Subletting Angst

Rumi and I are subletting from a girl (we’ll call her Soap Star) who we recently found out is overcharging us almost $500 per month (it tells you something about how exorbitant New York rents are that we’re paying that much extra but still feel like we have a good deal, relatively speaking). Actually, we found out some time ago, but at the time I had too many other fish to fry, including leaving my job from hell, and I was really looking forward to the summer and making use of our roof deck. Soap Star no longer lives in the city. She’s on her way to California to make it in Hollywood. Meanwhile, she’s been taking acting classes on my dime. At least my money has been supporting the arts.

Mostly I push this situation out of my mind, but every few months, the living situations ends up incensing me. This girl blatantly lied to my face when I first agreed to move in. She told me the rent was more than it actually was, and then didn’t even bother to do the math correctly. I figured out she was lying quickly because what she was charging me and Rumi didn’t add up to what she had told me the rent was. I gave her a security deposit and last month’s rent and now I know that this girl can not be trusted to be honorable with my money. I really hate that. It pushes all kinds of buttons related to money, control, and security.

I can’t stand liars. I also can’t stand greedy, untrustworthy people who think they are pulling one over on you. People who just take and take and have no sense of justice or fairness. It enrages me, now and then, to think that she thinks that she is pulling one over on Rumi and me. Really, we’re pulling one over on her because she doesn’t know that we know exactly how much she’s overcharging us. Our plan is to enjoy the summer and then take it from there.

The whole thing is a New York sublet mess. She’s not on the lease (a fact she lied about and which we recently discovered), so she has no rights under the lease. However, neither do we because we aren’t on any legit lease either; although in the beginning we had thought we were. To complicate things, a new management company has bought the building and they seem to be way more on top of their game than the old one. Suddenly, mail boxes have been stripped of their names, we think because the management company doesn’t recognize so many of the names of people living in their building.

I’m in a precarious situation and it annoys me. It annoys me because I want to make my life less stressful, yet this living situation has been a constant thorn every month when I have to deal with this girl that I’m subletting from. It annoys me that I entered into this situation without ascertaining that it was on the up and up. It annoys me that she has lots of my money and I might not be able to get it back without representing myself in small claims court. It annoys me that I’m a lawyer and yet I don’t know the answers to all of this (housing law is not my forte). It also annoys me that I think I have to wait it out and let the status quo continue because New York rents are such that there’s a real concern that if I went to the landlord he would up my rent to above what I’m paying Soap Star.

I’m tense, aggravated, and annoyed because I’ve been emailing with Soap Star for the last few days. I want a stable living situation. I want her gone. I do not want to have to deal with some greedy, lying, little prima donna every four weeks.

It’s Never About the Lemons

Sven and I polished off the last few episodes of this season’s Entourage and then, because I had vetoed sports, found ourselves surfing through the movies on HBO On Demand. He picked the “Break-Up,” a movie I saw a year ago – fittingly and prophetically – with my Mom and EXBF sometime before he and I broke up, for reasons very similar to those in the movie, actually.

It’s a great movie. It’s funny, the arguments are classic, and it’s the quintessential depiction of how a guy should not behave in a relationship. From the beginning, Gary (Vince Vaughn) acts like a self-absorbed, immature, slothful infant, obsessed with video games, drinking beers, and of course sports. He doesn’t appreciate when Brook (Jennifer Aniston), his girlfriend, picks up after him, makes a nice dinner, plans their social events, or tries to come up with things he’ll enjoy doing. He doesn’t appreciate when she thinks about him, and he doesn’t think about her, choosing instead to take her for granted.

I’d like to say that I thought the characters were based on stereotypes, but honestly, I really can’t say that because I think there’s a lot of truth in how they were presented. I know so many women who give so much to their relationships, who are going out with men who don’t act like they appreciate them, don’t prioritize them, act selfishly and immaturely, and generally take them for granted. Of course I don’t think that all men are like that, and in fact I know a number of men who are dating my girl friends who are fantastic, caring, wonderful partners.

