Pick a Train

Pick a train, any train. Today is full of random trains of thought.

Train of Thought 1

I have a love/hate relationship with laundry day. I love having clean clothes. I love the warmth of the clothes when they come out of the dryer. And the smell of the detergent and dryer sheets. It makes me feel clean, and who doesn't like to feel clean?

But...I hate feeling like I gained ten pounds in one night. I'm serious. When you wash your jeans, do they not feel like you're about to bust the seams? It makes me feel bad about myself. But then I realize that while I have been eating enough donuts and chocolate for three people, I have not gained ten pounds in one night...it was just laundry day.

And before anybody thinks it, I'm gonna say it. Yes. I did do laundry on a Friday night. And you know what? I always do. Cause the laundry room on Friday nights is deserted. Usually anyway.

Last night there were a couple of guys from somewhere Spanish speaking. And they had no idea what they were doing. It was pretty hilarious. They kept asking me questions, but they didn't know very much English and I didn't know how to describe doing laundry in Spanish. But in the end I think they figured out what to do. And if not, at least they had fun taking pictures of themselves doing laundry to show to their friends.

Train of Thought 2

In my next life I hope I'm richer than Donald Trump. Not really because I want all the money and the huge houses and the boats and the buildings names after me and the TV shows and everything else, but because I want to have experiences like the one I had the other day at work.

I was running some errands and I had to run a personal errand for one of the designers. I had to go to a hair salon to drop something off. A bit of a strange request, but whatever. Before I left she was telling me what the building was going to be like. That I'd have to sign in when I got to the lobby. And that i had to go to the second floor. And that there would be people with clipboards there and that I should tell them I had a package for one of the stylists. And then she mentioned something about how it was like something out of Gossip Girl, but I didn't really believe her. Because I didn't believe places like that existed.

Oh. But they do. True to her words, I signed in with the lobby receptionist and went up to the second floor. Where I saw the most amazing thing. People sitting and waiting for their turn. With coffee in their hands. Not Starbucks cups. But real cups. Cups that had been served to them by the staff at the salon. Unreal. And sure even a clipboard girl came up and took the package for me.

If that's not enough to tell you how swanky of a place it was...when i got back to work the designer was telling me that a lot of people take their dogs to this place. Not just to have them by their sides. But to get their hair cut. And colored. She even mentioned that one of the stylists that is her friend refuses to do the dogs hair. Why? Who knows. I would sure love to groom a dog...

But anyway. That's why I want to be rich in my next life. I want to be able to see all of this ridiculous stuff. The dogs getting their hair cut at an uber fancy salon. And coffee being served to me everywhere. Cause let's face it. I may not like coffee in this life. But if I'm incredibly rich in my next life, I will love it.

Train of Thought 3

New York smells bad. I'm not talking haven't taken a shower for two days bad. I'm talking forgot to take the trash out for a month bad. It's unreal. And the funny thing is that it depends on where you are in New York. Some places smell far worse than others. It also depends on the time of day. And the way the wind is blowing. And if you haven't taken a shower in two days.

But over all. New York smells like there are millions of people living here. So the next time you stop by this grand ol' city, make sure to prepare your nose. Maybe do some smell exercises. Like going over to a dumpster and smelling it for ten minutes. Or cleaning up your dog's poo and then standing beside it for fifteen minutes. Just to prepare yourself for the crazy amount of bad smells like seem to hug New York city like a blanket that it's had for a hundred years.


I hope you found a train that to you to your desired destination.

สวัสดี.

Kim.

Be Who You Want

This is for all you poor college folk. Like me. Those of us who can't spend $100 on a sweater, but would really like to buy that $500 jacket. Those of us who have a problem.

Well here's what I have to say to that...

It's only a problem if you make it one.

Today while I was at work the greatest thing happened. I was feeling a little unhappy about the outfit I picked out for the day. It just wasn't quite working for me. But then it was 5 and  while I was standing at the printer the greatest thing happened. A coworker that was wearing a top that probably did actually cost $500 turned to me and said "I like your sweater." Nice. Simple. To the point. What she didn't know was that I got that sweater from a thrift shop. Actually. I didn't even do that. I got that sweater from a friend. And that friend got the sweater from a thrift shop. Yep. Second hand thrift shop sweater got a compliment from a $500 fashionista.

