Gatorade Powder

by scribblingzebrasjumphigh, posted in Posts by Sue Ann

By: Sue Ann

I don’t like drinking plain water. There has to be some extra flavor.

Hence, I love sparkling water because there’s that extra fizz. Crystal Light and MiO Energy are also great water enhancers. I mean who can say no to caffeine + flavor?

A great “discovery” of mine is gatorade powder. Before you go and look for it in the aisle of CVS, I’ll save you the time by telling you this: you won’t find it there.

I heard about gatorade powder this summer when my friend who also likes water enhancers said that gatorade had its own water enhancers. Honestly, I found it hard to believe because gatorade is sold so widely in stores that it’s an easy pick-me-up.

To my dismay, I looked up gatorade powder on Amazon(I gotta say I’m Queen of the Amazon based on the number of packages I order) and found that it did indeed exist. When I purchased it, I expected it to be a mini can of powder. Boy was I wrong. The powder game in a ginormous can. Picture a huge paint can that contains practically enough paint to color your entire apartment.

It’s really the best because I don’t need to spend $3 on gatorade at CVS anymore. The homemade Sue Ann style gatorade is great!

Horse Betting at the Belmont Stakes

by scribblingzebrasjumphigh, posted in Posts by Sue Ann

By: Sue Ann

Growing up, I had a super outdoorsy dad who refused to stay home on Saturdays. He was the polar opposite of my mom, who would much rather take nap after nap on the couch. So, we always went somewhere, whether it be the driving range for golf, camping grounds, beach, etc.

One of the fondest memories I have of my dad is going to horse races with him. I was a 5-year-old growing up in Del Mar, CA. July – Sept was horse race season, which meant we frequented the Del Mar Thoroughbred Club during those months.

At the age of 5, I didn’t understand the concept of horse betting. I thought people went to horse races just to watch the horses move at the speed of lightning.

This past weekend at the Belmont Stakes, I learned about horse betting. Unlike when you watching sports where there’s a House to bet against such as Vegas, there is no House in Horse betting. In other words, it’s pari-mutuel. You can do a whole bunch of research on the odds of each horse winning only to find that the odds have changed by the time you get to the machines.

At the Belmont Stakes, Horses 9 and 10, War of Will and Tacitus, respectively, were the top two horses favored to place. To everyone’s dismay, neither horse placed first. Rather, it was Horse 7, Sir Winston, who won. When I saw Horse 7 win, it made me think back to tae conversation I had with a guy standing in line at the betting machine. He said that he’d been to multiple races and at each race, he picked Horses 1, 4, and 7 and then boxed them. Horses 1, 4, and 7 were safe selections since they were spread apart and then the boxing them means that it doesn’t matter which horse places 1st, 2nd, and 3rd as long as you pick out the top three.

Honestly, I didn’t really understand what the guy was saying because I’m a newb at horse betting and he seemed like a veteran. Everyone at the horse race was so nice about explaining how betting horses worked and how to use the machines.

After doing some research, I think I kind of understand what people were trying to tell me . . .

Exacta: Pick out the top two horses (order matters)

Exacta Box: Select the top two horses (order of 1st and 2nd doesn’t matter)

Trifecta: Choose the top three horses (order matters)

Trifecta Box: Pick out the top three horses (order of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd doesn’t matter)

Superfecta: Choose the top four horses (order matters)

And . . . there’s so many other terms I don’t understand, haha. But the point is that the longer the odds, the greater the payoff if the horse wins.

Armored with more horse betting knowledge, I’ll probably do lots of research before heading to the tracks next year.

Office Life and Other Thoughts

by Juliet Godwin, posted in Posts By Juliet

By: Juliet Godwin

I’ve never worked in an office before. My only frames of reference for such ecosystems are the times I went to work with my dad as a kid and various T.V. shows. Neither of those gave me any idea of what a small, open office of a few people who all know each other might be like. I like the quiet calm of people who all know each other and are united by a common purpose – one that you know is being accomplished when you hear the tapping of multiple keyboards at once – occasionally punctuated by an outburst of joy or frustration at what really could be just about anything.

