Happy Secret

3. Cinema Village // 22 E. 12th Street

This is a tiny movie theater mostly populated by NYU students and old couples on a date night. It’s nice for a spontaneous afternoon movie. It’s also the type of movie theater you’d take someone you were having an illicit affair with and didn’t want to be seen with them. But if you’re having a public affair, I’d recommend Film Forum or the IFC Center.

2. New York City Ballet // 70 N. Broadway

Getting the student discount off the website is easy but you have to act fast for popular ballets like Swan Lake. I’ve seen everything from weird modern ballets set to Phillip Glass compositions that look like a heavily stylized Banana Republic commercial to traditional classical numbers straight out of the Zoe Saldana storyline from Center Stage.

1. Brooklyn Botanic Garden // 1000 Washington Avenue

This is the best place my student ID gets me into for absolutely no charge. I go every year during the cherry blossom festival, which is basically a month-long cosplay convention for gentler anime fans and their miserable significant others. But in the Spring it’s the ideal spot to play Scrabble, and afterward, you can walk to Unnameable Books.

5. D.H. Lawrence and Henry Miller

Their writing styles are quite different, but my primitive mind groups them together as writers who are both mostly famous for writing about sexy times. I think I prefer Lawrence simply because I can follow his writing easier. Also, did you know Henry Miller’s middle name is Valentine? You could pretty much get away with naming your kid anything in the 1800’s.

4. Alice Munro and Amy Hempel

I’m a bad writing student because both of these writers put me into a coma. I know they are at the top of their games, and I should be gratefully licking their literary boots clean, but their stories are virtually indistinguishable to me. I had to buy both of their collections, and I’ve written many an essay about them, praising their technical prowess. But now I am finally coming clean. On Tumblr.

3. Jonathan Franzen and David Foster Wallace

Both are writers from which I’ve mostly only read their short stories, essays, or articles and avoided their novels, mostly out of intimidation. (Though I read The Corrections when I once had the flu and liked it.) I feel like a Philistine for not really having a strong opinion on either of them, though I do enjoy reading about their social circles. I wish TMZ had followed them around back in the day.

2. P.G. Wodehouse and Evelyn Waugh

I think Evelyn Waugh is sharper and funnier, but I still think they’d raid each others closets, and their conversations would move at the same pace of a Gilmore Girls episode set in the early 1900’s. I imagine book designers always choose cartoonish, illustrated covers for their books because they think it will trick readers into thinking they’re the same author.

1. James Joyce and William Faulkner

I should probably stop now, as I’ve embarrassed myself enough.

3. My Office

I work in a shared workspace with lots of other companies, and the building’s owners pride themselves on being young and fresh. Hench, the DJ in the lobby one morning. This is a kind of building that plays house music in the bathroom, (making the flush of a toilet oddly melodic) so this was the king of shenanigans they’re always up to. The DJ was there to serenade the people coming in and out during their lunch hour. I think he was there to encourage community and conversation, but people mostly avoided eye contact with him as if he was a mariachi band on the C train.

2. American Apparel Sample Sale

I guess I should’ve expected to see a DJ there, but it was almost 9 PM, and it was in a warehouse-like store that was nearly devoid of customers. There were piles of lycra leggings and drop-crotch pants scattered all over the place, and I couldn’t find the one item I came there for: a solid-colored tanktop. The DJ was playing hip-hop infused bhangra (with guest verses by Nicki Minaj) at a deafening level, so I didn’t stay long. She looked incredibly bored, but I’m sure she got a handsome discount on clothes.

1. A Dim-Sum Restaurant

The nice thing about this DJ is that he was playing songs I had completely forgotten that I liked back in junior high, like hits by The Offspring and that “Tangerine Speedo” song. The not-so-nice thing about this DJ was that he was relegated to the restaurant’s waiting area, so it was hard to hear the hostess call people’s names. I think he may have been the son or nephew of someone who worked there because he seemed like he was paid in dumplings. A pretty good gig, if you ask me.

3. Introvert + Extrovert

Some say opposites attract, while others say stick to your own kind. I think an introvert and an extrovert can make a pretty good combination, as there will always be someone to hold up the conversation and push the introvert to try things, like brussel sprouts and $5 foot-long subs. A problem that’s likely to come up is that the introvert gets sucked into doing whatever the extrovert wants and starts feeling resentful. Through my own experience though, you come out of it feeling a lot more sure of yourself, and gradually, you get more comfortable telling someone to fuck themselves with a $5 foot long.

