Real life Room of Requirements

Like everything else in New York, the trees are fake. Especially here. Someone in the guest book called it a real life Room of Requirements. That is exactly what it is. A room filled with trees and grass and warm light, all helping you forget the blistering cold and quickly falling snow outside.


Here, the trees are extra fake, made of plastic, wires, and fabric. The grass shines as if wet, but in reality it is as fake as the trees, a dry plastic carpet cut into symmetrical strips pretending to be grass. The light comes from bright triangle lamps on the ground behind the trees, as well as small lights on the roof, and a few Lekos with purplish diffuser gels.


Speaker boxes in the corners produce sounds of birds chirping, while white painted brick walls with exposed electrics contain the square bean bags and wooden picnic tables, and keep the cold snow out.


Real, dry leaves and twigs surround the base of each fake tree as adults of all ages enter and remark on the astounding artificial environment. Kids, none quite old enough to talk, some too young even to walk, light up with smiles as they chase brightly coloured balls around the comfortable, fake, green, Room of Requirements. A forested haven away from the grey snow-dirt slush outside the front room, perfectly camoflouged in The City. The cold outside waits, but for now the small group of people enjoy their moment in the artificial park.

While we sit by the fire...

Utah. It's an interesting place. It's familiar, but not home. Since my parents moved here I have spent more time here than in Arizona.


Arizona. The land of my people. Home in my heart but, not in reality. This is were I spend the least of my time each year since I went away to school in New York.


New York. My home as far as time is concerned. I like it there, and grower fonder of it all the time, but it still doesn't hold the same weight with me as Arizona.


It's weird, because I knew as soon as I left, that I would probably never move back to Arizona until perhaps retirement. Arizona always has been and always will be my home, even if I don't live there. I brag about it all the time, I relate back to it in conversations, "Well, in Arizona, this is how we do it..." and I mourn when it mourns (such as now after the senseless tragedy in Tucson.)


All the time I spend in New York and Utah (aka away from Arizona) has led me to evaluate why I am so attached to Arizona. To me the answer is simple... it's the people I met there and the memories we share. I don't necessarily love Arizona because it's Arizona, I love Arizona because it is my connection to so many of the people that I love most.


This became more apparent to me this week. Three of my best friends from Arizona came up to Utah to visit me. It was the first time in nearly six months that I had seen any of them and the ease with which we picked up our relationship, as if I saw them every day, has made Utah feel a bit like home.


Together the four of us have cooked wonderful meals: eggs, pancakes with honey and jam, potatoes, and tea for breakfast, spaghetti, potatoes, garlic bread, baked brie, and Oreo milk shakes for dinner. We have planed out our days, and function just like a little family; each of us responsible for a different aspect of the groups well being. This is what home is to me, and this is why I love Arizona. Arizona brought me the people that make me feel at home.


Tomorrow I will be venturing back with my friends for a short visit to Arizona. my first since this last summer. I am looking forward not just to the warm sunlight, but also to seeing the people who continue to teach me lessons, inspire me, and make me feel at home despite the fact that they are often hundreds of miles away.


So now as I sit here bundled by the fire listening to the sounds of my friends it seems fitting to write. Another lesson learned on my journey to adulthood I suppose.


Have a great night and thanks for reading,
Birdy

Meeting the Dog/Merry Christmas

So for those of you who read my post back in early October about the dog that my parents bought, for themselves, on my birthday, that made me really bitter here is an update.


I was completely set on disliking the new puppy simply because of what he represented (my parents disregard for the fact that buying him was like mocking the fact that all I ever wanted growing up was a puppy).


The dogs name is Buddy-Boy (apparently they weren't feeling overly creative when they got him), and despite my best efforts to ignore him, he seems attached to me.


When I got to my parents house I was not done with school, and still had two final papers to complete and email in to the professors. The normally hyper active dog decided that since I wouldn't play with him while I was working, he would instead curl up next to me. So went day one of our relationship.

yesterday he was not content with sitting idly by while I worked, however, and so in oder to appease him/take a break from my paper writing, I filmed him playing with a toy, and generally disrupting my work area.

Today, he ate a pack of mini-colored pencils that I received in my stocking. Although I was able to save all of the pencils, he left teeth marks on them and destroyed the case. Ergo, we are currently not friends.


I hope every one had a Happy Christmas, or Hanukah, or whatever you may have celebrated this year.


Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays,
Birdy

Studying

Blegh. I am currently studying for a final on the history of Ancient and Medieval Africa. It starts in one hour, and I am taking short break from studying flash cards to eat a muffin, drink some coffee, and post my life for you all! I took some picture of my study area, although they aren't completely accurate since I used Sepo, my computer, to take the pictures, and therefor he is not in them. However, I feel that they are still a good representation of my life at the moment.

