This Wednesday I had to drop by our client's office located on 55 Broad st. After the meeting, I was trying to figure out the best way to get back to New Jersey, where my office is located. Wandering around on Wall Street, I found myself walking towards the WTC direction. It was as if my mind was tricking me to think that there were still ferries running between the Financial Center docks and Exchange Place.
As I approached the site, it got quieter. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of activity on the streets but people were quieter. It seemed like fewer people talked, fewer people smiled, in fact fewer people ever looked up from the ground to catch someone else's eyes.
Several stores were still closed. Some restaurants were open serving meals for the volunteers and construction workers at the site.
Everywhere were tired construction workers, their faces covered with white dust and disbelief. Even after working at the site for more than a month, it seemed like they were not able to accept what had happened. Another thing that factors into the disbelief is the scale of the work ahead. These people are being asked to clear up a site where two 100-storey buildings stood in a frame of time shorter than it original took to build them.
The streets were all dug up from West to East and there were tens of pipes, cables running in the trenches. I guess they were bypassing all the lines that went through the site but the resulting the view was very chilling. It reminded me of a biological organism that had been injured, now in the aftermath there were many more blood vessels in the area, lots of scar tissue, security for making sure that the site of injury does not get infected.
Then without a warning I looked north and I caught more than a glimpse of the South Tower's remains. The remains stood at least 10-20 storeys high and it all did not look real. It was as if someone was projecting this image from somewhere in the sky. To the left was Batter Park City, a symbol of pleasures and rich living and to the left was the proud Wall Street buildings standing proud and tall and in the middle of all of this the WTC site was completely out of place.
The air was surprisingly clear, the wind must have been blowing northward, I was to the south of the site. I found myself walking as close as I could get and there were tens of people there, all silently staring. The feeling was very similar to what you feel when you enter an old cathedral. The grief had subtle but dense presence at the observation points which were the closest a
civilian could get to the site.
After a few minutes of staring into the emptiness that was called WTC, people would turn back with perhaps wet eyes and walk to wherever they were headed originally. I too stood there for a while and absorbed what I was seeing before me. Then something in me clicked and I too turned around and continued my walk.
I reached Battery Park City that was much quieter than I had ever seen it before. Those handsome apartment buildings I had so desperately wished to live in before had changed. They did not shine with that carefree glitter of wealth anymore. Several windows had no curtains in them that lead me to believe that some tenants had moved out. Strange as it is I could not help but wonder what the current rent is in these buildings? Even in the middle of all these mixed
feelings the New Yorker in my head was thinking of the possibility of moving to these previously overpriced apartments.
I finally figured out that I would not be able to catch a ferry from the World Financial Center side so I walked back to an NR station and took it uptown to 9th Street Path Station and then I was off to NJ for the rest of my uneventful day.
When I look at the WTC today, it does not create anger in me, it creates sadness, and a need to reflect on what was before all this happened, and what has changed since. I do not feel like lashing out at the rest of the world, I do not feel like taking over the Middle East, I do not feel like bombing anywhere. I feel like going into a Starbucks and watching people walk the streets of NY as if nothing happened. I longed to catch a couple exchange a prolonged kiss at the corner. Many people speak of their lives returning to normal; strange I never quite felt mine ever was normal and I do not think that it really will return to any previous point it was at before.
November 17 2001
Category :
Why is the sky blue: Discussion
Transmitted light (from the sun, light bulbs, fire, etc) is made up of a spectrum of colors. The longest wavelengths of light are on the red end of the spectrum and the shortest wavelengths are on the blue/violet end of the spectrum.
When transmitted light such as sunlight enters our atmosphere it collides with the oxygen and nitrogen atoms. The color with the shorter wavelength is scattered more by this collision. Because violet and blue are the shortest wavelengths the sky appears to be violet / blue. But because our eyes are more sensitive to blue light than they are violet light, we perceive the sky as blue.
Our eyes contain thousand of rods and cones, which are the receptors for light. Whenever one of the 3 Stooges pokes you in the eye you see a giant blue spot. This is because the blue receptors have been activated. Blue is one of the primary colors and thus more easily activated and seen by our eyes.
Blue is also how I feel when my baby leaves and my hound dog dies. Also, how I feel when the cops pull me over and I see their blue lights flashing in my rear view mirror. Then, again, blue is the color of the K-mart special, so this color isn't all bad.
Why is the sky blue: Summary
So, why is the sky blue? It is because blue light from the sun strikes the air molecules and scatters and our eyes perceive it as blue.
Why is the sky blue: Short Summary
Why is the sky blue, you ask? Blue in sunlight collides with air molecules and our eyes see it as blue.
Why is the sky blue: Condensed
Sunlight collides with air, scatters blue wavelengths.
Why is the sky blue: Ultra-Condensed
You are seeing things. Stop asking.
Source:Why Is The Sky Blue
Transmitted light (from the sun, light bulbs, fire, etc) is made up of a spectrum of colors. The longest wavelengths of light are on the red end of the spectrum and the shortest wavelengths are on the blue/violet end of the spectrum.
When transmitted light such as sunlight enters our atmosphere it collides with the oxygen and nitrogen atoms. The color with the shorter wavelength is scattered more by this collision. Because violet and blue are the shortest wavelengths the sky appears to be violet / blue. But because our eyes are more sensitive to blue light than they are violet light, we perceive the sky as blue.
Our eyes contain thousand of rods and cones, which are the receptors for light. Whenever one of the 3 Stooges pokes you in the eye you see a giant blue spot. This is because the blue receptors have been activated. Blue is one of the primary colors and thus more easily activated and seen by our eyes.
Blue is also how I feel when my baby leaves and my hound dog dies. Also, how I feel when the cops pull me over and I see their blue lights flashing in my rear view mirror. Then, again, blue is the color of the K-mart special, so this color isn't all bad.
Why is the sky blue: Summary
So, why is the sky blue? It is because blue light from the sun strikes the air molecules and scatters and our eyes perceive it as blue.
Why is the sky blue: Short Summary
Why is the sky blue, you ask? Blue in sunlight collides with air molecules and our eyes see it as blue.
Why is the sky blue: Condensed
Sunlight collides with air, scatters blue wavelengths.
Why is the sky blue: Ultra-Condensed
You are seeing things. Stop asking.
Source:Why Is The Sky Blue
Category :
The whole routine of expecting a major layoff became a part of our daily lives after 9/11. The office was crawling with layoff banter. It was becoming harder and harder to be productive. I could not get any work done because just when I was able to bring myself together to concentrate on my project, another person from the 21st floor would come by to tell me all about their version of the news.
When I first started working, my coworkers took pride in the number of personal artifacts they had in their cubicles: toys, games, action figures, memorabilia, the list goes on. As the times changed from bad to worse, as our stock took a freefall dive down, and got kicked off the Fortune 500, the personal items started to decrease in number.
The personal toys were the first to go. Later the toys belonging to the office were hidden in a closet on the 20th floor. Soon we were all reduced to a bunch of people sitting at empty desks with our laptops.
