There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

The weird thing about visiting my parents in California for a week is that sitting here in my big comfy bed with my orange cat Momo laying by the foot of it snoring, the heat running without me having to worry about paying for it... it honestly almost feels as if the past year and three months of living on the East Coast never happened. As if it was all some long, crazy dream.

I've had a lot of fun the last few days, and if I'm being completely honest with myself, there's a part of me that doesn't want to go back. Seven days hasn't quite been long enough for my emotional brain to remember that living with one's parents isn't quite as fun as having them spoil you for a week because they never see you. Despite my logic brain trying their best to remind my emotional brain, emotional brain just drowns out logic and sings:

Oh there's no place like home for the holidays... For no matter how far away you roam... If you want to be happy in a million ways... For the holidays, you can't beat home sweet home...

Look, I know no one does Christmas/Hanukkah/Yule/What have you like New York City. But the truth is, California will always be my home in my heart. You can keep your White Christmas - give me 65-degrees-farenheit all December, please. The Silicon Valley is the Valley of my Heart's Delight, and if I had it my way, I'd have taken a month off to visit rather than just a week. A week just isn't long enough to do everything I want to do, to see everything I've missed and some things I never got the chance to see. I'm already counting down the days until the next time I return to the Bay Area (next June for my high school reunion) and I don't even fly back east until Sunday!

I do miss my three-legged cat back in New Jersey, though. 

At the same time, though, New York is consistently in the back of my mind. San Jose is just as sweet and quaint and cool in its own way, but I've changed. I'm less of an easy-going pushover now. And okay, I'm a little more snobby sometimes - there has been more than one stop this trip where I've been like, "okay, it's cute, but in New York we have this similar thing that's so much bigger!" Honestly, I don't know how my family doesn't think I'm completely insufferable.

I can cook a lot better now, too - look at this fondue spread my mom and I made!

 I think, on some level, I will be happy to return to the East Coast. I do want to go to Hamilton Grange next weekend, I am curious about the axe-throwing place they just put in Brooklyn (expect my Viking ass to do a future entry on that), and I am eager to take my GRE and get a head-start on working towards the future that I moved to the east coast for in the first place. I just... don't want to leave California yet.

Honestly, if I had it my way, I'd live half the year in New York and half in California. Perhaps do spring and autumn in NYC and winter and summer in the Bay Area. But unfortunately, I'm not rich, that kind of lifestyle is just way beyond my means.

Anyway, I'm just rambling about how happy I've been the last few days, compared to the last few months (I had been, frankly, quite miserable for the latter half of October and almost the entirety of November and December - Seasonal Affective Disorder, you guys. It's a real hell and a half). But if you want, read on for a day-by-day summary of this little week of heaven. If not, I'll see you all in New York!

An Adventure in the Old School East Village

Tonight is the night, folks! Tonight, I board a plane (ew, a red eye flight) back to San Jose to spend a week back home! Meaning today I get to finish packing and cleaning up my room which has, in the course of packing, become an absolute mess! (Okay, okay, my cat Alice is part of that messiness too, since she likes to kick her litter up out of the box!!!) This, of course, means I am not leaving New Jersey today - which means that yesterday was my last day in New York City for the entirety of 2017.

And, since it's me, of course I wanted to do something that reminds me of my one true love, history. But rather than cavort in the 18th century, I decided I'd rather be a flapper for the day - after all, my love of the 1920s New York City scene is well documented, and I've been in a 20s mood lately. And unlike the 18th century, there are actually quite a few 1920s NYC haunts still around, if one knows where to look.

Having already agreed to meet a friend for my last NYC hangout of the year, we decided we'd make an afternoon out of it and planned the whole thing around visiting the Museum of the American Gangster in the East Village, a neighbourhood I know well (since I've been working in that neighbourhood for over a year).

Of course, we had some time to kill beforehand...

Living That Bicentury Life

In my continuing to update you all on everything that I should have been blogging about during the ongoing crisis that was the entire month of November (which may or may not qualify as a midlife crisis - hey, I don't know how long I'm going to live!), I feel like I should tell you all about two of the good experiences that did manage to make their way into my life and nestle between all of the anxiety.

And of course, as usual for me (I'm beginning to expect that my normal does not at all resemble that of the general population's...), last weekend and the weekend before that both involved hopping back in time for a bit to the 18th century - to the 1780s, to be precise, and the end of the American Revolutionary War.

Thank you Eliza for the photo! (Also features Cheney of Not Your Momma's History)

It seems that, try as I might (lmao I'm not gonna try to stop), I just can't stop living that bicentury life. I just can't help but live with one foot firmly planted in the 18th century and one in the 21st. (Which I guess means my crotch is right over 1899? Maybe don't think about this image too hard...)

So I decided to do a brief overview of my jaunts back into the 1780s the past two weekends for anyone who wants to live vicariously through me, as I understand we can't all be time travelers part time.

On Friday, 24 November, I attended the Evacuation Day festivities at Federal Hall National Memorial, just down the street from Trinity Church. And on Sunday, 3 December, I attended an event at Fraunces Tavern to commemorate George Washington's farewell speech to the Continental Army that was given in the Long Room in 1783 - complete with a very special guest.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose? (On Homesickness)

First off, before I begin answering the "WHERE HAVE I BEEN FOR OVER A MONTH" question (the short answer is "having a month-long existential crisis"), I'm gonna request you all listen to this classic song:

If you substitute NYC for LA, that's just about how I've been feeling for the entire month of November. I mean...

"Dreams turn into dust and blow away
And there you are without a friend
You pack your car and ride away
I've got lots of friends in San Jose
Do you know the way to San Jose?"

Let's back up just a bit, shall we?

Ghost Stories of New York City

Who is that in the study's window...?

Yesterday at the Grange, I heard phantom whistling at the back of the house after one of my tours.

This is not the first time this has happened to me. In fact, I made a comic about the first time I experienced it, even though Sarah and I determined it was probably an auditory hallucination:

But now that it's happened again, 2 months later, I'm not so sure anymore. Is it possible it could be a ghost?