2. Introvert + Introvert

This seems like an ideal combination, but it also scares me a little. I think of those couples who start to dress and even look alike and only leave their apartments to buy more wheat germ. Many introverts prize comfort above all, so it’s a huge relief to find someone who isn’t freaked out by your secret, creepy habits and can spend hours with you in complete silence. Still, I think people get too comfortable, and after a while, that can get depressing. Honestly, I think this relationship works best with pets and their owners. If you’re an introvert, get an introverted Jack Russell terrier. You won’t regret it.

3. Introvert + Hybrid

Lots of people claim to be both extroverts and introverts, and while everyone has some of both qualities, it’s very rare to find someone who is equal parts both. But when a true hybrid does come along, I think introverts should drop everything and start their mating dances. Introverts do need someone to push them out of their comfort zones, but at the same time, if they get over stimulated, they’ll start malfunctioning and will probably retreat to the bathroom to play Scrabble on their phone during dinner. I don’t think that’s necessarily anti-social, after all. I just think we have a low tolerance for niceties.

5. A.I. Friedman // 44 W. 18th Street

This is the second best stationary store (out of three) on the street. I don’t know why this street has so many paper stores, but I’m not complaining. I think this store is for more serious artists, as I often get stink eyes from the security guards for loitering.

4. Cupcake Cafe // 18 W. 18th Street

I’m over cupcakes too, but this is a nice place to drink Cherry Coke and read Amelia Bedelia books since it shares space with a children’s bookstore. I don’t think many people think highly of the actual cupcakes, considering they were shut down by the Health Department recently.

3. Academy Records // 12 W. 18th Street

I first went here expecting it to be like its Williamsburg outpost, but it actually specializes in classical music, jazz, movie soundtracks, and DVDs. There’s an obese cat that rules over the small space, and sometimes I’d like to see whether or not it would fare well in a non-heated bodega.

2. Paper Presentation // 23 W. 18th Street

This is the best stationary store on the street. (The worst one is right beside it.) It’s the kind of store Martha Stewart would be overwhelmed by. Best of all, if you exit through their back entrance, you’ll find yourself on 19th Street, right next to Muji and Idlewild Books.

1. City Bakery // 3 W. 18th Street

There’s the Hot Chocolate Festival in February, but they also have tasty, if slightly overpriced, things on a daily basis. Since I’m a creature of base desires, I’m just satisfied by the fact that they have good mac and cheese, and on Valentines day, they don’t put up any decorations.

3. Alanis Morisette

This woman is usually situated between the E/M and G transfer at Court Square in the afternoon and evening. Every time I’ve passed her, she’s singing a Jagged Little Pill-era (as if any other era mattered) Alanis song. It’s just her, her guitar, and an amp, but it’s just the thing I want to hear when coming home from work. Her favorite song is “Head Over Heels,” which isn’t my favorite Jagged track, but it’ll do. The day she sings “You Oughta Know” when I’m having a particularly gloomy day will be the day I give her a crisp twenty.

2. Twelve Girls Band

I guess it’s telling that I can turn a blind eye to all kinds of horror and soul-crushing tragedy, but the moment an old person is involved, I’ll turn into a big old softie. I’ve only seen this group of old Asian women two or three times, but every time, it’s broken my heart. They travel in a pack of four and sing in Chinese, with one woman accompanying on a small harp. The first time I saw them, I was compelled for the first and only time to tip a busker. It was on one of those insufferably crowded 1 or 2 trains, but like I said, I’m a sucker for old people, especially old ladies who coordinated their outfits and all got perms.

1. Daniel Johnston

I’ve only heard him late at night, usually at an hour when I want to be anywhere but waiting for the G at Metropolitan/Grand. I’ve never taken the time to research if he’s singing original songs or covers, but I’m always struck by how eerily similar his voice is to Daniel Johnston’s. His songs are usually short and about love, and at the end of each rendition, he’s only met with —at best— tepid applause. He keeps singing even when a train passes, and the sound obscures most of his chorus. Not many people choose to busk at G stations, so I appreciate his endurance.

