Trampoline

Jennifer Sanchez
After I finished regaling my best friend with my colorful adventures of the week, she took a sip of her beer and shook her head, smiling. "It's like you live your life on a trampoline...sometimes you jump really high, and sometimes the trampoline breaks and you crash." 
I was struck pretty hard by this analogy, even though it wasn't the first time someone's said something like it before. If I had had my Moleskine notebook on me as I usually do, I would've whipped it out immediately and jotted it down to remember the next day. But as it stood I was sitting in a bar, so I thoughtfully took a sip of my own beer instead.
I spend a lot of time wondering how other twenty-somethings cope with the balancing act of work and play, especially in a city like ours where temptation (read: pregraming) is just a corner bodega and six dollars away. When I'm feeling motivated, I can throw my weight into my job without needing to see any immediate rewards/gratification; my paychecks alone keep me chugging along.  But as a result I'll often find myself neglecting my friends, family, body, etc., choosing instead to bury myself in my work. And vice versa. When I say the proverbial "fuck you" to responsibility and spend almost every night of the week out, I'll end up struggling to stay awake in the office, or spacing at my desk for hours on end. It seems like a real lose-lose situation to me.
I suppose that if I continue chipping away at this whole post-grad thing -- where the cozy bubble has long burst and nobody is there to tell you to "buck up" and just do it -- the balancing act will get easier and I'll be able to stand in the middle of the see-saw without tipping over to either side. The thing is, I'm kind've enjoying my trampoline right now...and I'm not looking to get off it just yet.

Proust

Woke up this morning and decided to do a little investigative work into my personality. The result: my responses to the infamous Proust Questionnaire.

Proust Questionnaire

1) What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Brunch!

2) What is your greatest fear?

Most people would probably say the fear of being alone. For me it's the fear of being surrounded by people (be it friends or strangers), and still being alone.

3) Which historical figure do you most identify with?

I've always had this lifelong fascination with Frida Kahlo. That's not to say I'm looking to emulate her life (a pained existence characterized by bodily malfunctions, torrid love affairs and really depressing art...yikes), but I'd like to think that I too feel life very keenly.

4) Which living person do you most admire?

My mom. No contest.

5) What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

A lack of discipline. It's a trait that sneakily pervades everything that I do, for better or worse.

6) What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Dishonesty. I've had enough lying for a lifetime!

7) What is your greatest extravagance?

Thus far, I would probably say my Linus bicycle (I know, I know, I keep bringing it up). Never spent that much money on something for myself before, even in my countless shopping adventures. Though I did also buy a pair of Klipsch in-ear headphones recently...but they were totally justifiable. I swear.

8) On what occasion do you lie?

I'm relatively transparent for the most part, and don't lie very often. But when I do it's because I know the truth just won't cut it.

9) What do you dislike most about your appearance?

I have rather broad shoulders. It's odd.

10) When and where were you happiest?

Whenever I'm in the sun. Or reading a book. Or whenever I'm in the sun, reading a book.

11) If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I wouldn't mind always being on time. Always. Unfailingly.

12) If you could change one thing about your family what would it be?

I wouldn't change a single thing.

13) What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Holding a steady job since the age of 13. And graduating from college early. Getting up every morning is also quite a victory.

14) If you died and came back as a person or thing what do you think it would be?

I'd like to be Ellen DeGeneres. She seems to be having a very good time.

15) What is your most treasured possession?

My intellect.

16) What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Being forced to read "Heart of Darkness." Just terrible. The horror, the horror!

17) Who are your heroes in real life?

My mom for her infinite kindness, and my sister for her infinite patience.

18) What is it that you most dislike?

Indecisiveness.

19) How would you like to die?

In my sleep, amongst my dreams.

20) What is your motto?

Live hard.

P.S. If you take the Vanity Fair version of the questionnaire, they tell you what celebrities/luminaries you're most similar with. My answers apparently match those of Quincy Jones, which was mildly amusing.