But it’s certainly a reoccurring pattern that I’ve seen pop up again and again, in many different contexts including brother-sister, mother-son, and dating relationships. I don’t know why it happens. Maybe it’s because women are, in general, more emotionally attuned, sensitive, and evolved than men? Maybe women are, in general, less selfish than men? Maybe women are raised to care for the people around them more than men are? Maybe women’s needs are different then men and they try to get their needs met by doing to their men as they would have them do to them?

Or, maybe it’s the way we raise our men where we allow them to grow up into over-sized boys who can get away with murder with a little bit of charm and a few crumbs of affection? Even when Vince Vaughn’s character is acting like a child, we laugh at him and think he’s funny. We think he’s endearing. Maybe it’s the classic “Girl meets Boy with issues. Girl wants to save Issues Boy. Issues Boy will not be saved from himself because his issues are too much fun for him”?

We give them multiple chances, patiently try to explain, talk things to death in an effort to help them understand, and then are hurt again and again when the same issues arise in new and different forms (same, same, but different). As Jennifer Aniston’s character explained, it’s not about the lemons, or the dishes, it’s about wanting to be with someone who gives a shit about you.

I don’t buy the end of the movie for a second, and think it was a mistake to tack on such an improbable, warm and fuzzy ending to what had been up until that point a fairly “real” movie, for Hollywood. You do not live with someone, break-up, move-out, feel devastated, get over your devastation, move on with your life and then see them on the street and look genuinely happy to see them. It wouldn’t happen like that. There would be sudden intake of breath, a flicker of barely suppressed awkwardness, a desire to check yourself in the nearest mirror. Or, at the very least a reserved, cautiousness, a quick glance away, a clenched jaw. But, definitely not the warm, bubbly, wistful, open, doe-eyed greeting that Gary and Brook give one another when they bump into each other on the street only six months after wreaking havoc in each other’s lives.

Maybe it would happen after a year or two, but not six months. Although, in the movie, Gary apologizes to Brook and makes an attempt (too little, too late, but an attempt nonetheless) to get her back, showing her that he actually did care about her, despite all the times his actions had made it appear that he had little regard for her. So, on second thought, because Gary was able to see the error of his ways and sincerely apologize for all the pain he had caused Brook, and because Brook went on to be far happier without him, maybe it is possible that she could have been genuinely happy to see him six months after the break-up?

…Maybe if she became a Buddha during those six months, but short of that, no way.

Discordant

My boobs are sore, my nipples are swollen, and a sourceless knot of anxiety has been eating at me for the last two days despite all of the reasons I have to be blissfully happy. I have a new job that I feel all warm and fuzzy about, I went on a lovely picnic this weekend in Central Park, I motivated to go running twice last week, I have a great new roommate, and I’ve been having a great time catching up with all of my friends since coming back to the city. Yet, I’m not totally happy. I feel discordant, like there’s a layer of funkiness flowing through me.

Today, while walking to the subway and talking to my mom on the phone, I suddenly found myself crying. I hadn’t cried in almost two months; a veritable world record in comparison to the frequent sob fests of last year. Once on the subway, after I had composed myself, wiped away the tears, and checked in my compact to make sure I didn’t have any tell-tale mascara streaks, I almost started crying again because the little kid across the aisle from me was so unbelievably adorable. Trust me, other than my nephew and a few other honorable mentions, I am usually not moved to tears by the sight of small children, adorable or not.

Later in the evening, after meeting some girl friends for dinner and walking a few blocks to get a cab, I realized that I had ended up in my old neighborhood, the place that I used to live in with EXBF, and I felt a wave of almost forgotten emotions wash over me. Not as strong as they once were, but still there. There was sadness, apprehension, anxiety, vulnerability, incredible loss, and fear (fear of what? I wondered). Suddenly, I was caught in a rampage of memories. I felt sad and alone and a little like crying again. When I came home, I saw that a zit had erupted out of no where on my previously smooth chin. Fantastic.

Clearly, I’m about to get my period.

