Rico

I've been quite entertained with the bums so far. In fact, some have left a lasting impression with me.

There are those who scream random thoughts out into the street.
There are those who sleep at night curled up with the books they hope to sell during the day.
And there's even the man who I saw the other day talking with police -- wearing only his droopy boxer shorts. I'm not sure if he were really a bum, but I think his sighting is worthy of categorizing him with the rest.

Then there is my favorite bum so far: Rico.
I've run into Rico a few times, and each time he forgets that he's seen me. Just today I saw him twice -- in two totally different areas of Morningside Heights. He always approaches in a very nice manner with, "Excuse me. Can I ask you something?"
The first time I briefly talked to him.
He thanked me for "not being racist." I found it funny that he assumed all the people who weren't talking to him were racist instead of uninterested in bums.
This morning he saw me as I was finishing up a run in Central Park.
He asked his usual question and then followed with "...oh. You don't have any pockets."
He has a habit of sulking when his efforts go unrewarded. I find it absolutely entertaining.

I have this little game I play in my head every time I see a bum; I ask myself, is he crazy? on something? or just mentally "disabled?" It's a good game, but I can never tell if I'm winning or losing.

There are also the subway bums, which are typically fantastic. There's a group of men who walk through the cars and announce, "Welcome to the Gospel Train!!!" Then they launch into a wonderful Motown quartet. There are also those who sell the homeless newspaper for a dollar. I just think it's great. They're kind, well-spoken, and pretty good at sales!
There are, however, those subway bums who are seeped in the smell of their own urine. They are typically quiet, but their presence never goes unnoticed. They tend to walk through the cars when it's packed, forcing them to rub close to everyone. The stench is so horrid it makes me want to vomit.

I once had a boyfriend my grandfather referred to as a bum. I think he was right. That ex would do well in New York.

I Left My Pride in Portland

I've been repeating my mantra over and over again: I left my pride in Portland.

You would think that would help ease the pain of writing a really bad paper, realizing that all the readings I did never sank in, or feeling as if I'm the only dumb person in the class. I've been seriously wondering if all these feelings will eventually go away. The one thing that gives me solace is knowing that for some reason from providential evidence, I know I am supposed to be here.

School is hard.

I stayed up until 3:00 last night reading and writing. I haven't stayed up that late in years. No, this is not because I've been spending the rest of my time playing. No, this is not because I'm trying to be a perfectionist. It's because I'm simply trying to learn everything I can, and it's just not registering. I just hope this is part of getting into the groove.

Things that are going well:
I have my thesis topic picked out -- mostly. I'm going to do a radio documentary on contemporary theatre and religion. I even have some interviews set up already. In a few weeks, I'll head down to D.C. for the weekend to watch a show and interview some people.

My classes are great. I love all the readings even though I don't understand them. We're learning a lot about the late 19th and early 20th century movements of arts, culture, and journalism. I think I'm going to pick up a copy of Marx's "Communist Manifesto." It's been years since I've read it, and I think it would help.

[Now have the song "Right Here, Waiting for You" in my head. Thank you to those who get it...]

My last two classes of the week are fantastic endings: my theatre class and my radio class; it's kinda' like dessert for me. My radio teacher is Alex Blumberg, who hosts NPR's "This American Life." I love it. I've already done my first radio piece -- all by myself! It's helped reassure me that although my essay writing is lacking, I am strong when it comes to writing for broadcast. I hope my skills will be strengthened even more by the end of the year.

I'm even getting my own radio equipment for my thesis. In fact, my minidisc recorder just arrived. It's really small -- about 3 inches by 3 inches. For some reason, it was shipped to me in a box that would hold a computer monitor. Explain that one.
Now all I need is a good microphone and headphones.
Yes, I'm turning into a geek.
My mom even bought me this really cool device (at Darren's recommendation) that allows me to watch tv on my laptop. Jealous?

Okay, so now I can here the questions coming. "How will you even have time to watch tv, Tam?"
Good question!
I don't!
BUT -- I'm gonna' have to record The Apprentice this season. My friend Shawna's husband is on it ("James"), so you should watch it too.

I think it's time for a nap now. Then I'm going to get up and do some more reading.

9/11 in New York

The subways were as packed as always and the streets were crowded. But church was different than usual. We spent the day remembering what happened in the city four years ago. The bishop stood and read a long entry from his journal, sharing how he felt after the terrorists brought the twin towers to the ground and killed thousands of innocent people.
This timing seems proper in the wake of hurricane Katrina and the many families affected in New Orleans. These are tough times for our country.
Somehow, even though I feel like I'm so far away from everything I know and love, mourning, remembering, and honoring our fellow citizens seems to help connect me to the world and to grander purpose.

My Newest Nephew

Today is my newest nephew's birthday. His name is Steven Keith. Isn't that name the cutest? How great is it that Darren and Rene' used the name Keith? Now my mom will stop bugging us about it! :)
I'm so excited! I love being an aunt!

First Day of School

For the first half of the day, I was absolutely overwhelmed. By the afternoon, I was just irritated.
In our program, we're required to take an elective outside the journalism school. I actually found a class that seems to fit perfectly with my needs in the theatre department: Modern Theory & Criticism. I'm not sure if the professor will let me in the class; he says he's concerned about size. So this has me "shopping" for another class.
I'm now thinking of taking something in the film school. I checked out a couple classes last night (first one was way too big, the second one i could only stand the boring professor for five minutes). I am on the hunt again today.

I know this will all work out, but sometimes it's a little hard to remember. In the meantime, I'm seriously considering doing my thesis as a documentary. I've already signed up for a class learning how to use their shooting and editing equipment. This should be an interesting experience.

Also, I woke up twice last night with a horrible Charlie Horse. I suppose I need to stretch more after all this walking...

Trying Out Tribeca

My first assignment at Columbia: attend an art event you normally wouldn't. I headed down to The Knitting Factory in the Tribeca area. They have live, local music. I should have left my heels at home. Everyone was sitting on the floor in a very beatnik-esque way. The band was very mellow -- as were the people. I kicked off the heels and sat down among the crowd. Most of the songs were about love, lost love, longing for love, and love gone wrong. But there was one final number I felt was meant just for me -- "Oregon." It was about exploring the beauty of the state and blazing the three-thousand miles to get there. I wanted to cry!

I have other homework too, it's just not nearly as exciting to discuss. Classes start tomorrow and I'm nervous. I actually had to send one professor in the theatre department my resume to get into a class. I'm still not sure if I can get in! Yikes! Talk about a tough crowd!

My weekend was boring but good. I went to church yesterday. It's actually in the same building as the temple. I was talking to a young woman I knew from my church in Portland. While I was telling her how much I "miss my dog" a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Are you Tamara?"

I spoke with Emily Call a couple months ago. She and I found each other through the church housing web list. She seems pretty cool and I predict we'll get along swimmingly. She wasn't in the room when I introduced myself and only knew who I was by my dog comment. Apparently I talk about my dog a lot...

Ah yes. And the big news of our apartment: Paola found a kitten at the subway station and brought it home. She named her Ace because it was found at the A-C-E subway stop. The kitty is cute and offers a nice little "homey" element. She's gray with little white stripes on her side and dots on her belly. I think she likes me lots. Why is it cats see that "sucker" sign so easily on my forehead?

Oh yes. Did I mention I miss my cats and my dog yet?