Logically, I'd have to say no. I don't believe Hamilton Grange is haunted. There'd be a lot more stories about Hamilton's ghost if he were still sticking around. I'm fairly certain the guy has no unfinished business keeping him on this mortal plane. And even if he were to stick around in the house that meant so much to him, the building has been moved from its original location. Twice.

But it's fun to think there might be a paranormal explanation to the whistling. Is it likely? Not really. But imagining I might come face-to-face with a ghost is fun, especially this time of year! It's happened before, after all - back at Winchester I had quite a few paranormal encounters. I never got a bad vibe from the ghosts of the Winchester house. The spirits there are pretty benign, and will respect you if you respect them.

The Winchester Mystery House is, of course, notorious for its hauntings. Hamilton Grange is not. But that's not to say New York City doesn't have its fair share of ghosts, Aaron Burr being only one of the most famous. And that shouldn't be too surprising. It's had a very large population for centuries. That's a lot of people dying. Statistically, if ghosts are real, there should be a higher-than-average number of them in New York City. And there are. If you know where to look.

I'm going to give you three New York City ghostly tales, starting with one with a connection to Hamilton and Burr. But I encourage you to look up more yourself. New York has a fascinating paranormal history, and I'm barely scratching the tip of the iceberg here. And hey, if you have a ghost story of your own you'd like to share, be it NYC-related or not, please tell me in the comments or on my facebook page.

Quick and Easy Vegan Ramen

One of my favourite meals to make from scratch is ramen. It's simple, it's filling, you don't need a recipe, and it's very easy to customize to your own tastes. Do you like corn? Throw some canned corn in there. Do you dislike tofu or mushrooms? Leave them out! Pretty much the only thing a bowl of ramen needs to be called ramen are broth and ramen noodles. I'm only going to show you my favourite ramen recipe, a recipe I created myself, but feel free to add or take away ingredients as you see fit.

I'm going to be real with you guys. I did go to the Mitsuwa up in Edgewater, NJ to get some of the ingredients for this. Most of the Japanese ingredients in this recipe, however, are entirely optional. But the ones I do use are available at Mitsuwa (California friends, there's a Mitsuwa in San Jose on Saratoga Blvd near the 280 exit) or at Whole Foods. Tofu is becoming more and more readily available at regular grocery stores, too.

Anyway, here are the ingredients I used, the asterisks (*) noting which ones I got at Mitsuwa:

• Vegetable broth or veggie bouillon cube
• Miso paste* (Though it is optional, I strongly suggest including it. I've made ramen without it before and it is so much better with!)
• Ramen noodles* (It's worth splurging for good ramen noodles, but if you're unable to find them, the noodles from the instant packets are okay. Throw out the flavour packet if you're using instant ramen noodles.)
• Tofu*
• Crimini mushrooms
• Enoki mushrooms*
• Dried seaweed*
• Spinach
• Garlic
• Olive oil
• Salt, pepper, and spices

So here's what you're gonna do to make this delicious dish...

1) Boil a small pot of water with a bouillon cube, or vegetable broth. (Meat eaters can use whatever broth you want.) If you're not vegan, you can also soft-boil an egg in this broth that you can later use to top your ramen!

2) Slice one or two crimini mushrooms. Chop your tofu into the amount of cubes you want and save the rest in a tupperware container of water for future recipes. Mince one or two cloves of garlic.

3) Heat a small amount (about two tablespoons) of olive oil in a pan. Add the minced garlic and heat until fragrant.

4) Add miso paste to the boiling broth. Stir. (The amount you add is up to you. I have a squeeze bottle so I added one squeeze.) Then add the ramen noodles to the boiling broth.

5) While the noodles are cooking, stir fry the mushrooms and tofu in the garlicky oil with salt, pepper, and spices to taste. (I use powdered ginger and just a little cayenne pepper.) If you like other vegetables, you can add them to this stir fry too, just remember to add them in small amounts! This is a very quick flash fry. This shouldn't take longer than 5 or 6 minutes.

6) Spoon the noodles into a serving bowl and top with broth. Using a spatula, add the tofu-mushroom-whatever veggies mixture to one section of the bowl. Top the other sections with enoki mushrooms, spinach, and whatever else you like. (Non-vegans, this is where you chop that soft-boiled egg in half and place it right on there.) Sprinkle some dried seaweed on top.

7) EAT THE HELL OUT OF THAT MOTHERFUCKER BECAUSE IT TASTES SO GOOD.

So there you have it. A simple recipe for a delicious dinner! If you try it, let me know if you enjoy it! Let me know what modifications you made!

-Nym

Meeting the Norse Gods in New York City

You came to New York City for college. You expected it to be different from home. But who could have expected this?

Odin is your college professor who speaks in a western drawl, who always wears black cowboy shirts and cowboy boots, who seems to relish looking out-of-place even in a city as diverse as New York. While your classmates whisper possible ways He lost his eye, no one dare asks Him how it really happened. After finals, He invites some of you to a dive bar near campus and buys drinks for everyone. He challenges you, a dangerous glint in His eye, to go shot for shot with Him. You know better to accept this challenge.

You meet Thor at a BLM march. He's the massive guy screaming down a fascist dickhead who dared show his face, but when you see Him again later, He's all smiles as He passes out snacks. He goes to a lot of these marches, He says - for black lives, yes, but also for immigrants, for women's rights, for gay rights. If the cops show up, He says He makes "a good human shield!" You're unsure if He's joking. His laughter is infectious either way.

Freyr shows up next, at the farmer's market in Union Square. His squash are the longest, His peaches the plumpest, His berries the most fragrant. "Try an apple," He urges you. It's the reddest apple you've ever seen, and when you bite into it the flavour explodes in your mouth and the juices dribble down your chin. "How much?" You ask Him. He asks you to pay Him in song.

You take a train to New England one day for a change of pace, and strike up a conversation with an old gruff fisherman in yellow coveralls. You help Him pull up a net of crabs and He teaches you a sea shanty, and offers to buy you a drink. It's only on the train ride back to the city, when you open up your wallet and find a $50 bill that definitely wasn't there before, that you realise this was Njörd.