Introducing Sven, My New Roomie

Rumi’s gone off to the Hamptons to live with her boyfriend and teach pilates to New York’s summertime migrating upper crust. In her absence, for the next three months, I’ll be sharing the apartment with Sven, a 28 year old Midwesterner who I met down in Mexico at Bikini Boot Camp. Sven was the personal trainer for our group. While lounging around on the beach chairs one day, we got to talking and it turned out that just at the time my room mate was planning to leave the city, Sven was planning to move to New York to start work in a super swanky gym. Rumi needed a subletter and Sven needed a sublet. Perfection.

Sven arrived on Friday, just in time for my first full jet-lag-free weekend in New York, and to watch my brother and I bicker on Saturday morning about Bacchus moving his hung-over body off of the air mattress in the middle of the living room floor and up into my bedroom. I won that argument by flipping open the valve and causing the mattress to deflate in a sudden rush under the weight of Bacchus’ body. Once he hit the hard wood floor he moved upstairs quickly.

Having never lived with a boy who was not part of my family or someone that I was sleeping with, I’m interested to see how the next three months are going to go. As I have no intention of sleeping with him – this will not be a Billy/Allison thing – and as we’re not related to one another, I guess the only option for us is to become friends. You know what’s weird about that? I haven’t really had a lot of male friends since high school – and those were really more like “three-man” drinking buddies – so I’m a little out of practice at the whole platonic girl-boy friendship thing.

So far, things have been working out well. On Saturday morning, Sven and I went running together on the East River. It was so gorgeous! Since he’s a personal trainer, of course he kicked my booty and ran off a head after a while, but that was fine with me. It was motivating to run with him, because though I’m aware of my weaknesses, I didn’t want to show him exactly how weak I was. A girl has her pride, even if that girl happens to have gained EIGHT FREAKIN’ POUNDS OF FLESH in India. (But that’s a different story for a different post). My stubbornness pushed me through at least one extra song before I had to give up gasping for air.

On Saturday night, Sven, Bacchus and I got the grill on my terrace fired up and cooked up a feast of steak (for the boys), fish (for me), asparagus, zucchini, and potatoes. Looking out at the city from on top of the roof deck, I thought to myself that life honestly could not get much better. Sven did this amazing thing with the potatoes where he mixed together chopped potatoes, onions, olive oil, and salt and pepper and then wrapped the whole concoction in aluminum foil and put it in the oven to cook for an hour. They were so delicious. In addition to being a personal trainer, Sven’s a wonderful, healthy cook. I’m hoping his healthiness rubs off on me and vaporizes the extra poundage I picked up during my two blissful months of vaca.

The only negatives so far have nothing to do with Sven and only relate to having a room mate in general. Rumi was hardly ever in the apartment because she was always at her boyfriend’s (she’s the perfect room mate), so it’s a little weird to suddenly have someone around all the time. During the last couple of days, I’ve spent tons of time watching Entourage and very little time playing with this.

Luckily, someone has the house all to herself tonight.

Photos: Amansala Bikini Boot Camp, Tulum, Mexico.

My New View

LOST Season Finale

SPOILERS BELOW. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Opening: The opening was killer. I was on the edge of my seat waiting for Bernard, Jin, and Sayid to shoot the dynamite and blast the Others to smithereens. Finally, the Survivors are kicking some Other booty. Jin should not be allowed near the guns in the future.

Jack’s “Flashback”: The finale was awesome until the last few minutes which made me interested but thoroughly confused. For a minute, I was convinced that the entire “flashback” with Jack had not been a flashback at all but had instead been a scene from the future, after Kate and Jack get off the island. However, then I realized that Jack had referenced his father to the other doctor, saying something like, “If he’s drunker than I am, you can fire me.” So, the scenes with Jack and Kate can’t be from the future but they also can’t be from the past because – unless the writers of Lost want us to believe that Jack and Kate have been faking for three seasons – Jack and Kate did not know each other before the crash.

So what are we supposed to think about the scenes? Are they Jack’s past, his future, or some parallel reality that may have or might occur because of something related to the island?