On Valuables

Fresh sunflowers
Ever since I bought a bike, I've had this supreme paranoia that someone is out to steal it (or rather him, as I have fondly dubbed him Felix). I've heard my fair share of cautionary tales over the years and have, thus far, done my very best to ensure Felix's safety whenever I leave him on his own. But try as I may to avoid it, I still find myself worrying about bike thefts and the like -- to the point where I will periodically drop by throughout the workday to see that he's still there, safe and sound. My baby in cream.
Maybe it's just the pangs of worry that every new owner inevitably feels. The pangs that, with time, eventually subside and give way to feelings of assuredness and -- dare I say it? -- optimism. Not too long from now, I know I'll find myself laughing at the precautionary measures I used to take to safeguard Felix against ulterior motives. I'll look back on those naysayers who warned me against rising bike theft statistics and scoff. I'll start believing I'm one of the lucky ones. Slacking in routine, I will one day forget to lock my bike as soundly as I used to. And out of the blue Felix will be stolen, and suddenly I'll remember how dangerous the world really is.
In a lot of ways, I'm the eternal new owner when it comes to my own heart as well. Like most people who find themselves in possession of something precious, I initially go to great lengths to protect it. Building walls, buying sturdy locks...doing everything in my power to ensure its safety. But my defense is fallible, and eventually my vigilance begins to slip. I find myself relaxing, relieved to discover that I was overreacting in the first place. It's then that my security system is cracked, and somebody breaks in to hurt what is most important to me.
Sometimes I wonder: who is it better to be, the eternal new owner or the overly cautious veteran? For better or worse, I know I'll always be the eternal new owner. Optimistic and hopeful, never quite learning my "lesson." I want to believe that people are inherently good, even if experience and history both suggest otherwise. And as foolish as this sounds, I'm alright with being wrong time and time again, with having my bike taken and my heart broken. Because bikes can be replaced and hearts do eventually heal, even if you lose a few pieces in the recovery. I'm waiting for that somebody to come along who can take care of all of my valuables, however worthless or prized they may be.

Dutchi Love

Now where was I?

Sunday morning I awoke with unparalleled excitement. Today was the day I would finally buy myself a bicycle! It was almost as though Christmas had come early this year (though I guess this wasn't completely analogous to Christmas since Santa doesn't exactly give presents to himself...). Cousin and mother in tow, I eagerly walked over to Adeline Adeline, where the first thing I saw upon entering the store was this handsome specimen in black. I took it out around the block for a test ride, and it was just bliss. There was something about the cool step-through frame and comfy leather seat and deliciously upright steering that was so incredibly...right. I can't describe it, it was too novel a feeling.The only downside was that I had fallen in love with the cream color, and the store only carried the Dutchi in black. Luckily we ended up walking over to Bicycle Habitat later that day where not only did they have my baby in cream, but they assembled it right before my very eyes. It was nothing short of magical. In fact, I actually squealed when the bike shop dude wheeled out the finished product to me, grinning in amusement. He also had a Jamaican accent, which automatically made him about five times cooler I suppose. Long story short, I paid for my Dutchi, a helmet and a super-sturdy lock and walked out of the store to begin my new life on wheels.

Monday morning I awoke again with unparalleled excitement, this time to attempt my first bike ride to work. I reasoned that although temps were supposed to remain in the stifling 90s, if I gave myself enough time I would arrive at the office with the lightest blanket of sweat, at most. At most! I even took the initiative to map out a route that would be both safe and time-efficient. But, of course, my plans fell through and I ended up having to ditch the aforementioned route in favor of more familiar grounds (thanks to numerous  runs up and down its path). Took the West Side Highway all the way up to 28th St. and crossed over the many blocks to 7th Avenue. By the time I locked up my bike (and spent about five minutes walking around it, worrying that someone would steal it anyways), I was literally dripping from head to toe. I kid you not, it wasn't pretty. With my shirt permanently glued to my back and my face shining with joy/exhaustion, I finally arrived at the office looking like I had just gone through a war zone. A really hot and humid one. Maybe 'nam.

Gripes and exaggerations aside, I really believe that my life will be very different from now on. There's something so inexplicably cool about zipping to and from the grocery store in no time at all, and looking kind of cute while you're at it (ironically enough, it was exactly one year ago that I had thought about doing this!). And nothing quite compares to tearing down the Brooklyn Bridge at breakneck speeds, though I'm sure I need to tone it down a little since my bike is still only a single-speed. Best of all, it makes me so darn happy. My new happy-making machine must be contagious, as three completely different people on the street wished me a nice day on my ride to lunch yesterday. I happily suggested that they buy bikes too.