Thor invites you to Pride, but you lose Him in the massive crowd, and in the chaos, your rainbow tutu gets torn. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen comes to the rescue with a sewing kit and some glitter, which She helps you apply to your body and face. She's looking at you as if you're the only person in the crowd, and when She smiles, you know it is Freyja. She dances with you, then lets a cute butch cut in. When you turn your head, She is gone, but you get a date with that cute butch for the coming Tuesday.

You meet Loki a week later. He's busking on the subway, doing magic tricks better suited to a Vegas stage than the 6-train. The kids on the subway love Jim. Somehow He swindles you out of $5, but you later find Him using all the money He got to buy a homeless man a hot meal. After this, Loki keeps showing up in the same places you go, a different face every time, but you always know it's Him. You resist His attempts at friendship for a long time, but within a year you'll count Him among your best friends.

You go, on a whim, to a BYOB knitting class. Frigga is the teacher. At this point you're not surprised by that. You've never been able to get the hang of knitting before, but with Her guidance, you have a scarf going in no time. The act of knitting a scarf makes you think of a beloved great aunt who used to knit and who died when you were in high school. You're so embarrassed when you start to cry, but Frigga holds you close and lets you cry against Her. She invites you and your girlfriend over for a home-cooked meal the next evening. You go and She's made your favourite comfort food. You are surprised to see your old college professor there.

You still refuse to go shot for shot with Him.

A Short, Public Letter to Sarah Winchester

To the woman who changed my life on this, the day of your death

Yes, I already sent a private letter to your house back in San Jose. I already did a small ancestor-venerating ceremony and lit a candle in your honour this morning, making my whole room smell like apples and cinnamon, which I think you would have liked. I have written about you, visited your grave, and discussed you with other former tour guides at your mansion who are now on the East Coast. But I still wish to honour you in cyber space, and there's no better day to do it, since we don't know your birthday and all.

You're, like, my hero.

You were strong in your convictions, braver than I think most people realise, smart and sharp and clever, and through all your tragedies kind. I aspire to be even half the woman you were. Working in your house gave me the confidence I needed to be successful on the East Coast. I don't even know if I would have had the courage to do so if not for your example. I definitely wouldn't have found my place in the National Park Service if not for the confidence I learned from you.

It hurts me that people still disrespect you so, that even people that have seen the beautiful home you worked so hard on somehow can't see - refuse to see - what an amazing beautiful soul you were. But I see it, Mrs. Winchester. And lots of other people see it, too. You are loved, even 95 years after your death.

It seems... not entirely appropriate to wish you a "happy death day" but I do hope that if there is an afterlife, that you are happy in it with William and Annie.

-Nym-

The Battle of Brooklyn

27 August 1776: The Battle of Brooklyn. Under command of General George Washington, American forces are ensconced on high ground. They expect British General Howe to order a headlong charge. Instead Howe orders several flanking maneouvres. The results are disastrous for the patriots. American forward positions are completely overrun. An extraordinary counter attack by the Maryland 400 allows most of the American advance guard to escape to Brooklyn Heights and rejoin the main body of Washington's forces.

This was the first time many of the American patriots realised just what they were up against - they were quite literally outgunned and outmanned, by the thousands. It was only under the cover of a miraculous thick fog that Washington was able to evacuate his troops from Brooklyn, and it was very shortly after this that the patriots lost New York City altogether - from 1776 to Evacuation Day in 1783 it remained in British loyalist hands, leading to the death of Nathan Hale. General Washington and his American soldiers would go on to wage battle for seven more years after that fateful 1776 August battle...

27 August 2017: I go to Green-Wood Cemetery, home to Battle Hill which saw some of the heaviest bloodshed during this battle, to watch a re-enactment of the Battle of Brooklyn. I mean, come on - a Revolutionary War battle at a historic cemetery? That hits like at least seven points on my checklist, I am so there!

The Museum Girls Visit a Dutch Museum and a German Restaurant

When I first moved to the East Coast, one of my greatest fears was that I wouldn't be able to make any friends. Thankfully, that wasn't the case - I've been able to make friends with a great group called "The Museum Girls" who, you guessed it, meet up periodically to check out a local museum.

Recently we met up to check out the Vander Ende Onderdonk House in Queens, and afterwards went out to eat at a delicious (and kitschy-cool) German restaurant called Zum Stammtisch. And personally, I had a lovely time. I'm happy and lucky to know these ladies and I'm way looking forward to our next meet-up!

Photo collage by Lindsey Loves History

So what exactly does an official Museum Girls meet-up entail?

Mysteries of Kinderhook

Hey, remember when Sarah and I went to Albany?

When we did that, we were actually staying in a small town just south of Albany called Kinderhook, best known for being the birthplace of President Martin Van Buren and not for much else. It's an adorably quaint historic town, though, and a little over a week ago, we went and stayed there again for Sarah's birthday, taking excursions from there to Albany, Hudson, Adirondack, Lake George, and Saratoga Springs. We did so many exciting things, from escape rooms to ropes courses to a historic spa!

But one of my favourite things that we did happened in Kinderhook itself. Sarah and I helped solve a mystery.

No, really. I'm dead serious.

Kinderhook happens to be full of mysteries, as every quaint small town should be if fiction hasn't lied to me.  Some are more historical in nature, some more paranormal, and some straddle the line. I'll of course be talking about all types in this blog entry but first allow me to brag about the mystery Sarah and I helped solve. Ours was more historical than paranormal, but who isn't down for a history mystery?

It was pretty much one the coolest things that has ever happened to me, but like an idiot I did not have the foresight to take photos of the object in question. However, I did at least get a photo of the outside of the historic house in Kinderhook where our mystery was solved:

Built in 1819 and now known to locals as the "House of History" (What a great title, amirite?), the Vanderpoel House was originally the home of prominent lawyer James Vanderpoel and his family. In the 19th century, it was used as a boarding house. It stands today as an outstanding example of Federal style architecture and is one of four museums in Kinderhook run by the Columbia County Historical Society.

