39 miles and then some...

Tomorrow, at 5:30 am in Washington DC, myself and seven of my closest friends will begin walking a total of 39 miles for the Avon Breast Cancer fund. As a team we have raised over $14,000! I have never attempted anything like this before; raising the money as an individual as well as walking such a long distance. It will undoubtedly be a challenge, but in my mind it is only a minor feat.

The older I get the more I understand and feel responsible about the importance of helping others. There is much to be done in the world and sometimes it feels hopeless. I’ve had friends recently return from places like Afghanistan, South Africa and other war torn areas such as Sudan and Somalia. Their selfless efforts make this walk seem like a drop in the vastest ocean.

One of my biggest faults is my inability to “just do it.” I spend time thinking, pondering, strategizing before I actually “take action.” And while in this preparation mode I usually wind up doing nothing. It’s something I am trying to overcome. Which is why this walk means a lot to me. Baby steps I suppose. One of my short-term goals is to dedicate a percentage of my life to volunteering. I’ve done some small services here and there but I have never made a regular commitment to one cause.

39 miles is a long way to go but it’s just a walk. There’s a lot of world left to cover after it’s over.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me support this cause so far! If you’re not doing anything on Saturday or Sunday come cheer the walkers on! We could use the motivation.

I wanted to share this motto. A friend recently sent it as encouragement. I think these are truly words to live by – “Pain is temporary, pride is forever!”

On The Streets of Manhattan...

You can spend hours wandering the streets of Manhattan and never grow bored. The aroma of roasted peanuts on one block and horse dung on the next. In only a minute’s stroll your view can change from the abundant foliage of Central Park to the mishmashed architecture of 5th Ave. And the people! Tourists with cameras as necklaces, heads raised high in awe at the tallest and brightest buildings. Ah yes, and the New Yorkers in the trendiest of trends, hands filled with bags, weaving in and out of sidewalk traffic. Spiderman, Batman, Superman and their nemeses all live and work here. Each day holds a surprise in the merry ol’ land of Gotham. And of course there’s always the thrilling celebrity sighting: out-of-town celebs are usually caught walking out of a private SoHo boutique, hidden behind sunglasses. The local celebrity can be spotted pushing a stroller or grabbing a coffee in the West Village.

On Sunday, I was subject to one of the most unexpected spectacles in these city streets…the ever elusive and often cunning visitor, known as Ex-Boyfriend. Yes, Ex-Boyfriend lurks anywhere at any time and though he may not dwell in New York, he will make seasonal migrations. He waits patiently for the most unsuspecting moment and without warning he will strike, outfitted with smug disregard. We hope to be prepared for such an attack, armed with our most flattering apparel, perhaps even a handsome man nearby for extra ammunition. But on the streets of Manhattan, one can never be prepared for the city’s mystic ways. After a long Sunday morning run through central park two friends and I were walking down 7th Ave. With my hair in a ponytail, brow moist, no make-up on, dawning an unassuming smile, I headed toward the Nike store on 5th ave. And right there in broad daylight, only a few blocks from my own home, I cross paths with him! This is not just any ex-boyfriend, it’s “THE Ex-Boyfriend.” The Ex of Exes (the ex that you don’t really want to run into but know you will eventually). It all happened within seconds. He walked past me as though he didn’t see me (As if! He saw me alright), hand-locked with a girl (poor thing) who noticed me noticing them as she craned her head around to get a good look at ME, the irreplaceable and charming Ex-Girlfriend ;-).

I will tell you dear readers, I have seen quite a few things on these streets. I’ve crossed paths with celebrities such as Ethan Hawke, Tyra Banks, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Jennifer Aniston. I’ve seen a parade of midgets, a man living in a sphere of water, a dancing cow-girl in the nude, a 12 man police chase…but yesterday’s sight had to be one of the strangest things I’ve seen so far. I mean, for goodness sake! He doesn’t even live here. Of all the streets in Manhattan, of all the patches of sidewalk, of all seconds of the day! We crossed at that very moment. After he disappeard my friends and I laughed in disbelief at what we just saw. A few minutes later the shock wore off and my friends asked me what I was thinking and I said, “That’s it? That was the face-off?” A year and a half in the making, on a random city street and I must say it was rather anti-climactic. But now that it’s all over I do feel a slight relief, to know that it’s safe out there once again, to wander my streets of Manhattan.

