1.) This song “A Real Hero” by College (feat. Electric Youth) is from the movie Drive. I could not stop playing this song every day, ten times a day, for a week straight. Especially after experiencing the movie. Go ahead, see the movie and see if you do not play this song obsessively. And if you go, which I strongly recommend, know this: it has some serious violence. I felt a bit traumatized when the movie ended. But also, I felt like I had just watched something amazing. One of my favorite movies of the year. Anyone else feel the same?

Click here to view the embedded video.

2.) Berlin. While visiting that city a couple weeks ago we were struck by a few things. First, it’s a really really fun place to visit right now (ok, for a few years now, but we’re late to the party). It’s cheap. It’s energized. There is a DIY artistic entrepreneurial-ness everywhere. Except for the food–which is terrible (Such a weird defect in a world-class city. But, communism, I imagine, was not a nurturing patron of inventive cuisines. Also, as a guide book pointed out, Germany’s short-lived stint as a World Empire meant that its colonies never got a gastro-foot-hold in Berlin, unlike say, Britain’s Indian cuisine, France’s Moroccan, Dutch’ Indonesian, etc.) Another thing, a lot of people walk their dogs off-leash. And people don’t seem to care. And people walk their dogs right onto the subway. It’s a very permissive city. You can buy beer, wine, liquor at just about any corner store. And throughout the night. And you can carry it on the street. Or onto the subway. Berlin’s treatment of alcohol is fascinating. I’ve never seen people on a subway car at 10:30 in the morning enjoying a large green bottle of beer. People who look like they’re on their way to work. Perhaps other countries in the world are just as permissive, I’ve just never seen it displayed like this before. The other thing about Berlin is how it makes you confront some heavy heavy shit. You don’t get that gut-kick visiting Barcelona or Beijing. The War, the holocaust, the Wall. There are some really moving memorials and museums completed in the last few years, in particular, the holocaust memorial and the Jewish History Museum (by Daniel Libeskind). I won’t describe them here, but by themselves they would make the trip to Berlin worth the trouble.

3.) Amsterdam. Has anyone else been there recently? Is it just me, or is it just a little bit boring? For all the ground-breaking permissiveness of this city (red-lights, coffee houses, legalized outdoor sex in their public park, etc.), it felt really sleepy. Central Amsterdam–outside of the red-light district–is a gorgeous and dreamy world of canals, bridges, and 17th Century houses and is clearly inhabited by very wealthy people. It’s like visiting those tiny brownstone streets in the West Village, except with much greater acreage and more beauty, and everyone rides bikes instead of cabs, but it still feels unwelcoming, like you don’t belong there. And for a city known for its nightlife, it closes down really early. We had a hard time finding a place for dinner after ten. And it was hard to get find a decent place to have a drink after eleven. It felt at times like a movie-set that gets abandoned by night–except for that occasional bike whisking by. Maybe Summer is a lot different than October. And with a pack of friends in the know, it’s probably a lot more fun. Did we miss something? Is there a good reason to visit again soon?

4.) Occupy Wall Street. A couple days ago I came across this link to Adbusters that proposed OWS finally take up a unifying cause: The Robin Hood Tax. Why hadn’t I heard of this until now? The Robin Hood Tax video (feat. Bill Nighy) below is from February. Of 2010. I should really check my facebook more often. Regardless, the video’s pretty clever. Could this idea really work? Bill Gates and Warren Buffet have signed on. And a lot of smart economists too. Could this be the unifying rallying cry that OWS could finally manifest? Maybe. Is this the time? Adbusters proposes October 29th. The Robin Hood Global March. Torches and pitchforks. And our TGW masks. If this is for real, my fellow travelers, let’s make ourselves heard! Anyone in?

Click here to view the embedded video.

Just outside the Quarter, Treme is recovering and looking proud:

But the Ninth Ward, where the levees broke (or were weakened to ensure they broke, say the locals, to spare that same French Quarter that fuels the city’s economy), still looks in most places like this.

The guy who drove me through these streets, who used to live there, said that these were all closely packed blocks of houses, with yards butting up against each other—blocks and blocks of this bustling populated suburb. Now most blocks have two or three houses on them, those that were salvageable or spared, with huge weedy lots in between where their neighbors’ houses used to be. I saw more rabbits than residents.

Some houses have been cleared by their owners (most of whom still own the land but haven’t been able to rebuild)—often all that’s left is a porch:

And sometimes the owners haven’t even had the resources—financial or perhaps emotional?—to clear away what’s left of their homes.