Sarah and I had stopped in on the morning of the sixth and I happened to strike up a conversation with the woman running the place about my own experiences working in historic homes, both the Winchester House and the Federal style Hamilton Grange. And that's when this woman's eyes lit up.

"Maybe you can help me with something," she told me as she led me to the front door.

Musings on Loki, Baldr, and Modern Perceptions of Norse Mythology

Hey guys, did you know that what I actually studied in school was basically Vikings?

My major was in archaeology, yes, and my minor in early medieval history, but all of the research I did, all my papers and projects (with a few exceptions that I very begrudgingly trudged through for the sake of my professors' respects), were focused on Old Norse culture and mythology. ('Viking' is technically a misnomer for the culture but I'm using it here for the sake of recognisability.) Even outside of school, I lived for this stuff. I read up on Norse mythology. I taught myself how to read three separate runic alphabets. I re-enacted as a Viking. For over five years I lived and breathed Vikings. And while I don't get the chance to show off this knowledge much when at the Grange, I do still love it all.

Hey guys, did you know that there's currently a series of very popular movies with a rather interesting take on Norse mythology?

In case you didn't realise what I was talking about.

Now, unlike certain friends of mine, I actually have no problem with how the "Thor" movies loosely interpret Norse mythology. It's a superhero franchise, it's as deep as a wading pool. No one is realistically gonna come away from these movies thinking that the Vikings believed in the Incredible Hulk.

But the trailer for "Thor: Ragnarok" has me thinking lately about how we now portray a very particular god from Norse mythology in our modern pop culture. No, not Thor. This guy:

No, wait. That's not right. This guy:

NO GODS DAMN IT THAT'S NOT RIGHT EITHER.

This guy:

This post is about the mythological Loki. Not Tom Hiddleston, not Alan Cumming in "Son of the Mask", but the Loki of Norse mythology, the Loki the Vikings would recognise. More specifically, this post is my own personal meditation upon the myth of Loki and Baldr.

A New England Small Town Escape - Without Leaving NYC!

Sometimes you need to just escape, even if it's for only one day.

Sometimes you have under $100 in your bank account and really cannot possibly afford an escape.

Sometimes these two things are not mutually exclusive.

Enter New York City's best-kept secret. And yes, I know NYC calls a lot of things its 'best-kept-secret' and the term is overused as hell, but this? This really might be it. It really does feel like an escape from New York without ever leaving New York, and I've been unable to stop thinking about it since Sarah and I visited.

I'm talking, of course, about City Island.

Technically part of the Bronx, this small island community is connected to the mainland by only a bridge, and feels like it hasn't changed since perhaps the 50s or 60s. Rather than Starbucks and skyscrapers, City Island has seafood restaurants, bait-and-tackle shops, and a charming diner; as well as a lone five-story-high building as the tallest in town. It feels like a small town where everyone knows each other's names. It feels like a fishing village, perhaps one transplanted from the Massachusetts coast. It does not feel like anything I know about the Bronx, or like anything else in New York City.

And Sarah and I fucking loved it.

An Aura Reading in Chinatown

For those of you not in the know, my birthday was a couple of weeks ago - on Sunday, 2 July, I turned 27. And I did quite a lot for it, including many things I hadn't yet done or seen in New York City, from finally visiting Historic Richmond Town in Staten Island and the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx, to seeing "Indecent" with my roommate. (Which was excellent, and I highly recommend it for anyone who happens to be in New York before it closes in August!) But as of a few days ago, I still had a bit of birthday money left over.

I'm not used to having extra money. I do tend to try to live frugally. But since it was from my birthday, I wanted to do something with it. Something unique, something I'd never done before, something completely self-indulgent and slightly bizarre.

So I made my way to Magic Jewelry in Chinatown to get my aura photographed and read. Because why not?

Behold, my aura

I went in with an open mind and no expectations other than expecting to pay the $20 they charge. I don't know a lot about auras or chakras or the like - these things are not part of my own spiritual practises, personally. Even now I still don't know what I believe. But I wanted the experience, and it did not disappoint.

It's Been 213 Years

It's... difficult for me to come up with the right words for today. How do you mourn a man who died centuries before you were even born? Do you have any right to that sorrow?

213 years ago - 11 July 1804 - Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton dueled in the early morning, in Weehawken, New Jersey - a short walk from where I live now. Hamilton had written a friend ahead of time to state his intention of firing off to the side or into the air. And when it came down to it, Hamilton's shot did go into the trees. And Burr's shot went into Hamilton.

Alexander Hamilton died the next day - 12 July 1804 - after an agonising thirty hours of bleeding out.

Weehawken holds reenactments of the duel each year, but as 11 July fell on a Tuesday this year, I am unable to attend, as I am stuck at work.

But it didn't seem right to do nothing to commemorate it at all. Not when the man is so important to me. Not when, even after 213 years, he's had such a profound effect on my life.

So here's to you, Hamilton. Rest in peace and all that jazz.

-Nym

A Modern Victorian Retreat Day

My teatime spread

 God bless the Wayback Machine, honestly.

One of my favourite websites that I discovered back in my early twenties was a website called "Eras of Elegance", one that appealed immensely to my history-loving sensibilities. It was divided into sections such as "movies" and "fashion" and "lifestyle", and gave not only brief overviews of historical eras and trends (i.e. the Ancient era, the Medieval era, the Regency, the Rococo, the Victorian period, etc.) but also gave lists of fiction that took place in these eras, historically inspired recipes, and ways one could translate historical fashions and hairstyles into a modern street look.

I loved that website so much. I was heartbroken when it disappeared from the internet. Thankfully, on the internet nothing is gone forever!

The Eras of Elegance homepage

One piece of the website that I had completely forgotten about, that I rediscovered again thanks to the Wayback Machine, was the ideas the site's author(s?) had for a "Victorian Retreat Weekend". That is, a weekend where one turns off all modern technology and does activities predetermined by the website (I assume the schedule is to be printed before the technology all goes off) to live in the spirit of the Victorians, if not quite historically accurately.