6. Having your Tweet re-tweeted by Margaret Atwood.

5. Finding out that Seamless Web has expanded your food delivery zone.

4. Successfully printing out a series of packets that is correctly collated and stapled.

3. Coming back from a lap around the bathroom, kitchen, and supply room.

2. Finally getting out the staple that has been wedged in your keyboard.

1. Rolling back in your chair at the end of the day, shaking out the carpal tunnel.

3. 2003

The first time I came to New York was on a family vacation. My mother arrived with a list of people she needed to buy designer knock-off bags for. She took me and my sister to Chinatown, where the fake bag market was much more prevalent then than it is now. Lots of short Asian women chanting “ChanelVuittonPrada” tried to court my mother, but she ended going with a woman who simply nodded and beckoned us to follow her with a finger. We entered her kiosk, where she opened a door that was disguised as a wall. From there we went down a set of stairs into a basement. Then we went into a small room, filled with bags and also, a toilet. My mother and her new friend communicated through a calculator and series of nodding and shaking of their heads. We didn’t return to daylight for an entire hour.

2. 2006

The next time we returned, it was just my mother, sister, and me. My mother went straight to Chinatown and found her friend again. They remembered each other. Her friend had a new set up this time. We went to a strip mall and up a flight of stairs. She led us to a store whose windows were boarded up with black trash bags. She locked the door behind us. Again, my mother waded through bags. I tried to peek through the garbage bags to see outside, and my mother’s friend made a disapproving snarl. When my mother was finished, they sealed the transaction with more nodding and patting of merchandise. As we left, we told our mother we never wanted to do that again.

1. 2008

My mother and I were only in New York for three days. I was visiting the art school I had just been accepted to, and I was giddy. But then my mother proposed dim sum for lunch, and I knew what that meant. By then, the bag ladies were slim in numbers. A few of their storefronts had been closed with signs saying they had been shut down by the counterfeit police. We found my mother’s friend in the same place as usual. This time the route was much simpler; no stairs, no basements. She simply took us behind the door disguised as a wall. Her stock was pithy, and my mother wasn’t impressed. Still, she was happy to see her friend again. They both knew it was the last time. My mother bought a bag, mostly for posterity. When I go down Mott Street now, I sometimes see my mother’s friend, eating noodles from a cup. She doesn’t recognize me, and I’m glad she doesn’t.

3. A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunnigham

The first couple chapters of this book are jaw-droppingly good. I read a short story in one of my classes that I didn’t know was from this book. It involved two young brothers taking acid and one brother dying in a freak accident. It sounds kind of lame, but it was a good short story. Within the context of the novel though that story should be etched in stone and handed down from the Mount Sinai. The second half of this book, however, pales in comparison. The ending made me so angry that I had nightmares about it, and then I woke up even angrier than before. I’m still angry. So don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.

2. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser

This was one of the books I read on my Nook in my ongoing quest to read all the free classic e-books that interest me. The trouble though is that very few interest me. I skimmed the summary of Great Expectations, and it was an instant sedative. Anyway, I truly enjoyed this book though. Carrie got annoying once she found herself in the lap of luxury, but I liked reading about her toiling in a factory and being shocked at men calling her “ducky.” Also, I am never one to support cheating, but Carrie and Hurstwood’s affair was probably the biggest snoozefest in all of literary adultery history. However, he still didn’t deserve his fate at the end of the book.

1. The Fallback Plan by Leigh Stein

I read a few good reviews for this book, and it has a cheery blurb on the cover from Gary Shteyngart. (Though, according to his Facebook, “[he’ll] blurb just about anything! Books, people, hair care products…”) I ended up reading the entire book in about an hour and a half, but that speed mad have been due to me skipping the sections about the talking baby panda. I didn’t find anything in the plot particularly interesting, but I guess I was intrigued by the fact that this was the modern book I’ve read so far. It could take place yesterday. Stein does write children very well though. I noticed she works in kids book publishing, so maybe that has something to do with it. Further proof that people in publishing are insufferable but secretly cool.

4. Stationary Store Loiterers

This group is for people who enjoy spending time in expensive stationary stores and not buying anything. Occasionally we’ll sniff the paper, too. I’m sure with all the time we spend aimlessly loitering, we may be mistaken for a very nervous flash mob, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take.

