recurrent reinstatement of our ‘dead selves,’ an overlapping of the successive personalities, the series of whose doings and transformations constitutes our history”
-James Sully
The Dream as a Revelation
My New Favorite Accessory
I had been dying to go into this cute little vintage shop in Huntington called My Inheritance since before the summer. I had seen it in passing a few times, but always on a Sunday when, I’m sad to say, it is closed.
Back in May, I had been visiting my mother. We were walking around town window-shopping, when we happened upon this store. Immediately, my attention was drawn to this amazing rose clutch that looked like it had literally been made of roses. Needless to say it was love at first sight. It was a Sunday, so to my dismay, I was unable to go inside and retrieve this item of my affection. The next day my mother went back to the store and bought it for me; I was beyond thrilled.
A few weekends ago, I had nothing to do and was in possession of a car, a rare treat for me, so I decided to drive out to Huntington for the sole purpose of going to that vintage shop and possibly treating myself to something. With a latte in hand and my ipod plugged in, I set off on my hour-long embarkment.
Once in Huntington, I parked the car on the edge of town (because even though I grew up there, my sense of direction gets lost for some reason) and trotted through town to My Inheritance. It was chillier than I had anticipated and I immediately wished that I had remembered to bring a jacket. Upon entering, I was filled with pure ecstasy. I decided to peruse the store in its entirety. Jewelry, purses, clothing, all either vintage or couture or both; I was in heaven.
When I was about halfway through my examination the owner walked up to me and asked if I was looking for something in particular. I told her possibly a necklace. She brought me over to a display, which contained vintage pieces from the ’50s. I loved the style of them, but to my dismay, they were all yellow gold. I hate yellow gold. I asked her if she had anything in silver and she did. As we were looking at the few silver pieces that were there, she explained to me that they were rare because yellow gold was popular in the ’50s. I picked up one necklace. It had a double chain and a big, decorative clasp, and tried it on. I stared at it in the mirror and it was beautiful. I bought it immediately.
If you are in the market for a nice vintage piece or you want to give an extra special gift, I totally recommend going to My Inheritance in Huntington. What better a gift can you get than a vintage, one-of-a-kind item. I have worn my necklace at least a dozen times already and always get compliments for it. Oh, and the rose clutch is also a hit!
“When I watched you dancing that day, I saw something else. I saw a new world coming rapidly. More scientific…more cures for the old sickness…good, but a harsh, cruel world. And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never let her go. That is what I saw. It wasn’t really you, what you were doing, I know that. But I saw you and it broke my heart. And I’ve never forgotten.”
-Kazuo Ishiguro
Never Let Me Go
To Purchase or Not to Purchase
For those of you that don’t know me, I am extremely picky when it comes to, well, anything…so it should come as no shock that I have been looking for the perfect casual boot for the past few years, sadly to no avail. There are so many options to choose from and nothing had caught my eye, until now.
Recently, I had narrowed my list of choices down to riding boots. Having grown up with an interest in horses and getting the opportunity to ride them for two summers, I had always liked the simple yet timeless look of the riding boot. The sleek, smooth lines uninterrupted by much detail exude class. I have finally found the perfect one! The Frye Phillip Harness Tall. It is my dream boot. From the soft vintage leather to the barely there heel, it screams to be worn. Now, I am definitely a bit girly when it comes to how I present myself and although these Frye boots possess a certain ruggedness, I feel that they will be a good addition to my style rather than emasculating it. I love the cognac and dark brown, and honestly would have a hard time choosing between the two. They also come in black. At $328 before tax, they’re a bit steep, but Frye boots aren’t just any boots; they’re an investment. Not sure if I will in fact purchase these, but I will dream about them until I do!