Home

"When a writer knows home in his heart, his heart must remain subtly apart from it. He must always be a stranger to the place he loves, and its people."
-William Morris

Today I heard Salman Rushdie, Don Delillo, Steve Martin, and others speak at the PEN World Voices literary festival. They read passages from their works, which spoke about home, or the “idea of home.” What is home, why do we leave, why do we long to return? How do we create a home and what happens when we lose it? In more ways than one it was poetic semblance, for I am currently wavering on my placement. I don’t know if I should go or stay. Go “home,” back to MD, working in DC, living at home with my parents. Or stay in New York, my new home, lavishing in gems of city life, living my life relatively independent of emotional strain. Is there a right or wrong decision? I don’t know, but I do know I need to decide in 4 days. I have been swollen with arduous thought and yet there is still so much to think about.

Tonight, as I listened to Rushdie recite words from “The Ground Beneath Her Feet” I felt a slight tug coming from within. Gentle at first, then nearly insolent, the tug was unrelenting. Rushdie continued with his eloquent and quirky dissertation on societal ideas of belonging. After all, he speculated, why do we desire to watch films and read books starring the wandering hero, the rebel, the seductress, the adventurer, the orphan, the robber, the drifter? Why do we constantly reinvent these people, these characters, if not because we want to live a little bit of their lives. He proposed what if kinship, citizenship, family, name, culture, religion, all of those things that make us feel we belong, what if all of that was a big scam? What if all we had was ourselves? I pondered the question and for a moment I thought it a revelation. But only for a moment, and then I found myself vehemently disagreeing with Salman The Great. There’s no scam in belonging or even returning. We return not because we are scared or because society has suckered us into some con that we are nothing without a group. No, that’s not it at all. We return merely because we’re in love. And still, we will find the courage to leave love because we know it’s there, always.

I’ve been afraid because I felt returning to Maryland meant I was going back to the same status I was at when I left. As if I were digressing, and everything I built in New York, everything I learned and found here would be useless. But that’s not the case; in fact it’s impossible. I simply need to be with those that I love and if I decide I need to return to where they are I’ll be OK with that. Sir Rushdie The Exiled has lived his life migrating from one place to another, banished from his country and like many of us can only hold onto the notion of home. But really home is just that, an idea. An evolving idea of what made us and who we are becoming. Which is something we can't quite escape, can we? Because ultimately it seems "home" resides in us.

Check out the readings and discussions all weekend:
www.pen.org/festival

Blessed

“You don't have to be a "person of influence" to be influential. In fact, the most influential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they've taught me.”
-Scott Adams

As far as I know and for as long as I've been living the one thing I have true control over is myself; my perception, attitude and actions. There are times when we may lose this control for we are not perfect, but we all know ultimately the power of perspective lies in our own hands. And this perspective is what can make or break your world. During the hard times, the most painful and scrutinizing, perspective and attitude have saved me. But this has not been an easy standard to maintain and I certainly did not do it alone. If it weren't for my life's great influences I could easily have lost sight of the truth and what is in fact important: Toni Morrison, my 12th grade English teacher, dance, my first camera, Americorps kids, my grandparents, my Literary Theory professor, New York City, my first love, Salaam Bombay!, the radio, tape recorders and on and on. But perhaps the most powerful influence has been a group of 8 girls that I was blessed with 20 years ago. They continue to love me, inspire me, push me, criticize me, discipline me, pause with me, amuse me, wait for me and absolutely amaze me. No matter how much time passes they always seem to astound me with their patience, successes, courage and wisdom. One of these inspirational ladies has just returned from volunteering in South Africa. Since my life has been on a virtual hiatus I'd like to share a small piece of her journey with you, as this is just a typical example of events I am continually exposed to.


