Finding "The One" and Chinese Broccoli

Yesterday I was scheduled to go on my Chinese Broccoli Quest and I had a gift card for a clothing store and figured I swing by on my way to Chinatown. I have realized that though I am no longer looking for "The One" in the vast sea of men, as I already have a great boyfriend, that search has somehow transferred to clothing.

I have always felt most comfortable in "costume". When I was in high school it was bondage pants and punk rock band t-shirts, in the army it was my endless Baby Phat ensembles, now my inclination is toward vintage. I suppose those of us who are drawn to fashion, no matter what type, see it as a form of expression. It is a shorthand way of saying "this is who I am". Anyways, now when I look for clothing I have learned to avoid boxing myself in with rules. I pick-up what I am drawn too, and at this stage in the game, it always seems to fit my style just right. Some are contemporary versions of a classic piece, a mere nod to the past, while others are authentic vintage. Whenever I spend money though, it must be for something special, that piece that crys out "I am the One".

Yesterday I found a piece that spoke to me, but I felt unsure. Standing in line my intuition said to let it go. So I put the cream colored a-line dress back and headed downtown. On my way I began to feel regret. I blew-off these thoughts and decided to detour to my favorite secondhand store. Nothing there seemed right, and the pieces were just as pricey as the new beauty I left hanging on the rack! I suppose that like in love, letting something go can make you desire it that much more. I almost ran back up to the store to retrieve my lost love, but my good sense told me that I was already half way to Chinatown and going back to midtown east would be asinine. I know that I have a romantic relationship with my clothes, but taking it to the bad chick-flick, running-back-to-your-lover's-arms level is too pathetic for me. On to Chinatown! The dress could wait.

As I began my decent into lower Manhattan, the vibe began to change, the scenery unfamiliar and as the hot wind relieved only a fraction of my heat, I felt something very familiar. I remembered walking on a hot day, with a hot wind and a curious mind through the streets in Iraq. The pleasure of the wind's relief and the excitement of seeing things so foreign I could not have dreamed them up myself. The new, the unknown, the exotic; they bring out a primal satisfaction that nothing else ever has. As I walked and pondered this, I found myself on Bowery and Grand Street.

The first produce market I stopped at was no help at all, they had no broccoli and spoke no English. The next market was much more helpful, the woman sent me back to Grand Street. On Grand I came across the fish mongers. I love fish, I even considered working for a fish purveyor, but my God, this fish did not smell or look right! I was overtaken my terror as I moved amongst the stale fish and exotic sea fair, and I nearly lept out of my skin when I saw something move! It was only a bucket of small live crabs, but at that point I took my leave. At the next market I found my Chinese Broccoli! It was there in all its glory and for only $1.50 per pound! I bought two pounds and continued down Grand, who knew what other cheap glories I might find! I stumbled into an indoor market and saw the meat counter. Well, if the produce is such a bargain I wonder how cheap the meat is. 89 cents per pound. As I drew near the meat counter I saw the signs for the bargain bin steak, and then the smell hit me. The rancid odor of Grade D meat hit me like a murky tidal wave. I nearly hurled as I fled back out to the street. I suppose the take away here is: Chinatown is a great place to buy produce (I went on to get a bag of shallots for a dollar!) but one should not buy protein here under any circumstances.

I continued wandering for a while and made my way through the restaurant row that is Little Italy. I bought some cheese and headed back up to Union Square. I bought some wine and passed on some pathetically small artichokes at the farmer's market before heading back to get my dress.

I was filled with anxiety, would it still be there? I rushed into the store, right to the rack where I left it, no dress. I frantically ran to the dressing room and looked through the discard rack, nothing! I flew back to the dresses and to my horror, I saw several women with the same dress I wanted, in bigger sizes, but still I clearly have good taste! There were "big girl" sizes left, but my perfect size 4 was gone! Angry and defeated, I started down the stairs. I decided to stop by another shop on my way out. There I found a sexy little pencil skirt on-sale. After my purchase, I decided to give "The Dress" one last shot. I walked over to the rack, began hopelessly looking through, and there it was. The One. I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest, never wanted to let it go again! Exhausted from my day of adventuring, I checked out and wandered back home in a half-heat stroked stupor.

Needless to say, I did not have the energy to tackle my new recipe of the week: homemade pasta with seared scallops. I settled for two perfect slices of margarita pizza.

Today I made the sexy stuffed artichokes for the dinner party and spent the rest of the afternoon watching a "Dirt" marathon. Yes, this week has not been a picture of success for me. I am finding myself diving back in to trying-on different lives through hours of television voyeurism. I am lost, and not doing much to change it, and I am so tired.

I worked-out very little; went-out but made no real connections, ate pizza instead of expanding my culinary horizons, and wrote with little talent or passion. On top of it all, I was a wretched, snarky bitch at work. At least I made it to Chinatown! I went through the motions, but lost sight of the goal. This experiment is about finding myself, molding my life into the one I want to live, finding the direction to take my future in. Perhaps it is a good thing I got an extension. My dear D. will not be back until the end of September now, so I suppose having an extra few weeks to change my life is a good thing. Ahh, how things can change in a week! Just 7 days ago I said this was too easy! 14 days in and I am crawling back into my hermit shell, well, the show must go on! I am off to the EWI dinner party in less than and hour and I am so tired I am considering spending a small fortune on a cab. If I have learned anything so far it is that everything can change in an instant, so tomorrow is a new day, a new week and a new opportunity to get my shit together! Here's to a new day!