The Perfect Ending to a Bad Day
We all have had those days; the kind of day where nothing sits right and everything piles up. Today was one of those days for me, but the fabric of it was weaved the day before. Before I even got into the office yesterday morning I received a phone call from my old supervisor asking me to cover a task for him that I don’t normally do, which meant that I wouldn’t have time to fetch my morning latte since I now had to go out of my way to get it. There had been the perfect little coffee shop practically in my building and they had made the best coffee ever, or so I was told. I am not a coffee drinker, but I do love lattes and within the first sip it was love at first sight. I can still remember the way it tasted, the satisfaction that only the perfect latte could bring. Sadly, the perfect little coffee shop is no more. A few months ago it was taken away from me and I am still heartbroken because of it. So, I marched to work yesterday morning, sans latte, in dread of the task I had been forced into. This of course meant that I wouldn’t have time to hit the gym.
With no other issues, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly, that is until I tried to go to sleep. After about an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up. I was wide awake when I shouldn’t have been and ended up staying up for a good portion of the night, all the while knowing that I would be beyond tired in the morning. Finally, I was able to fall asleep, only to be awoken by my alarm not too long after and also not realizing that it was my alarm at first. I can always tell when I should really be staying in bed and sleeping; when the alarm disorients me. I sluggishly got ready for work and ended up having to run for the bus, which is always fun. Then I went into the subway, fishing my ipod out of my bag only to stare at it in disbelief when it wouldn’t turn on; another failed attempt to gym. I cannot go to the gym without my ipod. I’ve tried it mutliple times. One time, the entire gym was devoid of music. All of the other times, it just wasn’t the same. I feel like without it, I can’t concentrate enough…the music pulls you in and gets you to push more. Any avid gym-goer would tell you the same.
I got into work this morning and immediately my mind turned towards finding the closest Apple store in conjunction to my office so that I could venture in during my lunch break, purchase a new ipod and run. There are a slew of Apples stores in Manhattan, but none of them in a lunch-worthy distance. I succumbed to the thought of purchasing my replacement online, but as soon as I went to the website, I realized that I didn’t know which ipod I wanted. Did I want the same one that just broke on me or did I want one that was different. With the answer yet to be determined I set about my normal day, cloaked in exhaustion.
On my way home I was squashed into the subway. The car was packed and there was hardly any room to stand, let alone move around. The train ended up being stopped at a station due to a sick passenger. I don’t know about you, but that seems to always be the excuse that the train conductors use, so instead of my feeling bad for the person who was supposedly ill, I got furious. Of course my train would be stalled when I didn’t have my ipod to escape. The stalling of the train also meant that I was going to miss my bus and have to stand outside in the cold for an extra thirty minutes, waiting for the next one, which, by the way, is exactly what happened. I longed for the summer, where I had been subletting in the East Village with my sister and the commute was so much easier.
Finally at home, I made myself a cup of tea and turned on the television to an episode of SATC. The warm feel of the mug in between my hands and the fragrance of the tea in the comfort of my quaint little apartment seemed to envelope me and suddenly, my day didn’t seem that bad. Sometimes, all you need is a nice cup of tea and the comfort of your own space.
Don Quixote, Revisited?
Long ago, I started a list of books that I wanted to read. I figured I’d check them off as I went and slowly, I would actually read them all. The list is a mixture of classic and modern literature, some of which has been recommended to me and others that I knew of and have wanted to read myself. One novel that I had been dying to read was Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes. I picked it up last summer and started reading it, and when I say last summer I mean the summer of 2010. I was so excited to finally be reading this novel that I didn’t care how thick it was or how heavy. People laughed when I would pull this book out of my purse and ask me why I was lugging it around. They couldn’t understand why, in their minds, I would choose to read something so grandiose when there was plenty of literature available in the “smaller” variety. There ignorance of this great work of fiction was the encouragement I needed to continue…or so I thought.
I have to confess that I have only gotten through about a quarter of the novel. It’s not that it isn’t entertaining. I actually laughed out loud numerous times while the novel accompanied me as I rode public transportation or sat at my desk at work. The problem that I found with Don Quixote was not so much the content, but the repetition of it. The main character, Don Quixote, constantly gets into scrapes and then gets out of them. He has his own reality and constantly miss-assumes things as other than what they really are. I got a little bored with the repetition and am sorry to say that my copy has been sitting on my shelf collecting dust for the past year, but I have decided to open it up again and delve into it with the determination to finish it this time around. It really is a great novel; just one that might need to be read in strides instead of all at once.
elizabethsara 