Then and then and now

Pershing Square (outside Grand Central) in the 1940s

What is it about photos that stirs the soul? Many thanks to Gothamist for helping me discover these Flickr photo collections of NYC from various eras. I love looking at old photos of New York City. It's amazing to see how far the city has come. Some of the photos from the 1800s look almost fake in their simplicity -- there were trees! And barns! In the city proper! To look at photos of what is now a burgeoning urban zoo from way back when is both a tribute and a eulogy.

Take for instance Trinity Church, located on Broadway downtown where Wall St. begins. Many famous figures are buried there, including Alexander Hamilton. So the place has been around for awhile.

Here it is in the late 1800s:

Unbelievable. This shot was taken from east of the church on Wall St, facing west. Townhouses of no more than 7 stories! Above-ground power lines! A general lack of din! Not many people. A far cry from the crowds and noise of today.

Here it is in the 1940s:

This shot is from the same angle as the one above, but further west on Wall St. That's Federal Hall on the right and the Stock Exchange on the left. Love the truck in the shot -- an instant frame of reference. Look at the people's clothing...look at how open the area is. No fences or cops like today. A bygone era but approaching today. The church itself looks so different. I can't say if it's the sun, the film or the technique. It look likes a movie set.

And today:

Tall buildings everywhere. People everywhere. And yet still so damn beautiful. I wonder if George Washington ever walked or rode up Wall St. -- he must have, right? And now there is a statue of him here. I realize that New York City is much younger than, say, Athens, Rome or even London or Paris. And yet there is already so much history here. When I walk around down here in FiDi I can't help but think about the millions that have tread before me. What were they like? Where did they go? Were they happy? What was the city around them like?

I am normally extremely camera-shy and by proxy I'm not usually into people photos. But the human element in the Flickr NYC collections are mesmerizing. Their eyes alone say so much. Such proud people. I like looking at photos from the 40s/50s/60s to see what my parents' lives were like growing up here. And from the 10s/20s/30s to see what my grandparents' lives were like (two of my grandparents grew up here, two immigrated just before WWII). Though I can't explain why some of the photos make me cry. The photos of the 70s and 80s don't touch me as much. It might just be too close to now, a real or fake memory rather than an era I never knew.

I wonder what our time will look like to future generations. Many of the current city movements are about a movement back to nature -- no cars in Times Square, Summer Streets, etc. -- yet many new skyscrapers are under construction reaching higher into the sky than ever. As our historical records become digital I hope we don't lose the qualities a photo can bring. One simple click makes an amazing time capsule. That's a pretty powerful tool.

Weekend of free

It's Memorial Day weekend and here in the city that means many of the residents flee out to the Hamptons for the weekend. I enjoy the emptiness, which I prefer to think of as a little more room to move around. When I lived on the Upper East Side it was almost comical how few people were left -- it was like "I Am Legend" up there. Down here in Financial District though it was still pretty crowded with tourists in town for the long weekend. I only mind when I'm trying to get to the 4/5 subway line and everyone is trying to take pictures of George Washington.

The last few days have been much better. One thing I do appreciate about myself now is that no matter how hard I try to be moody and depressed it never sticks. I can do it for 2/3 days max. I used to be able to go for months. I am so glad I've grown out of that and receded into optimism. It's tiring being sad. Plus NYC is just always so alive. The kinetic energy is impossible to repulse for too long. T stayed a few extra nights because he was in protector mode and I totally appreciated it. I of course responded by giving him a had time. Especially when I did the math and realized that he's turning 40 in a couple of months! Or 39 again as I used to tell an old acquaintance. We played it loose -- he hung out with friends while I was at work.

One common thing that happens here (and really everywhere) is that my friends will disappear for months at a time and then reappear just as suddenly. So it went this past week with my friend J, who works in the fashion industry doing something international. A buyer maybe. On Wednesday nite T and I went out to dinner at Brasserie with her and then went to the Top of the Rock -- one of my favorite places in the city. Just adore the view.

My big project this week was all about music. My first project is a poster. I took the lyrics to one of my favorite songs and designed it into a text art poster. It came out really cool, I must say. I finally got around today to researching printing costs. A friend had recommended Zazzle and the cost was going to be $180 or something ridiculous like that. But Zazzle was having a 70% off (!) sale so I ended up paying $60. Pics to come once the finished product comes.


The other was hanging up my basses and guitar, something I'd been planning to do since January. It was nerve-racking. I couldn't get the wall anchors in and neither could T so I decided to risk it with just the screws. I tested on the Ibanez (far left) first because, well, it was the cheapest one to replace. It stayed up overnight and so up went the other two...after a trip to Home Depot. The wall hanger's actual hanger piece had a long screw that was pertruding too far out the back to mount flush. A nice store associate offered to saw it down for me. Thanks nice guy!! I hope that having my guitars out and available all the time will inspire me to write and play more often. So far though T and I are just staring at how pretty they are.