Going to work in the morning, I enjoy feeling like part of the massive network of New York City commuters on the subway. I have always been a part of the city – I’ve lived here my entire life – but the feeling of commiseration on the crowded subway on the way in and even on the way out is something else. I felt it a little bit when I took the train to and from school, but it was different then. Even though it obviously isn’t true, I imagine that every person on the train with me is on their way to work.

Ironically, I still look like a student on my way to school. I dress casually and wear a backpack. Thank God I don’t have to dress formally, but that common feeling is diminished in my mind when I see myself in the windows of stores I walk past. I would stop using my backpack, but it truly is the most effective way of carrying my stuff. I don’t mind all that much. After all, being a student is still most of what I do.

Venturing Outside of Manhattan: Brooklyn Botanic Garden

by scribblingzebrasjumphigh, posted in Posts by Sue Ann

By: Sue Ann

Nature photographs taken at Brooklyn Botanic Garden

A few months ago, my boyfriend Zak and I purchased a Top 100 Movies poster to watch. The purpose of the poster was to watch the movies in order to be more engaged in conversations since lines from the movies were commonly referenced in pop culture.

And then the poster obsession started. . . I wanted to get a Top 100 Things to Do poster, so I did.

Memorial Day was a beautiful, sunny day, so we decided to scratch off a somewhat “outdoorsy” activity from the poster. To be honest, if it weren’t a suggestion from the poster, the Botanic Garden wouldn’t have been a trip I’d taken on Monday. I haven’t been to a Botanic Garden since the 9th grade, when I interned at a Horticulture Center and realized my future wasn’t in transplanting and Farmers Markets.

Growing up, I was the kind of kid whose eyes glazed over captions and plaques in museums and informative centers. This time around at the Botanic Garden though, I didn’t brush hastily past all the signs and learned some key points.

For instance, did you know that you can hear corn grow? There was a microphone set up at the Botanic Garden so visitors could put their ears up against the microphones and hear the sounds emitted by corn stalks.

As for asparagus. . . their beds can last for up to 25 years! The downside is that it can take a couple years to get them started properly planted.

Point is, it’s nice to venture outside of Manhattan and try new activities I wouldn’t have thought of. Sure, it’s nice to go to take a trip to the beach or just stay home and watch a movie, but sometimes it’s nice to “revisit one’s childhood activities.”

Mornings

by zamylaridae, posted in Posts By Zamy

Remember last post from the top of bunk bed?

Well, it’s been five days since I moved into an apartment. Yes, totally ecstatic being barefoot and reading in the silence of a morning.

Coming from the family of seven, I have never really got a chance to live on my own. Not even when I moved to Nebraska. It’s not that I don’t like living with people. On the contrary, I enjoy it. But there is something indescribably magical in the solitary life.

Like.. I am a morning person. No, I don’t turn into a morning monster whose hair go up at the sight of a fellow human being, but I appreciate the quiet atmosphere of the pre-dawn time.

It’s soundlessly still, even the sunrise tip-toes into your window, yawning on its way. You can really hear the sound of water filling a mug, you can hear the sound of a turning page, you can live in a page without the outside world for a while.

Well, there is a lot to say about mornings. But I will stop here.

Have a great day and mornings, Gotham folks!

Comfort. A House Edition.

by zamylaridae, posted in Posts By Zamy


     I often think about the definition of comfort. Comfort of a city, comfort that a person brings, comfort of a tea cup on a rainy night.

     These days I am thinking about the comfort of a house. Thoughts coming from the top of a bunk bed in a hostel room. Four strangers, whirling in and out: one night – an old lady with a mysterious situation, another – a girl from Sweden, and for the last two nights – a bonus, in the shape of a team: Irish (yes, she is ginger) and South Korean girls, laughter and deep conversations attached.

