You’d think one of the worst things about being a disaster victim is dealing with FEMA. Or insurance adjusters. Or the complete devastation of your home and loss of all possessions.
But no, all that is merely frustrating.
The absolute worst thing about being a disaster victim are the people who will not shut the fuck up about looking at “the bright side”.
People. I make my living looking at the bright side. I’ve survived a murder attempt in prison and I survive the subway in New York City on a daily basis. I’m a transformational expert and motivational speaker. I teach people to look up because I know how to do it.
So don’t be telling me about that time your grandma’s basement flooded or your second cousin who had the broken sump pump. I do not give a rat’s ass. You do not know what you are talking about.
My house is a shit-show right now and I know it’s going to get better but I do NOT need someone with zero experience telling me about the silver lining.
So cram the silver lining up your butt and get back to work. You do your work, I’ll do mine.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
87 Motel
On August 28, 2011 Hurricane Irene wracked many towns on the east coast, including Gardiner, New York. O’Day Camp was one of the many homes and businesses creamed by Irene’s wind and flood waters.
We fled our home in Gardiner to the neighboring town of New Paltz, mostly because that was as far as we could go. The New York State Thruway was washed out in several parts, and most local roads were also washed out.
We checked into 87 Motel.
87 Motel is advertised as “Clean, Comfortable, Affordable and Friendly.” I can report it is affordable and friendly.
It does not allow pets, but I’m not sure why. Would pets finish ripping the towel rack out of the tile? Might pets fix the drawers? Suck the ample amount of garbage/debris from the AC? But the staff really is friendly.
87 Motel hosts a fascinating cast of characters. Next door was the Vietnam Vet (that’s what his ball cap and bumper sticker said) who shared his room with a 21 year-old (maybe?) Latino boy who dressed like Michael Jackson on the Thriller album cover.
Every morning in the lobby I chatted with a very, very tall white guy with a long white pony tail who only wore white clothes. His eyes were iceberg blue. He spoke softly and walked with a cane. He was friendly and charming. I'm sure he's a serial killer.
Down at the far end of the low-slung brick establishment lived a mother and her five children. I met at least three other interesting people who also call Motel 87 their home. They were all very nice. Creepy and sad, but nice.
The first three or so days into my stay I felt like I was watching a bizarre Tennessee Williams play whenever I returned to the motel. Then, on my fourth evening there I became horribly aware that some crazy lady with un-washed hair, no makeup and eyes like a mental patient was laughing too long and too loudly at toddlers being chased by Canadian Snow geese at the 87 Motel “pond.”
It was me. Crazy, mud-caked Sandra O’Day.
I was no different from the main cast of characters at 87 Motel, I was just a minor character -- there for only five days.
The clean up continues. No longer at 87 Motel, but still not back at O’Day Camp.
We fled our home in Gardiner to the neighboring town of New Paltz, mostly because that was as far as we could go. The New York State Thruway was washed out in several parts, and most local roads were also washed out.
We checked into 87 Motel.
87 Motel is advertised as “Clean, Comfortable, Affordable and Friendly.” I can report it is affordable and friendly.
It does not allow pets, but I’m not sure why. Would pets finish ripping the towel rack out of the tile? Might pets fix the drawers? Suck the ample amount of garbage/debris from the AC? But the staff really is friendly.
87 Motel hosts a fascinating cast of characters. Next door was the Vietnam Vet (that’s what his ball cap and bumper sticker said) who shared his room with a 21 year-old (maybe?) Latino boy who dressed like Michael Jackson on the Thriller album cover.
Every morning in the lobby I chatted with a very, very tall white guy with a long white pony tail who only wore white clothes. His eyes were iceberg blue. He spoke softly and walked with a cane. He was friendly and charming. I'm sure he's a serial killer.
Down at the far end of the low-slung brick establishment lived a mother and her five children. I met at least three other interesting people who also call Motel 87 their home. They were all very nice. Creepy and sad, but nice.