Earlier today T once again proved how he's got mad skills. We were riding down the elevator when he ran into an old friend and somehow got us invited to a party in my own building. I could only laugh...I have a lot to learn from him or someone. We declined though. He left for Jersey for man stuff and I have plans to go surfing tomorrow if the weather holds up. I can't wait either way. These days off are so refreshing.

Ancillary causes

Like most people, I spent most of college broke. For the first three years I spent any extra money I had on clothing. Not beer. Not food. Not drugs. Clothing. And it made me happy enough. (We've all got our vices.) I didn't really have discretionary income until senior year, which probably not coincidentally was the first year I gained weight in college.

Weighty issues aside I remember being so excited about my senior year. I was finally living in a cool apartment. I had a little bit of money to spare. I was getting ready to launch a fabulous career in journalism and/or the music industry (ba-dum-chick!). Every door seemed to be opening. My life seemed well in order.

So it was a shock what a disaster 2003-04 was. That year I also joined a sorority. It was something I'd wanted to do but didn't have the money for until 2003. But for some reason I got a major friend backlash about the whole thing -- they said it wasn't like me and that I changed. Maybe I did change, it's hard for me to say objectively even looking back now. I do remember feeling pretty lonely and commiserating that while one side of my life (the financials) seemed relatively in order, the other side (the social) had fallen into disarray. Much of my life felt out of control.

It helped spur me back East and eventually the move into NYC. That was a good thing. I had to make some difficult decisions. They say you're still forming who you are in your 20s and I re-examined my personality a bit. It felt weird doing it -- I literally evaluated my type of attitude and the way I reacted in situations. For a year or two I focused on consciously changing myself to be what I thought was more socially acceptable. While my social side slowly recovered to a semi-respectable state my financial side a-tumbled. Rent-poor became a term I got all too familiar with. Now an adult I had a serious conversation with myself that went something like, "Self, do you agree to become rent-poor if it means you're in a good neighborhood close to friends and happy?" "Yes, self, I agree." "Terrific, now stop talking to yourself, it's weird."

I think 2007 was probably the best year in terms of financial/social balance since college. In 2008 my financials started turning for the better and oddly enough, my social scale begin to tip downward once again. And now here I am in 2009 with the best pay I've ever made, rent-poor once again but loving where I live and yet goddammit I am fucking up the social stuff. In some ways it's worse because I feel like I am making the effort and yet the efforts are not yielding the results I want. I want to improve myself yet I'm not sure the concessions and changes I'm making are doing it. People must see through it? I'm not sure.

New York City is a tough, tough city to be social in when you don't know anyone. Even harder when you are still building yourself. At least that has been my experience. We are in so many ways a city of loners, a city where everyone is goal-oriented and driven towards their own personal goal. We often forget to step aside and see each other. I plead guilty on this as much as anyone. So if my failure comes from trying to please others and forgetting to please myself I don't mind taking a step back to become myself again. The issue is I've forgotten the right mix. I know small bits and pieces but the passive ingredient I introduced into my personality has overwritten some of harder pieces. It's an everyday battle to find the right balance. I am laughing as I write this because it sounds self-involved and silly. I must have missed this lesson when I was 4 -- how to make friends and influence people. Or maybe I just like crashing into walls. Repeatedly.

Poor T. He's crashing on my couch for 3 days in the middle of this existential breakdown. The guy just wanted to see the Financial District again for a few days. Ha, he had no idea what he was in for. He has suggested I make "Tubthumping" my personal anthem. It's a start.

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On a much lighter note, I made T watch "The Bachelorette" with me last nite. During the show I was telling him that I would totally do that show. Much to his chagrin. He came from the logical side saying that the people on the show were there for all the wrong reasons. I came from the modern romantic side saying it would be way easier to find one guy out of a group of 25. (Romantic, right?) Then came the previews for the rest of the season where we already see that poor Jillian finds out that some of the guys were just playing the game rather than actually trying to love her (!), that some were just fame manwhores (!!) and that some maybe left girlfriends back home (!!!).

I turned to T and said I would never, ever do the show. He patted me on the head. Lesson learned.

Driving is hell in NYC (in case you didn't already know)

Hey, look! It's Tudor City. I totally almost lived there until I looked at a few apartments and cried. They were so ridiculously tiny. Like 200 sq. feet tiny. And when they built Tudor City people didn't have kitchens in their apartments (they ate in mess-hall style cafeterias) so you would see one of the closets sacrificed to the gods of hot plates and dorm fridges. But that is not what this post is about.