I met 14-year-old Sini last Tuesday and knew we would instantly become friends. She has one of those contagious smiles that makes you want to approach her and learn all about what lies beneath that great smile. As the days passed, I was introduced to her group of friends and the four of us started to have morning conversations about life, school, dance and art. Something I look forward to every morning.
Then, today, as I peeked into the window of the fabulous music class (as I often do), Sini ran up, handed me a letter and said, "I wrote this for you." The letter she wrote was so beautiful, I have decided to share it with all of you today. This letter resembles how amazing and brilliant these children are and I hope you enjoy it.

"My Friend, My Sister"
To me you're like a mother and a sister
You're like a success to my future
You're my band to my music
You're my wings to me as a bird
And my life interest

To me at first life was rude and cruel always
And now that I met you, to me life is friendly
And humble but it's depend on how you're treating it
I was in a darkness like a skeleton and you showed
me the light, you gave me hope, you gave me love, care and intelligence which i was supposed to be given

To me you're like a cure to my illness
You're a shelter to me as a human-being
You're a soul to my body
A power to my career
An addition to my understanding
A cement to me as a stone
And a traffic-cop to my way
Am i really blessed to find such a friend-teacher like you

London Calling

From
New York City - John F Kennedy Intl (JFK)
New York City, NY
Departs: 7:00 P.M.

To
London - Heathrow (LHR)
London, United Kingdom
Arrives: 10:00 A.M.

I leave for London tomorrow evening on a Boeing 777. This time last week I had no other plans other than job hunting and taking a writing class - until I received a call Thursday afternoon, "Baa had a heart attack" (Baa is a common Indian word for Grandmother). My Mother flew out this passed Friday night and before doing so she told me "I packed your white salwar kameez" (white is worn to Hindu funerals). I was surprised at this but it made me understand the reality of what I might be facing when I arrive.

London has always been my second home. My entire family, with the exception of a few relatives, reside in England. Since I was a year old I have been spending summers there surrounded by a slew of cousins, roughly twenty aunts and uncles and a set of grandparents. Mornings would always begin with tea and biscuits. And every night without a doubt would consist of a big feast, with singing and dancing or old stories about growing up in Uganda. This is the first time I'll be going to England, wondering if I might have to attend a funeral.

I called London this evening, I heard chatter and laughter on the other end. The house in Forestgate was filled, everyone still up, probably drinking chai and gossipping. I heard my grandmother is doing better and she is able to faintly communicate. I haven't been back since college graduation, nearly 5 years ago. Though sudden and potentially inauspicious, I am praying this trip will take a turn and become a memorable reunion under accidental circumstances.

Screening The Namesake

[Due to my help on The Namesake premiere back in November, at the IAAC Film Festival, the film's distributor, Fox Searchlight, kindly gave the IAAC volunteers several opportunities to screen the film well before the domestic opening. I had been waiting impatiently for over 3 months. Even cutting a trip short to be in town for the screening. Thank you to Fox Searchlight, it was well worth the wait.]

As I approached the Fox Entertainment building on 6th Avenue last month I realized I had not spoken with my Father or Mother in 4 days (one of the longest lengths of time I've gone without speaking to them since I'd been in New York). I began to reach for my phone and thought; do I really want to get into 20 questions right now? 'How come you haven't called?! Are you sleeping right? How is your health? Did you call London to speak to Ba? Are you wearing a hat in this weather? Did you email that boy I was telling you about?' My hand retracted from my bag and the sweet sentiment I had only seconds before was quickly subdued. I decided to hold off on calling home til later.

