Women’s March NYC, A Day to Remember

Saturday, January 21st, was a special day for my oldest daughter. On that day, she had an audition in New York City with a music college that she applied for. We, my self and her sister, accompanied her to NYC. We took a train from our town and departed about 8:30AM. When we got on the train, a lot of seats were already occupied. That Saturday also marked a very important day for a lot of people, most of all the women, who live in United States, because that’s the day the Women’s March(es) were held all over the country. Many women, young and old, from many different background and race got on our train to go to New York City to participate with the Women’s March NYC. Some women who boarded the train later a long the way to New York brought along signs and posters. Between them were also some men who were as enthusiast as the women. Our train car felt very energized by the present of these people who chatted and became acquaintances for they shared the same thoughts and opinions relating to the new president. The atmosphere was really invigorating.

We reached our destination, Grand Central Terminal, around 10:30AM. After we went to the restroom on the lowest floor at the station, we went up to the main floor which is where the main lobby is and were surprised to see so many people who would participate in the Women’s March NYC flocking there. Some were children, mostly girls, who were beaming proudly putting on a show of their posters and signs for anyone who wanted to read them. It was fascinating! Of all the times I’ve been to Grand Central, that was the first time that that I felt the place was full of energy. My daughters and I passed by several people who were getting ready for the march. A woman with pink hair sat near one of the pillars while holding on to a poster, while on the other side two young women busy preparing their posters, writing some words with capital letters. Some women wore pink knitted hats that shaped like kitty’s ears. The hats became the symbol of the Women’s March movement. We then continued our journey to the building on West 54th Street where my eldest would have her audition. While we were walking from Grand Central towards the audition studio, we passed by several streets that were being cordoned for the march. New York City was getting ready for one heck of a celebration.

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After the audition ended around 1:30PM, as I promised my daughters, we walked towards the lower 50’s street to see the march. But then a chance arose when we saw the street in front of us wasn’t closed and so we blended in with the crowd that already started the march. It seemed my daughters and I started around West 52nd Street and walked towards West 54th Street. People in the march were in a very jaunty mood. They yelled and shouted but not in an angry manner, even though they spoke of disappointment, fear and sadness about the country’s predicament. People were very engaged to one another, saying ‘hi’ and getting acquainted. It was beautiful to be in the crowd.

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When we reached the last post (around West 54th Street), the march organizers asked us to disperse and go on our way to the street they showed us to go. So along with some people who stopped marching, we walked to the end of the street and had to walk further because a lot of streets were closed. By the time we got into the 49th Street, we met more people who were still marching. To get to the other side, we had to blend in again with the crowd and made way to cross the street. It was more like a celebration happening rather than a demonstration. It’s a democracy celebration for sure! On and on even after several hours have passed, even after my my daughters and I had a late lunch, when we walked to Grand Central to go home, we still met more people who were still marching. It was 5PM when we stopped by the New York Public Library and saw people gathering on the sidewalk next the building, looking at the signs and posters that some people brought for the march that were laid down just like an art exhibition. We walked through another crowd of people and amazed by the amount of people who participated in the Women’s March NYC. It was surreal! We certainly had a wonderful time in New York that day and had an experience and memories that we can share and cherish for a long time.

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The Writings on the Wall

In the corner of a busy block in Brooklyn, I came upon some writings on the wall. I stared at it smiling and my mind wandered to once upon a time when the time was younger and nicer. The writings on the wall took me to a story of a girl who loved a boy and a boy who was crazy for her. They were young, indeed, only 19, a pair of fools in love. Each never thought of what would becoming of them. They never shared their dreams and still unsure about their own future. But to be 19 and in love, you’re allowed to go crazy beyond realization that what came next might just be the end of everything. Love made you did something silly. “Would you be my wife?”, the boy asked one day. The girl was astounded. The boy might just got caught up in a moment (it was his birthday anyway). But maybe something more happened deep in his heart. The girl looked the boy in the eyes, wanting to know if what she heard was real.

I read the writings on the wall and I distinctly heard my self said,”I do”.

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Winter Scenery in New Haven

By now, I should’ve had said that I dislike winter. Snow, more snow and some more to come. But even when on the three Mondays that we had snow storms, I enjoyed them nonetheless. There’s something magical about winter when I look at the snow when they fall. Quiet, almost in a hush, but as soon as I step outside the warmth of our home, I’ll feel it. The tiny prick on my cheeks, the small drop of wetness on my hair, the sudden cold on my skin. Living in New England means that our fall would be brimming with colors and our winter would be cold and white. Some days are harder than the rests. The temperature drops, the wind chills and unfortunately I have to go out. I have a choice to either complain about the weather or simply mum and absorb whatever is happening. On the days when there’s no school bus to pick up my kids, I took them to school by the city bus. After I dropped them off to school, I would later walk a round a bit braving the cold. So that I won’t feel depressed about this long winter. Then I took some pictures. I could hear my teeth were chattering and my body was shivering, but it’s just a stroll around the block. Well, not even. I could hear people exasperating about winter. They say winter is awful, but I see plethora of wonderful things about it. Soon, people will forget when the spring comes, about how awful this winter has been. Meanwhile, I’ll put on my gloves and winter hat for another stroll around the block.