And oh hey there's the Chrysler Building with Tudor City! Great shots right? You don't usually see shots from this angle. You see I got these great pictures while sitting on the FDR. Yep. I was in a car. Driving. Don't worry, I wasn't taking pictures while zooming along at (ahem) 40 mph because that's the speed limit. Nope. I was at a standstill thanks to gawd awful city traffic.



On Wednesday it took me 2.5 hours to get to New Rochelle for a Seder. It should have taken me an hour tops. I should have predicted traffic would be hell but I had no idea how bad. I didn't want to take the train because my cousin doesn't really live near a train station. So instead I decided to get a Mini Cooper from Zipcar and zoom and sing at the top of my lungs. I left work early and started the commute at 4:30 from Battery Park City.

(Quick tangent: There is no Mini Cooper on the east side of Financial District. What gives Zipcar? That's your friggin flagship vehicle. Oh and PS the cars at the Cedar St garage are always messy inside and have less than 1/4 tank. I have animosity against my neighborhood Zipsters. Thanks especially to the person who left a Starbucks soy latte in the BMW 328 overnight! My car ride was so pleasant in 30 degree temperatures with the windows down to alleviate the smell.)

My cousin had given me directions going up the West Side but my friend who'd left 30 minutes before me called to warn me off that path. So I thought I would just zip up the FDR drive to the Triboro aka RFK bridge to 95. Oh man. What a mess the FDR was! At 5 PM I hadn't made it to Houston St. At 5:30 PM I was just passing Tudor City. At 6 PM I was near tears at 96th St. Side streets were no better. It was the massive Passover commute!

I have never hit such bad traffic on the FDR. When I lived on the Upper East Side I'd just get on at 96th St and sometimes it would be stop and go. This was just stop. The only good news was that I got to take in the pretty scenery. I went through two CDs before I cleared Manhattan. I almost turned around twice -- the only thing that stopped me was that the traffic was equally bad going southbound. And the WORST was all the idiot drivers weaving in and out of traffic trying to gain any position. I picked the left lane and stayed there almost the whole way up.

Wait though. It gets better. Around the Queensboro Bridge I heard sirens behind me. Thinking it was an emergency I moved over. Except it wasn't an ambulance. It was the Mayor's caravan. Yep, that's right. The Mayor who takes the subway to work was apparently in such a rush to get home that they had to make a traffic jam even worse. I hope he made it in time for dinner!

I almost didn't. I was ridiculously late. So was everyone else though. And for contrast, the trip home took me 40 minutes. And it would have been shorter but I got caught by the toll shift change entering Manhattan. I wasn't even speeding! I didn't have to brake around corners though...god bless Mini Coopers.

The give and take

Despite all the great things about living down in Financial District there is also lameness. And things that are just weird. I guess because everyone lives in converted business buildings infrastructure is still catching up. Let's start with the biggest FAIL: it seems like nothing is open here on the weekends (especially not food places). Hale & Hearty Soups is all my all-time winter favorite and I have not one but 2 within 5 blocks! Too bad both of them close at like 4:30 PM during the week and don't even bother opening on the weekends. There is no decent pizza place close by that's open on the weekends. At least there's a Chipotle. Duane Reade? Yeah it's the only drugstore down here and it's frickin closed on Sundays. Au Bon Pain? Closed on Sundays. Kudos are due to the Gristede's on Maiden Lane (which, uh, Google Maps says is an unverified listing) which is open decent hours. Unfortunately it's a small grocery store even by NYC standards so while it's great for the basics it's more like a big Bodega than a grocery store. Yeah, that's right, I said Gristede's. This is the nicest, newest one I've ever seen. It's obviously a privately owned affiliate and the owners do a great job with the small space. They do not deliver though. That's a bummer on a rainy day.

Oh and if you have a bank don't plan on visiting it down here in THE FINANCIAL DISTRICT. Because it ain't down here. There's no Wachovia branch. There is this dinky little ATM on Broad Street which is great for taking money out but not so much for putting money in. I'm old fashioned -- I like giving money to peeps, not machines. But don't worry, there is a Tiffany's, a True Religion and a Borders. So at least we've got those necessities covered.

The other weird thing is the lack of local businesses. Restaurants aside everything is a chain or mini-chain. I recently learned that my Uncle used to own a grocery store on Pearl St and my Dad worked bagging groceries there as a kid (this was in the 1950s or 1960s). A little piece of family history! That store is long gone, replaced by I don't know what because I don't know the exact address. There doesn't seem to be much of that stuff down here. It's kind of weird.

