I decided to go with actually attainable resolutions this year, instead of those lofty idealistic goals we all tend to set. Everything I’ve read says you need concrete and specific goals (like 1-3). Goals 4 and 5 are a little more vague but not unrealistic.

Thirty six nights spent out of Manhattan, which, when expressed as a percentage (10%), seems like a good chunk of the year.  This data is tracked using Daytum which is excellent for people who like to data-mine their own lives (like me).  Next year will have no days in Austin and many fewer days in Vail owing to my family relocations, but will have 10 days in Costa Rica, a few nights in Boulder, a weekend in Vermont and a night in North Carolina.  I need to start putting some of my three day weekends to good use.

Now I don’t remember what things were like back in 1980, but my guess is they were pretty different.  Things can’t always have been as bad as they are now, right?   I was home last month helping my parents go through some boxes in Austin just before they moved to Colorado full time and we found the receipt from my hospital stay when I was born.

I was born at Stamford Hospital in Stamford, CT 45 days premature.  I was soon transfered to Yale-New Haven Hospital for an eight day stay in the neonatal intensive care unit.  I was jaundiced and my surfactant was inadequate but a week in the incubator did me some good.  The total cost of my 8 day hospitalization?  $2964.15.  In 2008 dollars that would be $7649.39.   Yet today, that same hospital stay would be approximately $14-19,000.  And if you look closer you’ll see that my entire hospital stay was covered by my insurance.  Would the same be true today?  Luckily, I haven’t been admitted to a hospital since then and I’m hoping that doesn’t change any time soon.

1. It is fair game to completely misrepresent an apartment in the listings.  For example, a 2 bedroom listing is probably a 1 bedroom that they expect someone to live in the common room.  The brokers like to call these “flex 2″ or “convertible 2″ apartments.  Today a broker told me that the apartment had a “roomy” living space after the “flex” wall went up.  I pressed him further… 9ft x 9ft.  Ha!

2. A certain percentage of the listings are fake and just designed to get you to call the broker.

3. When you do go view an apartment the broker will tell you that you must make a split-second decision and that it will go THAT DAY!  They will throw in phrases like, “you are never going to find this much space at this low price”.

4. You can expect to pay first, last, security, and some type of fee.  So for your average overpriced 1 bedroom for $2500/month that would be $12,000 up front if you have a broker and $7,500 if you don’t.

5.  All right enough bitching.  I’ll find somewhere to live somehow.  As a parting feature I would like you to examine the floorplan below.  This is an apartment that is for sale (not rent) for $350,000 with a monthly maintenance fee of $780.   It appears that the shower is in the kitchen.  Hahahahahaa…..  Love it.

Until recently, I used to say that the only thing I knew for sure that I wanted to happen in my life was to have children.  Not that I wanted these children any time before my mid-thirties, but I knew I wanted them.   Maybe it’s me just readjusting my life plan based upon a realistic expectation of fruition but now I’m not so sure.  I mean, certainly I think I still want to have children, but now I’m beginning to consider that it could NOT happen and I could also be okay with that.  For example, I don’t think I want children enough to consider having them without a partner.  I hate to make my life decision about having children contingent upon the (seemingly impossible) feat of finding a partner, but I also can’t really fathom the workload of a single parent.  Having children seems hard enough with two parents.  Also, there’s a degree of selfishness that I think you get accustomed to being alone and I can see now how sacrificing that needs to be a clear choice.  Last but not least, seeing all of that horrendous baby crap really grated on my sense of aesthetics.

Cheddar is doing a fine job fulfilling my hypothetical evolutionary need to nurture.

Sufjan, who, in addition to writing songs, tells precious little stories…

And my brother’s friend Crans, who crafts these lovely gems from Paris…

I was tempted to play carols at work on my computer to get people into the Christmas spirit. But playing music out loud in the office is a delicate art. One day I went out but accidentally left music playing through my speakers—an ambient techno mix intended to offend no one. The boss told me later, “you made the office sound like a sushi restaurant.”

Me: “Hey, there’s a line.”

Him: (shrug)

The couple leaves just then.  He steps inside with his laundry and puts it on the scale. I go in after him and stand right next to him – it’s a small space.

Me: “Is there a reason you think you don’t have to wait in line?”

