best friends and a little bitta jazz.

Jennelley came to visit me this weekend!! It was so nice having someone familiar here, and someone to hang out with :) I missed her. We had dinner on Friday night at this cute little place called The Shake Shack, on 78th and Columbus. Delicious! I hadn't had a burger in a looong time. After that, we ended up walking from Central Park, to Columbus Circle, to Times Square, to Herald Square, to Madison Square Park, to Union Square, to Washington Square and NYU, to SoHo, and then home. 100 BLOCKS, no joke! It was exhausting, but it made the burger-eating a little less guilty, and it was nice to be able to show Jennelle around New York!

I painted all day Sunday, which I thought my Grandma would be proud of :) I hadn't done any kind of art project in years, so this was an absolute blast. I completely lost track of time and ended up painting until 11 PM (and I usually am in bed by 1030 on school nights..) but I loved it.

Monday, I was at school from 730 AM until 1030 PM. Longest day of my life.. but honestly, I wasn't even that tired, even with my lack of sleep the night before. Classes ended at 5, then I had to attend an Education Major seminar until 7. My roommate was playing a show in the school theatre at 8, so I decided to eat my PB&H and stick around to hear him. Now, I've listened to tracks of him and his band, named Origin Blue, play before, but I also know that jazz is a genre that must be listened to in person. From the moment they started playing, an enormous smile stretched across my face and never went away. Was that really my roommate playing so beautifully?? I was, and still am, quite speechless. Isamu is, by far, one of the most talented, magnificent, charismatic musicians I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. Honestly, he's exceptional. When he plays, the happiness and passion that he feels for music is not only expressed through the notes he plays but through the energy in the room and the smile on his face. The whole band, comprising of a pianist (Isamu McGregor), a bassist (Evan Crane), and a drummer (Jeff Hatcher), flawlessly display what it looks like to have the love of music running through their veins. I've never met the other boys, but they are unbelievably talented musicians. The video below is of them playing a song called "Krantz Time," which Isamu wrote, and described to me as "the crowd pleaser." It was my favorite of the evening :) This version is with Francesco Bearzatti, a saxaphone player who they met while studying abroad in Florence this past spring. Incredible!

silly, I know...

...but I curiously Googled "what your birth date reveals about you" and got a pretty accurate answer. Here is my supposed personality:

# 2 THE PEACEMAKER
2's are the born diplomats. They are aware of others' needs and moods and often think of others before themselves. Naturally analytical and very intuitive they don't like to be alone. Friendship and companionship is very important and can lead them to be successful in life, but on the other hand they'd rather be alone than in an uncomfortable relationship. Being naturally shy they should learn to boost their self-esteem and express themselves freely and seize the moment and not put things off.

i wish you were closer

would you laugh if i told you i missed you? that lying in your arms is where i long to be and where i'd like to stay? when we kiss, electricity radiates from your lips to mine, down every finger tip, every toe, every strand of hair. even my eyelashes stand on end. envisioning your smile sends my stomach into a prolonged game of hopscotch, endlessly skipping and somersaulting, and i love every second of it. i want to be the one you think of when you fall asleep, who you dream about, and who you can't wait to wake up and see. i want to be here for you, for you to know that i'm here for you, despite our distance. you epitomize comfort, passion, intelligence, love, humor, friendship. i want to stand by you, proud of your success and accomplishments, ecstatic over the possibilities that the future holds, and honored that you chose me as your companion.

200 Greenwich Street

Being in New York on September 11, I figured it would only be appropriate to go down to Ground Zero, look around, pay my respects... Never in my life have I been more emotionally stirred. I've always had an affinity for firemen; I find them to be among the most admirable, phenomenal people on this planet. It's making me choked up just thinking about it!