In the good days, there was this fond term called the "beach" that is new economy's term for the "bench" as in not currently assigned to any projects. The beach used to be most sought after status for Sapient employees. Most employees worked 60-80 hour weeks during their project assignments. Therefore, several weeks spent on the beach were thought of as a rest time between projects.
As the company struggled, beach became the worst place any could be. No one wanted to be caught without a project assignment. Even those that were assigned to internal projects were at unease. All these people from other offices were calling our project managers almost begging for assignment to our project.
Being on a project felt like being in a lifeboat as Titanic sent. The sea was full of people struggling to keep afloat. If any of these people came close to our lifeboat they either tried to climb on or tried to turn it over so that they could get on it. It was THAT ugly at times.
The dress code changed also. Sapient employees were notorious for going to client meetings in raggy jeans and dirty t-shirts. Well, that was then and this was now --as our CEOs put it in a company wide e mail: the times and the economy was a lot more somber which meant that we were recommended/required to wear business casual now. This did not stand too well with the artistic branches of the company. But as we went from one layoff to the next, it became apparent, compliance with the dress code mattered.
Sapient had several core values. These core values were studied, elaborated on, and written about more than perhaps most of our client projects. Sapient was core value obsessed. One of our core values was "openness". This value meant that anyone at any level of the institution could speak freely about their observations on the company and would not be penalized for it.
Well, for one thing, this value is very hard to grasp for some; after all what is really the difference between "openness" and constant state of discontent and criticism of everything? Naturally, the distinction was easy to miss for many. Needless to say, these people were the first ones to go.
Sapient suffered from all the ailments and neuroses of any old corporation despite the fact that in its roots was the best of intentions: to become a non-traditional corporation, one that cared for its employees.
When I first started working, my coworkers took pride in the number of personal artifacts they had in their cubicles: toys, games, action figures, memorabilia, the list goes on. As the times changed from bad to worse, as our stock took a freefall dive down, and got kicked off the Fortune 500, the personal items started to decrease in number.
The personal toys were the first to go. Later the toys belonging to the office were hidden in a closet on the 20th floor. Soon we were all reduced to a bunch of people sitting at empty desks with our laptops.
In the good days, there was this fond term called the "beach" that is new economy's term for the "bench" as in not currently assigned to any projects. The beach used to be most sought after status for Sapient employees. Most employees worked 60-80 hour weeks during their project assignments. Therefore, several weeks spent on the beach were thought of as a rest time between projects.
As the company struggled, beach became the worst place any could be. No one wanted to be caught without a project assignment. Even those that were assigned to internal projects were at unease. All these people from other offices were calling our project managers almost begging for assignment to our project.
Being on a project felt like being in a lifeboat as Titanic sent. The sea was full of people struggling to keep afloat. If any of these people came close to our lifeboat they either tried to climb on or tried to turn it over so that they could get on it. It was THAT ugly at times.
The dress code changed also. Sapient employees were notorious for going to client meetings in raggy jeans and dirty t-shirts. Well, that was then and this was now --as our CEOs put it in a company wide e mail: the times and the economy was a lot more somber which meant that we were recommended/required to wear business casual now. This did not stand too well with the artistic branches of the company. But as we went from one layoff to the next, it became apparent, compliance with the dress code mattered.
Sapient had several core values. These core values were studied, elaborated on, and written about more than perhaps most of our client projects. Sapient was core value obsessed. One of our core values was "openness". This value meant that anyone at any level of the institution could speak freely about their observations on the company and would not be penalized for it.
Well, for one thing, this value is very hard to grasp for some; after all what is really the difference between "openness" and constant state of discontent and criticism of everything? Naturally, the distinction was easy to miss for many. Needless to say, these people were the first ones to go.
Sapient suffered from all the ailments and neuroses of any old corporation despite the fact that in its roots was the best of intentions: to become a non-traditional corporation, one that cared for its employees.
Category :
Unlike most Americans, my TV and I have never been that good friends. I hated broadcast TV and was even less fond of cable. I always ended up watching a DVD. Truthfully most nights I just did not have time to sit for hours in front of the TV.
After 9/11, I now watch TV. I, the guy who never watched news, now watch news every morning religiously. If I do not see dead people, a bombing in an embassy, a fire in a nightclub, a failed election in a third world country my whole day is thrown off kilter. News media has bred the need for disaster into our souls so in this sense our perpetual state of catastrophe is a self-fulfilling one. It is not because the world is coming to an end, it is not because anything getting worse than it was before, it is just that our definition of being alive includes a healthy appetite for mishaps, losses, missed chances, and even the demise of others.
To this day whenever there is a documentary on 9/11, I can’t watch anything else. I have to see those towers come down one by one, one more time, as if I was not there; right there twenty blocks away, smelling the fumes, feelings the rush of air as they came down. As I cried for no apparent reason that day all through the event and the rest of the day, I tear up still today when I see images of the event.
When one experiences something this traumatic, the logical course of action would be to get away from the event, and all references to it. This is done for one's own sanity's sake and not because of disrespect to people who died. I could not do this. I reveled in the pain; a pain that really was not mine to be had. I knew no one from the towers, no one I knew really was harmed by the event. So why was I grieving the loss of something that had nothing to do with my life?
For several months after that day, I watched the TV non-stop. I watched the coverage of the event consume all daytime, nighttime, prime time, downtime TV time. I watched on as other shows started to return slowly claiming to be less humorous than before. I watched as comedians could once again make wisecrack jokes on TV, I watched as humor struggled, I watched as I tried to laugh. Then slowly the images of the towers started to disappear. They first disappeared slowly from TV broadcast. Then the signs around town started changing. Subway adds and billboards were the first to defect. Then magazines stopped printing glorious pictures of them. TV shows that even gave a glimpse of the towers were edited to surgically remove any reference to them. New films being released were delayed so that the twins' absence would not be reminded to unsuspecting New Yorkers.
What were we trying to forget? The towers? How great our life was when they were around? How miserable we are now in the aftermath of it all? Or how badly we were hit after all these years, after all these years we thought we were invincible? All of the above perhaps, perhaps none at all.
Like many people, I did not care for these two extremely ugly buildings until they were gone. Until that day, any midtown building could be the joy of my day and perhaps the love of my life. Any building that had a fancy crown, a gilded lobby, any building with a 306 million price tag could be the smile on my face.
I did not realize I liked the World Trade Center until it was gone; erased permanently from the spot it scarred with its footprint. Now in its absence, I craved its ugly existence --much like a kid missing an emotionally abusive mother once she's gone.
To this day whenever there is a documentary on 9/11, I can’t watch anything else. I have to see those towers come down one by one, one more time, as if I was not there; right there twenty blocks away, smelling the fumes, feelings the rush of air as they came down. As I cried for no apparent reason that day all through the event and the rest of the day, I tear up still today when I see images of the event.
When one experiences something this traumatic, the logical course of action would be to get away from the event, and all references to it. This is done for one's own sanity's sake and not because of disrespect to people who died. I could not do this. I reveled in the pain; a pain that really was not mine to be had. I knew no one from the towers, no one I knew really was harmed by the event. So why was I grieving the loss of something that had nothing to do with my life?