On the surface Jhumpa Lahiri's story is one of a Bengali couple immigrating to New York, but truly it is one of love and identity, one that anyone who has straddled two cultures can empathize with. With Mira Nair directing I felt even more of a kinship with this film. I have admired Nair for a long time - not only is she an Indian making films for an American audience but she is also a woman. When I saw Salaam Bombay! I was 9 years old. The film enlightened me in many ways. I was and still am an American girl, but in my heart I am firstly an Indian. So watching, for the first time, the lives of slum children in Mumbai, it was as though somebody uncovered the veil from my eyes. And it was around that time I realized it was possible for a girl of my ethnicity to one day express her own vision. With Lahiri and Nair working together I knew the result would be something very special, but I had no idea.

I entered a small theater that sat about twenty people. We were given packets before the screening that explained the anatomy of the film, along with bios on the cast. The lights soon dimmed and with no previews the opening credits appeared and Nitin Sawney's score filled the theater. Nearly an hour and a half later I soaked a handful of napkins and dampened my sleeve. I could say that this film is universal and will touch anyone from any background, and that would be true. But there is no denying the personal connection I felt, seeing faces with a color like mine, clothes like mine, parents with the same accents, the same nuances, the same religion and so forth. These are the things that gripped me because I had never before seen them in this way, on this grand scale. I saw my own family in those characters, only they weren't characters, they were quite real and they touched me very deeply.


The film is set in two locations, Calcutta and New York. It transitions back and forth several times which is a big risk as it can often distract the viewer. However, it is done seamlessly and successfully, never cheating either location of its beauty, grandeur and feeling of home. Bridges have strong symbolism, which Nair uses to transition and also to signify the intersection of both worlds. But the heart of the film is not in the location rather it is in the people, and it is the people that open our eyes to places we've known before, as if we're seeing it for the first time. Whether we see Indian immigrants coming to a cold and gray New York or American children seeing the magnificent Taj Mahal, we are always on a journey. The Namesake is about discovery, not only of one's own self and culture, but of those who we love the most. A family bond is an enigmatic treasure, as we have not chosen them and they have not chosen us. Just as our names, which we never choose but are given, we carry with us for the rest of our lives.

After I left the theater I walked around the city for a while. It was 9:30pm and a biting 16 degrees. I thought about the film and naturally my parents were also in my thoughts. What I saw was nothing I had not known before but it was a reminder, a reminder of where I'm from and how I came to be where I was at that very moment. I reached for my phone and selected 'home' under my list of contacts, "Rakhee, vy haven't you called? I don't know vhere you are, if you're safe or what. It sounds as though you are outside...arr you outside?? It's too late, it's not safe there in that city. Did you get a hat?..."

Highlights:

-The chemistry between Irfan Khan (Ashoke Ganguli) and Tabu (Ashima Ganguli) is amazing. Arranged marriage is a strange system to everyone including those involved. The commitment and eternal bond that develops in these relationships can be a mysterious dynamic but they are just as beautiful and romantic as any love story. Sometimes I find that the simple interactions such as eye contact or an embrace in the absence of sexual gestures, is much more sensual. Khan and Tabu truly convey a deep love.

-Nitin Sawney's score cradles the film throughout. Beautifully edited to the music the film picks up and grips us at moments of emotional impact. Sawney plays to the family saga with heartbreaking symphony and during the Calcutta montage he tickles our rhythmic taste buds with Indian infused drum and bass.

Lowlights:

-I didn't much care for Moushimi's character (Gogol's wife). Though in the book she was portrayed as an Americanized, non-Indian type woman I still wanted to see her "look" more Indian. Not with her clothes or voice or anything like that, just in her presence. I know girls like Moushimi, and though they do not retain much of their culture you still don't overlook the fact that they're Indian. Whether I was to sympathize with her or hate her the feeling was one of indifference. She did nothing for me.

The Namesake will open this Friday to audiences all around America. It will hit more theaters next Friday, March 16. Within the next few weeks there will be several Q&A sessions with Nair and Lahiri, along with other special events related to the film:

Wednesday, March 7, 7:30 p.m.
The Namesake With Mira Nair in person
At AMC Loews Lincoln Square
1998 Broadway at 68 St, Manhattan
$18 Public/$12 Museum Members.