The first three or so days into my stay I felt like I was watching a bizarre Tennessee Williams play whenever I returned to the motel. Then, on my fourth evening there I became horribly aware that some crazy lady with un-washed hair, no makeup and eyes like a mental patient was laughing too long and too loudly at toddlers being chased by Canadian Snow geese at the 87 Motel “pond.”
It was me. Crazy, mud-caked Sandra O’Day.
I was no different from the main cast of characters at 87 Motel, I was just a minor character -- there for only five days.
The clean up continues. No longer at 87 Motel, but still not back at O’Day Camp.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Hurricane Irene
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Namaste, bitches! (Part Three)
I recently lost a bet and spent a month and a half at an ashram.
Every weekend rich ladies come to the ashram. They were perfectly botoxed and tucked so that no look of surprise or concern would ever cross their faces. They all look alike, with their weird paralyzed faces and fear of being over 40. But that’s not why I hated them.
I hated them because the monks couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. The monks are nice to everybody! They’re even nice to whining complaining bitches who show up to yoga in an ashram wearing pink velour sweats with “Juicy” on the patootie. (Or wearing Lululemon.)
They would bitch about the ashram not having hair dryers and then they’d bitch about the scratchy towels. I hated their loud, annoying Long Island and New Jersey voices as much as I hated the clenched whine of the Connecticut women.
Their gold “Ohm” necklaces snagged in their ridiculous earrings while they were in downward dog pose.
They would form cliques to make each other feel small and left out while they raced to enlightenment.
They showed up every weekend in a Prius and Lexus parade. And my stinky monk was just as nice to them as he was to me.
I learned something on those weekends:
Loathing the annoying will not make them less loathsome or annoying.
If you cannot stand someone, it’s only because you recognize something of them in yourself. Otherwise you wouldn’t care.
Lululemon is spendy, but I like it.
Every weekend rich ladies come to the ashram. They were perfectly botoxed and tucked so that no look of surprise or concern would ever cross their faces. They all look alike, with their weird paralyzed faces and fear of being over 40. But that’s not why I hated them.
I hated them because the monks couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. The monks are nice to everybody! They’re even nice to whining complaining bitches who show up to yoga in an ashram wearing pink velour sweats with “Juicy” on the patootie. (Or wearing Lululemon.)
They would bitch about the ashram not having hair dryers and then they’d bitch about the scratchy towels. I hated their loud, annoying Long Island and New Jersey voices as much as I hated the clenched whine of the Connecticut women.
Their gold “Ohm” necklaces snagged in their ridiculous earrings while they were in downward dog pose.
They would form cliques to make each other feel small and left out while they raced to enlightenment.
They showed up every weekend in a Prius and Lexus parade. And my stinky monk was just as nice to them as he was to me.
I learned something on those weekends:
Loathing the annoying will not make them less loathsome or annoying.
If you cannot stand someone, it’s only because you recognize something of them in yourself. Otherwise you wouldn’t care.
Lululemon is spendy, but I like it.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Happy Independence Day!
I got this email and couldn't agree more. Pass it on folks. And happy 4th of July!
-Sandra
The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18 year-olds) took only 3 months & 8 days to be ratified! Why? Simple! The people demanded it. That was in 1971...before computers, before e-mail, before cell phones, etc.
Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven (7) took 1 year or less to become the law of the land...all because of public pressure.
I'm asking each addressee to forward this email to a minimum of twenty people on their address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.
In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message. This is one idea that really should be passed around.
Congressional Reform Act of 2011
1. Term Limits.
12 years only, one of the possible options below..
A. Two Six-year Senate terms
B. Six Two-year House terms
C. One Six-year Senate term and three Two-Year House terms
2. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.
3. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people.
4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.
5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.
6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.
7. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.
8. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12.
The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.
If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S. ) to receive the message. Maybe it is time.
THIS IS HOW YOU FIX CONGRESS!!!!! If you agree with the above, pass it on. If not, just delete.
-Sandra
The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18 year-olds) took only 3 months & 8 days to be ratified! Why? Simple! The people demanded it. That was in 1971...before computers, before e-mail, before cell phones, etc.
Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven (7) took 1 year or less to become the law of the land...all because of public pressure.
