I grew up on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a residential neighborhood of Manhattan nestled between Central Park to the east and Riverside Park to the west. Out of the two parks, Central was much more famous encouraging tourists to visit Strawberry Fields, the Reservoir and stroll along 5th Avenue or Central Park West.

Riverside Park was the quieter of the two, but it was the one I’ll always be fonder of. I would enter at the 83rd street entrance to ride my bike in circles along Hudson River. My PE teacher took us there to run our quarterly laps, play soccer and other activities I failed miserably at. During middle school, my friends and I would play for hours in the playground, take long walks and get into all sorts of mischief.

As I grew older and entered high school, Riverside Park became much more of a solitary place for me. I would take long walks along Riverside Drive from 116th street down near where I lived. I would day dream about living in one of the gorgeous prewar buildings that dotted the street. I would bring my journal or schoolwork and work on projects from a park bench overlooking the Hudson River.

When time for college came, I stopped going to the park. I would only get near it when I would drive upstate along the West Side Highway.

I returned to the park the summer of 2002 when I was taking a photography class. The class frustrated me greatly because I was very slow at understanding the film developing process. Many rolls of pictures I took were ruined. This is one of the first pictures that turned out from that class.

That summer was a difficult one for me. My grandmother passed away leaving my family devestated. I had just returned home from studying abroad and felt confused about what to do with my future.

In hindsight, it is obvious why I was drawn to Riverside Park that summer. It was a place that I felt comfortable being in my own world seperate away from other people and my problems.

When I look at this picture, I think of high school, my grandmother, being lonely, being content and how much I’ve changed. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to my favorite park. It’s probably time to visit again.

In February of 1998, my parents had to go to Berlin for business.  Now one would think for a wanderlust travel bug that I was at that age (16), I would have jumped at going with them.  But no I played it like I was being shipped off to reform school when they told me I was going.  My reluctance to go stemmed from the fact that I would be missing Valentine’s Day with a certain someone.  They told me I could bring a friend, any friend, so I invited a good female friend who has turned out to be one of the main reasons I have traveled as far as I have in my short life.

At that point in my young life, I was not ready to fully confront the past that Germany had.  I didn’t understand why they wanted to completely dismantle the Wall.  I was intrigued and clearly they were haunted.

That February, Berlin was freezing, but I had the time of my life in that four-day period.  My friend and I went to an awesome bar (any bar you can get into at 16 years old is awesome) and had a fun time giggling and chatting.  I remember thinking so this is why it is important to have smart female friends!  During the four-day period, a bird shat on my head, I saw some amazing art and grew closer to my friend forgetting all about the reasons I didn’t want to go in the first place.

What sticks with the most is being able to see what Soviet Europe had looked like.  My only trips to Europe before had been to cities like Paris or London where cities were both exquisitely historic and fashionably modern.  In Eastern Berlin that wasn’t the case.  Stepping between East and West was mind boggling, as it had only been mere years since the literal division was taken away.  But divisions still existed in 1998 and I noticed it when we took a historic tour around the city.  Clearly, things were omitted, smoothed over and well avoided.  At one point we got out to take pictures of the Wall that were still intact.  Our tour guide mentioned how the city was poised to take the Wall completely down.  This made me sad, as they clearly served as a blank canvas for people to voice their frustration, talent, humor and to capture their feelings for younger generations to see.

Four years later, I found myself in Berlin during a backpacking trip.  I was surprised and excited by how vibrant the city seemed.  I stayed in a hostel in what was East Berlin, which seemed to be lacking the desolate feeling, which had encompassed it years earlier.  I visited Holocaust memorials and exhibits at different museums.  I even went to the fun and eclectic Checkpoint Charlie Museum.

I also noticed that parts of the Wall were still up for preservation purposes.  I thought perhaps the City had decided to hang on to a bit of its legacy. In the four years since I first visited, Berlin had grown more into else. While still changed forever by its troubling history decided to try and remember what set it apart from its other European siblings.

That trip changed my life in so many ways that I didn’t even realize at the time.  I strengthened a frienship that is still integral to my life (and still centered around travel from Connecticut to Australia!).  And it cemented my desire to study history, as I was able to see how a city’s own history impacted the way it was viewed by outsiders and insiders.

Jessica Valenti’s (of Feministing) new book called Full Frontal Feminism.  I totally love the title. I read an interview she linked to on Feministing with Rebecca Traister of Salon.

What I like about Valenti’s style is that she is so honest and nothing is sugar coated.  Like her, I have been unsettled by women who believe in equal pay, equal rights, voting rights, are prochoice etc etc but would rather die than call themselves a feminist.

The most meanigful parts of the interview for me occurs when Traister asks Valenti about her opinions toward rape, rapists and their unfortunate victims:

You write about your frustration with critics who say rape and murder victims like Imette St. Guillen should not have been out so late alone at a bar, but I presume that you also want to teach women how to be safer.

All people should be taught to be safe and make smart decisions. But when you say, “Of course she was raped and murdered,” because she was transgressing by being in a bar having a drink … [Fellow feminist blogger] Shakespeare’s Sister did an amazing post on this pointing out that women aren’t raped because they’re drunk or dress a certain way, women are raped because they’re in the presence of a rapist.

Not to sound lame but you GO GIRL!

(1) This story from USA Today about pay gaps between men and women makes me a bit depressed. Makes me wonder about places I’ve worked and where my female friends have worked.
(2) Pole dancing a new brand of feminism….??!?!

I find it interesting how whenever anything slightly subversive, like pole-dancing, is proven to actually help women gain confidence it is suddenly branded as “feminist.” Does feminist = subversive?

(3) No link between Abortion, Miscarriage and Breast Cancer

(4) Sheryl and Karl discuss the earth…woah!

I’ve returned from the city of lights…more details to come!

Gone for a few days to a lovely city.

Little to no updating until April 22.

Je t’aime, Ms. Rose

Tonight, one of the pundits mumbling on about Imus and the Duke rape case said that media coverage of these two events should make the media look at its self and question its practices.

I love how a war thats been going on for four years isn’t reason enough for the media to question the way it portrays issues.

But what can you do?? Hmph!

about this whole Imus mess.  I think what he said was dumb, dumb, dumb. 

Someone wrote into CNN and said he should have been fired a long time ago for wearing that dumb hat. HA!

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Yesterday, we scrapped our original plans and went to the JFK Presidential Library and Museum.  We went to the Clinton Library in Little Rock, AR last fall, so I was curious to see another one.

Some highlights of the museum included:

• Watching the Nixon/Kennedy presidential debates
• A special exhibition on JFK’s trip to Ireland
• And a ton of pictures of Jackie-O well being Jackie before the O
  

We swung by Boston Commons which was gorgeous and took some pictures (will be posted when the computer networking isn’t acting wonky).

Oh yeah and we went to Cambrigde on Friday to get a drink and we walked a bit on the campus that needs no name. Before that we went to get a drink at a weird hybrid of a meat market/ tourist/ family place.  Guess you had to be there.

Some more thoughts about the conference:

Two people in panels read directly from their computer screens (no visuals).  One said her power went out and she couldn’t print. She came from New Hampshire where they were having snow! The other one was a dishelved person who showed up 15 minutes late to his own panel.   Watching people read from their computers didn’t really bother me because they both made decent eye contact.  I wonder how much a trend it is…Good night!