All emotions are pain.
OR Save the drama for your mama.
I hit yuppie rock bottom. Standing on the platform of the 6 train at Grand Central. After work, in my suit, underground, I thought it was all over for me, pointless. Yuppie rock bottom elaborated is the general feeling of helplessness after a survey of the results of your life efforts. Lamenting my general lack of equity in my own life; no equity in real estate, relationships, career, what did all that effort, talking and loving, grad school, and late nights at the office in my twenties really add up to? Just when the cold rushing metal train whooshed us all up in its frenzy, I was considering ending it all and stepping out too early. Before the train came to a halt, the air stilled and a guitar echoed through the subway cave. Strangely rare in the subway, it was a guy playing the Blues, not a Chinese harp or a doo-wop group, but the Blues, slowly. And like molasses, it coated my brain and heart, soothing me with its own earthy sadness. I thought, here I am at my lowest and, wow, the Blues really do actually make you feel better when youre down. Really down. Blue. Which was just distracting enough to give the train enough time to let me enter it rather than be plowed by it. Being present in that moment saved me, and once again in my life, music saved me too.
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Read more in the Tiffany Diaries
I. All emotions are pain.
OR Save the drama for your mama.
I hit yuppie rock bottom. Standing on the platform of the 6 train at Grand Central. After work, in my suit, underground, I thought it was all over for me, pointless. Yuppie rock bottom elaborated is the general feeling of helplessness after a survey of the results of your life’s efforts. Lamenting my general lack of equity in my own life; no equity in real estate, relationships, career, what did all that effort, talking and loving, grad school, and late nights at the office in my twenties really add up to? Just when the cold rushing metal train whooshed us all up in its frenzy, I was considering ending it all and stepping out too early. Before the train came to a halt, the air stilled and a guitar echoed through the subway cave. Strangely rare in the subway, it was a guy playing the Blues, not a Chinese harp or a doo-wop group, but the Blues, slowly. And like molasses, it coated my brain and heart, soothing me with its own earthy sadness. I thought, here I am at my lowest and, wow, the Blues really do actually make you feel better when you’re down. Really down. Blue. Which was just distracting enough to give the train enough time to let me enter it rather than be plowed by it. Being present in that moment saved me, and once again in my life, music saved me too.
Continue reading ‘Buddha and the Blues by Tiffany Stevens’
The film The Royal Tenenbaums is set in a not unusual fairytale
version of Manhattan. It’s always slightly worn, incredibly romantic,
(yet substantive), and gorgeous in a true sense. Awe and lightness
enlarge by the wonder of it all and it just overwhelms. Wes Anderson
and Woody Allen create this magical place so convincingly, who among
us can say that they’ve never searched for, nay, *ahem* moved to the
city on the belief it existed, or at least looked for some piece of
it?
Given up on that mythical, magical Manhattan after too many Dog Day
Afternoons? Not yet! For a $2.00 metrocard, you can ride the A train
to a Manhattan full of art, culture, history, mellowness (!), and
natural beauty that will amaze even the most jaded part of yourself.
The fictional Tenenbaums frequent the fictional 375th Street YMCA,
bringing a new meaning to “uptown”. Indeed the city does go to 220th
street, and just short of that you can find a sort of fairytale
version of NYC, especially during this time of year.
Continue reading ‘The Heights of Summer by Tiffany Stevens’
The Heights of Summer by Tiffany Stevens
The film The Royal Tenenbaums is set in a not unusual fairytale
version of Manhattan. It’s always slightly worn, incredibly romantic,
(yet substantive), and gorgeous in a true sense. Awe and lightness
enlarge by the wonder of it all and it just overwhelms. Wes Anderson
and Woody Allen create this magical place so convincingly, who among
us can say that they’ve never searched for, nay, *ahem* moved to the
city on the belief it existed, or at least looked for some piece of
it?
Given up on that mythical, magical Manhattan after too many Dog Day
Afternoons? Not yet! For a $2.00 metrocard, you can ride the A train
to a Manhattan full of art, culture, history, mellowness (!), and
natural beauty that will amaze even the most jaded part of yourself.
For More: http://www.culturalblahblah.com/the-heights-of-summer-by-tiffany-stevens/
Also check out Tiffany’s earlier entries at the Tiffany Diaries
“Slow down” she said. Then she took my pen out of my hand to show me. She couldn’t put into words the movement she was describing.