      Comfort of a house? For some it’s a mansion, with two pools – one for personal use, second – for times when dozens of guests walk about the premise with tall glasses filled with a sparkling spirit. For some – a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, a wooden porch, with two orange yoga mats spread across, waiting for the morning stretch and stillness of meditation. For some – a carton box and no rain that can potentially turn their frail accommodation into a slush.

      No universal formula. Just a sheer preference.

      These two weeks I was tossing and turning, if one refers to cliche sayings to describe a newly discovered state. I was totally out of my element. And it is not that it is my first time in a hostel. But something was off. And that created a question that bounced across my mind: What is my element of comfort?

      So, I spent these last weeks thinking about it, piecing together a perfect abide, brick by brick, imaginary wallpaper covering freshly-erected walls.

      Add:

  • A swing on the porch, with a comforter, keeping a book from the wind.
  • Wooden floors, not lacquered.
  • Blue tiles in the bathroom, shower curtain, white, with blue stripes at the bottom. All shades of blue.

      These and many others. Really, I had two weeks and many sleep-abandoned hours at night to develop this ornate construction.

       Then, last night, I packed my flip-flops into my suitcase while wearing my sneakers and took it into the storage room, not thinking that I would still need to use them in the morning.

       When morning came, having touched the floor with my feet, I realized that my flip-flops are gone. Zipped into their large carrier. Rolled into the room, now closed.

       I went on with my morning routine, which felt way lighter than the days before. Step, step, step…Step!  And then I realized! I just need to be barefoot. That’s it. Clean floor to forget about shoes. Feet touching cool floor. Breeze, crawling through an open window, dragging along the floor, playing with the toes, and leaving through the slot between the door and the floor. Soundless, free, and light.

      That’s all. A simple pleasure. A simple, simple comfort.

Hello Gotham!

by zamylaridae, posted in Posts By Zamy

“It is lovely because it is simple/ just say yes and step into the consequence” Kaveh Akbar

This is a way to start, right?

I said “yes”, packed two years of my life into two suitcases that I dragged along the streets of the city I just arrived in. Greyhound station in NYC, abandoned by colour and comfort of heart, works fine as a starting point and makes you wonder what colours you can add to the people- splashes of paint you see rushing around, Pollock’s frenzy in motion.

The city is huge, the city is breathtaking, the city has a vein that is throbbing to show the intensity of the beat of its heart. It’s loud, it’s restless, it’s insomniac. And I like this rhythm. And I want to tap dance along. Maybe even perform as a duet.

We shall see.

But right now.. Hello Gotham Writers Workshop!

First Day Jitters

by harukaiwasaki, posted in Posts by Haruka

Starting something new is exciting. I love the novelty of a first day. I can wear a cute new outfit. I enjoyed getting new supplies for school, strolling the aisles of Staples, looking for the perfect pens and pencils. I still remember the first step I would take into the camp dining hall when I arrived at my summer camp, and the distinct smell it had. All the planning and preparation is exciting, but I do feel anxious. What if no one likes me? What if I trip and fall in front of everyone or do something equally as humiliating? What if I say or do the wrong thing? I was always afraid of saying the wrong thing or answer, because despite what teachers say about no wrong answers or questions, that is not true. When I thought I said something regrettable, I agonize it over days. I still lie awake in bed sometimes about something stupid I had said five years ago, the hot feeling of shame washing over me. I know that it’s useless to agonize over something that happened so long ago, but these thoughts happen.

In these cases, it’s important for me to remember to be kind to myself. Things cannot be perfect, because there is no such thing. The best thing to do is to prepare for the worst, and remind myself that it is okay to do or say the wrong thing sometimes. I am human. When I do say something that makes me wince, I want to remind myself that every day is a fresh start. Wash it off, apologize if I need to, or make amends in a different way. Like, if I was a bad feminist then I should donate money to Planned Parenthood or something. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.