This idea intrigued me and would not let me go. I knew, now that I discovered it again, that I had no choice. This idea was gripping my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks. I just had to do it. But there was no way for me to get an entire weekend off - so I consolidated it to just a day, combining the suggested schedules for two days into one:

7:00 am: Rise and shine, get ready for the day
8:00 am: Make breakfast from scratch.
9:00 am: After cleaning up from breakfast, morning devotional activity or reading.
10:00 am: Housework, crafting, or family time.
11:30 am: Prepare a picnic lunch.
12:00 noon: Picnic lunch at a local park.
1:30 pm: Afternoon excursion - possibly a local historical museum or antiquing.
4:00 pm: Afternoon tea. Once tea is cleaned up, reading, crafting, or writing in a journal.
6:30 pm: Prepare dinner.
7:30 pm: Dinner and clean-up.
8:00 pm: Family time.
9:00 pm: Back to the future.

I set rules for myself. I would make historically inspired recipes, I would dress historically-inspired (in a vintage Gunne Saxe dress - Victorian by way of the 1970s), and I wouldn't use any appliances that they did not have in the Victorian/Edwardian eras. My phone was only used as a camera (they did have cameras) and a phone for 8pm family time (my family lives in California and it's my sister's birthday, I couldn't not call just because I wanna escape modern life for awhile).

So then how did it go?

My Weekend Back in Time

According to modern science, time travel (as fiction portrays it) is technically impossible. That doesn't stop history buffs like me from secretly wishing and dreaming that it were possible, from planning where I would go and who I would meet.

This last weekend (the 17th and the 19th) I got the chance to do some of the things I always secretly wished and dreamed for. I got to visit the late 18th century and brush elbows with both Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. And I got to go to the late 19th/early 20th century Lower East Side and take in some of the immigrant cultures of the area. And it was really fun!

And I brought my Polaroid!

Okay, okay, I didn't literally go back in time. Hamilton Grange had an event on Saturday called "the Feuding Founding Fathers" and invited reenactors from the American Historical Theatre to come debate the issue of a national banking system as Jefferson and Hamilton. And on Sunday, the Museum at Eldridge Street, one of my particular favourites, held their yearly "Egg Creams, Egg Rolls, and Empanadas" Festival - a celebration of immigrant cultures in that area of the Lower East Side, particularly Jewish, Chinese, and Puerto Rican culture.

15 Places in the Bay Area I Never Got to Visit

I love where I live. I love it a lot. But lately, I've been getting pangs of severe homesickness. I miss San Jose. I miss the Winchester Mystery House, and Kelley Park. I miss eating at La Villa and Chaat Cafe. I wonder constantly - Did Sarah Winchester ever get homesick for New Haven? Did Alexander Hamilton ever get homesick for Nevis or St. Croix?

I have an advantage that they didn't have, of course. I have the internet. It allows me to at least look at photos of these places I've loved and left behind. But this, too, is both a blessing and a curse. Because the internet, you see, also allows me to discover places that I never got to see in person. Not just in San Jose, but all over the Bay Area, which will always be my home, even as I make a new home for myself in New Jersey.

This list is meant to serve not only as a place for my wistful longing, but as a plea to my friends back home who are reading this. I never got to see these places, but I encourage you to go look at them! Take lots of photos and send me photos, tell me everything, let me live vicariously through you!!!

Tiny Update: Room Makeover

I don't have time for a major update, but I am happy to report that I have updated my bedroom, with Sarah's loving help. Most of the reasons for me doing so will be made public later, but I can say it was a long time coming. It's still a work in progress, but I'm so very proud of it, why not show it off? I don't have 'before' pictures, unfortunately, but enjoy the 'after's!

 Here you can see the main part of my room. My bed was previously in the centre of the room, and the bookshelf shoved into the corner. The Grandma Chair had been in another room entirely. We picked up my bed and moved it so that it's now up against the radiator. (Not pictured. Also not pictured, the dresser we moved next to the radiator.) The bookshelf got moved as well, and then we had a heck of a time getting the Grandma Chair, as I have affectionately named the thing, into the room to its ultimate spot.

 A closeup of the corner the chair is in, my cozy creative corner where I do most of my writing. (I'm writing from that corner right now.) The second chair is when Sarah comes over to help me with a certain writing project. In this photo there's a scarf draped over the back of the chair, but that'll likely be moved. Eventually.

Opposite my bed is my gallery wall. When I started it, it had the vague theme of "eccentric Victorian traveller", thus the old portraits and silhouette and the palmistry guide and global goods such as the tin heart and Polish flag. (Though I've had that flag for years.) The theme has... not quite been executed, as after a few months I decided to go with a more eclectic "I like it so it goes" theme for the entire room. However, there is at least one piece of art that hasn't made it onto the gallery wall...

This painting. THIS PAINTING. Sarah and I found it at a yard sale down the street from Hamilton Park when she visited me last weekend and I fell in love with it immediately. Isn't it the worst, kitschiest piece of fantasy schlock you've ever seen? I needed this in my life. It's handpainted on a piece of black velvet and I'm not sure what it's meant to portray but I'm a little obsessed with it and its special brand of kitsch. I'm thinking of hanging it between the bookshelf and the Grandma Chair.

As you can see, the room is still a work in progress. In addition to hanging the painting, I also would like to get a rug, and I've bought a clothing rack which still hasn't shipped to me yet. But I'm pleased with how it's going so far. It's nice to finally love my room so much.
-Nym

Visiting the Grave of Sarah Winchester

Yesterday, three former Winchester Mystery House tour guides (myself, Sarah, and Hannah) took a journey that I have been meaning to take since moving to the East Coast. We met in Grand Central Station at noon, boarded a train to New Haven, CT, and went to the Evergreen Cemetery to find the final resting place of the woman who built the House we all loved working in so much - Sarah Winchester.