Speaking of spraypaint, many houses still bear the spraypainted instructions from FEMA, and sometimes to FEMA, about what–or who–is salvageable. This garage door was actually in a museum exhibit, which explains the inappropriately pretty backdrop for such a brutal memo:

New homes are beginning to be built on some of the vacant lots—like the houses that still stand, they’re about six or seven lots apart from each other, as if they’re big estates on acres of land instead of lonely islands in the middle of a wiped-out neighborhood. They were funded by some sort of grant that provided modernized dwellings, sustainable and up on stilts in hopes that they’ll withstand the next inevitable flood. I was unable to find out whether these are the ones Brad Pitt commissioned and funded, but they do look much more LA than NOLA.

I’m not gonna be the one to critique how out of place or “inauthentic” these houses look when they’re giving these residents somewhere to be after that trauma, maybe even somewhere nicer. Do they feel “at home” there? How can they, even if they grew up on that street or they love their new digs, when almost all of their former neighbors’ homes–and maybe the neighbors too–are washed away, collapsed, disappeared?

Waterstains were visible on buildings everywhere that hadn’t been repainted–you could see where the color turned dark and bubbled in a line all the way around the buildings. Many businesses had been rebuilt or had painted over those scars, but no one’s ready to pretend they’ve moved on completely, so they had indicators to show how high the water had risen, like this one:

Now look–look UP–at where that little plaque sits on the wall behind my friend.

The waterline plaques are just a hint of the survivors’ pride that infuses so many conversations. They’ve got STORIES. Everywhere we went, the locals would tell us what it was like to run from the storm. Not the hurricane, not Katrina. Just “The Stawm.” They’re not sick of talking about it. “We all piled in the car and it took us fourteen hours to get to Houston.” “My whole family used to live in this neighborhood, but now their houses are all gone.” “We salvaged the bar from the restaurant and built the rest back ourselves.” “Used to be lots more homeless here, but we figure most of’em died.” “My family got the last room at the Best Western and they charged us double. Twenty-one of us crammed into that room–and we stayed there for three weeks.” And those are just the stories tame enough to share with a stranger without crying.

I can’t end with a platitude about the resilience of the city, the way their music uplifts them, that unquenchable NOLA spirit. It’s too sickening. People are living their lives and their lives are changed. I just wanted to show you what I saw.

Best Advice, Fun Facts and Wisdom from Student Tour Guides:

“The swans living on this pond are the 13^th generation from the original swans brought here when the school was established!”

“If you go here you have to love Lady GaGa, I mean it is not a box you check on your application or anything.”

“We don’t really have school spirit. But people paint this cannon when they feel like it.”

“Our mascot is an elephant named Jumbo who died saving a smaller elephant from being hit by a train. But we stuffed him and had him on display until the building burned down. A math student saved his ashes. And I think we still have his tail. You can see it if you want.”

“Here is the silent library. I don’t study here though. In fact I had never been in here until I started giving tours.”

“Everyone gets along here. I am a nerd and my roommate is a basketball player!”

“Seriously, my advice is, don’t get a tattoo. Only I’m just kidding because tattoos are awesome.”

“My apartment is pretty close, it’s not like you have to take planes, trains or unicorns to get there.”

Best Advice, Fun Facts and Wisdom from Admissions Directors:

“Don’t write about sports events, your grandmother or Jesus.”

“Proofread. No one wants to read that you were a candy stripper all through high school.”

“Parents stop living through your children. Apply yourself or stay out of it.”

“Face it. You are probably not going to get into this school.”  

“When I used to think about people doing chemistry, I thought if I got too close I might become infertile or something.”  

 Best “please don’t make me choose from 30!” music mix: The Middle Finger

F**k You – Cee-Lo Green                                                                                                                                                                                                             Rebel, Rebel – David Bowie                                                                                                                                                                                                 Picture to Burn – Taylor Swift                                                                                                                                                                                                  One Thousand Sarahs – Eddie from Ohio                                                                                                                                                                                   I Hate Everyone – Get Set Go                                                                                                                                                                                                    The Chain – Fleetwood Mac                                                                                                                                                                                                         The Cave – Mumford and Sons                                                                                                                                                                                                 Smoke without Fire – Duffy                                                                                                                                                                                                          You’re so Vain – Carly Simon                                                                                                                                                                                                   Not Ready to Make Nice – Dixie Chicks                                                                                                                                                                                 Death on Two Legs – Queen                                                                                                                                                                                                        Take Me or Leave Me – Glee Cast                                                                                                                                                                                                F**k You – Lily Allen                                                                                                                                                                                                                       These Boots - Nancy Sinatra                                                                                                                                                                                                    Fighter - Christine Aguilera                                                                                                                                                                                                       You Oughta Know – Alanis Morissette                                                                                                                                                                               Before He Cheats – Carrie Underwood                                                                                                                                                                                         King of Anything – Sara Bareilles                                                                                                                                                                                             Rolling in the Deep – Adele                                                                                                                                                                                                     Don’t Think Twice – Bob Dylan

Best “you can go home again after 9 years and 12 inches of height”: old house, Walden Pond, Armando’s Pizza, Newbury Comics and Border Café in Cambridge, MA.