On this Saturday morning in my intensive one-day calligraphy workshop, we were starting by relearning to draw a Roman Capital letter O. The instructor had sauntered around the rest of the class cooing encouragements at the other students work. “Oh, you’ve got quite an eye for this!â€Â, and “oh, good, wow, I can see you’ve done this before†and “okay, you’ve got it, keep going.â€Â
When she got to me, she stopped, cocked her head and stated quizzically, “it’s the letter O, they’re supposed to be round.†I stopped and lowered my head in a combination of embarrassment and frustration. “And you have way too many on your page already.†“Hereâ€Â, she said while taking my pen, “let me show you.†“Slow down†she said, while she, in my opinion, painstakingly slowly drew a perfect capital letter O on my paper, adding grace and fluidly to my page of awkward and side sloped ovals. “Yes, yes, you’ll get it, just……..slower.â€Â
Continue reading ‘Calligraphy Anyone? by Tiffany Stevens’
“Slow down†she said. Then she took my pen out of my hand to show me. She couldn’t put into words the movement she was describing.
On this Saturday morning in my intensive one-day calligraphy workshop, we were starting by relearning to draw a Roman Capital letter O. The instructor had sauntered around the rest of the class cooing encouragements at the other students work. “Oh, you’ve got quite an eye for this!â€Â, and “oh, good, wow, I can see you’ve done this before†and “okay, you’ve got it, keep going.â€Â
When she got to me, she stopped, cocked her head and stated quizzically, “it’s the letter O, they’re supposed to be round.†I stopped and lowered my head in a combination of embarrassment and frustration. “And you have way too many on your page already.†“Hereâ€Â, she said while taking my pen, “let me show you.†“Slow down†she said, while she, in my opinion, painstakingly slowly drew a perfect capital letter O on my paper, adding grace and fluidly to my page of awkward and side sloped ovals. “Yes, yes, you’ll get it, just……..slower.â€Â
For More: http://www.culturalblahblah.com/calligraphy-anyone-by-tiffany-stevens/
Spring Forward
My friend Vic in LA calls it “stewing.†I’m doing it. It was Sunday morning, and I promise, you already know what it is. Stewing is when you set your alarm for 8:00 or 9:00 or even 10:00 on a weekend morning with grand plans for a workout or doing laundry or even some sort of religious service but instead you end up staying in bed hours after, basically laying there and well, “stewing.†It’s easy to do, especially now at the end of this long cold winter. You’re probably hung over; whether emotionally, physically or from ingested chemicals and turning over and over in your mind all your mistakes, from the night before, and probably, your entire adult life. Laying there in the cocoon of my bed, I came to the point of actually getting up after going over a new game plan in my mind. Springtime is coming after all, and with this upcoming changing season, no more of this ridiculous behavior I’ve been engaged in recently. I declare: Things Will Be Different. From Here on Out They Will Be Different (and I really really mean it this time).
I’ve got a plan to help you anticipate your own personal springtime as well as the actual one scheduled to hit New York City any day now.
Continue reading ‘Escape by Tiffany Stevens’
Spring Forward
My friend Vic in LA calls it “stewing.†I’m doing it. It was Sunday morning, and I promise, you already know what it is. Stewing is when you set your alarm for 8:00 or 9:00 or even 10:00 on a weekend morning with grand plans for a workout or doing laundry or even some sort of religious service but instead you end up staying in bed hours after, basically laying there and well, “stewing.†It’s easy to do, especially now at the end of this long cold winter. You’re probably hung over; whether emotionally, physically or from ingested chemicals and turning over and over in your mind all your mistakes, from the night before, and probably, your entire adult life. Laying there in the cocoon of my bed, I came to the point of actually getting up after going over a new game plan in my mind. Springtime is coming after all, and with this upcoming changing season, no more of this ridiculous behavior I’ve been engaged in recently. I declare: Things Will Be Different. From Here on Out They Will Be Different (and I really really mean it this time).
For more: http://www.culturalblahblah.com/escape-by-tiffany-stevens/
Trekking to the Barnes
If you have a romantic nature and a sense of adventure, visiting the Barnes Foundation from Manhattan can be a very “doable†art pilgrimage. This is a feasible mini adventure to approximate other art journeys to Rodin Crater, City, or Lighting Field. I had a wonderful Sunday deciphering NJ Transit to SEPTA to the “main line†local train, a very comfortable and affordance ride while taking in the late Fall foliage, flowing rivers, and steel bridges along my way to Marion, Pennsylvania.
One of the SEPTA ticket machines the Trenton, NJ stop wasn’t functioning and I was stressfully trying to manipulate the buttons and was jamming in my crinkled five dollar bill while the train was waiting. One of the kind conductors ushered me onto the train with a friendly joke and didn’t charge me the extra five dollars he was supposed to–contrary to Flaubert’s assertions, life in the provinces is a pleasant break indeed! I enjoy no such camaraderie or nurturing as I am being elbowed in the ribs while packed onto the 6 train each morning in the city.
Continue reading ‘Greed! Death! Art! Corruption!…………Pennsylvania? by Tiffany Stevens’