Nym's Guide to the Jewish Lower East Side

It's officially Passover, that special time of year to have "Da-Dayenu" stuck in your head for 8 days straight and to eat so much matzo that by the end of the week you never wanna see a matzo ball again. It's time to commemorate the "passing over" of the Jewish people from the slavery of Egypt to the promised land by attending a Seder or two, and/or by (and this is my own yearly tradition) watching your favourite movie adaptation of the Exodus story. (For the record, I'm team "Prince of Egypt", and all you team "Ten Commandments" people can bite my ass.)

But while all that that is certainly worth commemorating, it's not the only "passing over" that the Jewish people have experienced. And lately (thanks in large part to Sarah who enables me) I've been thinking a lot about a different time period's "passing over".

Namely, when Eastern European Jews fled the pogroms and prejudice in the Pale of Settlement, passed over the Atlantic Ocean, and settled in the United States. Many of them in the Lower East Side neighbourhood of New York City, as dramatised by another appropriate movie for this time of year, "American Tail." (I like animated movies, so sue me!)

Photo courtesy of the National Park Service

With the current political "debate" surrounding immigration (in my opinion there should be no debate - human beings are not illegal, you fucks), this Passover is a perfect time to find connections with our immigrant past, and the Lower East Side is the perfect place to do that, whether or not you are Jewish. (This place was also home to Italian, Polish-Catholic, Irish, German, and Chinese immigrants. This post is focused on the Jewish experience in honour of Passover.)

Now unfortunately, the historic Lower East Side is changing fast nowadays. Gentrification is pushing out family businesses - There's a Whole Foods on Houston Street, and I heard recently of plans to completely overhaul the Seward Park area, which I am completely against as it completely changes the historic character of the park, which is one of the few places left where one can still imagine what life was like for these immigrants. And even putting gentrification aside, Chinatown is rapidly expanding, pushing into the area and covering up Hebrew signs with Chinese ones. (Though the two communities do mostly live in harmony, thankfully.)

However, there are still quite a few remnants of the neighbourhood that the Eastern European Jews of the early 20th century knew, if one knows where to look. And they're all within walking distance of one another, so it's quite easy to form a walking tour of all of them! Of course, I won't tell you which order to visit all of these - I think it's much more fun to wander the streets and take in the sights until you stumble across them rather than try to hit every stop in order like some sort of grocery store checklist. I'm simply presenting them in alphabetical order.

The Sad Tale of Angelica Hamilton

Every so often at the Grange, I get asked "what's your favourite story about something in this house?" I never quite know how to answer. It'd be simpler if they asked what my favourite story about Alexander Hamilton was - I have lots of answers to that one. But about the Grange itself?

Usually, I answer, "I don't know if I would call it my favourite, since it's completely depressing, but I can tell you the most interesting one..."

This is the story that I tell.

Happy Birthday Prospect Park

This weekend was the 100th anniversary of Prospect Park, which, being in Brooklyn, is not one of New York's most famous parks. (Though Brooklyn has been getting far more attention in recent years, Manhattan - and Central Park - still get most of the glory.) The park had quite a few fun events going on in honour of their birthday and, having never been, Sarah dragged my depressed ass out of bed to go, and wow am I glad she did.

Look at this beautiful place

Guys? I love Central Park. I do. When I moved to New York City, I quickly found that Central Park not only was one of the few tourist attractions that lived up to the hype, it completely surpassed it.

But... I think in some ways I might like Prospect Park better.

See, Central Park is, for the most part, completely tamed. It's all controlled and manicured for premium aesthetics. Prospect Park isn't like that. In fact, Prospect Park is one of the few areas in the city that hasn't changed much since the Revolutionary War. This is land that the Battle of Brooklyn took place on, and when you walk through the park, you can picture the soldiers running through this terrain rather easily.

The other thing is that Prospect Park is in Brooklyn. I love Manhattan and its skyscrapers, I do, but sometimes I need to feel like I'm getting out of the city and I can't afford to go to Albany every time I get that itch. Central Park is beautiful, but in most of it you can still see skyscrapers. You are always aware you're in the middle of New York City. Prospect Park doesn't have many tall buildings surrounding it, so when you're walking around - especially in the woodsy areas - it really does feel like you've escaped, either to a faraway forest or to another time.

It really is lovely.

My Weekend in Albany

A couple weeks ago, Sarah approached me with a proposition - I get a weekend off of working any of my jobs (including my beloved Hamilton Grange) and we could go stay with her aunt and uncle in Kinderhook, a small town near Albany. I shit you not, the way she actually convinced me to go was telling me, "we can go see Schuyler Mansion."

Stars in my eyes, I could only reply, "that's where Alexander Hamilton got married..." How I would love to see that!

We did see it.

And New York City, I love you, but sometimes you bring me down. The city can be stressful, even for someone that loves it. And let's face it, it's expensive. It'd be nice to go somewhere where we don't have to even pay for lodgings and food (I can't remember the last time I had a weekend where I spent zero dollars). It'd be nice to take a break sometimes. (Okay, okay, I'll stop with the songs.)

So we booked the vacation, and on Friday we boarded an Amtrak train to Penn Station to make our way upstate!

I cannot tell you enough how non-stressful it was. How quiet. Not only that, the room I got to stay in was adorable:

Antique wooden furniture? An old 1940s book of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales? A charming patchwork quilt? An affectionate cat? (His name was Shoelace.) Sign me the fuck up.

Sarah and I spent most of the weekend just relaxing at her aunt and uncle's house, watching old episodes of "Bob's Burgers" and playing Clue with her cousin and petting Shoelace a lot. Her uncle is a professional chef so we were well-fed. It was nice to do nothing for once, though on the first day I didn't really know what to make of it. I'm used to NYC being so fast paced, being so "what can I do next?!"

That being said, we did make room for a few excursions into Albany...

Top 10 Reasons to Go Into Midtown

"Ugh, Midtown?"

Such is the cry of many New Yorkers, be they natives or transplants. Even I roll my eyes when one of my jobs forces me to venture into Midtown, or when I have to leave Port Authority bus terminal in the morning for any reason other than getting on a subway. For most New Yorkers, the only reason to be caught dead in Midtown is if you have "Hamilton" tickets and you don't have a choice but to brave Times Square's sensory overload in order to get to the Richard Rodgers Theatre!

