Different Worlds

Recently I've made some friends in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn which is in the southern part of the borough and close to Coney Island. I was able to head down there this week. My friend Chardonnay and I also took an afternoon jaunt into Manhattan on Wednesday to visit the MoMa.

I couldn't help but notice the striking difference between the two areas. Bensonhurst resembles a small town while it seems most are blue-collar workers. People seem to be very family oriented, as well. Many of the homes actually have front gardens - something I haven't seen in a long time. Needless to say, I adore it. :-)

Manhattan, on the other hand, is concrete, fast-paced, with many white-collars. It's fun to spend a day there exploring, and many of my friends love it. I, however, would much rather come back to my Brooklyn.

Bensonhurst, Brooklyn

Chardonnay's apartment (on the left)

Yes, we met Dino - his personality matches his name ;-)

Miss Chardonnay

Bay Parkway train stop

Manhattan 

30 Rockefeller Center

A Country Weekend

I recently returned from an extremely abbreviated trip to the hills of Pennsylvania this past weekend. And though very brief, it was most certainly enjoyable.



Dad's 560 Farmall in field behind the barn

 Friday afternoon was spent winding west over interstate 86 on a crammed Shortline bus. Despite the bothersome travelling situation, the sights were quite lovely. The further away from the city the bus ventured, the prettier it became. The afternoon sun's rays seemed to throw a golden hue over the trees and fields, while shadows were cast in all the perfect places.



My bro and Dad working on the hay wagon



Yes, it was beholding this backdrop that I started to get that familiar rush of adrenaline and excitement. I was going home! Home - away from the hustle and bustle, concrete, and blaring vehicle horns; to a land of pickup trucks, trees, mountains, dirt roads, wide open fields and wild flowers.





 

It was one day and two nights of seeing my hilarious family, being around their familiar sense of humour, and laughing our heads off. I was also able to leave behind the salad and veggie burgers, and feast on mom's homemade vittles - pancakes, macaroni & cheese, and ice cream sundaes. 

My nephew, Ondrej, and 'maddie'





And so my weekend ended all too fast - for it was with melancholy heart that I pulled out that rainy Sunday morning. Time to head back to New York City.  

"We Must Love One Another or Die"

This post was supposed to be about old-fashioned elevators - I know, please don't ask. However, I thought, why on God's great earth would one write about elevators when you can muse about such juicy subjects, as say ... love.

From the beginning of time this devotion has been subject for many a writer and poet; friend and foe; yes, all humans.

Though in the words of Roland Barthes, "To try to write love is to confront the muck of language: that region of hysteria where language is both too much and to little, excessive ... and impoverished." And while it seems there is much truth in Mr. Barthes' quotation, where would the literary spice be if we did not did take a stab at this 'muck of language' of love?

I have been asking myself why I've rediscovered the fascination of this oftentimes worrisome topic. I was quite fine in self-preservation mode, living my life and doing what I pleased. So perhaps it has to do with the fact that the big 3-0 recently swooped down and now has me in it's grip. Or maybe it is the fresh departing of someone special (yes - a breakup).

But whatever the case, it seems I am nowhere as close to finding love at 30 as when I was 10. And though recently thinking I had found it and would have given my heart and soul; in retrospect, I would not have been being true to myself. And so we simply remain that lovely, little F-word - 'friends'.  

I suppose I may be, at the moment, labeled as 'cynical' or 'bitter'. And that is quite possibly true, for what woman in her right mind wants to let down the walls of self-preservation, leaving herself open for an attack? Yes, who wants to lay like a wounded lioness who misjudged the distance and was stabbed by the horn of love rendering her useless? Sure, she will regain her strength, but how long this will take, and how painful it will be, one cannot know.

Or perhaps this cynicalness stems from what most of society has made love out to be. Relationships are more often than not exploited for sex and selfishness. And it seems everywhere one turns there are constant jabs and sneers at the family unit. Yes, what happened to those timeless principles as family loyalty, communication, honesty, respect, and loving one as you love yourself?

In spite of all the stresses on love, why the enduring obsession and enthrallment? Why the allure and appeal? Why do we want it so badly??? Well, I always like to go back to a rather similar rant from Barbara Streisand in 'A Mirror Has Two Faces', "because being in love feels *blank* great."

And though I couldn't agree more with Barbara, I do feel there is a deeper purpose and point - and that is, quite simply, it is the way we were designed. We have this inherent need to provide and care for, to need and be needed, to love and be loved. It is not natural to be alone.

'Two Lovers'
Prague, Czech Republic

Yes, as W.H. Auden wrote, "We must love one another or die".

So until that sensational day arrives, you will find me in the coffee shops of Brooklyn blogging away, at the gym burning off my frustrations, staying true to my Bedouin ways and travelling the planet. And then on the bad days listening to sad country songs like Pam Tillis' 'All the Good Ones are Gone' and occasionally drowning my sorrows in a tub of Ben and Jerry's. If anything, I will be busy.