I'm asking each addressee to forward this email to a minimum of twenty people on their address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.
In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message. This is one idea that really should be passed around.
Congressional Reform Act of 2011
1. Term Limits.
12 years only, one of the possible options below..
A. Two Six-year Senate terms
B. Six Two-year House terms
C. One Six-year Senate term and three Two-Year House terms
2. No Tenure / No Pension.
A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.
3. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security.
All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people.
4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.
5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.
6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.
7. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.
8. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12.
The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.
If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S. ) to receive the message. Maybe it is time.
THIS IS HOW YOU FIX CONGRESS!!!!! If you agree with the above, pass it on. If not, just delete.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Namaste, bitches! (Part Two)
I recently lost a bet and spent a month and a half at an ashram.
Meditation is a daily part of life at the ashram. I’m not a fan of meditation. It reminds me of when I was in prison and doing solitary confinement.
I tried to get out of daily meditation like a fat girl tries to get out of gym class.
But the monk with halitosis, the one who seemed to take a special, relentless interest in me, told me I had to go or he’d have my Starbucks Via confiscated.
With my caffeine on the line, I attended meditation class. But there was always something wrecking my meditation attempts.
First, there is the non-stop screaming in my head.
Stinky the Monk told me everyone has this. Especially people who use too much caffeine. I refuse to believe him.
Then there was a mouse running willy-nilly through the meditation room. The screaming in my head became audible to all. Then there was a week of jack-hammering construction at the ashram. After that, there were flies in the meditation room. Not just a few flies, I’m talking flies-on-starving-children-in-Africa type of flies.
Finally, after two weeks of disaster-proportioned distractions, the meditation room grew quiet. “Perfect,” I thought. “Let’s do this meditation thing.” And that’s when the screaming in my head took me to the mat. I had a full-blown panic attack after five minutes of trying to sit with my own silence.
Stinky the Monk came to my aid. He sat next to me, and his horrible, foul breath was the distraction I needed to sit still.
I learned something from my stinky monk.
1) When left alone with only my thoughts I need something outside of myself to struggle against to feel “OK” again.
2) A stinky monk is like training wheels for meditation.
3) Meditation is a practice. You can’t get it right and you can’t get it wrong. This is confusing for a beginner.
What struggles do you hold on to so that you don’t have to confront yourself? I’m curious.
More ashram stories to follow. Namaste, bitches.
Meditation is a daily part of life at the ashram. I’m not a fan of meditation. It reminds me of when I was in prison and doing solitary confinement.
I tried to get out of daily meditation like a fat girl tries to get out of gym class.
But the monk with halitosis, the one who seemed to take a special, relentless interest in me, told me I had to go or he’d have my Starbucks Via confiscated.
With my caffeine on the line, I attended meditation class. But there was always something wrecking my meditation attempts.
First, there is the non-stop screaming in my head.
Stinky the Monk told me everyone has this. Especially people who use too much caffeine. I refuse to believe him.
Then there was a mouse running willy-nilly through the meditation room. The screaming in my head became audible to all. Then there was a week of jack-hammering construction at the ashram. After that, there were flies in the meditation room. Not just a few flies, I’m talking flies-on-starving-children-in-Africa type of flies.
Finally, after two weeks of disaster-proportioned distractions, the meditation room grew quiet. “Perfect,” I thought. “Let’s do this meditation thing.” And that’s when the screaming in my head took me to the mat. I had a full-blown panic attack after five minutes of trying to sit with my own silence.
Stinky the Monk came to my aid. He sat next to me, and his horrible, foul breath was the distraction I needed to sit still.
I learned something from my stinky monk.
1) When left alone with only my thoughts I need something outside of myself to struggle against to feel “OK” again.
2) A stinky monk is like training wheels for meditation.
3) Meditation is a practice. You can’t get it right and you can’t get it wrong. This is confusing for a beginner.
What struggles do you hold on to so that you don’t have to confront yourself? I’m curious.
More ashram stories to follow. Namaste, bitches.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Namaste, bitches! (Part One)
I recently lost a bet and spent a month and a half at an ashram.
Full confession: I drink too much coffee. I like my “caffeine can-do” rush.