For several months after that day, I watched the TV non-stop. I watched the coverage of the event consume all daytime, nighttime, prime time, downtime TV time. I watched on as other shows started to return slowly claiming to be less humorous than before. I watched as comedians could once again make wisecrack jokes on TV, I watched as humor struggled, I watched as I tried to laugh. Then slowly the images of the towers started to disappear. They first disappeared slowly from TV broadcast. Then the signs around town started changing. Subway adds and billboards were the first to defect. Then magazines stopped printing glorious pictures of them. TV shows that even gave a glimpse of the towers were edited to surgically remove any reference to them. New films being released were delayed so that the twins' absence would not be reminded to unsuspecting New Yorkers.
What were we trying to forget? The towers? How great our life was when they were around? How miserable we are now in the aftermath of it all? Or how badly we were hit after all these years, after all these years we thought we were invincible? All of the above perhaps, perhaps none at all.
I did not realize I liked the World Trade Center until it was gone; erased permanently from the spot it scarred with its footprint. Now in its absence, I craved its ugly existence --much like a kid missing an emotionally abusive mother once she's gone.
Category :
Deutsche Bank was the client of our current project at work. Within minutes all the critical systems of the bank went down and several systems remained down for several weeks. It turns out DB did not have any backup systems or they too were damaged during the attack. The scale of the event was apparent to all of us in New York City but looking at this incident from a German Bank's perspective, the lack of preparation could not be excused. Needless to say the big Bosses were quick to send a few of the administrators in NY to the firing squad pretty fast.
All of the bandwidth of DB NY was overnight redirected to bringing back the system. Of course no one cared about the training software Sapient was designing for them. Sapient team took three days off after 9/11 but then the next Monday we were back at work --with nothing to do. The client was scheduled to deliver us the content that would go into the training software and they were nowhere near ready. What was worse is they could not give us an ETA for the completion of the content. My team was sitting on their hands. At first it was a good thing after our hectic pace in the last few months. Then it got old and we started overanalyzing everything. I can not tell you how many redundant meetings I sat in during this time. We were all going through something and my cooperation was necessary so I played along.
During this three-week hiatus, I engaged in my own form of therapy. On one side I was building towers with the huge stash of LEGO blocks we had in the office, on the other I started writing some code to create automated templates for some of the presentations we were preparing. I was just coding away, I had no development plans and definitely no intentions to use this code in the client project.
I have a bad habit of showing my code to my producers often. This is a remnant of my childhood days; I have always been hungry for attention and approval. This little pet project was no different; I frequently showed it to my producer, Courtney. She was very impressed with it and encouraged me to keep working on it.
The more I worked on it, the more it seemed we could use this code to win some of the time lost once we receive the content. I do not blame any of us really but at some point we went insane and showed my work to the client. The client loved it, and said: "Yes, now you have delivered, this is the scalable solution we have been asking for since the beginning of this engagement."
While I thought to myself that this development was sure to bring me the kind of recognition I have been craving in this office, a storm was already brewing.
Once the client asked for this change, a quick meeting was held with them to renegotiate the price tag since we were now giving them more than we had originally promised. The client agreed to pay us $50k in addition to the original project bid for what we called the "Blackbox".
Blackbox, while sounding quite fancy, was actually a template implemented in Flash 4.0 that had within it a bunch of dynamic text fields and capability to load external graphics. It enabled relatively untrained users to create PowerPoint like presentations within the visual design Sapient had designed for Deutsche Bank's training presentations.
I went to work on the code, to make it more stable, and add the finishing touches to it. I thought I was pretty close to finishing it when without a warning a committee of directors from an unseen location within the company descended on our team and particularly on me. They called the whole process a "project review" and my bit of it a "code review". The idea sounded great except we were under extremely tight deadlines that had already been stretched to the limit.
The directors asked for all this documentation about the Blackbox, that as you guessed it, did not exist. I had to write the documentation in no time; luckily I got some serious help from a fellow coder.
Then I was asked to provide copies of my source code. The directors of technology looked at my code and made recommendations. As I said I am sure the intentions were well placed but these people had never programmed in Flash and did not know anything about it. During our review meetings, I had to answer a bunch of ridiculous questions.
When the dust settled, I finally understood what had just happened. Instead of being praised for spending my personal time in addition to office time to write a piece of code that literally saved a doomed project, I was blamed with a whole bunch of nonsense such as my code's inability to scale up and talk to databases in the future. The list of things I did wrong seemed to keep going and going. Perhaps some of this was my own fault, I was somewhat internalizing some of the angst that was around me. Maybe these people did not really blame me all that much, maybe they did. Sometimes one needs the equivalent of a Greek chorus to tell what the final verdict is because most of the time life never really does.
All I know is, I did not get a bonus that quarter and Sapient got its extra $50K from DB. The project was a success, and DB actually loved the Blackbox. This success story created a whole new set of demos and more work for us from DB.
Just when we thought we had a long trail of projects ahead of us, Sapient made a drastic move and laid off 40% of its New York Office. Times were sure changing, the invincible architects of the new economy were now out on the street, still tipsy from their large severances but when no one was looking fear laid in one corner of their eyes like a dusty old curtain.
I was laid off too, along with the other fifteen people Sapient moved from Austin to New York less than twelve months ago. The severance was nice but not nice enough considering I had eight months of unemployment to look forward to.
Category :
It's been a couple of months since 9/11 and I still do not quite feel right. I don't know what the exact problem is. I feel exhausted, weak and unable to pull myself out of bed in the mornings. I am missing at least one day of the workweek and I feel real bad about it. What compounds my feelings of guilt is the fact that the people at work are not really saying much about it at all. If I did not know better I would conclude that no one notices that I am almost never at work on Thursdays and/or Fridays.
I have no substance abuse problems; I do not drink, I do not smoke, I have never used drugs recreationally, I don't binge eat; I don't go for days without sleep. I have a regular schedule, I get exercise, and I also watch what I eat. After this entire set of precautions, why then do I feel so horrible? I am 27 I feel 50. My energy levels keep fluctuating, some days I am crazy and bouncing off the walls, others I might as well die and be put underground. My migraines are hitting me almost every other day with increasing intensity. I have recently even started seeing colors during my migraines. I have been told that seeing visual artifacts is the sign of a severe migraine.
The strange thing is back in Austin I did not even have so much as a headache. Ever since I moved to NYC, migraines have greeted me like a welcome bandwagon and have never left my side to this day. After another Thursday away from work, I came in on Friday morning. I was on a mission. I was going to fix this migraine and fatigue thing once and for all. So I started searching the web. As usual there were the miracle cures, the unheard of diseases, and several questionnaires that conclude that you're bipolar even before you begin answering the questions. After a few hours of searching something caught my eye on our intranet page: An advertisement for nutritional counseling. The ad listed all of the symptoms I was suffering from and offered one free trial session. I felt I had nothing to lose; plus because this advertisement was on our company site, I thought my company was somewhat endorsing this person.