3. Work-From-Home Social Coterie

When you work from home, sometimes at three in the afternoon when you’re having an animated conversation with your stove, you’ll realize that it’s the first time you’ve spoken aloud all day. This group will help those people regain their role in society — through baby steps, of course.

2. Quiet People Book Club

A book club for people who suck at voicing their opinion in the middle of a boisterous discussion and don’t get a chance to pipe up until their idea is no longer relevant. Meetings will probably only last five minutes, as once a person talks, they are not very likely to speak again.

1. The Clean Lint Filter Taskforce

One of the simple pleasures in life is cleaning out the lint filter of a washing machine. This league will visit laundromats and revel in the beauty that is peeling that long strip of lint in one fell swoop. We’ll also collect stray buttons, change, and socks and donate them to the March of Dimes foundation.

3. High School

If you want to be on Jeopardy, the best time to try out is in high school. The questions are ridiculously easy, and I remember an episode that featured a category on Top 40 Radio and no one knew who Mariah Carey was. Also, if you’re in AP History, you already know 70% of the questions right off the bat. When I took the high school test my senior year, I was cocky. I thought watching the show every afternoon and shouting out answers through a mouthful of Funyuns was enough to prepare me. It wasn’t.

2. College

The next time I took the test, I decided to prepare a little bit beforehand. I did this by going to my school’s store and looking at their sweatshirt options. When you’re on College Jeopardy, you have to showcase your school pride on your wardrobe. This troubled me, as I was never a fan of my college’s font choice. Another drawback was that I tend to look marshmallow-like in sweatshirts. And I did not plan to wear spaghetti straps or a muscle tee in front of Alex Trebek. I failed the test again.

1. Post-College

Now that I had to take the normal test, I had more important things to think about. What anecdote would I tell Alex and the audience after the first commercial break? Brevity was key. So was dry humor. I’ve seen people humiliate themselves by trying to incorporate song or rhyme into their stories. (One woman sang a song she wrote about her weinerdog.) This was bad since my go-to anecdote is usually about the time I met Peter Gallagher at a mall in Texas. That was awful. I wasn’t ready for Jeopardy yet. I needed more anecdote-worthy experiences. Also, I failed the test again.

10. Cafe Grumpy // 193 Meserole Avenue

Don’t drink coffee. Glares.

9. Milk and Roses // 1110 Manhattan Avenue

Future wedding site.

8. Champion Coffee // 1108 Manhattan Avenue

Too small to stretch legs.

7. Ashbox // 1154 Manhattan Avenue

Best mean Asian lady.

6. Troost // 1011 Manhattan Avenue

No wi-fi past five.

5. Starbucks // 910 Manhattan Avenue

Free wi-fi. Don’t judge.

4. Upright Coffee // 860 Manhattan Avenue

Spiced apple cider.

3. Cup // 79 Norman Avenue

Nice board game choices.

2. Le Gamin // 108 Franklin Street

Too classy for me.

1. Peter Pan Bakery // 727 Manhattan Avenue

Where my heart belongs.

3. Colette

An ideal relationship for me is one where I do all the listening and someone else does all the talking. This is usually made easier if the other person is interesting, as I usually have nothing of great importance to say. I think Colette would be someone who wouldn’t mind holding up the conversation, while I just sat on her chaise lounge and stuffed my face with petit fours. My favorite picture of Colette is of her and Audrey Hepburn. She’s reading with great bravado, while Audrey is lying on her bosom, blissful. That could be me!

2. Frank O’Hara

I’m mostly a savage when it comes to poetry, but I like Frank O’Hara. Like all the poetry I read, I was relentlessly attacked by it until finally deciding that it wasn’t all that bad. O’Hara seems like someone I would like to take a walk with. I would just hope he wouldn’t bring along William Carlos Williams because he would intimidate me. I probably don’t find O’Hara scary because we’d probably just talk about “pearls, harmonicas, jujubes, [and] aspirins” while Williams would just start talking smack about T.S. Eliot.

