I woke up at like 8:40 showered, checked email
...nothing much, but eight new emails from all the fashion listserves my bosses made me subscribe to for "research purposes." Don't really see the point since I delete them immediately. Or sometimes I tell myself I will actually read and observe them later, so I let them stew in my inbox for at least three days before inevitably deleting them anyway.
On to facebook, Megan put up a photo album from when she came to my graduation. I peruse the pictures while tagging the ones I look good in (about 40%). I logout as I realize, as I've done so many times before, that I look way better blonde. Time
to get ready.
I look in the mirror at my mousy "natural" brownish hair color, as I think of how much I'm hating my hair right now. I put on my everyday make up: Bare Minerals in fair, some Two- Faced bronzer from sephora and MAC mascara in Midnight. I realize this is as good as it's going to get for me today and I pick out a pair of dark blue J brand Skinny Jeans and an H&M carmel colored top. My outfit is kind of lame, but definitely safe to wear to work, especially with my new Brozek Aldo wedges I just got for $80 on fifth ave that I am totally obsessed with right now. The souls of these shoes could be made of shards of broken glass and I would still don them proudly.
I walk to Dunkin Donuts, which is conveniently located about two minutes from my lower east side apartment to grab my morning usual: an everything bagel with chive cream cheese and a medium iced light latte with skim milk and no sugar. Ah heaven. Then I strut to the subway reminding myself how much I love these shoes, despite the immense pain they cause me.
As I enter the 1st avenue entrance to the L train I debate tossing my bagel in the trash due to the ever-present smell of burnt hair and vomit that seeps from the subway. SERIOUSLY, what can possible create that smell? I look down to sell a homeless man that more resembles a wombat than an actual human. He is eating a newspaper. I begin to understand the smell.
On a normal day I don't wait longer than five minutes for the train, but since I am running behind today, something will clearly happen to delay the train-thus making me even more late than I already am. After waiting for 15 minutes and watching two brooklyn bound trains come and go, the 8th avenue train finally comes- obviously filled to maximum capacity. Perfect. I love standing intimately close groups of angry rushed strangers. As the door opens there is absolutely no space for even one more tiny person. Eight of us impatient commuters file in, making everyone nice and cozy comfy.
There isn't even a pole to hold on to at this point, so I raise my palm to the ceiling to prevent falling into the bald guy behind me upon departure. This is not so much because I'm polite, but more so because it looks like he's really looking forward to that. Gross.
Walking out of the subway towards 111 8th avenue is one of the best parts of my day. As I leave the disgusting underground chamber of death I approach this mirage-like view of the buildings, the gold accents of my building glow brilliantly in the morning sun. It is at this moment, everyday, that I put my morning gripes behind me and realize just how lucky I am to be here.
-A
No comments:
Post a Comment