I sent an e-mail to the given address detailing some of my symptoms and what I am planning to get out of the consulting sessions. I received a prompt reply the next day. When I called the number in the e-mail, a very soft-spoken person answered. Her name was Sohyoung and although she did not have an official degree she was taking well-being counseling classes. The credentials were on the weak side but just like any other New Yorker I was lured by the free offerings --the free session. We agreed to meet that Saturday at her building on the Upper East Side.
I took the subway, the 4-5-6 (the JLo Line as my cousin and I called it) line up to Upper East Side. I took an express train that got me to her station within 3 stops. This is very convenient I thought to myself. I got off the train and when I exited the station it felt like I had been transported to a completely different part of the country. I assumed 14th street's unending buzzing action to be the norm for NYC. Whenever I traveled to these northern neighborhoods, the calm of the street always hit me when I climbed up the subway station steps. Sohyoung's neighborhood was beautiful, but not glitzy. This was where the normal people lived on the Upper East Side; it was a mix of tall high-rise building with 30-40 storey condos and shorter 4-5 storey buildings of old New York City.
Sohyoung greeted me at her building's entrance hall. They had a security desk with three attendants and everything. I don't want to sound like I have never seen a residential building with porters before but still this was more impressive than I expected.
She was an average height lady of Asian origin. I could not tell for sure which part of the world she was from. She was cute, and endearing; definitely one of those people you just warm up to right away although you know nothing about them. We went upstairs to this very nice lounge area at the top floor of her building. There was a gym next to the area we sat but there was no one there. I thought to myself, if I had 24-hour access to a nice gym like this I would be using it and it would not sit there empty.
The conversation mostly ranged from question answer to just darn right confessions of a new economy child. I gave her as much information as possible about my lifestyle, my eating, sleeping habits and my work situation. Although throughout this time she asked occasional questions and mostly listened, she was already doing a lot of good to me. I was finally getting a lot of things off of my chest. At the end of the hour, she wrapped up the conversation and offered me a seated massage.
While this was a very nice offering, as weird as I am about human touch from strangers, I did not quite know how to respond to the offer. It seemed at the time, it would be rude to say no, so I said yes. The massage was amazing, partially because I do not let anyone touch me for so long in the first place. I was getting warm and flushed, and I could feel underneath my clothes my skin was sweating like crazy in response to Sohyoung's massage. She definitely knew how to give a great massage.
I hate to say this but the massage was the final dealmaker for me. So I signed the dotted line for 6 months of sessions, 4 sessions per month totaling up to $600. I would pay her monthly but if we skipped a session, I would not lose it as long as I gave her advance notice.
So we began working through the rubble trying to patch my nutrition and my soul. The second work area came as a surprise to me. Sohyoung was not only counseling me on nutrition but she was more than willing if not more interested in hearing me talk about my life, my ordeals with my family, my relationship, my background. At times she would be so engrossed at my monologue that two hours would go by and we would still be sitting there. She was very helpful because she was a very good listener and that's what I needed at the time: someone who would listen to me and not judge me, at least not openly.
On the nutrition front, she added several leafy green vegetables to my diet, helped me increase my water intake, and banned all diet sodas out of my diet. Believe it or not, her recommendations seemed to be helping. My migraines were becoming weaker and far apart and I felt more energetic than usual. I am sure the tweaks in my nutrition were helpful but I cannot help but believe that I mostly benefited from the heart-to-heart conversations that helped me shed the bile that had been building inside me ever since I moved to NYC.
Here I was becoming a true New Yorker, unable to find any dedicated friends who can listen to me babble for 3 hours about quite unsubstantial matters, I rented my own friend who would listen to me no matter what. Perhaps it was true, in NYC you could get anything you wanted / needed if you knew where to get it from and how much to pay for it.
Sohyoung and I met all spring, even after my layoff. After the layoff she proved to be an invaluable source of comfort and wisdom. As the summer months progressed, while I enjoyed our weekly conversations, I had started to feel a little strange about paying for them. So my pocketbook was finally catching up with my emotional side. I was not planning to renew our engagement once the first six months were over but our sessions had to stop before then.
She traveled to Korea in mid-summer and mysteriously never came back. She sent me a cryptic message about how she had discovered in Seoul that she had a medical problem and she intended to stay there until it was completely cured. We exchanged a few e-mails after that but I never heard from her again after I moved back to Austin Texas.
I have no substance abuse problems; I do not drink, I do not smoke, I have never used drugs recreationally, I don't binge eat; I don't go for days without sleep. I have a regular schedule, I get exercise, and I also watch what I eat. After this entire set of precautions, why then do I feel so horrible? I am 27 I feel 50. My energy levels keep fluctuating, some days I am crazy and bouncing off the walls, others I might as well die and be put underground. My migraines are hitting me almost every other day with increasing intensity. I have recently even started seeing colors during my migraines. I have been told that seeing visual artifacts is the sign of a severe migraine.
The strange thing is back in Austin I did not even have so much as a headache. Ever since I moved to NYC, migraines have greeted me like a welcome bandwagon and have never left my side to this day. After another Thursday away from work, I came in on Friday morning. I was on a mission. I was going to fix this migraine and fatigue thing once and for all. So I started searching the web. As usual there were the miracle cures, the unheard of diseases, and several questionnaires that conclude that you're bipolar even before you begin answering the questions. After a few hours of searching something caught my eye on our intranet page: An advertisement for nutritional counseling. The ad listed all of the symptoms I was suffering from and offered one free trial session. I felt I had nothing to lose; plus because this advertisement was on our company site, I thought my company was somewhat endorsing this person.
I sent an e-mail to the given address detailing some of my symptoms and what I am planning to get out of the consulting sessions. I received a prompt reply the next day. When I called the number in the e-mail, a very soft-spoken person answered. Her name was Sohyoung and although she did not have an official degree she was taking well-being counseling classes. The credentials were on the weak side but just like any other New Yorker I was lured by the free offerings --the free session. We agreed to meet that Saturday at her building on the Upper East Side.
I took the subway, the 4-5-6 (the JLo Line as my cousin and I called it) line up to Upper East Side. I took an express train that got me to her station within 3 stops. This is very convenient I thought to myself. I got off the train and when I exited the station it felt like I had been transported to a completely different part of the country. I assumed 14th street's unending buzzing action to be the norm for NYC. Whenever I traveled to these northern neighborhoods, the calm of the street always hit me when I climbed up the subway station steps. Sohyoung's neighborhood was beautiful, but not glitzy. This was where the normal people lived on the Upper East Side; it was a mix of tall high-rise building with 30-40 storey condos and shorter 4-5 storey buildings of old New York City.
Sohyoung greeted me at her building's entrance hall. They had a security desk with three attendants and everything. I don't want to sound like I have never seen a residential building with porters before but still this was more impressive than I expected.
She was an average height lady of Asian origin. I could not tell for sure which part of the world she was from. She was cute, and endearing; definitely one of those people you just warm up to right away although you know nothing about them. We went upstairs to this very nice lounge area at the top floor of her building. There was a gym next to the area we sat but there was no one there. I thought to myself, if I had 24-hour access to a nice gym like this I would be using it and it would not sit there empty.
