a little DOE ridiculousness

dear sally, you have to meet noel!

Living in New York City definitely has its perks—pretty reliable public transportation, delectable restaurants that can fit any budget, culture galore, diversity that makes the heart sing, and convenience at every corner.  Another perk for us common folk is the saturation of movie/television/music stars that live in or visit the city on a regular basis.  I’d like to say that I am not the type to get star struck, but let’s face it—my ability to crush on just about any type of good looking man makes New York City—a city crawling with beautiful faces and recognizable personalities—a perfect breeding ground for stars in my eyes and butterflies in my stomach.

A couple of months ago I had yet another stop-me-in-my-tracks moment.  I LOVE THIS CITY!!!

For those of you who know me, you might recall my deep love for the now decade old television series, Felicity.  (I actually blogged about my Ben vs. Noel dilemma awhile ago.)  Please note that I faithfully watch this 4-season series every year.  I don’t know why, but I love it.  And if I’m going to put it all out there…it’s part of the reason I wanted to move to New York.  Yes, I know it’s cliché.

Back to the story…I was out with my friends—Tami, Christian, and Scott.  We had decided to catch a movie after dinner at Momofuku’s one night (the Ginger Scallion Noodles were to die for) and found ourselves at the AMC theatre on 19^th and 5^th Ave.  I bought my ticket and was the first to enter the theater and then from across the room, I saw him by the concession stand.  I stopped.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of this beautiful man.  His casual look and clean-cut hairstyle got me going in less than two seconds.  And though he wasn’t facing me dead on, I knew the second I laid eyes on his neck, shoulders, and back, that it was him.  Pathetic, but true.  In an effort to subtly tell Tami who I had just spied, I found myself getting that nervous/excited/throw-up feeling at the pit of my stomach, quickly working it’s way up.  Don’t worry, I didn’t hurl.  All I could say was, “It’s Noel, Noel.  It’s Noel.”  The room was loud as it was bustling with people for some premiere so it made it difficult to hear my sputterings.  Finally, I was able to link my brain to my words and I nodded towards where he stood and was able to articulate that Scott Foley was there.  Scott and Christian didn’t bat an eye.  Tami quickly rose to my level of excitement.  (In the picture below, he is one centimeter left of the stream of light coming from the center of the ceiling.  Brown hair, black shirt.  Kind of like Heaven parting and saying, "Here he is!")

Long story short, we weren’t in the same theatre—obviously—and I didn’t actually dream that we would see him again.  I convinced myself that the one time spotting was as good as it gets.  We left, as the credits began to roll in our theatre, and to my astonishment, the premiere crowd had just recently excited theirs as well.  Stars were lining up to for photo opps in front of the step and repeat and there didn’t seem to be any sort of security.  The famous and layman were all mixed in there together. 

My eyes, of course, were fixed upon only one person from the premiere, however.  He wasn’t in the movie, clearly just there for the screening, so he headed for the door pretty quickly.  We dutifully followed a few paces behind.  He ended up near some telephone booths right outside the theatre.  And the best part about this was that he was all alone.  Perfect opportunity for us to approach him.  In that instant, I turned shy.  I didn’t want to be one of those fans that annoyingly seek out and approach actors.  I was above that and I wanted to respect his privacy and attempt at a normal life.  One could argue, I suppose, that by going into this type of work, you automatically forfeit that right to normalcy, but hey, I like the guy so I wanted to give him a break.

Luckily, I was with Scott, who wasn’t as taken with him as I was and he stepped in for me.  (THANK YOU, SCOTT!!!) (Don’t be confused, we’ve got two Scotts in this story.)

“Hi Scott, this is my friend Malia (points towards me, Scott Foley looks in my direction and smiles).  She’s a huge fan.  Can she get her picture taken with you?”

I inched my way closer to Scott Foley.  “Of course, sweetheart.”  He smiled his crooked grin and stuck out his hand for me to take.  He looked deep into my eyes and in the sweetest Noel voice you can possibly imagine, he said, “My name is Scott.  Nice to meet you.”  “Hi, I’m Malia,” was my reply.  At this he put his arm around me while Tami readied her phone to take a picture.  I couldn’t get over how beautiful he was in person.  I mean, I knew he was gorgeous.  I’ve studied every inch of his face for years, but in person, he was beyond DREAMY! 

She snapped the picture.  I was ready to say thanks and give Tami her turn, but Scott asked me if I wanted to check the picture.  I was surprised by how thoughtful he was.  Again, I was starting to feel guilty impeding on his personal time, but I guess that comes with the territory.  Still the same, I was impressed that his kindness was genuine.  I took a look at the picture and quickly decided that I needed another attempt.  After all, this was a historic event and compared to him, I looked like I had just spent a night on the streets.

