Sometimes, I think my iPod knows things.
For instance, it seems that no matter where I am in the shuffle of 700-something songs, it knows that I need to hear Madonna at the gym. The pink box of joy never fails to deliver. Vogue often saves the day where daydreaming cannot (Not even a reallygood crush can save a workout when you’re bored, tired and sore. It’s just not possible.).
My iPod also apparently knows when to go on the fritz.
There I was, elipictaling along to Jay-Z’s Give it to Me when the music stopped. Gah! And it was almost at my favorite part! You know, the part where I sing along and don’t even try to be quiet about it. That part. I hadn’t even noticed that the battery was low, but click as I might, the iPod was unresponsive and I was left Jay-Z-less.
I’m not used to hearing things going on around me at the gym. When my gym was in midtown (it’s now in Harlem), I once lowered the volume long enough to hear two women bitching about their insurance plans, only confirming my suspicions that there is nothing worth hearing at the gym.
Turns out, I was wrong. Or maybe, it turns out, there just wasn’t anything worth hearing in midtown.
Without my music, I could not help but eavesdrop on the conversation going on next to me. Two women in their mid to late twenties, side by side on elliptical trainers, were talking about their financial problems.
“And you know, it ain’t like I’m getting any child support.”
“And why not? Ronny got a job, don’t he?”
“No he don’t! That n-gga went and got his-self shot! He ain’t payin’ nobody nothin’.”
I choked back a startled laugh. Not because it’s funny that somebody got shot, but because it was a surprising little reminder that I wasn’t in midtown anymore. And that shit was a hell of a lot better than listening to people bitching about insurance premiums and towel service.
You can bet nobody on 45th street was getting shot. Unless it was by fertility drugs.
Love it.
This reminds me of the time I overheard someone describe her new friends as “casserole.”
I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
It’s like your very own gym soap opera, Harlem-esque as it may be.
It was ghetto fabulous
Yesterday as my boyfriend and I were walking down to the markets in Bondi, a woman turned to her friend, who was some way down the street, and yelled, “Jesus Christ, put yer tits back in”. It was pure class. I’m gonna bust (no pun intended) that one out next time I’m at a dinner party.
heather- the stories sound a lot better, but I’d still rather be in the place where nobody gets shot. are you a little scared by that kinda discussion? -gregg
Nah, not really. Most times, you have to be doing something…iffy to get shot. Or be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t live in Harlem, so my time there is spent at work and the gym. Two very safe places.
How refreshing that you embrace the diversity at your new “sweat” shop. The change is sure to provide some great material…as today’s post proves. Enjoy your new workout “music.”
Hi Heather. Just wanted to say thanks. I am now caught up, from July 2002 on. I think you are awesome. That’s all.
Your iPod knows where you are too? Mine used to play Elton John’s song “Rocketman” every day at work at 3 PM exactly. Not on the weekends, and if I had the iPod off at 3 PM then I wouldn’t hear the song at all. And it was definitely on random shuffle. I was pretty impressed, but when I stopped getting my 3 PM Rocketman experience I realized just how useful that song was every day.
For the puerile, there’s a bit of unintended obscenity in the post. Any guesses which phrase I’m thinking of?
mmmm…..pink box of joy.
HA!! Oh my god. So funny! And yes, so very unintended.
Sounds like there was some confusment up in there re: the issue of child support payments. Let’s hope the issue resolves itself so she does not have to cash in her engagement toof.
I love to pretend i’m listening to music with ipod and insted listening to people conversations :p
Anyway, i miss ny :°
Carry on, fish :*
Alex
Fish, Is your pink box of joy going to get fixed? Do you have an apple care plan? I have a pink box of joy that I am planning on selling on ebay after Valentine’s Day when Cupid brings my new 60g. My Pinky is in fine condition (perfect if you ask me) no scratches still holds charge etc—-Check ebay there are tons on there…including mine in about 2 weeks! YAY I will take a black 60g with movies please!
It’s working again, thank goodness. I did that flash restart thing and it’s all better.
God, I’m such a nosey b…I love listening in on stuff like that. It totally cracks me up.
The best I can do these days, now that I live in vanilla-ville, is eating in restaurants and hearing someone describe their rancid ex or their vulgar sex life.
That’s good stuff.
I live in an SF neighborhood on the edge of the ritzy (Pacific Heights) and lies adjacent to the ..uh, edgey (Polk Gulch and Western Addition). The differences are stark, but most notable is that it’s the language that shocks me in the non-ritzy part, and it’s the behaviour that shocks me in the other. “Put yer (fake) tits back in” along with “yank that outta your ass or cover it up” are two phrases that could be ladled out frequently!
I think the really important question is whether or not your iPod is OK now.
I see your point, but just a mild correction…The gym in mid town is on 43rd.
But personally, I would rather have the insuranc ce premium issue rather than the shot baby’s daddy who can’t pay child support issue. You know, if life was about choosing. But as far as evesdropping goes, I can see how the latter would be more entertaining to listen to.
i love harlem. really. i live there (here) too. the color, the noise, the loud salsa music.
love my ipod too, except when it dies (and it has, twice — except i had to return mine twice…). at least yours restarted!
just found your blog while surfing through a fellow blogger’s site, love it and will continue to read!
oh, and really, i do love new york.