So I'm going to take this lesson and apply it to the rest of my days. In life. I love that sweater. So I'm gonna wear it. Cause it makes me feel good. So I'm going to forget what other people might think about my style and do what I want.

And you should too.

If your $1 pair of pants fits you like a dream and makes your butt look out of this world, then who cares that you weren't the first person to own them. And if your $15 jacket makes you feel like you're wearing $1000 Burberry, then you go ahead a rock that jacket even though it's probably not Burberry at all. And heck, my free shirt that I'm going to wear tomorrow might not be from this season, or from the last eight seasons, but it still makes me feel like hot stuff. So I will wear it. And it will be great.

So even though you might not have the money to afford the Prada bag that you're dying for, that doesn't mean you can't still be stylish. As long as you feel like a million bucks in your clothes it doesn't matter if you only spent two.

Αντίο.

Kim.

For those who are interested...

Design Project 3! Inspiration : Snow Crystals

Design Project 2! Inspiration : Clouds Made From Explosions and Storms

Design Project 3! Inspiration : Dancers and Their Muscles

If you want to see more...look on Facebook or just ask me :)

Heading Back

Hey all! I wrote this from the bus home from Philly that...made it's way pretty quickly to New York City. So...Ahem...Here it goes...

"Why Philly?" you might ask. Because I had the Greatest Weekend Ever! Well, except for the last couple of hours, but we'll get to that later. Moving on...

I visited my friends Cebul and Elizabeth this weekend at a magical place called Haverford. No. I didn't mean to write Harvard. Harverford is like a movie set that got forgotten about so it was turned into a school. Or a ski lodge...only they never got the memo that there are no mountains around. In other words. It's gorgeous. And seriously, imagine a ski lodge on none mountainous ground and you will have pictured Haverford.

Once I got past the beauty I then moved on to rating the food in my mind. To put this is perspective. I've been eating Easy Mac, chocolate candy, and granola bars for what has felt like forever. Partly due to Sandy messing with my grocery store and partly due to the fact that I have a chocolate addiction.

Now. With that said. The food at Haverford was great. I got all my food groups. And a couple of donuts (the greatest food group of all in my opinion). But I now feel very full. I think I managed to eat two full meals with each meal that I ate. I had forgotten what it was like to have a buffet at your disposal all of the time. But boy did I sure take advantage of it this weekend.

And of course we went to a part on Saturday Night. Luckily it was literally 20 feet down the hall. So we didn't have to walk into the not-so-cold night. But once I got there I realized that I need to get out more often. I forgot what college parties were like. And while I had a great time, I felt incredibly overwhelmed. So many noises and smells and visuals assault you when you first walk in. And it doesn't let up til you leave.

And don't forget the dancing. Now...no offense, Haverford, but you are a giant group of nerds. And it shows in your dancing. And it was awesome and I felt right at home. People just went for it. It was hilariously entertaining and made me feel perfectly uninhibited. Enough to rap Nicki Minaj Songs. Word for word and feel totally okay about it.

All in all. Haverford was a great time and a great break from busy NYC. And I actually saw grass. Lots of it. And trees.

But sadly. Something had to go wrong. It was only fitting for a Kim outing into the world.

I missed my buss back to NYC.

Dun dun dun.

But "how" you must be thinking, am I writing this on a bus. Well. You see. After feeling like a complete idiot for waiting in the wrong bus line long enough to miss my original bus (because it was in the wrong color, people) (who makes a black and white Bolt Bus anyway) I managed to get myself together and get in a standby line. Now, my original bus was for 7:30. I got in the standby line at 8:30 for the 9 bus.

As my luck would have it. Nobody in the standby line got on that bus. Since the next bus was at 10 though, a bunch of people got out of the line. Wusses. So I ended up 5th in line.

The 10 bus got to the pick up early. Which was exciting, but nerve wracking as people trickled one by one onto the bus. All of us standby people were practically holding hands with our fingers crossed hoping that we could get on that bus. Finally it was 5 til and they asked if any of us had missed an earlier bus. Finally, luck was on my side. Cause two people in front of me didn't. And they only let five people on. So I barely got on the bus. But I made it! Woo! I made up for being an idiot! And I got to finish my book and wander around a train station.