The conversation mostly ranged from question answer to just darn right confessions of a new economy child. I gave her as much information as possible about my lifestyle, my eating, sleeping habits and my work situation. Although throughout this time she asked occasional questions and mostly listened, she was already doing a lot of good to me. I was finally getting a lot of things off of my chest. At the end of the hour, she wrapped up the conversation and offered me a seated massage.
While this was a very nice offering, as weird as I am about human touch from strangers, I did not quite know how to respond to the offer. It seemed at the time, it would be rude to say no, so I said yes. The massage was amazing, partially because I do not let anyone touch me for so long in the first place. I was getting warm and flushed, and I could feel underneath my clothes my skin was sweating like crazy in response to Sohyoung's massage. She definitely knew how to give a great massage.
I hate to say this but the massage was the final dealmaker for me. So I signed the dotted line for 6 months of sessions, 4 sessions per month totaling up to $600. I would pay her monthly but if we skipped a session, I would not lose it as long as I gave her advance notice.
So we began working through the rubble trying to patch my nutrition and my soul. The second work area came as a surprise to me. Sohyoung was not only counseling me on nutrition but she was more than willing if not more interested in hearing me talk about my life, my ordeals with my family, my relationship, my background. At times she would be so engrossed at my monologue that two hours would go by and we would still be sitting there. She was very helpful because she was a very good listener and that's what I needed at the time: someone who would listen to me and not judge me, at least not openly.
On the nutrition front, she added several leafy green vegetables to my diet, helped me increase my water intake, and banned all diet sodas out of my diet. Believe it or not, her recommendations seemed to be helping. My migraines were becoming weaker and far apart and I felt more energetic than usual. I am sure the tweaks in my nutrition were helpful but I cannot help but believe that I mostly benefited from the heart-to-heart conversations that helped me shed the bile that had been building inside me ever since I moved to NYC.
Here I was becoming a true New Yorker, unable to find any dedicated friends who can listen to me babble for 3 hours about quite unsubstantial matters, I rented my own friend who would listen to me no matter what. Perhaps it was true, in NYC you could get anything you wanted / needed if you knew where to get it from and how much to pay for it.
Sohyoung and I met all spring, even after my layoff. After the layoff she proved to be an invaluable source of comfort and wisdom. As the summer months progressed, while I enjoyed our weekly conversations, I had started to feel a little strange about paying for them. So my pocketbook was finally catching up with my emotional side. I was not planning to renew our engagement once the first six months were over but our sessions had to stop before then.
She traveled to Korea in mid-summer and mysteriously never came back. She sent me a cryptic message about how she had discovered in Seoul that she had a medical problem and she intended to stay there until it was completely cured. We exchanged a few e-mails after that but I never heard from her again after I moved back to Austin Texas.
Category :
Here are some advertisements from 9/12. The meaning of these advertisements changes within a few hours on 9/11.
The advertisement reads: "Think New York's been cleaned up? You should see what we've done for vodka".
During my visit to New York City in August 2004, I noticed that this billboard was still in place but the tagline in it had mysteriously changed to "Distilled five times. Once for each Borough."
The advertisement reads:"Stella Artois: Sip from History Untarnished".
This is the makeshift memorial that was put together on 14th street and Avenue A. Someone literally painted the mural overnight. The next morning on 9/12, there were already flowers, candles, messages, and other items surrounding the mural. People visited this mural for weeks afterwards, each time bringing a candle, or some other item.
Category :
I think the biggest cruelty of life is felt at times right after a traumatic event. Usually what hurts most is not the event itself. What hurts most is that the next day almost like clockwork, the sun rises, clouds drift calmly in the sky, even birds fly overhead singing completely inappropriately happy tunes.
The morning of 9/12 was no different. I woke up and I did not remember the events of the day before; it seemed that I could have had a bad dream from last night's dinner at Sushi Samba. I headed to the bathroom for my shower. In the shower, I accidentally knocked one of my shampoo bottles and it fell onto another one, and soon several of my shampoo bottles were tumbling down into the bathtub. Right at that moment a ZING went through my head; the events of the day before came rushing back and before I knew it I was crying.
That moment did not last long however, just like it came, it went. I had a calm breakfast in front of the TV while the network TV replayed the planes crashing into the towers and towers falling down sequences more times than one can count. Later in the morning, I called my parents on the phone. They were telling to jump on the first plane and return to Istanbul. They had a point but somehow in the back of my head, it seemed this would be admitting defeat completely. I was not ready to go anywhere yet, let alone all the way back to Turkey.
After lunch, this staying at home and watching the news thing got quite boring. I was craving to go outside. I finally pulled myself together and left the apartment. I soon found out that most of the streets going downtown were blocked by the police. I had a camera in my hand, just in case I saw anything worth capturing. At the same time, as soon as I left my building, having a camera in my hand felt inappropriate.
The streets were full of people walking around in a daze. Everyone was gravitating towards the downtown but we all could not go past South of Houston. I was not the only one with a camera. Overnight, Manhattanites all had morphed into photographer/news journalist. People were out with their camcorders, fancy digital cameras, and some with cameras like mine a 28-year-old Olympus. Perhaps it was easier to approach the situation as an event to be photographed, captured. Perhaps by playing the journalist, these people were able to avoid feeling like the victims. Perhaps these were a bunch of greedy people who at the wake of thousand others were trying to make a buck from the pain of others. Perhaps all of the above.
I must have walked up and down Houston several times that day. The street was closed to traffic, and there were no cars in sight. Instead, there were huge dump trucks, and other construction equipment lined up on both sides of the road. Every now and then a fire truck would rush on by screaming with its sirens. Everyone in the street would stop and start clapping and cheering for the firefighters. On one hand it seemed to be the right thing to do given our helplessness at the time, on the other it was just absurd to be applauding a bunch of a people going in to a disaster zone.
Other rescue workers were grouping around their vehicles and getting ready to go to the site now called "ground zero." These workers had overnight turned into instant celebrities. Every civilian on the street was clamoring for a good photo of the rescue workers. Getting a photo of a firefighter was even better.
New Yorkers who have always hated the tourists in New York had overnight turned into tourists in their own city. I soon noticed I was doing was many others were doing: Anytime I came by a street that was north south oriented, I was taking a picture. Each of these streets was closed with a barricade and several officers and national guard standing by screening people. Only people with identification that clearly showed and address in the barricaded area were allowed through.
Usually in these pictures there would be two large towers protruding behind the usual SoHo buildings. But today, there was a tower of smoke like a big rainstorm had exploded downtown releasing a large cloud of mist over the financial district.
The streets were crawling with people but there was silence in the air. It seemed like everyone was mourning. Several people still had tears in their eyes as they looked southward to where the towers used to be. The air smelled like someone had burned hundreds of computers, cables, industrial carpeting in one big fire. The wind no longer blew towards Brooklyn, it blew North towards uptown on 9/12. There was something else in this smell. Something I have never smelled before. It was very unpleasant and I did not even dare to think about what it could be.
Occasionally we would see a large dump truck filled with debris roll by. It was clear, the towers were gone. They were reduced to mangled steel, dust, and things that did not even have any recognizable shape or size to them anymore.