At the ashram, there is no coffee. There is tea. Tea made of twigs and boiled sock water. This tea will not get you high. It will make you vomit, though.
I also like sweets. Cake. Cookies. Cakes shaped like cookies ... There are no real cookies at the ashram, there are only vegan cookies. One will not catch a sugar high from vegan cookies, one will merely catch a hot rush of anger when someone gives you reconstituted eraser and calls it cake.
There are no computers at the ashram.
On my fifth day of going through withdrawal from coffee, cookies and computers (the holy C3 as I now call them,) I threw a tantrum.
I had a tantrum because I wanted my computer. I wanted to at least look at pictures of cookies and coffee and I wanted to facebook about how awful the ashram was for not having such everyday items.
A monk took pity on me and whispered that he would take me to a computer. My tantrum immediately stopped -- not because I was happy but because the monk’s breath was so horrible it made my eyes cross.
He giggled as he lead me through the maze of the building, across the garden, through an actual maze of evergreen shrubs, down a hill, past goats, and into a small shed. He pointed inside the shed and I went in. And there, in the shed, was an abacus. And just as I realized I had been totally tricked he LOCKED ME IN THE SHED.
Those of you who have taken my workshops know that the ol’ “locking them in the shed” move is one of my own. And this garbage-breathed monk had turned my own tables on me!
The game was on. I broke out of the shed by shattering the window with the abacus. I hitchhiked into town, found a Starbucks, drank a venti double red eye and bought stacks of Via. Then I walked three hours in the rain back to the ashram.
I learned three lessons that day from my stinky monk:
1) Sometimes you have to be “trapped” to realize how free you actually are.
2) An abacus makes a great blunt instrument.
3) A three hour walk in the rain is refreshing if you've just had a venti double red eye.
More ashram stories to follow. Namaste, bitches.
Full confession: I drink too much coffee. I like my “caffeine can-do” rush.
At the ashram, there is no coffee. There is tea. Tea made of twigs and boiled sock water. This tea will not get you high. It will make you vomit, though.
I also like sweets. Cake. Cookies. Cakes shaped like cookies ... There are no real cookies at the ashram, there are only vegan cookies. One will not catch a sugar high from vegan cookies, one will merely catch a hot rush of anger when someone gives you reconstituted eraser and calls it cake.
There are no computers at the ashram.
On my fifth day of going through withdrawal from coffee, cookies and computers (the holy C3 as I now call them,) I threw a tantrum.
I had a tantrum because I wanted my computer. I wanted to at least look at pictures of cookies and coffee and I wanted to facebook about how awful the ashram was for not having such everyday items.
A monk took pity on me and whispered that he would take me to a computer. My tantrum immediately stopped -- not because I was happy but because the monk’s breath was so horrible it made my eyes cross.
He giggled as he lead me through the maze of the building, across the garden, through an actual maze of evergreen shrubs, down a hill, past goats, and into a small shed. He pointed inside the shed and I went in. And there, in the shed, was an abacus. And just as I realized I had been totally tricked he LOCKED ME IN THE SHED.
Those of you who have taken my workshops know that the ol’ “locking them in the shed” move is one of my own. And this garbage-breathed monk had turned my own tables on me!
The game was on. I broke out of the shed by shattering the window with the abacus. I hitchhiked into town, found a Starbucks, drank a venti double red eye and bought stacks of Via. Then I walked three hours in the rain back to the ashram.
I learned three lessons that day from my stinky monk:
1) Sometimes you have to be “trapped” to realize how free you actually are.
2) An abacus makes a great blunt instrument.
3) A three hour walk in the rain is refreshing if you've just had a venti double red eye.
More ashram stories to follow. Namaste, bitches.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Loser
So, back in March I made a bet with a “friend” of mine. If I won, she would have to spend a month in my rigorous life-changing program at O’Day Camp. But if she won the bet, I would have to spend a month at an ashram.
I lost.
I spent a month at an ashram.