So the Greatest Weekend Ever ended up with a happy ending after all. Well...if you call sitting next to puffy vest guy and getting back to NYC at midnight happy.

Til next time.

Doviđenja.

Kim.

Elevators, man. Elevators

Elevators make me happy. They mean that I don't have to walk up stairs. Cause really, walking up stairs is terrible. I mean, awesome for your calves, thighs, and butt, but I life on the 16th floor. That'd be a ridiculous amount of steps to walk up. I'd probably die. But elevators also let me meet new and interesting people all the time.

Like the Italian man that looked as if he was incredibly disappointed that the NY Marathon was cancelled. How did I know he was Italian? Well that's an easy one! Mostly because of the accent. But he also looked a lot like someone on the Italian Olympic swimming team. Anywho. The real reason I know that he was Italian is because I asked him if he was supposed to run in the race and he responded in Italian. Only Italian. Saying something that I'm pretty sure meant that he only spoke Italian. And then I didn't know what to say. So I said "Ah...Okay...fwaeliunf." The awoefn was a bunch of nondescript sounds that spilled out of my mouth. I'm pretty sure I left that elevator experience with the Italian Man thinking that I'm an Idiot American.

Then. On Election Day. Woo. After buying some seed beads so that I could finish my design project while watching the craziness, I rode the elevator with a man and a woman. Unattached to one another. The man asked if we had voted and I said yes. Then he proceeded to talk about how his dad, who's probably 90 years old by the way, put on his suspenders and his bow tie and went to the polls to vote. Made a super cute image in my head. I even added a little hat to the man's head and made the pants high waters. precious. But after the man got off the elevator I realized the woman was being very quiet. Then she spoke. And she was Australian. And hilarious. She told me how she didn't think that they would let her vote in America. And I told her she should try anyway. But it was a nice reminder of home and all my Australian friends, one in particular.

But really. The best was today. I rode the elevator with Elvis. If he was alive today, 50 years old, with blond highlights. I wasn't completely convinced though. Not until he got off the elevator and while the doors were closing to take me up to work I head him begin to sing. And not just any song. A very Elvis sounding song. Not one that I've ever heard before, which means that this new Elvis has been working on some new material. And let me just say, I think there are going to be a lot of hits.

I've also found that elevator rides give you just enough time to catch your breath. Cause everyone walks fast in the city. Well everyone except everyone that forces you to practically stop cause they're moving so slow. But we wont count them because they bug me. Anyway. You walk so quickly so that by the time you get to where you're going you're on the verge of embarrassing yourself with panting and, dare I say, sweating. Don't worry though, I never sweat. I'm a lady. So while you're on the elevator you can grab a swig of water and fan yourself every so gracefully, since you're a lady too.

So take advantage of elevator rides. And if you're in the real world and not NYC and you only have to ride a couple of floors up. Take advantage of it quickly. Very quickly.

Nakemiin.

Kim.

RIP

Yesterday was a sad, sad day. I lost something very important to me.

It all started when I woke up. I was suddenly fully aware of the fact that I didn't have anything to eat for breakfast. So I left for work and headed down to the corner store. I decided while there, to get not just one, but two donuts. Because it was Friday, a day for celebration. I was then enjoying my donuts while walking to work. The first one, a delicious custard filled, chocolate covered donut with sprinkles was amazing. It made me happy that I got the second donut. A regular donut, with chocolate and sprinkles. Delicious.

But to my horror. As I was crossing the street my donut began to jump around. I bobbled it for what felt like thirty seconds before it committed suicide and fell to the ground. The gross, gross ground. Now, if I was in doors just about anywhere, I may have picked up my donut and eaten the rest of it. I mean, that was half a donut, on the ground. But I guess I have to draw a line somewhere. And on the street in the middle of New York City is where my line was drawn. So I picked him up and took him over to the trashcan and threw him away.

I couldn't even have a proper memorial service for him because by that time I was late for work. So I took one last look over my shoulder in his direction and walked away.

I still think about him. I wonder if he's in a better place. I wonder if he made it to the city dump, or if someone dumped some water in the trashcan and he disintegrated. I'm hoping that some hungry person found my half donut and ate it, so that it wasn't a total waste. But don't worry about me, cause we have a project due on Wednesday and that means I get to get another celebratory donut on my way to class.

Aloha.

Kim.