The morning of 9/12 was no different. I woke up and I did not remember the events of the day before; it seemed that I could have had a bad dream from last night's dinner at Sushi Samba. I headed to the bathroom for my shower. In the shower, I accidentally knocked one of my shampoo bottles and it fell onto another one, and soon several of my shampoo bottles were tumbling down into the bathtub. Right at that moment a ZING went through my head; the events of the day before came rushing back and before I knew it I was crying.
That moment did not last long however, just like it came, it went. I had a calm breakfast in front of the TV while the network TV replayed the planes crashing into the towers and towers falling down sequences more times than one can count. Later in the morning, I called my parents on the phone. They were telling to jump on the first plane and return to Istanbul. They had a point but somehow in the back of my head, it seemed this would be admitting defeat completely. I was not ready to go anywhere yet, let alone all the way back to Turkey.
After lunch, this staying at home and watching the news thing got quite boring. I was craving to go outside. I finally pulled myself together and left the apartment. I soon found out that most of the streets going downtown were blocked by the police. I had a camera in my hand, just in case I saw anything worth capturing. At the same time, as soon as I left my building, having a camera in my hand felt inappropriate.
The streets were full of people walking around in a daze. Everyone was gravitating towards the downtown but we all could not go past South of Houston. I was not the only one with a camera. Overnight, Manhattanites all had morphed into photographer/news journalist. People were out with their camcorders, fancy digital cameras, and some with cameras like mine a 28-year-old Olympus. Perhaps it was easier to approach the situation as an event to be photographed, captured. Perhaps by playing the journalist, these people were able to avoid feeling like the victims. Perhaps these were a bunch of greedy people who at the wake of thousand others were trying to make a buck from the pain of others. Perhaps all of the above.
I must have walked up and down Houston several times that day. The street was closed to traffic, and there were no cars in sight. Instead, there were huge dump trucks, and other construction equipment lined up on both sides of the road. Every now and then a fire truck would rush on by screaming with its sirens. Everyone in the street would stop and start clapping and cheering for the firefighters. On one hand it seemed to be the right thing to do given our helplessness at the time, on the other it was just absurd to be applauding a bunch of a people going in to a disaster zone.
Other rescue workers were grouping around their vehicles and getting ready to go to the site now called "ground zero." These workers had overnight turned into instant celebrities. Every civilian on the street was clamoring for a good photo of the rescue workers. Getting a photo of a firefighter was even better.
New Yorkers who have always hated the tourists in New York had overnight turned into tourists in their own city. I soon noticed I was doing was many others were doing: Anytime I came by a street that was north south oriented, I was taking a picture. Each of these streets was closed with a barricade and several officers and national guard standing by screening people. Only people with identification that clearly showed and address in the barricaded area were allowed through.
Usually in these pictures there would be two large towers protruding behind the usual SoHo buildings. But today, there was a tower of smoke like a big rainstorm had exploded downtown releasing a large cloud of mist over the financial district.
The streets were crawling with people but there was silence in the air. It seemed like everyone was mourning. Several people still had tears in their eyes as they looked southward to where the towers used to be. The air smelled like someone had burned hundreds of computers, cables, industrial carpeting in one big fire. The wind no longer blew towards Brooklyn, it blew North towards uptown on 9/12. There was something else in this smell. Something I have never smelled before. It was very unpleasant and I did not even dare to think about what it could be.
Occasionally we would see a large dump truck filled with debris roll by. It was clear, the towers were gone. They were reduced to mangled steel, dust, and things that did not even have any recognizable shape or size to them anymore.
My original unedited e mail message from that day:
9/12/2001 3:07 AM
Sorry for my general absence from e mail. I had a VERY close encounter with today's events. I am sending you all a CC of my account that I sent out to Friends and Family tonight:
Hi, I wanted to send out another message briefing you all on the new details and some corrections. First off, I am ok and unharmed by the World Trade Center Disaster.
My earlier message today: I was in a daze when I wrote the first message, I was not 30 blocks away, I was 10-20 blocks away on the hudson river side walking still towards the two towers when the South Tower collapsed. I was right around the Holland tunnel ventilation shafts.
The Experience:
I go through WTC everyday around 9 AM to transfer from NR subway trains to the Path trains that make me to my office in Exchange Place (NJ shore of Hudson river). I overslept this morning so I was running 30 mins late. I was rushing to work around 9 and I noticed smoke in the air blowing towards Brooklyn, but it did not occur to me that it could be WTC. I got onto my first subway train and then made it to my transfer station and got on the second train that takes me to WTC Path trains. There was something blaring on the intercom but there always is, so I did not think much of it. We made it to 8th street station and I finally got it, the Train was not going to make to WTC, something was up. I got out, somewhat angry that I was going to be late to work AGAIN! As I was walking towards the ferries on the hudson side I saw the two towers on fire. Apparently when I was going into the subway only one of them was on fire. By the time I got out and started walking, the second impact had occurred.
My own behavior did not make sense at the time. A group of people along with me were walking/running TOWARD the towers until one of them collapsed. When something like this happens you do not realize how serious it all is. I was still trying to go to work thinking, oh great now I have to take the ferry.
As I got closer to the towers (the ferry stations are in that area too), it became evident that this was not a movie. Tons of paper were flying out of the North tower (it was a VERY windy day to start with). Half way through my walk something took over and I was sobbing for no reason. There is nothing comparable to seeing one of the world's largest buildings on fire. Once I saw the South tower collapsed, I woke up from my dazed walk towards the towers. Until then I was just unable to take my eyes off of the towers to realize that I was putting myself in jeopardy by approaching. Just around this time I met with the wave of hundreds of people walking away from the towers towards North. When the buildings fell, the smoke and debris in the air was UNBELIEVABLE. The force of the buildings falling down pulled down a whole bunch of air which let all of us at the scene see the skyline without the two towers. It looked like major after effects digital video editing work only it was real. I still can not believe the news that keeps saying that there were no bombs in the buildings. They fell down so elegantly, mostly caving into themselves like they have been imploded by an professional deconstruction company.
A lot of us started running uptown to beat the storm of dust coming our way. And hope was with us until the last moment, the second tower was still standing, it was ok, one tower was still better than none. Then the second one fell, and you should have heard us all on the streets. Crying, in anger, in tears, totally overwhelmed just by the visual impact of what was happening. I found myself saying "game over"... it was over, it really was. Thousands of people walked home today at noon, all transportation, all bridges, all subways, all path subways, all ferries were shut down.
I have seen several "mud people" walking to their homes in a state of absolute shock and disbelief. I was able to avoid the dust.
All streets are empty right now, and there are ambulances and emergency vehicles ferrying patients north to uptown hospitals. The downtown hospitals are only used for EXTREME cases. I have seen several people on the streets with scratched and scarred faces.
All restaurants, all stores are closed. I was out tonight to get dinner (yes some restaurants were open), everyone is talking about this and strange thing is, in a town where everyone is a stranger, no one is a stranger right now. You can really talk to anyone and they will discuss the details of today and where they were and what they felt, and what their theories are in detail at length.
