I have mixed feelings about blogging, but I've come to the conclusion that blogging is good for memory's sake. Because I can't write as fast as I type, and I don't always carry my leather book with me.
I went to the beach today and it ended well, with dinner at Joe's Ginger with some new friends. Had a chill night at home, doing laundry. The towels never dry completely so I ran the dryer again, and on the way down to pick them up, the elevator stopped on the 4th floor. I'm in red Haverford basketball shorts and a blue tanktop, with messy hair and glasses. I look hawt. Loud ruckus outside, think to myself, "damn." Dude holds the elevator for the rest of the drunkards and they all pack in, with me in the corner.
Douchebag comes into the middle of the elevator group, lights up when he sees me, holds up his hand for a high-five and yells, "Hey, it's the foreigner!!" So happy to see that I add some diversity to this group of Murray Hill lameasses. I'm ashamed to make myself remember that I was so shocked, I automatically gave him a high five. He then asked me what I was doing, getting laundry? yup. What floor do you live on? ..what? What floor? 7th. The dude next to me asked if I know Chrissy, trying to be nice. No, no I don't. Poor guy, he was trying to make up for his douchebag compatriot but the damage was done and I wasn't in any mood to oblige.
They leave, the douchebag comes back to hold the elevator door open. "I'm sorry." What? I'm sorry for being rude. That's fine, have a good night. You too.
Obviously he regretted saying it, or his friends made him come back. The air palpably stiffened during our conversation. I hope he wakes up tomorrow with a sick hangover remembering what he said. Or his friends bring it up next time they're out and warn him not to be an asshole.
Maybe I'm being prejudiced (I am). Maybe they're not from Murray Hill. They might be from Chelsea.
Being a minority in race and sex is difficult. Not that females are a minority in number, but rather in social standing. Some kid in black shorts and a yellow tshirt grabbed my ass running at full speed at KOP 2 weekends ago. I was so shocked I just stood there, watching him run away from me, his friend laughing and running next to him. He was either really eager or just a really fast runner that it was more of a slap than a grab, but I nevertheless felt so fucking violated. I tried to get my mind off it by getting a new toner from Sephora, but the sales woman was such a dumbass that I got more mad. "Why me?" The friend I was with is so much cuter than me, which in some sick twisted way made me think that she'd be more of a target for that than I.
I don't usually go about thinking about the world and my standing in it through the lens of 'damn, this sucks' or 'this is wrong.' I mean to say that while I definitely do have opinions, it doesn't rule my perspective, ie: feminists. But when things like that happen it's a cold slap in the face, or butt, about reality. I wish I had the BMC rugby team with me to chase that kid down, and some BM women to bite that American's head off. I think I miss BM.
I sound so angry. Maybe it's New York getting to me; I've noticed that I've become incredibly bitchier since living up here. I have next to no tolerance for annoyance. The worse part is that I take action against it when unnecessary and shut down when I should act. I hope to work on that.
On another note, my arms tanned in such a way today that as per S., they look grey, not brown.