And then, mid-April, I made a bet with one of the monks at the ashram. If I won, he would have to spend a month in my rigorous life-changing program at O’Day camp. (And I was so looking forward to helping him screw his head on straight.) But, if he won the bet, I’d have to spend three more weeks at the fucking ashram.
I lost again.
I will share with you my intense and personal stories of ashram time after I take a shower, use deodorant, eat some meat and drink too many martinis.
I lost.
I spent a month at an ashram.
And then, mid-April, I made a bet with one of the monks at the ashram. If I won, he would have to spend a month in my rigorous life-changing program at O’Day camp. (And I was so looking forward to helping him screw his head on straight.) But, if he won the bet, I’d have to spend three more weeks at the fucking ashram.
I lost again.
I will share with you my intense and personal stories of ashram time after I take a shower, use deodorant, eat some meat and drink too many martinis.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
You’re Not On The News
March has come in like a lion. Like an ass-whuppin’ sadistic, son-of-a-gun angry lion. And the whining is deafening.
Instead of standing up to March and saying, “Yeah, bring it,” most people are crying to their shrinks about how sad and weary they are.
People we’re all sad and weary. It’s been one of the longest, crappiest winters in history. Just ask Janice Huff.
But the fact is, we’re not on the news. Know who’s on the news? Japan. Japan is on the news. Plane crashes are on the news. Tidal waves, earthquakes and disease are on the news. (And Janice Huff is on the news, but she’s a meteorologist.)
You’re not on the news. So stand up, go outside and get some exercise. Stop looking at the ground and griping about the mud. Look at the sky, which for once isn’t dropping buckets of frozen precipitation on our heads, and take in the fact that you can breathe and dance and drink fresh water by turning on a tap. (Unless there is fracking near you.)
You’re not on the news, people. Things are looking up.
Instead of standing up to March and saying, “Yeah, bring it,” most people are crying to their shrinks about how sad and weary they are.
People we’re all sad and weary. It’s been one of the longest, crappiest winters in history. Just ask Janice Huff.
But the fact is, we’re not on the news. Know who’s on the news? Japan. Japan is on the news. Plane crashes are on the news. Tidal waves, earthquakes and disease are on the news. (And Janice Huff is on the news, but she’s a meteorologist.)
You’re not on the news. So stand up, go outside and get some exercise. Stop looking at the ground and griping about the mud. Look at the sky, which for once isn’t dropping buckets of frozen precipitation on our heads, and take in the fact that you can breathe and dance and drink fresh water by turning on a tap. (Unless there is fracking near you.)
You’re not on the news, people. Things are looking up.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Nowie Wowie!™
Those of you who know me, who have worked with me, who have bought my books and created Powerful Positive Change in your lives know that I’m not messing around when you show up to work with me.
You want to change? It will start NOW. Not later, not next week, not someday in the future. It will happen NOW. I call it the Nowie Wowie!™
For the past month, though, I’ve been up at O’Day Camp working with a group of namby-pamby whiners. I’ve locked them in cabins in the freezing cold and instead of breaking out and breaking free they sit there rocking back and forth whining and crying. We’ve done Shatter Your Limits™ exercises on the frozen river and they’ve complained the whole time that the ice is “slippery” and they’re “cold”. I pushed them into Kill It or Starve™ exercises and instead of eating meat they’re eating the frozen lilac bush and licking snow.
They want gradual. They want to play it safe. They are addicted to their whining and blaming others. They refuse to take responsibility for themselves.
People, planting a seed and watering it is not change, it’s growth. Gradual change is either growth or erosion; it’s not true powerful, change. True change is a rockslide, fire, a tornado -- immediate need to reconcile yourself with a bright new life.
Drop the whining like a hot rock, people, and get out there and make some powerful, positive change.
You want to change? It will start NOW. Not later, not next week, not someday in the future. It will happen NOW. I call it the Nowie Wowie!™
For the past month, though, I’ve been up at O’Day Camp working with a group of namby-pamby whiners. I’ve locked them in cabins in the freezing cold and instead of breaking out and breaking free they sit there rocking back and forth whining and crying. We’ve done Shatter Your Limits™ exercises on the frozen river and they’ve complained the whole time that the ice is “slippery” and they’re “cold”. I pushed them into Kill It or Starve™ exercises and instead of eating meat they’re eating the frozen lilac bush and licking snow.