One final thing that occurred to me tonight is that all theories I hear from the news is about foreign origination....but I think otherwise, what I saw today was MUCH similar to the ending scene of the famous film Fight Club from a couple of years back.
One positive thing is, the people who hit the towers do not know that those buildings really fill between 9 and 9:30. When the first impact happened at 8:45, everything leading to WTC was stopped. And the second tower was already being evacuated when it was hit by the second plane.
So thousands of people did not even make it to their office in WTC because the subway would not go past Canal. A lot of people like me were saved by the excellent response and sense of the city's officials. I applaud the city's organization and efforts in this really challenging and difficult time.
We are all in the state of shock and disbelief, I am just hoping that the survivor's guilt will not be too severe. I am going to try to go to my work place on the shore of Jersey city (exchange place) right across the WTC complex on the NJ side. I might have to take the ferry for a while. One of the major Path (transportation between NJ and NY) is located at the WTC. Needless to say this attack pretty much destroyed that station.
Working in NY will be very difficult for a couple of weeks. Our clients have been effected and we have no word on how many of them actually evacuated the towers and the adjoining buildings in the complex.
It feels like the news is not supplying enough information. Most of us in Ny are just as information starved as you all are, no one is allowed to go past the Canal Street downtown. Only emergency personnel is allowed.
Please spread the news that everyone that I know in Sapient seems to be fine. I think we were saved by out slightly late starting schedules. (Amazing argument for showing up to work at 10:30AM !)
So far I do not know of anyone that is not ok. The phones are still not behaving right if I can not be reached it does not mean I am not ok. I am taking good care of myself. I am unable to call all of you to tell you we're doing ok, I need your help to tell others that you know might be worried about us.
Thanks for all your messages.... I am glad you all are not here to see what I saw, because on TV what you see could not possibly represent what was felt by us all here. Thanks in advance for spreading the news, ES
9/12/2001 3:07 AM
Sorry for my general absence from e mail. I had a VERY close encounter with today's events. I am sending you all a CC of my account that I sent out to Friends and Family tonight:
Hi, I wanted to send out another message briefing you all on the new details and some corrections. First off, I am ok and unharmed by the World Trade Center Disaster.
My earlier message today: I was in a daze when I wrote the first message, I was not 30 blocks away, I was 10-20 blocks away on the hudson river side walking still towards the two towers when the South Tower collapsed. I was right around the Holland tunnel ventilation shafts.
The Experience:
I go through WTC everyday around 9 AM to transfer from NR subway trains to the Path trains that make me to my office in Exchange Place (NJ shore of Hudson river). I overslept this morning so I was running 30 mins late. I was rushing to work around 9 and I noticed smoke in the air blowing towards Brooklyn, but it did not occur to me that it could be WTC. I got onto my first subway train and then made it to my transfer station and got on the second train that takes me to WTC Path trains. There was something blaring on the intercom but there always is, so I did not think much of it. We made it to 8th street station and I finally got it, the Train was not going to make to WTC, something was up. I got out, somewhat angry that I was going to be late to work AGAIN! As I was walking towards the ferries on the hudson side I saw the two towers on fire. Apparently when I was going into the subway only one of them was on fire. By the time I got out and started walking, the second impact had occurred.
My own behavior did not make sense at the time. A group of people along with me were walking/running TOWARD the towers until one of them collapsed. When something like this happens you do not realize how serious it all is. I was still trying to go to work thinking, oh great now I have to take the ferry.
As I got closer to the towers (the ferry stations are in that area too), it became evident that this was not a movie. Tons of paper were flying out of the North tower (it was a VERY windy day to start with). Half way through my walk something took over and I was sobbing for no reason. There is nothing comparable to seeing one of the world's largest buildings on fire. Once I saw the South tower collapsed, I woke up from my dazed walk towards the towers. Until then I was just unable to take my eyes off of the towers to realize that I was putting myself in jeopardy by approaching. Just around this time I met with the wave of hundreds of people walking away from the towers towards North. When the buildings fell, the smoke and debris in the air was UNBELIEVABLE. The force of the buildings falling down pulled down a whole bunch of air which let all of us at the scene see the skyline without the two towers. It looked like major after effects digital video editing work only it was real. I still can not believe the news that keeps saying that there were no bombs in the buildings. They fell down so elegantly, mostly caving into themselves like they have been imploded by an professional deconstruction company.
A lot of us started running uptown to beat the storm of dust coming our way. And hope was with us until the last moment, the second tower was still standing, it was ok, one tower was still better than none. Then the second one fell, and you should have heard us all on the streets. Crying, in anger, in tears, totally overwhelmed just by the visual impact of what was happening. I found myself saying "game over"... it was over, it really was. Thousands of people walked home today at noon, all transportation, all bridges, all subways, all path subways, all ferries were shut down.
I have seen several "mud people" walking to their homes in a state of absolute shock and disbelief. I was able to avoid the dust.
All streets are empty right now, and there are ambulances and emergency vehicles ferrying patients north to uptown hospitals. The downtown hospitals are only used for EXTREME cases. I have seen several people on the streets with scratched and scarred faces.
All restaurants, all stores are closed. I was out tonight to get dinner (yes some restaurants were open), everyone is talking about this and strange thing is, in a town where everyone is a stranger, no one is a stranger right now. You can really talk to anyone and they will discuss the details of today and where they were and what they felt, and what their theories are in detail at length.
One final thing that occurred to me tonight is that all theories I hear from the news is about foreign origination....but I think otherwise, what I saw today was MUCH similar to the ending scene of the famous film Fight Club from a couple of years back.
One positive thing is, the people who hit the towers do not know that those buildings really fill between 9 and 9:30. When the first impact happened at 8:45, everything leading to WTC was stopped. And the second tower was already being evacuated when it was hit by the second plane.
So thousands of people did not even make it to their office in WTC because the subway would not go past Canal. A lot of people like me were saved by the excellent response and sense of the city's officials. I applaud the city's organization and efforts in this really challenging and difficult time.
We are all in the state of shock and disbelief, I am just hoping that the survivor's guilt will not be too severe. I am going to try to go to my work place on the shore of Jersey city (exchange place) right across the WTC complex on the NJ side. I might have to take the ferry for a while. One of the major Path (transportation between NJ and NY) is located at the WTC. Needless to say this attack pretty much destroyed that station.
Working in NY will be very difficult for a couple of weeks. Our clients have been effected and we have no word on how many of them actually evacuated the towers and the adjoining buildings in the complex.
It feels like the news is not supplying enough information. Most of us in Ny are just as information starved as you all are, no one is allowed to go past the Canal Street downtown. Only emergency personnel is allowed.
Please spread the news that everyone that I know in Sapient seems to be fine. I think we were saved by out slightly late starting schedules. (Amazing argument for showing up to work at 10:30AM !)
So far I do not know of anyone that is not ok. The phones are still not behaving right if I can not be reached it does not mean I am not ok. I am taking good care of myself. I am unable to call all of you to tell you we're doing ok, I need your help to tell others that you know might be worried about us.