Apartment Therapy's Small Cool Contest is Back

Yeah that's right. No posts for two months and now two in one day! I just wanted to take a moment to give a shout-out to Apartment Therapy's Small Cool contest. I entered last year and though I didn't even make it out of the first round it was such a fun time. It made me feel SO great to even make the site. And my goodness my apartment looked SO CLEAN. It was like that for exactly 2 hours I think. I also think my apartment was completely different than the modern minimal mantra AT pushes. They never re-used any of my photos in posts. I appreciate that they posted a different aesthetic from their own in mine though. I heart them.

So far this is my favorite entry but please do head on over and check them all out. And comment if you like 'em. Trust me, the entrants really appreciate it.

Slacker!

Well, hi. I know I know. That I've fallen down makes me a bit sad but I'm gonna use that tired old "life got super busy and then the economy went to hell excuse." So let's see, where are we? Oh right.

I've lived in the Financial District for almost 4 months now and I LOVE IT. I'm enjoying it so much more than the Upper East Side. No offense at all to the UES -- it's not you, it's me. It turns out that NOT living that close to shopping is much better for my wallet. And while I really miss Central Park I've replaced it with the conglomerate of South Street Seaport-Battery Park-the West Side bike path. My commute to work is much more roomy. Trying to find a lame-ass club has been replaced by visiting one of the local pubs or restaurants. It's probably also the safest neighborhood -- incredibly limited to cars with tons of police around both the World Trade Center and the Stock Exchange. I could go on (and I probably will).

I'll admit it: I get a kick out of telling people that I live on Wall St. Waaaahhhllll street. When I place orders over the phone reps ooh and ahh. Despite the negativity directed towards the stock exchange (two blocks away!) or AIG/AIU/whatever (one block the other way!) Wall Street means something to people. And the superficial side of me gets all buttered up when people coo.

As an added bonus, the Financial District is old New York City. I can give George Washington a very high-five for me/low-five for him if I want on my way past Federal Hall (that is, when they're not shooting lame-ass Domino's pizza commercials there). Many of the streets around me are cobblestone and a proliferation of mounted police officers means I can hear the sounds of the way it used to be. My street is typically pretty dead once Deutsche Bank clears out all the Towncars between 8:30 and 9 PM and I am totally OK with that. I walk out of my building, turn left and have an awesome view of Trinity Church. Just don't try finding a taxi to get home here. You will have to direct them.


And just to rub it in to my former self a bit more...my apartment is 50 times better than my old place. In fact part of the reason why I stopped blogging for a bit was because I honestly thought it was a mirage. I couldn't really be living here. If I said something they would find out (whoever they are) and come drag me out, kicking and screaming the entire way back to dorm-style living in one room. I went to Colorado on vacation and was afraid I'd come back, try to get into my apartment and come to grips with the fact that it was all a dream. But now I have come to realize that yes, I really live in a doorman/elevator building; yes, I really have more than one room; and most importantly yes, I really have a dishwasher.

Not that life is all peaches and cream. I am incredibly rent-poor right now. I knew this and budgeted for it...sort of. I have promised myself not to touch my savings. I had spent the final couple of months at my last job spending myself back into debt. Damn that stress. And really things would have worked out fine at the new place if not for the economy...I would gotten a raise at my 6-month review and maybe even a bonus. Instead I'm just happy to have a job (and one I enjoy to boot! again!) and quietly suffering over bills each month. After rent and expenses I've committed myself to using my disposable income to pay down the cards, but there's not much there. Some nights I can't sleep because I'm so worried about my finances. I don't want to end up like my parents.

I had even considered breaking my lease and moving. But lord I can't do it! The mental health I have gained living in a calm situation is worth saving $1000/mo by moving out to Queens. Really I'm counting my blessings to have this kind of pain to deal with. I know my apartment is below market rate. So I hope to use this time of no disposable money as fodder the next time I want to go spendthirft. For now I'm creatively looking for free events and staying home a lot. But who am I kidding? I'm kind of a homebody anyway. I blog. I code CSS for fun. I play video games. I'm like a 13-year-old boy.

And then the last busy factor came courtesy of a guy or two. No need to get into the messy details, but they're gone now. T is still around and we're currently chatting back and forth about Lost a lot and applying it to our faux relationship. We pretend like NYC is the Island and say really outlandish things. Things like "if I had traveled back in time to 1997 when you were mid-20s and working in the city but had been my current self we would be together!" (me) or "if I had been moved forward in time by the island from 1995 to 2006 in Connecticut we would be co-habitating right now and you'd be pouting about me not inviting you to poker night" (him). Instead we're like Sawyer and Kate -- back in the same place but years apart; him giving me 10 stupid yet endearing nicknames and me giving him exceedingly long glancess without dialogue while corny dramatic music plays. Yep, I'm a geek.