I hung out at the Free U until midafternoon when I had to leave to pick up Gus from school. There was a great vibe in the park, friendly and mellow, and it was fun to wander around and see the groups of people clustered together reading, discussing, and, in some cases, drawing. I ran into a coupla folks I know (though not my labor doula, who’d called me out of the blue the day before when she saw my name on the class list). I listened in on the session about the imagery of protest and Occupy by Occuprint, a group collecting and sharing the posters created by Occupiers, which was really cool.

At the beginning of the day there were only a handful of park rangers at the park, but as the day wore on and got sunnier + more crowded police started showing up. I felt a bit more tense as the day progressed, too — there were intermittent helicopters starting around 1-ish and the occasional paddywagon with sirens on driving by the park, though again, the park itself was pretty non-threatening. I had to leave before the marching started for which I was both glad and sad. Despite preparations like not bringing my nice water bottle, I really didn’t want to get arrested. Also, the older I get the less I’m into hanging out in large crowds of people, even if it’s for something I want to do (like see a band play, e.g.). On the other hand, the photos and videos I saw of the marches later made me wish I’d been able to stay: that good feeling that can accompany solidarity is lovely and was clearly evident.

Even though there are no firm rules, I did try to keep to the no work no housework no shopping no banking spirit of May Day. Definitely that = yes hanging out with your kid, which meant buying him a cookie at a (non-chain!) bakery near his school while we chatted about his day. It also meant yes laundry, because my inner stinky hippie forces me to hang most laundry dry which takes time, and we needed clean clothes. But otherwise I was pretty good at taking the day off, an accomplishment in itself, I think.

Photo on the left by Alycia and on the right by me.

I have a lot of other things I should probably be writing right now, but I’ve found myself unable to stop thinking about writing a post about MCA. I love the Beasties, always have, and I’ve found myself oddly affected by this news all weekend. Maybe it’s because I never found the chance to see them play live, despite their long career. Maybe it’s because I’m not that much younger than MCA was, and my (only) kid’s not that much younger than his (only) kid. Maybe all of that.

It’s totally cliche, but the Beastie Boys were my first introduction to rap, as I’m sure was true for lots of other white kids in the suburbs in the ‘80s. In high school my musical tastes had evolved from a serious Duran Duran crush into the typical late teens mopey Cure/Siouxsie/Smiths/New Order kind of thing, with a smattering of punk rock/hardcore on the side. Not Top 40 radio but nothing too out of the ordinary (and I hadn’t yet gotten the mixtape from my English cousin that would push me over the cliff into indiepopland).

Then the Beasties came along with their white boy rap about NYC and White Castle and booze and girls and it was so different and weird and awesome. None of my friends really liked them; looking back now I’m not sure why I did, either, especially in those very sexist early days. But the fact remains that I did, and to this day I can still recite many of the songs on Licensed to Ill from memory. And, not that I’m a huge rap fan or anything, but they were certainly my gateway to rap, the reason I have the first Public Enemy record, for sure.

When we first moved to NYC we lived just across Houston Street from the Def Jam Records office on Elizabeth, and we would sometimes see a Beastie or two in the neighborhood. I followed along as they continued to release records and move into their more enlightened and less sexist phase. MCA’s usually linked most closely to that; he’s the one with the line in Sure Shot about respecting women which has been oft-repeated in the past few days. And along the way I still never managed to see the Beasties play live. Most of my friends weren’t really all that into them, if at all, and I don’t like going to shows alone, so I went to lots of indiepop shows (and a reasonable amount of more mainstream pop kinds of shows, too).

We grew up more and moved to Brooklyn (no sleep til). Sounds of Science, the Beasties’ double-CD hits record, was among the few records I could listen to while writing my dissertation, and pretty much the only non-instrumental music (because you can’t, you won’t, and you don’t stop). Sure Shot is still a go-to inspirational song for me, as I’m sure it is for lots of folks: the music and lyrics are a perfect fit, and it never ceases to make me feel like I can do something I don’t want to do (lately that’s mostly exercising). Last night we watched the video for Sabotage with Gus, who thought it was hilarious.

RIP, MCA — you’ll be missed.

Lists will make me feel better!

Things I’ve Done Today (not necessarily in the order of doing):

- Sent two (2) longish personal emails
- Ordered a birthday present for my sister and one for a pal
- Called my nephew (who turned 4 today!) and sang “Happy Birthday” to the answering machine
- Dusted + swept the shelves + floors
- Washed + hung one load of laundry, folded + put away another
- Changed the cat litter
- Took out the trash
- Drank too much coffee
- Ate breakfast, lunch, and a snack
- Read 2 articles and wrote 2 emails about a conference proposal I’m mulling over submitting
- First-level triage of work email (= read + deleted what could be read + deleted)
- Watched an informative video about botfly reproduction with Gus
- Looked online for a new scooter for Gus, who’s getting too big for his current scooter (sniff)
- Tightened the drawer handles on the china cabinet
- Loaded the dishwasher
- Blagged

(And, in the inbetween times: read today’s paper on my phone, kept current w/twitter, tripled my town(s), got my feedreader down to 2!!)