My study site complete with flash cards, notes, muffin, and the remnants of my soul.

I am such an artist. This is my map of important sites in Medieval Africa. Mad skills, I know.

Thanks for reading and have a fantastic and wonderful Monday!

Birdy.

I only like it when it snows at night...

It has been very grey and cold and gross the last few days and so I decided to warm myself up by finding some of the brightest, summeryest pictures I have taken in the last year or so. I hope you enjoy their moments of warmth!

Thanks for reading,

Birdy

Nothing like a day trip to the hospital

Around 3 in the morning yesterday I received a phone call from a friend of mine who lives in my res hall, I almost didn't answer but it was so unexpected that I decided it must be important. I was expecting a "life changing conversation" similar to others that the two of us had enjoyed quite frequently last year, especially if she had been drinking. What I received instead was a worried request that if I wasn't sleeping, I come to our mutual friends room. She then went on to explain that our friend had fallen and hurt an old injury, and was now crying and asking for myself, and her mother.


I made my way down to find my friend in a sorry state, her make-up was smeared, her leg was sloppily elevated and she was crying. It wasn't any sort of typical crying however. She frequently switched from painful sobs, to pitiful tears, to out right angry fits. It was not a pretty sight.


I quickly jumped in (over a pile of her crap) and began my attempts to comfort her so that she could tell me what had happened. The nights tale was finally revealed and as her confused tears continued to fall I helped her to better elevate and ice her leg. Once I was done and she had finally gained some sense of calm I left after telling her roommates how to best take care of her, and to call me if anything else happened or they needed help.


Between 9:47 am and 1:09 pm I received calls and texts from my injured friend and her roommates. I would read, respond and then fall back into a light sleep, until finally I was informed that my still highly emotional friend was preparing to go to the hospital. I knew I actually had to go physically check in. I rolled out of bed, put on my shoes and called the elevator to take me down the six flights to her room. I was just expecting to check in, give my two cents, and see her on her way with someone else's help, so I left my coat, my socks, my gloves, my money, essentially all of my important goods other than my access card behind.


I walked into her room and realized I had just walked into a "shit show." One thing led to another and next thing I know I am standing in the cold, in nothing but my unlaced shoes, school sweats, a T-shirt, a thin hoodie, and a beanie, waiting for a cab to take my friend and I to the hospital. We spent five hours on a bed in the hallway of an overcrowded hospital, and after some xrays, a knee brace, and a pair of crutches, she was at last discharged.


This left us standing outside; her all bundled in her coat, gloves and winter boots, and me still in my unlaced shoes and hoodie. It had begun to Snow.


My friend was now alternating between pitifully crying at her situation and laughing about how ridiculous it was that this was her life, while I attempted to hail a cab on a Friday night and keep my shivering to a minimum. Thirty or so minutes and a block of helping my friend slowly maneuver down the sidewalk on her new crutches and we were in a cab working our way back to school.


Once back on campus I made her buy me dinner seeing as I had been unable to eat all day because of her.


The point of this story is this. . .


Sometimes you just need to cry for your parents, and are really pissed when they aren't there.
Sometimes you have to be someone else's parent for a while.
Never go assess a situation without a coat, some gloves, a pair of socks and enough money for a cup of coffee.
Being someone's sole companion at a hospital can really make you feel like an adult.
It feels nice to be needed, to a certain extent.

What is a small girl to do?

In a moment of wishful thinking I decided to see if Blogger would load on my computer for what was probably around the 500th time in the last two weeks. I was shocked when it actually worked, and utterly relieved, for I needed to write about an experience I had just had. By the time I had typed the following story out however, Blogger of course stopped working again so I copied it into Word and it has been haunting my sidebar since/ Blogger seems to be working right now so here’s to hoping…

When walking back to my dorm from class I cross between a construction site and a hospital, and in true New York fashion, this entire walkway is covered by scaffolding. It is a short section of walkway, situated directly across from the school, and as I mentioned one of the buildings lining the path is a hospital. For this reason I have never felt particularly worried while passing through, despite the fact that it is not brightly lit, but today changed that.

By the time I got out of class it was already growing dark, and it was raining which made everything appear that much more eerie. I was busy thinking about the two papers I have left to write this week when I noticed a bit of a commotion a few feet ahead of me, a guy walking from the nook near the entrance to the construction site had his head turned back over his shoulder and was yelling violently at a person who was blocked from my view by the oversized construction dumpster. I knew that something was wrong but kept walking until the man passed me, and I passed the dumpster, I then saw a young woman who couldn't have been much older than myself, and who was at least two inches shorter.