Downtown is cool. The East Village has hip restaurants, the West Village has great architecture and shops, the Lower East Side has culture and history, and even the Financial District has a lot of historical treasures to find.

Uptown is cool, too. The Upper East Side is home to so many museums, you guys, as well as lots of cool shops. (For some this means Bloomingdales, for me this means Shakespeare and Company.) Central Park is a gem that locals and tourists alike adore. No one can deny the charms of the Upper West Side and Harlem. And, well, I don't mean to brag or anything, but my beloved Hamilton Grange is uptown.

But Midtown. Poor much-maligned Midtown, forever doomed to be condemned as "but that's a touristy area!" For something to be deemed 'touristy' is a bigger curse than you may think - I've met New Yorkers who would rather ride to the Bronx in a subway car that someone shit in than spend even one second in the vicinity of Times Square.

But wait! Midtown is more than just Times Square, the Rockefeller Center, and the Empire State Building! And if you are stuck in the area (perhaps while waiting to see if you've won the "Hamilton" lottery, you're sticking close just in case) then there is still a lot to do! Never fear, my friends - here are my top ten reasons to venture into the cosmic horror that is Midtown.

For the purposes of this entry I am defining Midtown as above 20th street (because I'm sorry, Union Square is not Midtown) and below Central Park.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

A little comic I made based on something that happened to me during a recent shift at Hamilton Grange.

1) I fucking love having kids on tours because they always have something entertaining to say

2) I will never miss an opportunity to make fun of founding father Thomas Jefferson

-Nym

When New York Lets You Down

New York City has a lot of stuff. Lots of great restaurants, lots of parks, lots of tourist attractions, and lots of museums. I've made it my mission to visit every single museum in New York City - and I mean in all five boroughs (though I admit I've been slacking on Staten Island). Some of them I've liked so much that I've gone back to visit them multiple times. The New-York Historical Society, the American Museum of Natural History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Museum of the City of New York have all gotten me to come back not just once, but twice! And I loved Hamilton Grange so much that I ended up volunteering there!

And some of them have... well, let me down. (For example the Neue Galerie, which has beautiful works on display but everyone on the staff is a total bitch - not going back when y'all are that rude to everyone!)

This past Saturday, I had my third date with an incredible girl. (Our fourth is on Friday to the opening of the NYPL's Love in Venice exhibition - which I am most excited about, and will probably write a blog entry about!) For dates number one and two, we had gone to the Met and to Grand Central Station respectively. For date number three, we decided to check out a museum we had both heard a lot about but never gotten to. I'm talking about Queens' MoMA PS1.

My 10 Favourite Period Rooms at the Met

There's a lot going on in my life right now! I've started as a tour guide again, this time at Hamilton Grange, Alexander Hamilton's Harlem home! That's right, I'm working in the home of one of my heroes for the National Park Service!

Selfie with the bae

This post... isn't about that. I'm just so excited about the news that I had to share! I'm just so excited to show off the period rooms - the Hamiltons' parlour, dining room, and study - to interested guests from all over the world, to basically spend time doing what I usually do here anyway. (That is, ramble about Alexander Hamilton. But this post is about period rooms!

I've been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (or as most New Yorkers call it, "The Met") 3 times now, and I'm quite sure I still haven't seen everything. But since my very first visit, way back in Autumn, what charmed me the most about the Met wasn't the incredible collection of paintings. It wasn't ancient artefacts or medieval armor. (Though let's be clear, I do love all of that stuff.) No, the best part of the Met is their collection of Period Rooms. It's charming to lose yourself in galleries, turn a corner, and suddenly find yourself in a room from the 1700s.

The Met has so many of these that it's altogether impossible to even remember all of them, or to rank them objectively. This is not meant to be an objective top ten list, especially since I don't even think I've found all of them yet. No, this list is decided by one person. Me. This is my list of my top ten favourite period rooms at the Met. And if many of them are contemporary to Hamilton's time? Well... that's mostly coincidental. Wink wink nudge nudge.

All photos listed are from the Met's website, which states that their photos are public domain.

WWAHD?

My roommate took this photo after a flash protest in NYC last Sunday. This photo was taken in front of Alexander Hamilton's grave at Trinity Cemetery.

By now it should come as no secret to anyone how much I admire Alexander Hamilton.

And lately, my life has been moving at a very fast pace full of ups (getting asked out on a date! giant creative project!) and downs (death of a mentor! politics!). And - as many of you may have realised, especially those who have read a lot of this blog - I'm a very anxious person. I do not like unknowns or change, and in dark moments I am tempted to allow my fear and anxiety to paralyse me.

Lately, with all these big changes and opportunities, I have at times been fearful and anxious. And though it started half-jokingly, I began asking myself when opportunities (whether for creative projects or political activism or even just accepting a date from a girl I hardly know) arose, 5 simple words:

"What Would Alexander Hamilton Do?"

Make fun of me if you wish. I agree, it is somewhat ridiculous. It's also helped me to become more courageous in the past week than I ever have been in my life.

I'm sure Alexander Hamilton got scared sometimes. He must have been fucking terrified on the ship over to the 13 colonies, or during the Revolutionary War and the winter at Valley Forge. There very well may have been moments when he considered just giving up. (He did once write John Laurens "I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself.")

You know what else he did? He stood up for what he believed in. He wrote passionately about his beliefs whether they were popular (or legal) or not. He gave a lengthy speech on the steps of King's College to stave off a mob. He stole British artillery cannons and distinguished himself as he fought hard in the Revolution.

When opportunities came flying at his face at a breakneck pace, Hamilton did not back down. Hamilton seized them by the balls and ran with them. Hamilton looked fear in the face and told it "not today, motherfucker".

And that's what I'm aiming to do lately, too. 

I like to think he'd be proud of the protests that have been happening lately, to know the legacy of himself and his revolutionary brethren has not been forgotten. I like to think he'd be honoured that protestors were offering him their signs and thinking of him. And I know that if he were alive today, he'd be on our side. The man, for all his flaws, was not a fan of tyrants.