They want gradual. They want to play it safe. They are addicted to their whining and blaming others. They refuse to take responsibility for themselves.
People, planting a seed and watering it is not change, it’s growth. Gradual change is either growth or erosion; it’s not true powerful, change. True change is a rockslide, fire, a tornado -- immediate need to reconcile yourself with a bright new life.
Drop the whining like a hot rock, people, and get out there and make some powerful, positive change.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Probably People
If someone says to you, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” they “probably” shouldn’t. People who engage in this kind of manipulative gossip need to be rounded up and shipped to their own island where they can torture each other in a “Lord of the Flies” kind of way. Their whispered secrets, nasty rumors and flat-out lies are merely pathetic attempts to puff their egos by deflating someone else’s.
What do the Probably People get out of telling you something they “probably” shouldn’t? They get the satisfaction of spinning you into the murk of self-doubt. They balloon themselves on smugness with the power of “probably.” They make themselves feel big by making you feel small.
Don’t have any truck with the “Probably People.” And don’t be one. No one like a gossiping weasel-faced, back-biting jerk.
What do the Probably People get out of telling you something they “probably” shouldn’t? They get the satisfaction of spinning you into the murk of self-doubt. They balloon themselves on smugness with the power of “probably.” They make themselves feel big by making you feel small.
Don’t have any truck with the “Probably People.” And don’t be one. No one like a gossiping weasel-faced, back-biting jerk.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Top 10 List for Tourists in New York City
As you may know, the O’Day offices are in Midtown Manhattan, right on 42nd Street near the Port Authority, which is North America’s largest bus terminal.
To get to a subway we have to walk across 42nd Street through Times Square -- the section of our city filled with neon signs where they drop the crystal ball every New Year’s Eve.
It’s a busy place packed with tourists. While we love tourists here in New York, sometimes they need a little help. Here are a few pointers for our very welcomed guests:
1) You need to be fit enough to walk at least two miles in order to get around New York. Certainly there are accommodations for people in wheelchairs, but for those of you who are “able-bodied” but who spend most of your time in your hometown sitting in a chair, on a couch, or in your car, you might want to exercise a little before you get here if you don't already. New York is a city of sidewalks and stairs, and most of us walk at least a mile a day just running errands and going to and from the subway. And to get in and out of the subway you’re going to have to go up and down stairs. Several flights of stairs per subway trip.
2) Don’t stop at the top of the subway stairs. There are people behind you. Lots and lots of people behind you. When you stop the entire line of people behind you have to stop, and they will send you waves of hate for slowing them down. Remember, millions of people actually live here and they’re trying to get to work, or get home, or pick up their kids from school, or just get somewhere. Keep moving, and pull over to the side if you need to catch your breath or look at a map.
3) Ask a New Yorker for directions. We really love our city, even when it’s driving us crazy. We like to show off our knowledge. It doesn’t matter if we look cranky or absorbed in thought, ask a New Yorker for directions. (But not if someone is trying to talk on a cell phone. Seriously, that’s just bad manners.) Chances are, when you ask for assistance, the person you ask will know how to help and then two or three other New Yorkers will pipe in with suggestions, and you’ll end up getting great directions plus extra tidbits of advice.
4) It’s a sidewalk. A Side WALK. Sidewalks are like highways here in New York City, you need to keep moving. When you STOP suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk people behind you might walk up your butt or knock you over, and it isn’t anybody’s fault but your own. Those people behind you who do stop in time will send you hate vibes. When you stop suddenly in the middle of a sidewalk here in New York City you create a barrier for the hundreds of people behind you. So if you really need to stop you should pull over to the side, just like you would if you were driving on a highway. If you stop in the MIDDLE of the sidewalk you come off as rude and stupid.
5) Revolving doors are not brain-teasers. There are many revolving doors here in the city and they’re not that hard to figure out. You push on the push bar, and you go through one at a time. If you wedge your patootie in with some stranger in a revolving door you are going to be lectured, at the very least. If you are unsure of how to use a revolving door, best to watch others do it, then try for yourself.