The past few days have been absolutely gorgeous, with plenty of sun, little humidity, a slight breeze.. yesterday, however, was dreadful. As cliche as it sounds, I declared that New York was crying yesterday. The entire city felt tranquil, especially near the site, and the second I walked up out of the subway, my emotions were on high sensitivity mode. I walked along the entire outline of the site, giving and receiving sad smiles and hellos, observing the hundreds of different colored roses and notes and letters that had been stuck through the fence, until I finally made it around to the WTC Visitor's Center. It had closed already, but right next door was a firehouse, which looked like it was only for viewing purposes, but it could have been active.. I'm not so sure. There were a couple engines in there, a whole bunch of quite attractive firemen (especially one named "Burns", which may or may not be ironic.. I liked him though :) hehe) They were posing for pictures, standing in front of a gorgeous motorcycle with 9/11 insignia on the sides. Down the side of this building, there is a giant memorial plaque which read "DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO FELL AND THOSE WHO CARRY ON... WE WILL NEVER FORGET" At this point, my eyes had been filled with tears for a good ten minutes; as I was observing this wall, though, someone yelled, "Make way! Make way!" It ended up being a captain who was trying to clear a path for the changing of the guards at this wall. As the three men slowly marched past me, I completely lost all control. The tears that had been resting in my eyes began spilling out, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
These men, so regal and noble, had witnessed such an enormous tragedy, lost friends, comrades, and willingly worked themselves past exhaustion in order to find hope in the most heartbreaking event of their lives. And here they were, still standing, right in front of me, on the eighth anniversary of that horrible Tuesday morning.
After attempting to compose myself, and realizing that this was the one day that I decided to wear regular mascara, as opposed to the waterproof that usually coats my lashes, I wandered around for a while longer. On the opposite side of the street that the plaque was on, there was a giant poster that had the name of every person who had been killed written on it. People were able to write on it, so I spent quite a while reading the different tributes and messages that people had left. One fireman walked up to the wall with a friend and pointed to a picture of a beautiful young woman, told this man that she was his daughter, and explained to him her story. It was so heart-rending! Just as I was about to leave, two things happened: First, I caught sight of the previously mentioned attractive fireman named Burns, so I casually ventured over to where he was. As I was venturing, I noticed a bunch of men with bagpipes start to congregate in the street and start warming up. Score! I had to stay for that, obviously. They warmed up for a good half-hour or so, and I am so thankful that I stayed. They played a few songs, many of which I didn't recognize as anything in particular, but the follow two videos were just amazing to witness.

I wasn't able to get a video of this final ceremonial event, but after the men played, they all broke out into this pub-like chant, apparently titled "The Wild Rover (No Nay Never)" which then made me cry happy tears, just in admiration at the camaraderie that these men share. As they were singing, a few older firemen came up alongside, drinking beer, singing along, and they threw their arms over my shoulders and forced me to kind of sway along to the music. After the song was over, all twenty or so of them wanted to get their picture taken, so I became the official photographer for one of the Harlem firestations. Yes please! After taking a couple of their pictures, it was necessary that I get in the pictures too, apparently, so there are a couple with me in middle of them. We all introduced ourselves, chatted for a while, and they LOVED me! I'm not saying that in an arrogant way either, I'm serious. To every person who walked up, they'd yell, "HEY! Did you meet Ashley yet? She's Irish! She's new to New York!" They were all so friendly and nice, and they were appalled that I was down there alone. "You are NOT spending September 11 on your own. You're coming with us!" they said to me, so before I knew it, I was walking arm in arm with another very cute fireman named Noah, directly into a "pissing rain" on our way to catch a cab to go bar-hopping in Alphabet City, Little Italy, and Chinatown. So there I was, laying across the laps of three huge New York firefighters in the back of a cab, exchanging "Where were you when the Towers were hit?" stories.. It was unreal. Their stories were like something you would expect to read in a memoir, and it completely overwhelmed me to be in the company of these brave, noble men who were literally right there when everything happened. We ended up at some random tenement in Chinatown first, and as these guys were guiding me up this sketchy staircase, I wondered if my attempt at being spontaneous had backfired, and I was about to be murdered; however, as we walked through the front door of this apartment, my brief worries completely disappeared. Here we were in the home of these two people who throw a private party every year for any and all firefighters and their friends. Let me tell you, this was a complete insider, invitation only, private party. SO AWESOME! We all just hung out, swapped stories, drank, played pool, ate food... It was unbelievable. I still can't believe it happened. I ended up chatting with a couple of Navy boys for a while, all of whom were Southern, 22 years old, married, with children already. One of them told me that it was his dream to come to New York and recreate the classic Times Square kiss from World War Two, so I gladly volunteered to fulfill that wish :) Why not, right? I ended up getting home around 2 AM, pinching myself the entire way to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I still cannot believe I spent September 11 with hundreds of New York firefighters.. That's a dream come true, not just for me but for anyone, I would imagine! It was amazing.