Saturday, March 10, 2007 at 7:00 PM
MIRA NAIR & JHUMPA LAHIRI: A Dialogue
Celeste Bartos Forum LIVE from the NYPL books
$15 general admission SOLD OUT
(Tickets may become available. Sign up for standby starts at 5 pm at the box office).

Tuesday - Saturday, 10am - 6pm
"NAMESAKE / INSPIRATION" @ THE SEPIA GALLERY
An exhibit of photos that inspired director Mira Nair will run from March 9th to April 21st at SEPIA International/The ALKAZI Collection
Address: 148 West 24th Street. Sepia Gallery will be hosting an opening reception March 8th (6-8PM)

It's About Damn Time!

Last night, I arrived home after a draining 6 hour bus ride from Maryland to New York, just in time to catch my most anticipated Oscar categories: Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Direction, Best Editing, Best Documentary and of course, Best Picture.

All of the films I have been whole-heartedly rooting for received nods: The Departed, Pan’s Labyrinth and Little Miss Sunshine. Pan’s Labyrinth deservingly left with Best Foreign Picture. This timeless film unexpectedly captured my heart 2 months ago. During post Franco-Prussian war Spain, a 12 year-old girl is thrust into a life controlled by an evil military general. The young protagonist, Ofelia, takes her audience on a journey through two worlds, one of dark fantasy and one of harsh reality that even adults have trouble digesting. In both realms she is a true heroine and rekindles the brave and uninhibited child in all of us. The characters in this film are like nothing I’ve ever seen before, brilliantly imaginative and at times terrifying.

Though I am a shameless Leonardo DiCaprio groupie I was delighted to see Forest Whitaker take away the statuette for Best Actor. He played the ruthless Ugandan dictator, Idi Amin, in The Last King of Scotland (a role far from Whitaker’s normally modest and soft spoken personality). This film struck a personal chord with me being that my family is from Uganda and were products of Amin’s tyranny. Whitaker not only acquired the regional Ugandan accent with perfection, he also captured the childish and random manor in which Amin ruled, down to the sporadic twitches and severe mood swings. However, I feel the film itself lacked focus on the South Asian residents who played a significant role in Uganda’s prosperity at the time (but that’s discussion for another post).

I am a devoted Scorsese follower and watch his films with an analytical eye, identifying his trademark moves and admiring his unique story telling techniques. His portrayal of underworld violence and alternative American culture has revolutionized cinema and is quite possibly the reason I decided to major in film. So knowing that he has been nominated six times for Best Director and never received an Oscar, kept me on edge throughout the ceremony (he has been passed for such amazing films as Raging Bull and Taxi Driver). I literally leaped out of my seat and let out a loud whoop when they announced his name, “…and the goes to, Martin Scorsese!” Baffled and obviously overwhelmed, little ol’ Marty and his caterpillar eyebrows stepped up on stage, held that golden statue in his hands and in his usual awkward humor asked, “can you double check that envelop?” The audience roared with applause and after 30 years of directorial genius Marty gave his first ever Academy Award acceptance speech. My eyes actually welled up. At this point I was on a high and even if The Departed didn’t receive Best Picture, justice was served. A piece of me wanted Little Miss Sunshine to win, a low budget comedy about a dysfunctional family on the way to a child’s beauty pageant. But when they announced The Departed for Best Picture I couldn’t have been happier. The ensemble for this film was absolutely superb. Nicholson, DiCaprio, Damon, Whalberg and even Alec Baldwin drove this gritty modern day Irish mob film and turned it into a masterpiece. Originally adapted from the Japanese film Infernal Affairs (also worth checking out), The Departed creates an intricate web of deceit, mistaken identity, questionable loyalty, reinventing the relationship between good and evil (definitely going down as one of my all time favorites).

Party at 9:30!

