You've Got Mail

Doesn't anyone miss getting letters in the mail these days? I mean personal letters, not bank statements or credit card and electric bills. In the era of email and text messages and Facebook, I find myself missing the personal touch that comes with a hand-written letter. I'm not so old that I grew up in an era where "snail mail" was the only way to keep in touch, but I don't think it's an art that should be forgotten, even though there are faster ways to get messages across. I don't mind words on a screen when it something to the effect of "Hey, what are the plans for tonight," but do we really have to forget everything Jane Austen taught us?

Throughout her novels, we find people writing letters to each other, of varying lengths containing varying emotions. Having spent my teenage years learning the lessons Ms. Austen felt the need to share with us, I have quite a fondness for letters. I would love it if my boyfriend wrote me a letter explaining his actions after we have a fight that upset me, or if a friend who lives far away wrote me a letter instead of just writing an email. There's something about knowing that your loved one, whether a friend or relative or lover, moved their hand across that page, that they were the last person to touch it before putting it into the envelope, reading their handwriting and seeing the parts where they gripped the pen harder with emotions or their penmanship got worse from writing swiftly from excitement that makes reading a letter almost intimate. The arrival of mail was always an exciting moment in Austen novels. Why do we deny ourselves the joy of seeing familiar handwriting on an envelope in the mailbox and the excitement of opening a letter, the whole time wondering what is written in it?

I am a lover of the written word; I like it when others express themselves through writing. Yes, email is writing, but something about having something tangible to store in a shoe box and look at many years later with nostalgia appeals to me. Maybe one day, I'll finally open my mailbox and find something worth getting excited for again. Till then, a girl can dream...

Water-colored Memories

After being recommended to by many people, I finally watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," and I have to say, I really liked it. Though, I have no idea what kind of mood I'm in now; am I cheerfully optimistic or am I slightly depressed by the general concept? I mean, should we be allowed to just hit Ctrl-Z and have a blank screen to work with again? Would people actually opt for it? Wouldn't it dehumanize our experiences by not allowing them to assimilate into our lives and thought process?

I've actually wished for methods of erasing memories in the past after breakups to a point where I considered enrolling myself for experimental shock therapy sessions. Perhaps I was a bit dramatic, but who isn't at sixteen? After my last breakup, though I wasn't quite as dramatic, at times I wished I had never met my ex, even though some of my best and most fun moments were with him and our relationship was by far the best one I have ever been in. This movie actually made me think about what would've happened if I did find some way to erase all those memories and what I would be missing out on. For starters, I wouldn't remember my first kiss, which is something I never want to forget; it really was the most perfect moment. If my thought actually could be "mapped" and erased, I would lose all my drama-filled and fun teenage years which have made me the person I am today, though whether or not that is a good thing is not something I can comment on in an unbiased manner. I wouldn't remember snorkeling in coral reefs in the Bahamas or great clam chowder in Boston or even the nice and sometimes remote places in NYC I've been to over the years, but more importantly, I wouldn't remember how those moments made me feel which, as transient as they may be, I believe those are the feelings that make us human and remind us that we are alive.

It's really amazing which memories we hold dearest; the most insignificant moments which have no impact on the long run can be the thoughts that we keep closest to our heart. Something as simple as walking around the neighborhood while smoking a cigarette and talking, taking random, unnecessary turns just to make the moment last longer, can stand out more than every conversation combined. And if you haven't seen traffic lights change from 30-something floors up in a midtown Manhattan building, you'd be surprised at how mesmerizing it can be if watched with the right person. If there ever is a commercially available way to eradicate memories, I hope I never am tempted to use it, and I hope time doesn't wash them away either.

Too Many to Choose?

I was just talking to a friend about some problems she's been having with her love life, and I made a comment along the lines of "Why does everyone suck at relationships?" It's a pretty broad comment, but I think it's somewhat valid. A few of my friends are in happy relationships, but most of us are trying to stay afloat in ones we have or ones we're trying to start. I find almost everyone I meet has some strange inability to make a relationship work, whether it's because they're too idealistic and unrealistic, too immature and cannot commit, or just simply not nice.

My friend pointed out that perhaps it's because we have too many choices. She has a fair point; the average woman usually has a few men vying for her attention at any given time and a man, even if he can't find a relationship as easily, can get some gratification. Is it necessarily a bad thing that we have choices? I'm not even sure what my own opinion on this is. Sure, we like having choices of foods to eat and clothes to wear, but when we have choices of relationships, does that make us not put in enough effort into one or give one up simply because we know there are others out there? I always say, "There are six billion of us on this planet, we're bound to get along with more than one person," but is that necessarily a good thing? Do we give up on something that could be great with the right amount of nurturing just because we think there is something else to explore out there?

It's not only with relationships. We elected a new president in 2008 who ran on a campaign promise of change, and somehow, we expected that change to come overnight. I'm not very well versed in politics, but it seems like his approval ratings are dropping because he didn't come in with a magic wand and change the situation overnight. There's a plethora of politicians waiting to fight for his position, a horde of people for us to choose from, and instead of waiting for the current president's term to end before passing judgments, we're already talking about who should run in 2012. I think we should give the guy a chance and not expect him to have godlike qualities.

Choices are good, I guess. But I sometimes wonder, is our whole generation just too spoiled?

Let it snow...

It's amazing how happy a snow day makes me even at the age of 23. When I found out classes are canceled tomorrow, I couldn't stop smiling for a while; it means I don't have to stay up late doing my homework. My friend and I decided to go out and take pictures of wintry NYC scenery, though taking my laziness into consideration, I don't know how well that will work out. The unfortunate thing about not being a child anymore: everyone I want to play in the snow with has work tomorrow. Don't you miss the days when snow meant no school and getting together with the neighborhood kids and playing on each others' front yards while the "grown ups" shoveled? (I grew up in suburban New Jersey) I emailed my friend after I found out about my day off and suggested going to the park to play in the snow, he has to work, as does my other friend I spoke to about going to the park, and the scary thing is, I'll be one of them soon (on the 17th in fact). I guess I'll be an adult and try to take nice pictures. Why did I have to grow up?

Empire State of Mind

It's really strange the things we miss seeing when we're away from home. When I was in Calcutta, I didn't miss my room or my neighborhood or anything related to my house. Come to think of it, I didn't really miss NY at all, or so I thought.

I was walking towards the F train from Times Square the other night and the Chrysler Building was in front of me in all its beauty and I realized that I missed seeing it. It is by far one of my favorite buildings in NY; I find it's simple elegance beautiful, like a Chanel suit, not that I own any Chanel suits. My friend thought it was a strange thing to miss when I mentioned it to him, but it makes me feel like I live in a city with beauty in it. I never thought of NY to be a particularly "beautiful" city, but I find the Chrysler Building truly exquisite.



The other thing I really missed was seeing the Brooklyn Bridge. I went to college near it and spent lots of free time at Brooklyn Bridge Park, and like the Chrysler Building, I think it's beautiful, the brick structure, the greenish reflection of the lights on water at night, and the pattern the cables make. Whenever I got stressed, which was quite often during senior year, I would go down to the park and sit on this particular rock, smoke a few cigarettes and listen to the water hitting the rocks while staring at the bridge and Manhattan across the river; all this strangely set my mind at ease. I don't live in Brooklyn anymore, so I hardly get to go to that park and I miss it a lot.



For some reason, seeing the Chrysler Building that night made me realize that I'm back home. It's really strange what triggers feelings, of any sort. I guess I'm back to being in an Empire State of Mind.