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If You Have to Get Lost…

Far away, it seems, in a land where the sun always shines, where the sky opens up and the air smells sweet, there’s a field full of sunflowers. Rows upon rows of breathtaking flowers, nodding and swaying. Nestled behind the stone fences that stand for hundreds of years, secluded between the tree shadows. If you keep silence, all you hear is the sounds of bees buzzing, moving from one flower to the next. They won’t even feel bothered, there’s plenty of flowers that you can admire. When you walk between the long stalks and the heavy flowers, you might feel lost. You might feel small. There in the land of summer, the sunflowers are the giants. Before you leave, you might want to make a wish, for another visit to a far away land, where the sun always shines, the sky opens up and the air smells sweet. Because if you have to get lost, why don’t you get lost amongst the sunflowers?

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Get Lost in SOHO

Some parts of New York City boast the mix of old and new, traditional and modern atmospheres. One of that one-of-a-kind mixed places is in SOHO. While taking my daughters and her friends for girls’ day out there, I indulged my self for the details that SOHO offers with rows of old buildings, the artistry that almost exists in every corner and the unique places that we visited. I love the cobblestone streets, the pillars and the reliefs that decorated the buildings, and even the fire escape stairs that are lining up on the side of the streets. I felt like being pampered with the many objects that we could see around SOHO, to be photographed, of course. My friend and I stopped at some of the artists’ stands that were there to see and admire their works. Among those artists was a photographer who sold her works at one of SOHO corner. She was kind enough to answer some questions from us, who were curious about how she printed her photographs and where did she take some of the images. So many eye-candy for the girls too, that they couldn’t contain themselves sometimes. They went in and out of some stores, that each one gave different perspectives. It seems that SOHO is calling us again, to come and immerse in its plethora of things that we can see, touch, feel and even eat. Perhaps, soon.

 

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What a Piece of Work is Man!

When I visited Washington Square Park in New York City sometimes ago, I saw a man propping a box in the middle of the park stone yard. He moved quietly and swiftly without a care from his surrounding. The man climbed up the box that’s been painted grey, acknowledged himself by standing tall, while moving in silent without even showing a smirk on his face. He seemed to know of what he was doing and really serious about it. As soon as he was on top of the box, the man gazed in nowhere particular, absorbing his environment, trying to attract the passersby without uttering any words. On the man’s hands was a circular material that he held on strong, as if it’s a symbol of  sort. Some man who calls himself an artist, works with his hands, sculpting, drawing, painting, playing music ; some uses his words or his feet, dancing to his heart contends. Some does something unique in the name of art, and some merely does it as a livelihood, like the story of the human statue at Washington Square Park in one afternoon.
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“What a piece of work is man! How noble is reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god – the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!”
 
Shakespeare – HAMLET, act 2, section 2
 
 

Abandoned Rose

One Sunday afternoon, my husband and I were at a subway station waiting for my old friend. He and I have been chatting and sending messages back and forth. He would visit New York and asked me to be his source of any interesting places he might see. Meeting an old friend is always an exciting thing for me, though it’s been 2o-something years that we haven’t seen each other. We used to belong in the same school choir in high school and I anticipated his arrival and waited patiently at the station. One by one the subway stopped and people got off and got on. For sometime there would be silent, then came the screeching of the subway, the scuffles of people going up or down the stairs, their chatters and buzzes, and in a swift, they’re gone, off to wherever their destination was. After a while and still no sign of my friend in sight, when another flock of people got off from a subway and a couple walked pass me. It looked like the guy found something behind the girl’s blouse. She laughed and pulled the thing that the guy had in his hand, a yellow rose. They were stepping up the stairs to reach another subway, and suddenly the girl put the rose on a step and they walked hand in hand. After that, more people walked pass the stairs. A lot of them didn’t even see the abandoned rose that was left on a dirty stairs at a subway station. Time has passed and we were still waiting. Another subway arrived and with it dozens of people went through the same stairs where a yellow rose was. A mother and her daughter passed it. The girl lifted the rose without any hesitation, and her mother knew right away to nod, so they could go as soon as possible to their destination.

 

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