first week

after completing my first week at nyu, this is what i've gathered:

-my inquiries into teaching and learning professor insists we call him frank, and it's mandatory that we all have a Facebook.
-there is a self-hired crossing guard at the intersection of washington place and washington square east. this man, who probably clocks in at a whopping 4'10" tall, stands on the sidewalk and yells, "watch it!" "oop!" "careful now!" "hold it!" to the pedestrians whenever he sees a car coming down washington square east.
-people are very, very fashionable.
-my indigenous australia professor clears his throat every 10-15 seconds by making a single, harsh grunting noise (although thursday's lecture wasn't so disruptive)
-*PREDICTION: this previously mentioned indigenous australia class is going to be the end of me.
-as of yet, i have no friends. i don't say this to pity myself, or to receive sympathy, just as a simple documentation of my hopeful progress in this area. (i must say, though, that i really do miss living with my best friends. i realize now that it was like a two-for-one deal, and i was very lucky. i find myself envious of those who live in the dorms, with many potential friends right at their fingertips. They don't even know how lucky they are!)
-i love that there is always a band or musician playing in washington square park.
-a squirrel leapt up onto my shoulder the other morning, and the maintenance man who saw it happen only shrugged and said, "hey, he's gotta eat too!" apparently new york squirrels are vicious.

...more to come...

for good.

Although I have never been religious or believed in a particular Higher Power, I have always believed in destiny and fate. It is phenomenal to observe the way life plays out, who we meet, where we end up going, and what we end up doing. People come into our lives, and we are presented with circumstances that appear to be nothing short of miraculous. Events occur that are very often unexplainable, and it brings up a single question: Why? Why was I given the chance to do this? Why did I encounter this person? Why didn't I end up in, let's say, Los Angeles and not New York and Boston? I like to tell myself that we're never in the wrong place, with the wrong people, or doing the wrong thing, because in one way or another, the adventures and situations that we immerse ourselves in are serving a purpose in the greater picture of our lives. Sometimes the situations are challenging, the people are difficult, and the places are lonely, but in the long run, it are these challenges and these miracles that complete our destinies. When I was in high school, I would often sing a duet with my best friend, and the lyrics match this idea perfectly: "I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are lead to those who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return..."


Who we encounter and why we encounter them is fascinating in itself. Allow me to give you an example:

As I was riding down the bike path, a scruffy looking young man pulled up alongside me and asked me for directions to the library. We chatted for a little while, and soon enough I found out that he was a British recent college graduate, just finishing a cross-country bike ride. He found himself on the West Coast three weeks ahead of schedule, so he didn't research the housing options he had out here very well. Unfortunately for him, there is no camping in Sonoma, so I was suggesting he ride up into the hills and find a small plot of land to pitch his tent for the evening; however, just as I was making this suggestion, my dad rode up on his bike. The three of us chatted for a bit, when my dad offered for the young British boy to stay at our house. My dad had gone on a cross-country bike ride when he was in his twenties, and he has been waiting twenty-something years to return all of the favors that he was given. On top of it all, it was a Tuesday, which means Farmer's Market was happening later that evening, which means that it was the most perfect day to be in Sonoma.