This Friday night fellow P.G. County residents, The Dance Party, will grace the stage of the legendary 9:30 Club. This is the zenith of DC's music scene, people. To perform at the 9:30 Club is like an initiation into rock stardom. Acclaimed musicians such as The Smashing Pumpkins, The Go-Gos and Justin Timberlake have all made history after performing at DC's premiere music venue. So whereever you are, take a trip to The District this Friday night and come support the band.

Lemme tell ya, they're not called The Dance Party for nothin. Make it out and you will not be disappointed. Then, when The Dance Party hit it big time you can say you saw them way back when, at the 9:30 Club.

Official after-party at Chief Ike's in Adams Morgan! It's being thrown by the bloggers at diminished 7th (http://diminished7.evasource.net/). Bring your ticket stubs to get in for free. Cheap drinks!

Friday, February, 23 2007
9:30 Club is at 815 V St. NW, WASHINGTON, Washington DC 20001
Cost : $10
The Dance Party goes on at 9:30pm

For tickets go to www.930.com
Check the band out at www.thedanceparty.net
Listen to their music at www.myspace.com/thedanceparty

The Burden of Passion

"Most human beings today waste some 25 to 30 years of their lives before they break through the actual and conventional lies which surround them."

Isadora Duncan (1877-1927)

For over twenty years I watched my father drive to the same job, day after day, until he returned home at 11:15 pm. I would wait up for him to fit in 30-60 minutes of face time. He was not happy. If he could have been anywhere, doing anything, it would have been cooking or inhaling the outdoors. I watched my father get burnt out, imminently tired, stained with a perpetual frown. Though I would point this out to him, he never saw any way around it, “I have to make money to support the family, send you to school, pay bills.” He worked to live and lived to work. He retired a year ago and has been traveling and enjoying his freedom since. He claims now, after 40 years of working, is his chance for true happiness. We are alike in many ways, my Father and I, but not in this case. I could never wait.

When I told my father I was going to major in Film and English after High School graduation his eyes narrowed and jaw tightened. He didn’t have to say anything, I knew what he was thinking—just by being his daughter, ‘we become doctors, engineers, businessmen. Why do you have to be different? Why can’t you just choose one of those professions?!’ As a first-generation South Asian woman, I was up against centuries of educational building blocks and a sea of judgment.

The first and most predictable argument is money, “How will you support yourself?” Most parents, especially those not native to America, relentlessly push security and consistency. Literature, film and dance; none of which are in-line with those standards, just happen to be my passions. Society has conned us into believing they are phases for the “dreamers” and the less scholarly. Somewhere, somehow, I gained the perspective that if you love something enough it will transpire into something beneficial, regardless of how unconventional it is.

In time I was able to prove myself, I won my Father’s support and today, I produce documentaries for major networks. Not exactly my 14-year-old, wide-eyed fantasy, but I am certainly on the fruitful path to bigger dreams.

I truly believe we are each blessed with a gift that translates into our passions, and it's up to us to share that gift. Someone recently told me that this gift is a burden, which is the obligation to exercise it and not abuse or denigrate it. I like to think I’m still discovering this gift of mine and perhaps, along the way, I can create something that will touch or influence you in a bigger way, and that makes me a happy girl.

Sexy, Sexy

A Chinese, an Indian, another Indian and a half Mexican-half white guy walk into bar…

That’s pretty much what you’ll see at The Annex this Thursday, otherwise known as The Joseph King Trio (and yes, you counted right, there will be four members as opposed to three, which make a trio. But I guess The Joseph King Quartet didn’t sound as cool). Flavors of the world unite to make, what I like to call, sexy music. When I try to explain what they sound like I usually say, “It’s sort of a Ska-Rock-Folk sound…oh, and it’s sexy. Very sexy.”