6) Tip. If you go to a restaurant you need to leave the waiter a tip. To calculate the appropriate amount look at your bill, double the amount shown on the tax, and leave it for the waiter. Don’t be cheap.
7) Go to the theater! We have some great shows here, on and off Broadway! Make sure you turn off your cell phone before the show, and never text during a show. If you see someone texting during a show make sure you tell an usher. People who text during a show get arrested and have to spend at least 24 hours lost in the New York judicial system -- and they deserve it! Also, it’s illegal to take photos during a show. Just a head’s up.
8) Don’t stop. When you go through a turnstile, keep moving. When you go through the metro entrance, keep moving. When you enter a building, a museum, a theater, keep moving. Just because you’ve crossed a threshold doesn’t mean there aren’t people behind you. What kind of silly-nilly stops in a doorway?! Keep moving!
9) Walking four or five across is a bad idea. We all understand you’re visiting with family and friends, but to walk shoulder to shoulder with all those people is really crazy. And selfish. There is no need to form a slow-moving barrier. Clump it up, and help keep our city moving.
10) Keep Moving. Unless you’re from Mexico City or Hong Kong or an old-world city where people walk rather than drive from strip mall to strip mall, there are a lot more people here than you’re used to. Try to enjoy the hustle and flow. Our city is like a heart, and the people are the blood running through the veins of the city. Don’t be system-threatening plaque that clogs things and causes trouble. Get into the music of being a part of our crowd. Don’t stop dancing, go with the flow.
To get to a subway we have to walk across 42nd Street through Times Square -- the section of our city filled with neon signs where they drop the crystal ball every New Year’s Eve.
It’s a busy place packed with tourists. While we love tourists here in New York, sometimes they need a little help. Here are a few pointers for our very welcomed guests:
1) You need to be fit enough to walk at least two miles in order to get around New York. Certainly there are accommodations for people in wheelchairs, but for those of you who are “able-bodied” but who spend most of your time in your hometown sitting in a chair, on a couch, or in your car, you might want to exercise a little before you get here if you don't already. New York is a city of sidewalks and stairs, and most of us walk at least a mile a day just running errands and going to and from the subway. And to get in and out of the subway you’re going to have to go up and down stairs. Several flights of stairs per subway trip.
2) Don’t stop at the top of the subway stairs. There are people behind you. Lots and lots of people behind you. When you stop the entire line of people behind you have to stop, and they will send you waves of hate for slowing them down. Remember, millions of people actually live here and they’re trying to get to work, or get home, or pick up their kids from school, or just get somewhere. Keep moving, and pull over to the side if you need to catch your breath or look at a map.
3) Ask a New Yorker for directions. We really love our city, even when it’s driving us crazy. We like to show off our knowledge. It doesn’t matter if we look cranky or absorbed in thought, ask a New Yorker for directions. (But not if someone is trying to talk on a cell phone. Seriously, that’s just bad manners.) Chances are, when you ask for assistance, the person you ask will know how to help and then two or three other New Yorkers will pipe in with suggestions, and you’ll end up getting great directions plus extra tidbits of advice.
4) It’s a sidewalk. A Side WALK. Sidewalks are like highways here in New York City, you need to keep moving. When you STOP suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk people behind you might walk up your butt or knock you over, and it isn’t anybody’s fault but your own. Those people behind you who do stop in time will send you hate vibes. When you stop suddenly in the middle of a sidewalk here in New York City you create a barrier for the hundreds of people behind you. So if you really need to stop you should pull over to the side, just like you would if you were driving on a highway. If you stop in the MIDDLE of the sidewalk you come off as rude and stupid.
5) Revolving doors are not brain-teasers. There are many revolving doors here in the city and they’re not that hard to figure out. You push on the push bar, and you go through one at a time. If you wedge your patootie in with some stranger in a revolving door you are going to be lectured, at the very least. If you are unsure of how to use a revolving door, best to watch others do it, then try for yourself.