The Others: I was a little shocked to see them all come creeping into the Survivors’ camp armed with guns ready, apparently, to kill anyone that they found (except for the women). The finale proved unequivocally that the Others are ruthless killers. Not only were they going to kill the Survivors, but Ben also ordered the death of two of his people just to keep his secrets. So much for the theories that the Others are a group of Scientists trying to save the world. I don’t see how anyone intent upon saving the world could treat other human beings so brutally. Who is Jacob?

Ben: Jack did a decent job punching Ben in the face when he believed that Ben’s order had resulted in the deaths of Bernard, Sayid, and Jin, but it didn’t hold a candle to Nicki/Jessica taking down Skylar in the Season Finale of Heroes. That girl is a bad-ass.

Do you really think Ben believes there’s something on the island or about the island that’s worth protecting at the cost of no communication with the outside world? Or, is Ben just a crazy, deranged megalomaniac?

Sayid: I can’t believe they almost killed Sayid! I for one did not believe it when we heard the shots through Ben’s walkie-talkie. Sayid can not die. He’s Sayid. He’s indestructible and way too hot to die. After seeing him take down that Other with his legs while his hands were tied, I decided I would have to take Sayid over Sawyer. It’s a big step since they were pretty much running neck and neck for most of the season, but I’ve made my decision. Sayid, I’m yours.

Locke: I’m a little annoyed with Locke and his obsession regarding the island. I can’t believe he killed the parachuter! Did Ben leave him for dead in that ditch with all of the other dead bodies? And, why does it take a vision of Walt to convince John that he can in fact walk? I think Walt’s appearance rekindles John’s faith (so he can walk again), but his faith in what? Next season they better give us more than John’s faith in the power of the island. I want more.

Juliet: I still don’t like her or trust her. She was funny in this episode though. My favorite line was when Sawyer asked her why she was going back to the beach and she said “Karma” completely deadpan. She’s feisty and smart. Now if only she wasn’t so untrustworthy. I was surprised she kissed Jack, but he looked so goofy and happy for a second, it was almost worth it.
Kate and Jack: Jack loves Kate! He said he did, which I thought was a rather huge admission, and she didn’t even look shocked. She’s probably known it all along though. Kate looked amazingly hot in this episode.

Charlie and Desmond: Their part of tonight’s episode was awesomely intense, and we learned more about the Others – mainly that Ben lies to many of them and they tend to be brainwashed followers. I thought it was a little too neat that the code to stop the blocking of radio transmissions was coded to musical notes, and that it was Charlie who was meant to go down there and use his musical knowledge to save the day. It was very cool when Penny popped up on the screen and I liked Charlie writing “Not Penny’s Boat” on his hand for Desmond to see. However, I didn’t want Charlie to die and I suspect he might actually be alive. We saw him crossing himself next to the smashed window, but we did not see him actually dead. There’s a chance for him to beat death yet! If he is dead, I’m annoyed because he could have saved himself by trying to escape through that blasted out window.

The People on The Other End of the Transmission: I think Ben might actually be telling the truth about this, and that the people Jack spoke with might end up attempting to kill everyone on the island. They might do so if the island has magical powers and they want the island for themselves, which Ben suggested when he referred to them as the people who have been looking for the island.

Overall, the finale was thrilling, satisfying, and thoroughly enjoyable. I just wish I didn’t have to wait until next season to find out what was going on with that Kate and Jack flashback/futureforward. Thank god I’ll have Project Runway to tide me over!

Ticking

I have been ticking for 4 days. Specifically, the space just below my left eye has been ticking in near constant spasms. It is so annoying. (It has nothing to do with the “Bush Time Bomb” picture but I thought the pic was hilarious).

A friend of mine said that it might be because of a potassium deficit and that I should eat some bananas. I tried, but I continued to tick. Another friend suggested that maybe it’s because my sleep schedule is still slightly off kilter and that I should focus on getting some rest. I’ve been getting around 6 hours a night, which is less than the 8 I need, because though I’ve been going to bed fairly early I keep waking up at 3 am as a result of jet lag. Last night, I took an ambien for the first time in 2 months and managed to sleep until 7 am but I woke up with a smashing headache. Ouch. It still hurts and it’s almost 5 pm!

Does anyone know about eye-ticking? Do I need to go to the doctor? Will I be like this for the rest of my life? I don’t want to tick forever.