Ben, the British boy, rode home with me, showered, pitched his little tent in the backyard, and ventured down to Farmer's Market with us, where he was able to really experience and observe the perfect evening in the small Wine Country town. Here is where I began to wonder why.. Why, out of all of the people in this small town, was I the person this boy decided to ask for information? I don't want to praise myself or anything, but he couldn't have found a more perfect person to ask; I grew up in town, so I know pretty much everything about it, my dad is an avid cyclist, so as far as chatting with someone who knows what you've been going through and experiencing, he couldn't have found a more perfect family. I just thought it was so amazing that I had been back in Sonoma for a mere sixteen or so hours and was immediately faced with this unfamiliar, interesting person. What about me gave him the idea that I would have been able to give him the information that he needed? As far as he was concerned, I could have been a random tourist who had rented a cute little bike for cruising around town. And for Ben's sake alone, why did he decide to come to Sonoma on a Tuesday? What if he had showed up the day before and missed out on such a lovely, hometown evening? I'm sure his life would have gone along flawlessly had he not come into town on a Tuesday evening, but it was an evening that wouldn't have otherwise been a part of the bigger story of his trip.

Last Winter, I became quite fascinated with Chris McCandless, aka Alexander Supertramp, aka the young man who gave away everything he owned, hitch-hiked around the US for a good two years, working his way up to Alaska, where he ended up dying in a small bus in the Alaskan wilderness. The book "Into the Wild" was written about his story back in the mid-90's, and ten years later, Sean Penn directed a movie about this young man. Ben vaguely reminded me of Chris McCandless, in the way that he interacted with our family. He was educated, beyond polite, lived very minimally, and was very vague about his own life. After reading about the different ways that both Chris McCandless and the people he had encountered were influenced by his travels, it made me feel honored to be able to be a part of this Chris McCandless-like experience. I would like to think that this twelve hour encounter somehow boosted our karma points, although dwelling on it may oppose the idea of a selfless good deed... Hmm... Either way, I hope Ben's travels end up being fantastic, and I hope that he never forgets us!

....

My trip home was delightful. It was a fairly non-stop trip, but I felt very relaxed the whole time, which I really love. Monday night, after my dad picked me up at the airport, we met my mom and Claire at Yu Shang for a delicious sushi dinner. Tuesday I went to visit Bethany, saw some friends, and had the Ben encounter (Bencounter?) Anyway, of course I saw every person I have ever met in my lifetime at Farmer's Market that night, which was fun, especially after spending the entire month of August alone. Wednesday and Thursday kind of blur together, but I know they must have consisted of a lot of bike riding, big hugs, and catching up with old friends. Sierra and I went to the beach all day on Friday and just talked and talked and talked, so much so that it was suddenly four o'clock and both of us were burnt to an absolute crisp (something neither of us fully realized until we were back in Sonoma. Ouch!) We had a really nice dinner at the Red Grape, and I swear to god we never stopped talking. It was so nice! That night, a big group of us went to a fun hookah bar on Haight Street, ate food, chatted... I'd never been to a hookah bar before and had only smoked from a hookah one time, but I had an absolute blast!

*Quick note: We're flying over Utah right now, and The Great Salt Lake is deep red in color, much like rust, with a white shoreline. How bizarre! I wonder if it looks like that when you're standing in front of it, not just from a bird's eye view...

Claire's birthday was on Saturday, so we spent all day in the city. We had a huge Dim Sum lunch in the Sunset District, and afterwards, my mom, Claire, and I went shopping at the Stonestown Mall. Oh, the thrill of new undergarments :) It was lovely being able to have some Anderson girl time, although Erika wasn't able to make it up there. (WE MISSED YOU SISTER! We understand though, you're a busy woman!) After we got home, Claire went out with some of her friends, so I packed and did some laundry before dad and I had a nice pasta dinner. I drove around, said my goodbyes to everyone, and woke up this morning at four AM to get to Oakland by six! My mom and I were hoping to have breakfast with a friend, but it didn't work out. But now, here I am, 36,000 feet in the air, about to actually begin my life in New York City. When the man at the ticket counter asked where I was going, I accidentally told him that I was going to Boston, so I had to correct myself. It's still going to take some getting used to, apparently.