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WAYY

Why Are You Yelling 3.0: Over 30 Edition

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Spread Love

September 6, 2011June 8, 2016

As seen on Classon Ave. on my way to the West Indian parade:

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Posted in: Photography | Tagged: Brooklyn, Photography

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Do you even tweet, bro?

  • In the middle of a group of white guys at work shouting "Beyonce's performance wasn't FOR YOU" and "This is why T***p won!" #nooneaskedyou | 1 year ago
  • "I know I'm not into politics like you and the rest of the world, but like, I'm really scared now." Alert: white dudes are worried. It bad. | 1 year ago

What I've Been 'Gramming

Observing people observing art is one of my favorite things.
One of the exciting parts about going national is knowing that there will be boxes with our new packaging redesign landing on doorsteps across the country next week. I always loved seeing FreshDirect boxes in the wild, and knowing my work is on every piece of Freshly’s packaging makes it that much more fun. (PS if you’re looking to try #Freshly out now that we deliver nationally, feel free to use my employee promo code for $40 off: Linda40) #eatfreshly #😎
In my freshman writing class, @emdashes told us about the time a man tried to rob her during a bad snowstorm, and how they ended up having an interesting exchange. She said, “If you live in New York long enough, you will get robbed.” I was 17 and that anecdote was always in my head as a matter of fact. In the 16 years I’ve been here, I’ve never been afraid—I’ve been aware, even if unprepared. 9 years ago, I was unemployed and home with Finn when he suddenly started barking wildly—I peeked out my apartment’s peep hole to find it covered over by the burglar who was about to hit every other apartment on my floor. The detective that interviewed me as the one “witness” 9 years ago is the same one who arrived after our place was burglarized a few months ago. The apartment has felt haunted since. Our alarm was triggered while I was home last week and I didn’t know why—I closed my bedroom door and waited. It took almost 2 hours for the cops to show up, and I was angry. But even if they had gotten there in minutes, I knew then that safety is truly an illusion. Tonight after visiting a friend on Roosevelt Island, I walked up to my car to see an unwell man inside with a large black bag trying to start it. He got out, wasn’t violent, but he did walk back to ask me for a ride after I got inside and locked the doors. When the cops came and asked me to ID him, I felt awful—he was so clearly mentally ill. The cops didn’t like that I didn’t want to be a part of his arrest, but sending him to a hospital instead meant no paperwork for them so it all evened out. I wasn’t angry at the men who came into my window and stole my things or this homeless man who entered my car. I felt really fucking sad. The fear part comes from living in a broken system, knowing it can drive people to do awful things. The fear comes from knowing there’s no such thing as safety no matter where you are. That man could’ve done anything in that moment of being caught by me. He didn’t. But the fear of the possibility—the fear of having no control—is here to stay. How do we balance empathy with instinctual fear? How do we focus on gratitude for the things that didn’t happen? . So hey, is it 2019 yet?
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