“Can we take just one more?” (I purposely turned to look up into those beautiful green eyes again.  I needed one more peek while I was this close.)  “Sure, sweetie,” was his once again melt-me-in-my-tracks reply.  A did a mental cha-ching in my head.  I got TWO terms of endearment!  Sigh.  Again, he put is arm around me.  I wanted to just nestle into him but decided against it.  He is a married man, after all. 

We snapped the picture and then Tami took her turn.  I still wasn't that pleased with the final product, but I'll take it.  I seem to always look like frump girl when I want to be opposite of frump girl.  Que sera, sera.  We thanked him whole-heartedly and walked away, in the opposite direction, giving off the air of “No big deal”, all the while DYING inside.  The Noel/Scott Foley high lasted quite a while and even now, if I think about it, it makes me grin from ear to ear.  Scott Foley, you are a dreamboat.  You made my night and you warmed my little heart.  Thank you!

waiting for superman

A few months ago, I saw the thought provoking film, "Waiting for Superman". It's a documentary directed by Davis Guggenheim ("An Inconvenient Truth") about the state of public and charter schools. Before you jump to any conclusions or automatically dismiss the film as propaganda, you have to admit that education in the United States needs some work.  If you can't agree to at least that, stop reading and go play your mindless video games.

Having been raised by two public school educators, I learned early on the value of a good education and have also gained some insight into the complexities of this system. My profession as a social worker has also provided me with insider knowledge about the failings or gains within the system. And thankfully, I have been the beneficiary of a positive school experience and higher education.

That being said, this film was scary, depressing, and a bit overwhelming. Clearly, it was slanted in favor of the privatization of schools. It highlighted the blockage of progress through bureaucracy, lack of resources, unions, and "bad" teachers. It made public education out to be the devil and worse yet, it inferred that public school educators were lazy, uncaring, sub-par in relation to performance, and unwilling to do what is best for their students.  Granted, there are those in the field who have legitimately checked out, those that are tired, those that are lazy, and those that are just plain bad.  But I would argue that they didn't start out that way.  I would assert that most people who go into education start with a passion for learning and have a sincere desire to make a difference in the life of a student.  How those few bad teachers get from point A to point B is another story.

I guess my frustration with the system is that it really isn't about education anymore.  It is about which political party can come up with the most ridiculous legislation and get it passed as law.  Teachers are being asked to do more with less.  They are being forced to teach to a test in order to keep their jobs.  They are being asked to take on more and more and are not being compensated nor respected.  It drives me nuts.  In other countries, educators are revered...in the US, for some reason, they are criticized.  I know that there are bad teachers, but I think that we forget about the good ones...and that to me is quite tragic.

reality check

I subscribe to a housing list serve because people are always asking me about places to live in NYC and let’s face it, it’s sometimes fun to see what is available and who’s moving in and out of the city.  I have to laugh, however, at the poor souls who have not a clue about the nightmare that is moving to and renting in NYC.  I feel sorry for the poor suckers who list things like this:

“Hi!  I’m looking for a really affordable apartment--$600 to $800. Doesn’t need furniture or anything else really.  But I would like a washer and dryer, one or two bedrooms, an elevator is preferred, and I also have a cat.”

I sometimes have to resist the urge to write to them despite not having any info on an apartment just to give them a dose of reality. 

Dear You Wish,

Most apartments in NYC are not affordable—furnished or unfurnished. Finding a one bedroom apartment for less than $1200 is nothing short of a miracle—don’t even think about getting a two bedroom for that. Washers and dryers IN the apartment?  Don’t count on it.  And your cat? You might actually have luck with that one.  For a budget of $600 to $800 anticipate sharing a bedroom and living in Inwood, Washington Heights, or in Harlem…hopefully your new roommie isn’t allergic to cats. If this is not affordable to you, you might want to consider living in an affordable city.

Best of luck,
Reality Check

five minutes of my life

4:35:00pm--Open Sephora compact to freshen up for cocktail party.  A chunk of dark green eye shadow shakes loose and spills onto my white blouse in the not-so-subtle location of my chest.

4:35:30pm--Brush it off causing it to smear and work it's way deeper into the material.  Pause.  Panic sets in.

4:36:00pm--Put down compact.  Reach for Clorox Bleach Pen in desk drawer.

4:36:15pm--Open bleach pen.  Contents from pen drip onto dark denim skirt.

4:36:30pm--Paralyzed by panic.  Can't decide what to address first.

4:37:00pm--Frantically grab a paper towel.  Open water bottle.  Spill contents onto keyboard and then onto skirt.

4:37:30pm--Mop up water paying particular attention to the bleach spot on my skirt.  (FAIL)

4:38:00pm--Use bleach pen to try to get eye shadow out.  (FAIL)

4:39:30pm--Use paper towel from above to wipe my arm.  Smear green eye shadow on the entire underside.

4:39:50pm--Laugh