"When a government betrays the people by amassing too much power and becoming tyrannical, the people have no choice but to exercise their original right of self-defense — to fight the government." ~ Alexander Hamilton

So if it helps you to do so as it's helped me, whether for purposes of political activism or just because you got a romance or career offer you weren't expecting, ask yourself:

"What would Alexander Hamilton do?"

And then do that!

~Nym

Just Breathe - A Meditative Vision of an Irish Goddess

I discovered the power of meditation in college, shortly after switching my major to anthropology as a form of stress relief. That's how it began for me. University is fucking stressful, and my anxiety-ridden neurotic ass didn't want to develop an ulcer.

I took a yoga class in an effort to reduce my stress, and for the most part I got nothing out of it. I respect that a lot of people do get something out of yoga, but while sun salutations were kind of fun I got almost nothing out of them, and I downright hated downward-facing dog. Stretching and contorting my body into pretzels wasn't helping me do anything except feel ridiculous.

What I did get out of it, however, was that at the end of each class session the teacher would turn the lights down and instruct us all to lay on our mats and breathe deeply while soothing new-agey music was played. We would end each class with 15-20 minutes of meditation. That was my favourite part of that class, without fail. That was what turned me on to meditation.

I've done all sorts of meditation since then, whether it's laying there and breathing in silence, sitting calmly and deep-breathing in a Buddhist temple at a meditation class, or listening to guided meditations and having visions in my "mind's eye" as they call it.

And this last Saturday I attended a guided meditation devoted to the Celtic goddess Brigid - though I am not a Druid nor have I ever really given Brigid more than a passing thought, I figured 'why not?' Surprisingly, I got a lot out of it...

A Post to Process My Own Grief

Image via Freeimages.

Yesterday I public-cried in the art section on the fourth floor of the Barnes and Noble in Union Square.

I had just found out via facebook that my middle school band teacher, Mr. Tyler, had died.

Why I Marched

"The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any." ~ Alice Walker.

Unless you've had your head in a hole for the past year or so, you're well aware that yesterday was the largest global protest in history - the Women's March. 3 million people worldwide. Not just women, but men and nonbinary folk. Not just the young, but the old and even children.

The New York Women's March was not as big as DC's, but as NYC is huge it was still pretty big. I heard people saying it was upwards of 300,000 people. And you bet your ass I was one of them.

You see, I've been in a hopeless kinda funk since the outcome of the election. I'll say it, I do not think Tronald Dump should have won. I do not think he even should have had a fighting chance. I don't think his platform of hatred has any place in our world, and for a long time I felt like I just didn't wanna live in it. My decision to go to the Women's March was a last-minute one. I'd heard about it, but thought "What's the point?"

But on Friday I decided, you know what? Fuck it. I'm always saying how much I hate the idea of "slacktivism" - people who make a post on facebook and then think "well I did my part, my work is done, now where are all my likes?" (Side note - if you are unable to do anything else, this criticism does not apply to you. This criticism applies to able-bodied adults who are totally able to contribute time or money to a cause, but instead just use it to get attention online.) So I signed up. At least, I figured, it would be a way to kill a Saturday.

It was so much more than that.

Where I've Been

I've been really really shitty about updating this blog as of late. Or, really, since the election. I haven't really had the spoons (to use a phrase familiar to mental illness communities) to come up with blog content, and to be perfectly honest I'd rather not post a bunch of subpar content. I mean what am I really going to post? "I just marathonned the entire series of 'Friends' again and here are the most NYC moments in every season as well as the moments which made me go 'what the fuck that would never happen.'

(Actually... that might not be a bad idea...)

That coupled with the winter weather (while snow is very pretty, the cold is giving me Seasonal Depression™ something fierce) and the fact that most of my free time when I do have spare spoons has been spent researching Norse mythology and Puritan history for a writing project I've been working on since September (though I may eventually write a blog entry about Norse mythology if I can figure out how to do so)...

Well, it spells bad news for my blogging creativity.

Not to worry, though. Despite my dread about Inauguration Day (ugh) this blog, though dormant, is not dead. Here are three things I've done so far in January that just aren't enough for a full blog entry:

1. Got a second job

Doin' that "New York Hustle". I'm now working part-time as a valet for the company Luxe Valet. Basically, it's a similar concept to Uber or Lyft, except instead of demanding a cab, users anywhere in the city can have someone come pick up their car and bring it to a garage or vice versa. So I get to see a lot of the city as I park people's cars for them to make a bit of spare change.

Truth be told the job gives me a lot of anxiety, too, but I need the money, and it can be kinda fun on slower days.

2. Celebrated Alexander Hamilton's Birthday

An annual tradition for me! This year, Sarah and I got him a (small) cake at a bakery in Brooklyn Heights. We ate to his memory, this sugary concoction of chocolate cake and raspberry filling and vanilla buttercream and chocolate ganache.

I also shared the cake with my roommate, another Ham fan, and we drank champagne out of my Hamilton-Burr dueling shot glasses and did dramatic readings of some of the Hamilton-Laurens letters.

It was perfect.

3. SAW HAMILTON!!!

Yes I actually need to show off a little because I'm still in shock and I'm so excited that this actually happened! Sarah bought me the tickets because she is the most incredible and selfless human being, and I - who's wanted nothing more than to see this musical since before it even premiered - finally got to be in the room where it happens. (Or at least in the Richard Rodgers Theatre, centre orchestra because OH MY GOD.)

Guys, believe the hype. It was so good. It was a god damned emotional rollercoaster (Sarah and I were both weeping throughout "It's Quiet Uptown") and though none of the OBC is left, the new cast members were phenomenal. I actually think I might prefer Brandon Victor Dixon as Aaron Burr to Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr, partially because Dixon's portrayal is so different than Odom's.  And Jordan Fisher as Philip was way way too adorable.

I cannot gush enough at how much I loved finally seeing this show.

So there you have it! That's what I've been up to as of late. I hope I get to do a more substantial blog entry soon. Conversely, if anyone wants me to blog about "Friends" or about Norse mythology, you just let me know.
-Nym