Things That Remain Undone (but the day’s not over yet!):

- Make a birthday card for a pal and pack her gift in a box for mailing tomorrow
- Finish part of a book chapter I’m writing (due Thursday!)
- Work on a presentation with my research partner (not actually scheduled for 16 whole days! plenty of time still!)
- Start blagging some thoughts I have on developing a game for library orientation (probably over at my other blog)
- Eat dinner
- Empty the dishwasher + wash the dinner dishes
- Pack my backpack + lunch for work tomorrow

Later gators, time to get back to it.

In the morning I stepped onto the platform just as a train was coming in, which is lovely. But then I walked onto the train right after two very tall men who walked onto the train and just stood by the door, all but blocking additional entry (I squeaked by with an excuse me and minimal touching, go me!). Now I’m as big a fan as any of the standing in the doorway subway strategy, esp. on shorter trips — it fits with my whole standing desk ethos. But people, if you want to stand by the door you should be the *last* person to get on the train, otherwise you’re just blockage.

This evening I got down to the platform only to hear the dreaded message “because of a stalled train at …” I waited 15 minutes and by the time the train came the platform and subway cars were packed. After waiting patiently for the car to disgorge its passengers I hopped on the train and tried to eke out a bit of personal space. I ended up getting a seat next to a rude person, yay! The kind of person who has a seat next to the door and a free seat next to themself and doesn’t scootch over to make it easier for someone to sit in the available seat, which means that everyone just sort of stands around and looks at the seat until someone finally climbs over and through everyone’s legs and backpacks to sit in the seat, thereby giving everyone a bit more room. You’re welcome.

And the final blow: when the subway pulled into my station I nearly didn’t make it off the train in time because someone was holding onto the horizontal bar over my head and would not let go as I struggled to move past him and under his arm. The train was stopped! No bracing with grab bars required! Sigh.

At least today didn’t feature my #1 top rude subway behavior: standing in front of the turnstiles while digging through a bag or pockets to pull out a Metrocard while others pile up in a line behind you, Metrocards at the ready. Seriously, please stop it.

- I taught two classes this week. I miss teaching classes.

- I’m trying to use the inbox zero email management system. Maybe I’ll write a whole post on that soon — it’s proving trickier than I’d anticipated, but also has some benefits I didn’t anticipate.

- So rainy and hot this week. I am tired of being rainy and hot.

- How do things get so dirty? Seriously, I cleaned the kitchen today and it’s fairly incredible how dirty our clean house can get. I know it’s the city and the cats, but I wish it weren’t because I love those things.

- I hate to drive in Manhattan and it makes me a little sad that highways ring the edges, but the upside is you get the gorgeous views of the city while you’re driving, which never fail to make me a bit tingly.

- Fun thing that came through my email recently: the information literacy playlist, inaugurated when someone on the ACRL information literacy instruction listserv (ILI-L) who does a college radio show asked for suggestions. (This is a repeat if you follow me on twitter, sorry!)

- Tonight Jonathan made sticky toffee pudding, which was incredibly delicious and makes up for all of the pie I won’t eat over the next few days because I don’t really like pie.

What’s there? Glad you asked! From the top:

- Handmade gift certificate for a $50 donation to Cashmusic.org from Jonathan from a couple of Xmases ago.

- Index card, a bit brown around the edges, with a note on it (in faded ink) that Jonathan put in my lunchbox the day I defended my dissertation, which reads “I am very proud of you!”

- Keychain with Gus’s first ever school picture in it. He was almost 3 yrs old and I’ve always been amazed that they were able to get him to smile. The keychain is cheesy, but it came free as part of the photo package.

- Half-used sheet of photobooth stickers of Jonathan and Gus (age 1.5 or so) from the not-very-mall-like mall. Gus is not smiling, but Jonathan is.

- “We are all Wisconsin” sticker from the faculty union I belong to from earlier this year.

- “Proud to be Shelfish” button from donating to the public library a couple of years ago.

- Fortune cookie fortune: “Knowledge is power.” It’s recent and from what I recall the food wasn’t all that good, and I’m not sure I believe it anyway.

- Note from Gus that festooned a birthday present of mine last year: “Magician gave this to you!! Don’t ask.”