Him: (shrug)

Me: “Do you think you’re better than us for some reason?”

Him: “That’s right.”

Chick behind me to the guy: “You’re a really pleasant person.”

He leaves.

Ahhhh New York.

I’ve been griping about weddings for quite some time now. Call me bitter. Call me cynical. Probably I’m a mix of both intermittently – particularly at weddings. At any rate, this year being one in which I won’t attend a single wedding, it seemed the best timing to theorize about the wedding industrial complex, hopefully without offending any of my friends. For the record, of the twelve weddings I’ve attended in the last four years, I’m fairly certain all the people actually getting married had a great time and were happy, and really that’s what the day is all about. Also for the record, I didn’t really like formals in college or dances in high school either – so maybe this is all just the adult extension of an inherent objection to getting dressed up and dancing. Finally, just to be clear, I don’t have an objection to the institution of marriage. I do believe that it’s both possible and reasonable to spend the bulk of your life with one person. How you find that person, I have no idea. I’m not sure I’m really looking just yet. But that’s another story.

My objection to the wedding industrial complex comes from two distinct places. The first is a more personal aversion. It comes from the place of being a chronically single person who (for what are probably defensive, self-protective reasons) finds herself uncomfortable with the concept of romance. The second is purely fiscal in nature. I was by no means raised in a frugal atmosphere, but I learned to think of money with a sense of responsibility and practicality.

I don’t think I really need to define the wedding-industrial complex, right? It’s everything from the magazines to the romantic comedies, the websites to the dress fittings, the flowers, showers, rings, and registries. It’s spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on one piece of jewelry and one big day.  It’s women being lavished upon and rescued by men.

Part I is about the ring. It all starts with the ring. Until recently I think I was just as convinced as every other girl that I needed or wanted a big diamond ring on my left hand. What changed my mind? Well, first of all there’s the fact that the size of diamond that every girl thinks is necessary seems to be dependent mostly on how important a social status marker it is for them. How big are their friends’ rings? How much can Mr-Ring-Buyer afford? How big are the rings at the grocery store or the boutique around the corner? How big was mom’s ring? How important is money and socioeconomic status to the couple? It doesn’t seem to have a lot to do with anything about the relationship. When I questioned a friend once on the practicality of buying the ring if money was tight, she explained, “Well, it’s really important to us.” Really? More than housing and groceries and having a social life? More than the down payment on a house? When I moved from grad school and Massachusetts to Manhattan and the land of new money, the rings got significantly bigger. It’s ostentatious consumption at it’s best. I haven’t even watched Blood Diamond yet, but you can bet that it’ll only add fuel to my fire. The mere fact that there is a process for certifying diamonds as conflict-free makes the industry suspect. I also love when girls talk about what size ring looks good on their hand. Please. On the other hand, I’m not really one to buck tradition and I do think there’s something important about having some sort of symbol, so what’s my suggested alternative? It seems to me like there ought to be plenty of vintage, ready to be reused gems out there. Since the traditional diamond engagement ring didn’t become a “custom” until the mid 1900s (thanks to brilliant De Beers marketing), there are hundreds of years of precedent to draw inspiration from.

Now, because I like to try to play my own devil’s advocate, I find myself wondering how I would respond if I were ever offered a ring by someone I loved. I can see how it would be hard to say no. I guess the question would be what was the motivation for his buying it? Did he buy it because he wanted to or because he felt like he had to? And would I look at it for years to come wondering what else it could have paid for? What amazing trip or year of tuition? I know there are plenty of women out there who dreamed of their rings and weddings as children and are happy for this one remnant of fairytale in our lives. I’m not saying it’s wrong for them, just that it probably deserves some thoughtful consideration.

Right at the part where you realize that like all romantic comedies this one is also going to have a happy ending despite whatever plot devices are currently being used to convince you otherwise, Jon’s character says,

“Two people can be perfect for each other but if the timing’s wrong its never going to work out. Bad timing is the reason that most normal people end up single. Weirdos and creeps are single cause they are weird and creepy, but people like us are single because of bad timing.”

I know I’m not creepy. I hope I’m not weird. I guess I just have bad timing. I realize that quotes from romantic comedies are not meant to be taken or treated as definitive truths but there’s something to this. The problem with timing isn’t just where you are and what you’re doing. It’s who you are at that time.