I was recently reminded how far removed I am from NYC when I passed a gaggle of female coworkers on my way out the door. As I bundled up to combat the light dusting of snow outside, I felt the uncomfortable collection of eyeballs upon me until finally one blurted: "You're going outside in those shoes?" A snort, eyes wide. I looked down at my not-terribly-high heels and shrugged. An NYC credo I won't shake: Sensible loses out to Snappy by a long shot.

I rode the bus home on a recent damp night. I was tired and not a little grouchy, the 10 minute commute felt like 10,000. The stank bus careerened around corners to halt, let folks in or out, and rattled up one of the city's least attractive strips known as Fort Avenue. The street is lined with dingy, grey formstone rowhouses bookended by small, low-ceilinged bars with Bud signs illuminating a a scant crew of droopy faces. I tried to block out the noisy banter between two hons behind me. Power lines.

We rolled up to the true Fort Avenue shrine, an enormous, grey box, the resident 3 story club, if you will. Its festive adornments were outrageous, it was a blinking spectacle, flanked with purple Ravens signage. Blinking weathes, blinking windows, blinking bears (?), all different colors and sizes. The hons fell silent, and finally one said "That is.. just..sao beautiful." A grin took over my face and my dank mood dissolved.

A friend of mine was recounting a personal family tragedy that happened over the holidays involving a house fire and children. Unthinkable.

It forced me to pause. How is it possible that simultaneously all these things can happen on our planet? Asia, the middle east, disasters, inner city murders-- all the while the office lights hum steadily above my head? Traffic streams along outside my window? So uncanny. I feel as if all at once this destruction and violence would become too much to withstand -- as though the earth's molten core would be forced to radiate, rattle up and explode sending scillions of pieces of the planet into orbit.