- My ALA (American Library Association) membership card, because sometimes you need your member # to login to the website.

- Picture of Gus (maybe about 2?) taken with the Hello Kitty Polaroid Izone camera I used to have. It’s a sticker, too!

- NYPL library card, backside visible so I can see the barcode # in case I want to login to their databases.

- Business card (vertical orientation) for the CUNY Academic Commons.

- Business card (horizontal orientation) for Mud Flap Grrrl Designs, from which Jonathan bought me some rad embroidered handkerchiefs a couple of Xmases ago.

- My Inbox Zero Nerd Merit Badge. Still a challenging feat!

- Classic 4-photo black and white photobooth strip of me + Jonathan making silly faces.

- Poem that Gus wrote in 2nd grade.

- ID card from when I was an adjunct at Brooklyn College. The picture is so much better than on my current City Tech ID, wish I could have kept it.

- Gus’s extra passport photo from when we had to get him a passport to go to London.

- EFF Fair Use sticker that was on my old phone. When I peeled it off the stickiness was all used up, sad to say.

- This cartoon from the New Yorker

- Bookmark w/contact info from one of my professors in my graduate library program.

- Small piece of neon orange embossed label tape on which Gus printed “MOM”

I do want to work all the time. Or, more accurately, there are too many things that I want to do and not enough time to do them. This is a good situation to be in, I realize. It would suck to have a job that didn’t make me want to do all the things. I spent so long trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to do, dancing around higher education, technology, and research, trying to fit them all together into something with a job title and a steady salary. It’s still a rush to have that now.

It’s a struggle to stop adding things to my plate, to say no to interesting opportunities because I just don’t have the time in my days. Looking at my long list of projects, committees, and tasks (thank you, promotion application, for making me all reflective), there’s remarkably little there that I would jettison. I love my library work, I love my work on the big college grant, and I love my research and writing projects. I could do each of those things 100% of the time. But no one has 300% of the time.

I am having trouble squishing 100% down to 33.3%. I keep joking recently that I have 3 full-time jobs because that’s the amount of headspace that each of my 3 worklives seems to occupy, even if that’s not technically true in the meatspace. I worry about the other worklives when I’m focusing on 1 of them, wondering whether I’m ignoring the other(s) too much. I know that this is partly a result of settling into things: my newly-expanded role on the grant, my main research project heading into coding and analysis and writing up mode.

I know it will get easier to balance these 3 things, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get over feeling a bit sad that there’s not enough time in the day for all the stuff I want to work on. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

I’m utterly exhausted — catch you tomorrow.

In retrospect we did get lucky and ended up in a 3BR duplex on Elizabeth St. between Houston and Prince with all the mod cons: laundry in the basement, a dishwasher (critical with 4 people), and air conditioning. Of course there were some small annoyances about that place, when is there ever not? During San Gennaro the neighborhood was insanely crowded and the sidewalks were gross the next day. But really there wasn’t much to complain about: the location was fantastic. The old Knitting Factory was right around the corner and we could walk to almost anyplace we ever wanted to go. It was literally ages before I rode the subway north of 14th St.

We lived on the 3rd floor (I think) and at first there was a big empty lot on the south side of Houston between Mott and Elizabeth. Our apartment had a greenhouse-style window at the back of the living room where we put the TV, stereo, and video games, so we spent lots of time looking out of those windows. Just across Houston St. was a building with an enormous painted advertisement for Tuck-It-Away storage. It looked kind of like this:

That crazy squirrel used to completely crack me up: his cart reads “u store it, u lock it, u keep key.” We never knew Tuck-It-Away’s location was because there wasn’t an address on the ad (this isn’t the actual billboard from Houston St., it’s a similar ad that’s apparently in Harlem). I couldn’t imagine where in Manhattan there would even be space for a building devoted entirely to storage.

We lived on Elizabeth for two years and sometime in the second year construction started on a huge apartment building on that empty lot just north of us. It was a sad sad day when the building rose high enough that we could no longer sit on our sofa and see Tucky and his cart encouraging us to store our stuff. The structure with Tucky painted on it was itself next to an empty lot, and later still (I think after we’d left Elizabeth St.) yet another new building went up on that lot, and Tucky was gone.

This past academic year I’ve been doing fieldwork for my research project at City College up in northern Manhattan. I hadn’t thought about Tucky in years, probably almost a decade. But as the photo shows there’s a big Tuck-It-Away facility on Broadway and 131st St. The 1 train does a curious thing and pops aboveground at 116th St., heading back underground by 137th St. where I get off to go to City College. One day as I was getting myself together before my stop I looked out the window and there it was, in all of it’s orange glory: the home of Tucky. And now I know.

Photo by Julia Manzerova