more lessons from the reservoir.

there's a bird in central park that is braver than i am.

at 89th and lexington there is an entrance to a 1.3 mile loop around a resevoir that continually serves as restoration for my mental health. it has kept me from going crazy in my Manhattan-sized apartment, and keeps the asylum-like white walls from closing in on me, though i'd rather be discontent with unemployment than satisfied with laziness.

but i found my sometimes overlypensive self at my favorite part of the resevoir where you can pinpoint the union between the old museum architecture and the sleek design of today's modern buildings. but on this day i wasn't spotting these differences or absorbing the reflected sun rays off of the glassy water like in the ending scene in the Little Mermaid.

i was watching a duck. it's not really a duck, but it kind of looks like one. it has darker coloring, and a longer neck, but it's not a swan either. it's smaller and skinnier and a goose. i don't know what this mystery waterbird is, but it's the coolest not-duck-goose-or-swan i've ever seen.

this bird was too good for the cheerios the four year old girl next to me was throwing at it, disappointed by her ignored efforts. this bird didn't wait for the bits of old sandwich to drift it's way after some corporate suit probably carlessly threw in the water as his lunch break leftovers. this bird didn't wait for anything to float toward it. this bird spotted it's food below the surface and completely immersed itself to get it. it's whole body dove underwater in the blink of an eye to tackle it's food. the bird would sometimes come up satisfied, and sometimes come up blank. though the bird doesn't have the most expressive facial features or any real postural difference to indicate it's emotions, i don't think this bird ever regretted diving in head first.

and there i was pondering why oh why the jobs i applied for weren't calling me back. fighting the economy is a full court press, and really it's own full time job. sometimes i have the fire to hunt like this bird, and sometimes i'm burnt out and would rather have the job posts thrown my way. but goals, and on some level dreams, don't get tossed to you by toddlers with cheerio-stocked parents and cubicle slaves on their lunchbreak.

i'm surrounded by a lot of artists and seeing the fierocity that they tackle their daily routines with is inspiring. for many, staying creatively active means being up before everyone else and not sleeping until the long after the 9-to-5ers are counting sheep. they, too, immerse themselves fully in their craft, sometimes fruitfully and sometimes leaving them emptyhanded. but with the same stoic expression and upright position, they march on in the face of the grinding effort and in the name of art, often times pushing their way against the current. this inspired lifestyle relights my engine when it is out as i try and manuever my way to a 40+ hour work week.

we should all have a bird brain.
-k.

photohunt (no bar included)

when you are young and in central park, you love it. when you are an indie snobbish teenager in central park, it's like, so token, and you'd rather be at a coffee shop that isn't starbucks near Washington Square. when you are an adult in central park, you take it for what it's worth. when you are at least part hopeless romantic living three blocks away from it and it starts snowing, you grab your camera.

i often play tug-of-war with the line that holds strong between foolish optimism and hopeless romanticism. though the verdict is still out on that one in my young romantic life, my photoexpedition to Central Park showed both of those.

i was foolishly optimistic to think my $20 boots would hold up like they promised against the harsh elements of nature. i was foolishly optimistic to think that the wind wouldn't smack me in the face on my brief walk back like they it did on my way there. i was foolishly optimistic to think the delicate snow flakes would land on the tip of my nose and i would be frolicking around the park, spinning in a white wonderland rather than the wintry mix smacking me in the face, making my motion to wear glasses today simply brilliant. not bringing gloves so i could handle my camera easier was foolishly optimistic. okay that was just foolish.

the pictures are hopelessly romantic. the overall experience is hopelessly romantic. the little kid pretending he was an Olympic champion on his man made hill was hopeless romantic. being tucked away under a bridge that i previously had taken pictures of and watching the snow fall was hopelessly romantic. and although no tall dapper guy with piercing eyes and a bouquet came and met me on top of it, i'm okay with this compromise.

i decided i am going to write daily (at least while i am unemployed) and do something for myself daily (at least while i'm unemployed). guess we'll see where this goes.

consider the pictures facebook'd. for the few of you that read this that aren't my facebook friend, i will get a flickr account soon.