1. Gabriel García Márquez

I want to be friends with Marquez but under the condition that we were friends in a universe in which magical realism was just plain realism. That way, we could meet up for a bit of alchemy in the afternoon, and then spend the evening deciphering bird entrails. I have no interest doing those things in real life, but in Macondo, they’d probably take on a new sense of excitement. But I suppose if we were friends in the real world, I wouldn’t mind taking out him and his Nobels for dinner in the window-seat of a well-known restaurant.

5. Glasslands // 289 Kent Avenue

This was the first concert I went to after moving to Brooklyn. I had won tickets through a blog contest, but I was only 19 and it was a 21+ show. I didn’t have a fake ID because I look like I’m twelve years old. I emailed a friend who knew Kip Berman, and he told me and my friend to come early so he could let us in. We showed up four hours early, before the band had arrived. I had heard that Williamsburg was a bubble of gentrified safety, but for some reason, I was quite scared of this part of town. Eventually, the band showed up, and they were very nice to us, and Peggy said she liked my bangs, which were a greasy mess.

4. Music Hall of Williamsburg // 66 N. 6th Street

After that first show left me with such a good experience, I saw them again a few weeks later, again in Williamsburg. This time it was a much more established venue. By then, I was listening to “Young Adult Friction” at least five times a day. The library pun at the end of the song was my favorite part, and I looked forward to hearing it live, with my actually knowing the song this time. When they played it, no one sang along during the end, which was very disappointing to me. I like the feeling of solidarity at shows, and it pains me when people aren’t freakishly obsessed with same line in songs as me.

3. Other Music // 15 E. 4th Street

During Record Store Week (Rant: Everything has a week, doesn’t it? Record stores, restaurants, indie bookstores, yoga studios. When will bodegas get their due?), the Pains were doing a DJ gig at Other Music. I like that store a lot, but the thing is, there isn’t much room to dance. While the band DJ-ed, people either stood and curiously stared at them or ignored them and continued to shop for records and badly photocopied zines. I did a little bit of both. But after five minutes I left because there is only so much standing and ignoring a person can do before they start craving some falafel.

2. Webster Hall // 125 E. 11th Street

Did you know this place used to be a polka ballroom, and polka dancers like their dance floors to bounce a little? So during this show, the floor was moving up and down, and I felt like I was in a bouncy castle at times.

1. The Bell House // 149 7th Street

This was the Slumberland Records 20th anniversary show and a pop kid’s wet dream: the Pains, Crystal Stilts, Pants Yell! and Lorelei, among many esteemed others. In short, this was the kind of show I thought I’d be going to all the time when I moved to New York. This was also the first show I attended after I turned 21. As usual, I arrived hours before my friend. I decided to order a drink because it felt grown up, and I had a wristband and everything. So I got a beer, sat down, and played Scrabble on my phone. This was exactly like the first 20 years of my life, but with a bitter aftertaste.

4. Cliques

You have the grandmas, the newbies, the English majors, the math majors, the sociopaths, the asthmatics, the Birkenstocks, the intermediates, and finally, the experts. They sit in their own corner and refuse to play unless you have ProTiles. Sometimes they press down so hard on their timers that the spring breaks. Obviously, the experts won’t even talk to you unless you have a rating of at least 1800. Or if you can give them a ride back to the 7 train.

3. Army of Skanks

The experts are haughty, but it’s the grandmas that are vicious. They get together every week in their Long Island Scrabble clubs and are suspicious of any new blood. They were sweet to my face, but the minute I turned my back, they whispered about how I didn’t have the decency to let a person lose gracefully by less than 200 points. It’s hard to really despise them though. Homemade rugelach is, after all, very tempting.

2. Africa

It’s both presumptuous and sad that I relate most to Lindsay Lohan’s character in terms of Scrabble. This was my first tournament, so the other newbies were kindest to me. I genuinely liked them, too. They often spoke of playing in tournaments “just for fun,” and I believed that they meant it. At the complimentary deli lunch, they let me set at their table. But when I started winning and the experts deigned to speak to me, I was flattered. Until…

1. Prom

At the end of the tournament, there is an awards “ceremony.” It turned out that I had won the beginners division, which was a cause for consternation among the grannies, the seasoned intermediates, and the more fragile beginners. When I went up to accept my check for $90, I was met with tepid applause. I could feel a miasma of hatred coming my way. I had my key to join the experts, but instead, I returned to the beginners. They welcomed me back anyway. It’s exhausting, this hierarchy.