6) Tip. If you go to a restaurant you need to leave the waiter a tip. To calculate the appropriate amount look at your bill, double the amount shown on the tax, and leave it for the waiter. Don’t be cheap.
7) Go to the theater! We have some great shows here, on and off Broadway! Make sure you turn off your cell phone before the show, and never text during a show. If you see someone texting during a show make sure you tell an usher. People who text during a show get arrested and have to spend at least 24 hours lost in the New York judicial system -- and they deserve it! Also, it’s illegal to take photos during a show. Just a head’s up.
8) Don’t stop. When you go through a turnstile, keep moving. When you go through the metro entrance, keep moving. When you enter a building, a museum, a theater, keep moving. Just because you’ve crossed a threshold doesn’t mean there aren’t people behind you. What kind of silly-nilly stops in a doorway?! Keep moving!
9) Walking four or five across is a bad idea. We all understand you’re visiting with family and friends, but to walk shoulder to shoulder with all those people is really crazy. And selfish. There is no need to form a slow-moving barrier. Clump it up, and help keep our city moving.
10) Keep Moving. Unless you’re from Mexico City or Hong Kong or an old-world city where people walk rather than drive from strip mall to strip mall, there are a lot more people here than you’re used to. Try to enjoy the hustle and flow. Our city is like a heart, and the people are the blood running through the veins of the city. Don’t be system-threatening plaque that clogs things and causes trouble. Get into the music of being a part of our crowd. Don’t stop dancing, go with the flow.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Make It!
So many people start off a new year wishing for wonderful things. But I say, “Why WISH?” Why put energy into crossing our fingers and knocking on wood and shopping for a new rabbit’s foot key chain?
Wishing brings out the WISHY-WASHY! Do you want to hang out with a wishy-washy, limp-rag, decision-making-impaired lazy-bones! Of course not! So why would you want to be one?
I say put away your wish and put on your MAKE. What are you going to MAKE happen this year? What are you going to MAKE happen this month? What are you going to MAKE happen this day?
Let’s put our MAKE on and MAKE some goals, people! I’m not talking “resolutions,” because “resolutions” can be broken. Every year in mid-January people sit around bars and pizza places all over America and whine about how they “broke their resolutions” after only a week. Then they order a pitcher of calories and have another bite of something double-crusted and stuffed with cheese. I know a lot can go into resolve, but resolve is far too easy to dis-solve!
But when you MAKE a goal the road is always open to meet that goal.
But Sandra, what if I get sidetracked and veer off the road and go traipsing in the woods?
The woods happen, people! Drop some crumbs to find your way out -- then get back on the road and achieve your goals.
You MAKE a map when you’re clear about what your goals are. A goal can always be met. Goals are the road signs on the Yellow Brick Road to your own, personal Emerald City.
Happy 2011! We’re going to MAKE this a fantastic year!
I look forward to hearing your stories of immense personal struggle, and will continue to inspire you.
Wishing brings out the WISHY-WASHY! Do you want to hang out with a wishy-washy, limp-rag, decision-making-impaired lazy-bones! Of course not! So why would you want to be one?
I say put away your wish and put on your MAKE. What are you going to MAKE happen this year? What are you going to MAKE happen this month? What are you going to MAKE happen this day?
Let’s put our MAKE on and MAKE some goals, people! I’m not talking “resolutions,” because “resolutions” can be broken. Every year in mid-January people sit around bars and pizza places all over America and whine about how they “broke their resolutions” after only a week. Then they order a pitcher of calories and have another bite of something double-crusted and stuffed with cheese. I know a lot can go into resolve, but resolve is far too easy to dis-solve!
But when you MAKE a goal the road is always open to meet that goal.
But Sandra, what if I get sidetracked and veer off the road and go traipsing in the woods?
The woods happen, people! Drop some crumbs to find your way out -- then get back on the road and achieve your goals.
You MAKE a map when you’re clear about what your goals are. A goal can always be met. Goals are the road signs on the Yellow Brick Road to your own, personal Emerald City.
Happy 2011! We’re going to MAKE this a fantastic year!
I look forward to hearing your stories of immense personal struggle, and will continue to inspire you.
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