Thanks for all your messages.... I am glad you all are not here to see what I saw, because on TV what you see could not possibly represent what was felt by us all here. Thanks in advance for spreading the news, ES
Category :
We take so much for granted; our bodies, our health, our sanity, and most of all our identity. We spend our days constantly trying to go from point A to point B only to realize that point B is the new point A. But beyond all of these thoughts, and the circle of life, which on most days feels a lot closer to a re-enactment of the myth of Sisyphus, we find that from day to day, from year to year, from one turmoil to the next; in the middle of all this change the only thing that stays constant is our presence.
They say that the loneliest places on Earth are the most crowded ones, and I felt this so strongly during my time in New York City. Six million people all stuffed several storey high onto the same old half mud, half bedrock, half water, half steel island. We were all so important, so primed and ready to hit it big any moment now. As I sat at my window and stared on to the brief green outside my building, I realized in more ways than one this was a deserted island. Nature in its true form had long fled this place, only remaining piece of it was tucked neatly at the center with right angles around it; almost a hostage the city was holding onto, in case the rest of nature came back to make claims. All these streets, all these buildings, these tunnels, all these dreams, they seemed all so empty, yet we stayed day after day; every day waking up with renewed hopes of stardom and wealth; every day digging the same old hole in the same old spot with no significant progress to show. We thought we were rowing on Hudson against the current and we knew we had it bad; but it was much worse than that; Hudson had eaten us alive and we did not know it yet.
As I walked in the September breeze, the streets were busy with people. Between 1st Avenue and Union Square I could run into two friends, hundreds of strangers and perhaps on any given day a few models and marginal celebrities. New York City was the ultimate Noah's Ark, we had two of everything; which made me wonder, where was my other half? Was he or she out here on this island too or was he the person I left behind in Texas?
Manhattan was a zoo; it was now mine, and I had my cage in it, labeled "100% genuine imported Turk". But really was I genuine anymore? After ten years in the US, what were the remains of my Turkish persona? Maybe it was the fact that I got upset so fast, that I expected things from people Americans do not; or perhaps it was my manners, my accent, my refusal to learn the proper names of trees and flowers. Perhaps just the simple fact that when I closed my eyes I still dreamt in Turkish. Or perhaps the fact that my family refused to give up their ways, and still called me up to two times a day.
Walking the streets, there were familiar faces on people I had never met. As they looked up from the pavement, our eyes would meet and right then and there we both knew it but no one dared to speak a word. It felt like I had checked myself in to a secret society and our secret handshake was avoiding eye contact at all cost.
I would frequently have these days where I would literally hide from acquaintances, friends. If I saw one from a distance I would quickly turn the corner and pick up the pace. In the US, this kind of behavior is classified as antisocial, perhaps abnormal. I have never considered it as such however. I see nothing wrong with wanting to be alone for a day. Seriously at what point did we lose our right to be by ourselves? In a city where everyone must mingle, everyone must work, everyone must fight and win, what if I was completely content with being alone and perhaps even willing to lose? Would that mean that I did not belong here? Should I have seen ahead before moving here that I was just not made of the right stuff for this city?
The storm was brewing, the September skies were clear blue. It was cold but without clouds or rain but something weighed down on my neck like a pair of heavy hands --comforting to some degree but a burden nevertheless. It hung over the city like a veil. It knew better and it was not going to tell anything.
Along the Hudson I walked with Hudson touching me every now and then in the breeze. I tried to learn the language of New York, I practiced every day, and I believed I could walk myself to being a true New Yorker. West Side Highway buzzed on to my left. My head was busy, my head was as crowded as this city; busy as a beehive with questions that have been asked many times before yet their enigma remained.
In the middle of my coming confused thirties crisis I was given the additional burden of knowing that there was nothing original or interesting about my suffering --but somehow this knowledge did not dull the pain nor did it justify its presence.
They say that the loneliest places on Earth are the most crowded ones, and I felt this so strongly during my time in New York City. Six million people all stuffed several storey high onto the same old half mud, half bedrock, half water, half steel island. We were all so important, so primed and ready to hit it big any moment now. As I sat at my window and stared on to the brief green outside my building, I realized in more ways than one this was a deserted island. Nature in its true form had long fled this place, only remaining piece of it was tucked neatly at the center with right angles around it; almost a hostage the city was holding onto, in case the rest of nature came back to make claims. All these streets, all these buildings, these tunnels, all these dreams, they seemed all so empty, yet we stayed day after day; every day waking up with renewed hopes of stardom and wealth; every day digging the same old hole in the same old spot with no significant progress to show. We thought we were rowing on Hudson against the current and we knew we had it bad; but it was much worse than that; Hudson had eaten us alive and we did not know it yet.
As I walked in the September breeze, the streets were busy with people. Between 1st Avenue and Union Square I could run into two friends, hundreds of strangers and perhaps on any given day a few models and marginal celebrities. New York City was the ultimate Noah's Ark, we had two of everything; which made me wonder, where was my other half? Was he or she out here on this island too or was he the person I left behind in Texas?
Manhattan was a zoo; it was now mine, and I had my cage in it, labeled "100% genuine imported Turk". But really was I genuine anymore? After ten years in the US, what were the remains of my Turkish persona? Maybe it was the fact that I got upset so fast, that I expected things from people Americans do not; or perhaps it was my manners, my accent, my refusal to learn the proper names of trees and flowers. Perhaps just the simple fact that when I closed my eyes I still dreamt in Turkish. Or perhaps the fact that my family refused to give up their ways, and still called me up to two times a day.
Walking the streets, there were familiar faces on people I had never met. As they looked up from the pavement, our eyes would meet and right then and there we both knew it but no one dared to speak a word. It felt like I had checked myself in to a secret society and our secret handshake was avoiding eye contact at all cost.
I would frequently have these days where I would literally hide from acquaintances, friends. If I saw one from a distance I would quickly turn the corner and pick up the pace. In the US, this kind of behavior is classified as antisocial, perhaps abnormal. I have never considered it as such however. I see nothing wrong with wanting to be alone for a day. Seriously at what point did we lose our right to be by ourselves? In a city where everyone must mingle, everyone must work, everyone must fight and win, what if I was completely content with being alone and perhaps even willing to lose? Would that mean that I did not belong here? Should I have seen ahead before moving here that I was just not made of the right stuff for this city?
The storm was brewing, the September skies were clear blue. It was cold but without clouds or rain but something weighed down on my neck like a pair of heavy hands --comforting to some degree but a burden nevertheless. It hung over the city like a veil. It knew better and it was not going to tell anything.
Along the Hudson I walked with Hudson touching me every now and then in the breeze. I tried to learn the language of New York, I practiced every day, and I believed I could walk myself to being a true New Yorker. West Side Highway buzzed on to my left. My head was busy, my head was as crowded as this city; busy as a beehive with questions that have been asked many times before yet their enigma remained.
In the middle of my coming confused thirties crisis I was given the additional burden of knowing that there was nothing original or interesting about my suffering --but somehow this knowledge did not dull the pain nor did it justify its presence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)