Not The Twilight Zone

I marched to work yesterday feeling as if there was a distinct possibility that I was willingly walking to my own death. I felt guarded, a little apprehensive, and filled with gritty resolve to see it through. On my back I carried a gym bag with my yoga clothes and a large rolled-up Tibetan thangka (wall hanging) of White Tara sticking out as if it were a sword. Every few feet I would catch a glimpse of myself and think of Hiro, and remember that whatever happened I was a bad ass and at least at the end of the day I’d be able to curl up on the couch and watch the season finale of Heroes. All would not be lost.

To my great surprise the day could not have gone any better. Everyone was warm, friendly, welcoming, and seemed genuinely excited to have me there. All of the attorneys, about 16, went out to lunch to a delicious Turkish place to celebrate my arrival, and shockingly I had a wonderful time. At my old firm, having a lunch with partners present, let alone sitting right next to you on all sides, would have been at best awkward and at worst torturous. Here, I found myself enjoying learning about each of the partners, sharing things about myself, and fully engaged in interesting conversations. Had I entered the twilight zone?

In the afternoon, we had another party, this one in a conference room with chips and chocolate, again to celebrate my arrival, with all the attorneys, the paralegals, and the support staff. Two parties in one day and no one acted like they had more important things to be doing. Everyone made the time to come, chatted some more, had some snacks, and welcomed me again. It was bizarre.

I got my first two assignments and they’re interesting. They’re also cake. There’s no torture, massive time crunch, or nasty supervisor involved. My stomach’s not knotting at the thought of them. One of them is a neat little problem that I need to figure out. I’m actually looking forward to diving into it today, breaking it down into it’s components and fully analyzing it. I started making a table yesterday and found myself having fun creating it. All of the old nerdy, school-loving qualities started coming out, and I found myself excited at the idea of doing a great job in a way I haven’t felt about work in a long, long time. It felt like a good part of me, the part that actually might like being a lawyer and the legal process even if I’m not doing women’s rights work, was re-awakening. It was crazy.

By 5 pm I was filled simultaneously with a hopeful, warm happiness for my new job and a white-hot desire to punch Dragon Lady in the face. For the first time in my life, I was being treated like a human being at a law firm. It was fantastically discombobulating. It made me feel as if the two and a half years that I spent at Firm From Hell had been me stuck in a dark, evil bizarro world where everything was off from what it was supposed to be. It made me me want to reach back in time to protect my self of two years ago, to tell me that I was right, DL was a nasty, abusive, miserable, old hag, that she had no right whatsoever to treat me like she did, and it was effed up in the extreme that Firm From Hell would allow its partners to treat their associates so poorly. It made me wish that I had had the perspective, strength, and knowledge to know how wrong DL was and to tell her to eff off, instead of internalizing her evil death rays. Effing Bi-atch.

* Sigh *

I have a long way to go to achieving a detached enlightened state. Clearly, it’s not going to happen in this lifetime, but that’s ok. The truth is, I don’t want to be totally detached. I would like to not be filled with white hot anger at the thought of DL, and most of the time I’m not. But, sometimes I am and I’m fine with that. She deserves to be the object of anger occasionally and I deserve to feel what I need to feel. I survived a hell on earth, but I’ve most definitely come through to the other side. I won, not her. She’s still miserable, along with most everyone else at Firm From Hell, but I get to be happy.

Speaking of which, I have to get ready for work.

Photo: Sunrise from Tiger Hill in the Himalayas, Darjeeling, India.

Diving Back In?

The moment of truth has arrived. After 9 relatively blissful weeks away from Corporate America, tomorrow I’m throwing myself back into the fire pit. I’m nervous. Not about the people or the work, because I think the people will actually turn out to be quite nice and the work should be far more interesting and engaging then the work at my previous firm.

What I’m nervous about, perhaps irrationally but I think understandably, is finding myself back in the type of toxic, soul destroying environment that caused me to leave my last firm. The fear is irrational because I did my research on this new firm and everything I know about it leads me to believe that it will be a million times better than my old firm on just about every level. For example, my last firm expected associates to be at their beck and call around the clock. At the new place, most people leave by 7 pm each night, and almost no one works on the weekends.