Unsolicited advice, I know, but choose your words carefully, Fish. An innocent post that’s humorous to most may be perceived as culturally insensitive and offensive to the people you’re working to help (especially when it inspires comments such as Mike’s). Trust me; I’ve been there and have a password protected blog as a result.
I second Arctic Teacher’s posting, Fish. Really, I read this this morning and thought, Damn, but that’s a perfect example of a Very White Girl. It’s a dangerous line you’re walking.
Mike’s comment is in reference to an old Jerry Springer episode about an engagement toof. It wasn’t inspired by anything but the TV.
And what Mike’s comment has to do with my post about the gym, and what that has to do with my job, I’m not exactly sure.
But I appreciate your intentions, A.T.
I’ll join AT and PS… I concur that you’re treading a very slippery slope here. Particularly with iVillage as your backers, now. It might be difficult to see it, as “Very White Girl,” as PS put it, but it’s definitely approaching offensive and maybe particularly so to the non-White among your readers–me included. Remember, unfortunately, it’s not how you meant it, it’s how it’s perceived.
That’s ridiculously unfair. If I, as Very Non-White Girl, would have written this I think the comments would be different. The post reflects the community and those who happened to be at the gym. It’s not racial.
P.S. Working in central Atlanta as a P.A. I can assure you, an “engagement teef” or any likes thereof, are not partial to race, religion, creed, etc.
Wait a minute. I’m with Tara, here.
Now, either it is culturally offensive or it is racially offensive. Which is it? What if you knew that one of the women speaking was white? This isn’t about culture either. There is no culture that is defined by whether or not people get shot where you live!
However responsible I may be for the content, my readers are responsible for their reactions and their own perceptions.
Actually, Fish, the definition of culture could theoretically include whether or not shooting people is part of the culture.
Sounds to me like you are describing an inner city culture from your depiction (and I’m not making a value judgment here–I’m looking at it purely through the words you wrote).
Dictionary.com defines culture as: The totality of socially transmitted behavior patterns, arts, beliefs, institutions, and all other products of human work and thought.
These patterns, traits, and products considered as the expression of a particular period, class, community, or population: Edwardian culture; Japanese culture; the culture of poverty.
The predominating attitudes and behavior that characterize the functioning of a group or organization.
Gun violence is, unfortunately, a large part of the inner city world.
Writers manipulate perceptions by writing things in a particular point of view. We can’t control what people think, but we do color their perceptions by our word choices.
Rachel,
That’s fair. But also, I think people are waiting to be offended. I passed no judgment on any of the people in this story (except the bitchy midtown gym women), so are people offended simply by the telling?
I’m sorry if I offended. I found it an amusing story, it reminded me of the Springer story. It had no relevance, to anyone by myself, but unless some of you have never been amused by any racial or cultural difference played out in the media, be careful who you pass judgement on.
No offense taken now that there’s clarity. I don’t watch too much Jerry. But, in a way, that vindicates my point.
No, you’re not responsible for how others perceive your words, but you better make sure they convey your intended message to the people whose lives you’re trying to positively impact, especially if they are not like yourself. I am an African-American girl who was raised in the suburban South. In a school of 1200 people, there were eight who looked like me and none of them would have anything to do with me because I was “trying to be white.” So, I befriended the whites who would have me and spent my high school career the victim of their unintended racism.
Now I teach Inupiaq Eskimos in a rural Alaskan village and have been catapulted into a role I couldn’t have fathomed. Because I am a teacher, I bear the white man’s burden. I am a racist! Every look, every word, every touch has the potential to be misconstrued. And they have!
Your wonderings about your post’s relevance to your job were my exact thoughts when I was sitting in my Assistant Principal’s office defending myself because of an innocent blog post that, much like this one, was intended to humor my readers. The grandchild of another teacher who lives in Arizona found my blog- which was anonymous, but had enough information for grandma to deduce who the author was- and it took one weekend to turn a girl who couldn’t be a racist if she wanted to into Hitler (and an adultress, too). People’s comments, my post, my blog, my personal life significantly impacted my professional life and I’m not the well-known, adored, respected, Fish. That’s what it has to do with your job!
I think you’re a fabulous writer. And you seem to be a great person, too. That’s why I’m passing on lessons learned. I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I’ve endured because they didn’t know.
Sorry to have incited such heavy dialogue on your usually carefree comment page.
Fish, I love your writing and how you share your life’s adventures with all of us. I don’t think you meant any cultural insensitivity, but these kinds of stories are told all the time, all over the country, and it is meant for humor. “Poor people. Aren’t they funny?” I’m guilty of this. I read this too and was left a little tender. But since I have been reading you for more than a year, I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you had no bad intentions. A lot of people earn their right to find humor in other’s groups’ standards by living near it or having some “Acquaintances” of that group. This was a good post. And I, for one, am glad it sparked some reaction. Food for thought I suppose.
I judge you not Fish. Thanks for sharing.
Fish,
I did not take offense to one word you wrote. You simply wrote what you heard and made a personal comment about being amused by what you heard!