Lead singer Joseph King makes every girl in the room blush with his lustful lyrics, sultry voice and tousled locks. And if you want to get up close and personal with a kick-ass drummer, don’t miss Alex Wong. His solo set will have you banging on the tables. The bassist, as cool a bassist there ever was, is my personal favorite. He might be a badass mofo on stage but offstage he’s just a loveable guy with good taste in clothes (sorry Mr. Jain!). Lastly, Mo, the latest addition and second brown guy to join. Though I have not seen him play, I have had the pleasure of hanging out with him. If he can play half as well as he can drink, well then, we’re in for a fantastic show!

Bottom line, check these guys out. You will not be disappointed. I’ll be the brown groupie in front, Killians in hand, howling and whistling.

WHEN: Thursday, January 25, 2007 @ 10:30pm
WHERE: The Annex 152 Orchard St. (between Stanton & Rivington) - $6 cover
www.myspace.com/josephkingmusic

Apple Killed The Video Star

OK, video was knocked out by DVDs some time ago, but I thought the title had a nice ring to it. Most of us are familiar with the catchy yet obnoxious 80s tune, “Video Killed the Radio Star” which launched one of popular culture’s most iconic turning points, MTV. The thought was that Music Television would bring you the marriage between music and moving image right into your home, giving birth to the music video -- so who would need the radio? 20 years later radio is still king of the airwaves and MTV is most certainly the god of anything music related on television. But what the MTV patriarchs did not anticipate is the colossal advancement in the 21st century.

On Monday, Steve Jobs, CEO and co-founder of Apple, unveiled the latest superstars; their very own mobile phone and what we will all learn to not live without, Apple TV. As we all know Mac is no timid freshman in the school of technology. It’s the quarterback, head cheerleader and valedictorian wrapped into one. Apple TV will be for video and film what iTunes was for music. One compact and concise unit to house all of your media, eliminating clunky discs – so, ultimately you can view everything on your big ol’ plasma while you sit on your ass. No trips to Blockbuster, not even a walk to your mailbox to pick up the latest Netflix package. All of those videos, television shows and films you downloaded to your iPod or computer can now be streamlined directly to your TV so you can watch it big and bold right in your living room. Of course, like any other initial product, it will take Apple TV and its competitors some time to warm up to consumers and prove its relevance in home entertainment.

Not impressed? You will be. Perhaps you're thinking like one of those non-cable-owning dudes from 1980 who were in denial until 1990 when they finally caved and joined the rest of the world, ‘what is this strange box? I can do without it. But why does everyone else who has it look happier than me?’ ‘Because it makes life easier and more fun A-hole,’ says the happy guy with cable/Apple TV. Don’t worry, you’ll catch on soon enough.

[My only concern with this shift is the quality of resolution. Will downloaded material be as good as a DVD? What about HD, can you even download it? If anyone can shed light on this please do.]

Falling In Love

The beauty of it is you never see it coming. It gives no warning and heeds no uncertainties. Love perches upon our minds and sends tingles to our face forcing uncontrollable smiles. And then it envelops you – so no matter where you turn all you see is love.

I pass it everyday in the projects that border my apartment building. I hear it in the homeless man’s chant on 9th and 56th Street. I taste it in my milky morning coffee from Amy’s Bread. I catch glimpses of it in the glittered high rises at 7pm. I feel it in the scoop neck dress from a Soho boutique. It hums from the street as the cars beat over pot-holed pavement. It pours from the roaring 1 train headed to the Union Square market. It dances around me in the shuffle of the East Village at 3am. It shines from the lights and hustle of Midtown. It peaks out at me from the hundreds of strange eyes I pass everyday. This, my friends, is falling in love.

People say New York makes you meaner, colder. I was afraid that this might be true until recently. You see, I had forgotten what it was like to be in love. I was beginning to think that I no longer had it in me. I’d be the last to admit that living in New York is a struggle -- but it is. There is a certain unexpected disconnect one experiences when first living here. In a city with so many different people and so much amusement, it makes it difficult to develop substantial personal relationships with people. But when you discover those relationships and when you find your place here, life becomes much more rich than you expected. I’m in love with all that is here in New York and it just took me some time away to realize it.