My first thought was to mind my own business, but then I noticed that she was sobbing and looked as if she might collapse at any moment. Half a second was all my mind needed before it confirmed that none of the other passersby were going to stop to make sure she was ok, so instead I took two steps off of the sidewalk in her direction and asked "Are you alright?" As I did this a man in his business suit holding his umbrella at his side unopened walked by. He was probably on his way home after a day down at Wall Street and I knew that like most New Yorkers he wanted nothing to do with a stranger, he wasn't going to stop, but our eyes met briefly before he was gone out of sight, covered by the dumpster.

My focus went back to the young woman who hastily hid her face by looking at the ground and claiming that she had simply lost her necklace. I knew she was covering something up, so I asked "Are you sure you're ok, do you need any help?" and simultaneously took one step in her direction. I was close enough now that I could hear her ragged breathing and despite her best attempt to keep the crying out of her voice, I could hear the chokey sound that inevitably happens when a person cries. She seemed intent on shutting me out however, and like the other ten or so people who had passed by since I first noticed her, I also felt it was not my place to get involved in a strangers life, besides the man who was obviously troubling her seemed to have gone about his way and there wasn't much else I could do. This is how I justified my decision to turn and carry on, but I hadn't turned all the way when I heard the angry man again. 

I kept rotating until I had completed a full circle and saw that the man had returned, apparently out of nowhere, and was now shouting, pressed against the sobbing girl who was trying to worm her way out of his grasp without actually looking at him. Outraged at his behavior and emboldened by the knowledge that I was in fact in front of a hospital, I called him out with a rather pathetic "Hey! Leave her alone." It worked. He looked at me and she took a few steps back. I knew I was in a dangerous position, but also quickly calculated that should he become violent, I was far enough away from him that I could probably make it into the hospital before he caught up to me. Comforted by this fact I called out again. "Leave her alone, just go walk away." He promptly told me to fuck off, and the girl chimed in with "It's fine, I just lost my necklace."

It was not fine.

I repeated my request that he simply leave wondering how long it would take me to locate my phone, unlock it and call 911 should he decide to turn around a carry on his ordeal with the woman. He looked back at the woman and I leaned in a bit preparing myself to cause a scene if he became violent with her. His attitude and her response told me that he was not afraid of public violence, and I had an inkling that his violence had started the current situation. Just as I really began to get worried and as he started to yell again, the man with the umbrella also reappeared, "Thank goodness." I thought, "Someone else in New York does actually care, and it just so happens to be a big athletic looking business man with a sturdy looking umbrella."

Umbrella Man chimed in with an "Is everything ok here..." that was less of a question and more of a warning that he would take action if it wasn't. Violent Man began yelling at the woman again, pretending that we weren't here, and without thinking I added my plea of "Just keep walking, just walk away and leave her alone" to the mix. 

Before I even knew it, Umbrella Man was gone, Violent Man was making his way off by squeezing between the dumpster and the scaffolding while still yelling, and the woman unable to stand any longer had collapsed to the ground where she sat crying. I knew she didn't want me to approach her so I stood still and just watched helpless, unable to help. I noticed that Violent Man was standing not far off just behind the dumpster, but I was ready to leave, the last few minutes had drained me. I decided to wait a bit longer and turned a few inches so that I was facing him, but could still see her. I puffed myself up, took as intimidating a stance as I could, and nonchalantly put my hands in my coat pockets, wrapping my right one around my cell phone.

I then proceeded to stare him down, attempting to tell him through my body language that he was wrong and that I was not afraid to stand up to him. Really though I just wanted him to leave so that I could go berate myself for foolishly getting involved in a strangers life when in reality there was very little I could do to help. 

A few minutes passed and the woman, who seemed to be regaining her composure, looked up at me and told me that it was ok, that she was ok, and that I should go. Startled that she could actually say anything other than, "I lost my necklace" I looked at her for a moment before responding "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Do you want me to walk you somewhere?" "No." "Are you really ok?" "Yes, I'm ok now."

She still didn't have the strength to move herself, but I could tell that she really did seem sincere so I looked back at the Violent Man unblinkingly for a few seconds, I knew he couldn't hear what we were saying, but still I was afraid that he would come back when he saw me leave. Right then I noticed a very steady stream of people crossing the street towards the walkway, the rest of the 4:30-6 classes were getting out, students would be walking this path in groups for the next 30 minutes or so. I turned and walked away.

Part of me is really worried that he continued on with his tirade as soon as I left, but the other part is telling me that "there were enough people passing through to prevent him from doing anything too extreme, besides what is a small girl like yourself really to do?"