But, it’s still a law firm, and I’m still going to be doing work that’s not my true passion. I worry – despite my strong conviction that worrying is absolutely pointless – that the new place won’t be different enough, that in starting this job I’m putting myself back in a situation that will wear down my spirit and lead me to become despondent and depressed once again.

Even as I write this, I know that my concerns are unfounded because I would never again allow myself to get to the place that I was a year or six months ago. I’d see the warning signs – both in my professional and personal life – and this time I would get out long before my spirit was crushed into the ground and ripped into a thousand tiny pieces. I’m confident in my strength and in the lessons that I learned during the last year.

Despite my concerns, I’m trying to maintain a positive attitude and hoping for the best. I would like to believe that I could actually enjoy this new job, and I’m excited about starting my new life free of all of the negativity of the past. However, having been ripped apart once, I think it makes sense that I would feel cautious about starting something new. The new firm doesn’t appear to be run by demons with steel tipped talons, but I really won’t know until after I’ve begun working there.

Either way, demons or not, I know it’s going to be OK. I survived an incredibly toxic work situation and a destructive relationship at the same time. This time around, there’s no relationship negativity to wear me down, and there’s no way that any work situation (short of digging trenches in India in the summer) could be as bad as the one I had working for Dragon Lady. So, really, there is nothing to worry about. If it turns out to be horrible, I’ll leave. I’ve done it once and I can do it again. But, hopefully I won’t have to.

Photo: Demons trying to distract the Buddha, painted on a temple wall in Darjeeling.

Back In The Land of Filter Coffee and Killer Cocktails

I’ve been back in New York for a little more than 48 hours. Since arriving home, I’ve marveled at how positively manicured Queens looks in comparison to India, enjoyed three cups of luscious Starbuck’s coffee, had my hair highlighted twice (the first time it looked like I had a cheap faux leopard print hat attached to my head), walked down by the East River and soaked in the organized, industrial feel of the city, caught up on last month’s Heroes and Lost, made a weak attempt to clean up my room, fallen asleep in two cabs (one because of jet lag, the other because of way too many drinks), discovered an awesome new bar, tried 5 new cocktails including one with tea infused gin and elderberry essence, kissed an attractive 28 year old male who looked like he was at least 32, flirted with a bartender, gotten lost while trying to find my apartment, and nursed a killer hangover while watching episodes of SATC and Sopranos.

Word to the wise: Fancy cocktails, even when infused with antioxidants, should not be consumed 5 at a time, on an empty stomach, while suffering from jet lag after not drinking hardly any alcohol for over a month. In addition, I would advise against ever attempting to drink really expensive scotch (mistakenly) as if it were a shot. Scotch does not go down well at high speeds.

Apart from the wicked hangover – that lasted for 6 1/2 brutal hours until just about now – it’s been pretty great, though slightly surreal, to be back. There’s definitely a bit of cultural shock. I seriously can not get over how clean and tidy everything looks. All of the houses and buildings lined up in their little rows, yards fenced off meticulously with chain link fences, garbage packed away in bags out of sight. No tarp cities, no beggar children looking up at me with their huge pleading, sad eyes, no cows ambling down the streets, no rick-shaws, no street gutters running with foul-smelling, toxic looking brown water. Shiny gleaming beautiful glass, swept pavement, filter coffee available on every corner, cute little shops, and blissful, peaceful, calming silence. Relatively speaking. New York has never seemed more quiet to me.

Away from the constant, intense, clamour of India, looking at this city with different eyes, I understand in a way that I didn’t fully before why so much of the world looks at the U.S. as if it’s a paradise. In many ways, it is. We are so incredibly privileged on so many levels here. We have so much. Looking around at the people on the subway, everyone immersed in the individual sagas of their own lives, listening to their ipods, reading their novels and newspapers, checking their watches impatiently, I wondered if any of them truly appreciate how lucky we all are. And, how unlucky so many others are.

Photo: Tibetan prayer flags in Darjeeling, India.