Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Day 227: Heady and Aromatic

The old spice warehouse
Exudes curry with a trace
Of lemon pepper

There is a spice importer in an old brick building near the site of Ebbets Field (which, in a heinous crime against architecture, was knocked down and rebuilt as the ghastly Ebbets Field apartments in the 1960s). For better or for worse, Brooklyn is often a pungent place. This spot is like an exotic vacation for your nose.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Day 226: In Appreciation

A musical laugh
So light and ethereal
Like a butterfly

Monday, November 22, 2010

Day 225: She is Unstoppable

She faces the world
Armed with a trusty blanket
And a blue binkie

As a complete aside, I learned not long ago that putting honey on a pacifier is officially verboten. I had no idea. For the 10 minutes a year that Baby Me chose to rest my lungs from screaming, I sucked on a honey-coated pacifier. Have I finally found a reason to blame everything on my mother?

(Hahaha, I only wrote that because my mom is my most loyal reader, and she rocks. I just like to keep her on her toes.)

Sunday, November 21, 2010

My (Other) Secret Identity

As you've no doubt noticed from the cheerful little widget at the bottom of my blog, I'm not just a renegade haiku-er, I'm also a rampant crocheter. Now that I am unemployed I have even more time to crochet and think about the ways in which I would like to change the world.

I'm thinking of pioneering a Slow Gift movement (much like the famed Slow Food movement with its adorable snail logo) this holiday season. Here is a rough draft of my Slow Giving manifesto:

1) Think before you buy. Ask yourself, where will this gift be in a year? In five?

2) Take the time to become informed about where your money is really going. Make an effort to support small businesses, especially local shops and artisans (because, you know, maybe they just graduated from law school and are unemployed, but still have to pay rent and buy food and make loan payments...)

3) Giving should be a source of joy, not a tiresome obligation. Don't buy just to have something to give.

What do you think?

Day 223: Empire Boulevard, Crown Heights

A profusion of
Scattered chicken bones like a
Spread of dead fingers

Sometimes haiku isn't pretty, but I'm damned if it isn't vivid.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Reader Submission: It Runs in the Family

Have I mentioned that my mom is an excellent haiku-ist? Check this out:

A loud joyous cheer
Is heard from friends far and wide
You both passed the bar

How cute is she?

Day 222: Being Neighborly

"You are challah girl?"*
Asks the neighbor who can tell
When we bake our bread

*For the sake of accuracy, read this line in a thick Russian accent.

When I first moved into this apartment 2 1/2 years ago (has it been that long?) I was intimidated by the other residents. Nearly all of them are older Russian folks. I heard a lot of gruff, guttural raised voices behind apartment doors and through windows, leading to an immediate assumption that they were all talking about how much they hated me. However, in the time that I have lived here I've realized that while most of the people in the building are not particularly friendly, they are secretly sweet. There's the lady downstairs who barely speaks English but always gives me a big smile, asks how I'm doing, and looks confused as she puzzles out my answer. There's the man with the little girl from the second floor who invited us to borrow a cup of walnuts the day Intrepid Boyfriend and I were coming back from the grocery store, ready to bake, and I realized that I had forgotten them.

Oh, and just to clarify, I am not actually Challah Girl (sadly). Intrepid Boyfriend is Challah Boy. Check out his recipe here, and you just might find friends and neighbors drifting toward your own kitchen, lured by the delicious aroma of baking perfection.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Day 221: Regrets

The good news, as I mentioned previously, is that I passed the New York bar exam. The bad news is that nothing about my life has changed. I am still jobless, still having dreams that we get evicted and have to wander the world with our belongings packed in my granny cart, and still seemingly incapable of writing a single haiku. I fear I've lost my touch. The syllables used to just pop into my head as I walked down the street or sat on the train. Maybe it's just that I haven't been getting out enough lately, but I'm starting to feel like the stresses of everyday life have taken a steaming dump on my creativity.

I know that it was foolish to think that passing the bar would change my life for the better, but I really thought that it would. I thought that suddenly people would want to give me jobs and that I would be able to earn even a little money and stop feeling the way I've been feeling for the past few months: which is, for lack of a better word, useless.

I hope I'll have more haiku for you soon. I've dealt with writer's block before. In the meantime, the following haiku is all I've got. I encourage you to pass it along to anyone you know who thinks that going to law school is a good idea.

Have I been hoodwinked
Into a lifetime of debt
And ramen noodles?

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Day 220: Winter comes early, and a spot of good news

The new ice sparkles
As children whirl about in
A dervish of blades

Seeing them all with their matching bright blue Bryant Park rental skates immediately made me think of a Chinese dragon that had lost its top layer. It also cracks me up when little kids stomp around on the ice and yell "I'm SKATING!" This is interesting because I mostly find both children and yelling to be rather trying. Maybe I'm finally growing up.

In other news, we found out on Friday that Intrepid Boyfriend and I both passed the New York State bar!