“Everything is so much smaller.”

Best roads not taken and regretted:

Book of Mormon Musical

Dollywood Theme Park

Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Best roads unplanned but taken happily:

Tour of Human Rights Campaign Headquarters                                                                                                                                                         Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

Worst movie to watch with son: Woody Allen’s Manhattan.

Before: “This was my favorite movie when I was your age!”

After: “Um, apparently I was a very dark teen.”

Best movie to watch with son: Exit through the Gift Shop.  

Most embarrassing mom moment – to cabinet maker in Colonial Williamsburg:

“What stylistic themes and techniques were brought over from Europe during this time period and when did America begin to establish a unique furniture identity in form, manufacturing and functionality and what historical or social events or material availability were driving this shift and what can you tell me about veneering?”

Worst fight: mom using restroom at the Hill Cumorah Vistior’s Center in Palmyra and then leaving without the listening to the spiel.

Son: “That was so disrespectful, it is like using the bathroom in a church.” 

Mom: “Trust me. It is more like a gift shop than a church.”

Best experience that does not translate in retellings: Circle G Farms Wild Animal Rides and Safari.

Hitchcock’s The Birds only with emu, llama, donkeys, zebras, assorted deer breeds with twisted horns, potbellied pigs and other 500 EXOTIC ANIMALS – all rushing at the car demanding feed that we did not buy. “Animals are really scary up close.”

Best experience that we cannot stop translating: Alexander McQueen at the Met.

No video, no magazine layout can prepare you for the fantastical detail, the mastery of craft and the psychological impact of this show. Watching my son “get it” – worth the entire trip.

I wanted to live here ever since I was a little girl, in Brooklyn specifically. It seemed like being able to go to Coney Island and walk across the Brooklyn Bridge would be the essence of magic. And it was, for a few years! People would come visit me and I’d dutifully take them all the way down the F train, and say, yeah, I know the Cyclone is really harsh on your skeleton and stuff but it’s really important, you know, historically, and we’d eat some overpriced nasty fried food and I’d point out Shoot the Freak and be all yeah they’re keeping it real I guess. Then we’d go back up to downtown Brooklyn and I’d march my friend across the length of the Bridge just at twilight and they’d say, yup, it’s very pretty. Can we go now?

I don’t want to say the magic is gone. It’s just through a very thick lens now. I was at the Met yesterday with someone I met at a conference, and while we both stared and stared at some unfamiliar Flemish paintings, the super-famous Impressionist stuff seemed oddly unmoving. I tried to explain to him that it was similar to how I felt about New York. It was like trying to look at a Van Gogh you’ve seen since you were four. It’s the real thing; how exciting! But also it’s not really there, because it’s behind the lenses of all the things you’ve heard about it and know about it.

The worst part of living here has been the toll it’s taken on my sense of myself. Grad school doesn’t help either, but overall my experience of school has been as warm as one can expect. Really it’s just the way people treat each other here. No one is ever special. No one’s feelings matter. Everyone is just a projection of your own desires or needs. If you’re like me and don’t really have feelings, this seems like a paradise at first. Oh look! No one is up in my business! No one wants me to change or grow or become someone I’m not! It is a paradise for the emotionally immature.

I don’t just mean dating, though that is, of course, part of it. I just don’t really exist for people here. And when it turns out I do, that someone cares about me, I don’t even know where to begin with them. I was going through some terrible stuff last month and didn’t inform a close friend about what was going on until it was over. I said, “I totally blew you off.” He said, “That’s OK!” Of course it turns out he was agonizing about what he’d done to upset me. But he felt it was his duty to say it’s OK.

It’s not OK. I’m tired of it always being OK to treat people like garbage. The men I’ve dated here have treated me worse than a stranger. (Apparently the most terrifying thing in the world is that someone might accidentally think you like them, so you’re always justified in being rude as fuck.) I’ve made a few good friends, but I always fear I’m about two drunken confessions away from losing anyone in my life here. I’m tired of people assuming I’m full of shit until I prove I’m not, every single time. I almost lost it at my interview when I was describing my work and a couple of people there responded excitedly that they thought what I was doing was important. Really? I’m so used to having to feed compliments to myself about my writing, my teaching, my everything, because if there’s one thing living in New York has taught me, it’s that no one’s going to love me but me. I am free to love others but my love means nothing.

The hard part about leaving New York is all logistical now. I don’t know how to drive. I have to buy a car. I have to get an apartment and move my stuff and order books for my courses. I have to finish my dissertation. When I go, I will always take with me the hardness that I got while living here. People in other places seem to think it’s cool, and maybe it is. That’s what coolness is; it’s being self-contained, inert, un-needing and un-needed. I just feel a little too old to care about whether I’m cool anymore.