The shorthand to this week

WEDNESDAY
Printed and emailed my personal essay; hurried to our (Tanja and I) 12:30 lunch reservation at Mesa Grill (aka one of Bobby Flay's cash cows); sorting through the stores Anthropologie and Free People (aka sigh places for Amy, withering look from sister Aggie); getting lost looking for the event venue for a good 30 minutes; getting enough airtime with the program directors; hitting Whole Foods at Union Square yet again; dead tired coming home to Aggie's apartment, as usual.

The day's rating: FOUR STARS, if only because I barely made it to 14 University Place

THURSDAY
Tanja and I waking up around 10:30; slopped through the rest of the morning; hit the Met after lunch; ogled at the Superheroes exhibit (not-so-subtle tie-up with Ironman); had my first afternoon high tea ever at the lounge; were abruptly reminded that museum hours end early than usual; walked aimlessly along Park Avenue; I seriously cannot remember the rest of that day, except of course I was dead tired, took sleep aid but still woke up at 2:30 am

The day's rating: THREE AND A HALF STARS, if only because there is a reason why afternoon high tea at the Met costs $24 (excluding tax and tip)

FRIDAY
Woke up extra early to meet old college friend Grace for brunch; amazed at how Grace remains the same while doing edited catch-up at a diner; we walked to Central Park and sat on a boulder while kids were playing at the nearby playground; hit Guggenheim and spent two and a half hours absorbing Cai Guo-Qiang's retrospective, barely having the energy to spread myself across a lifetime's work; got lost yet again going to MoMA for free admission Friday along with the hordes, deciding to just focus on the two floors of modern art; couldn't believe I'd actually get sick and tired of seeing Picassos, famous and obscure; artwork moments (let me set this up: I would describe the very moment as 'I've been through a sea of works and then I take a turn and it catches me unprepared, so all I can do is stare and if there was a pew I'd kneel and if a bunch of flowers were thrown my way I'd offer them and if there was cue music I'd play Handel's Messiah.'* You get the picture) - Picasso's Les Demoiselles de Avignon, Barnett Newman's Vir Herocious Submlimis, Pollock's One: Number 31, Matisse's The Red Studio, the Duchamp pieces but most of all Bicycle Wheel. (Of course there were more but, to capture it appropriately, hindi na kaya ng powers ko.) I never thought I'd get sick of seeing Picassos.


* Alternate version of the reaction: Before seeing Picasso's Les Demoiselles, I espy a throng of people crowding a wall. I follow, and seeing first the women's heads, then I realize it's Les Demoiselles then I think 'Ohh, yan pala ang Les Demoiselles' then I think ' Shit, ang laki pala niya' then I feel 'Shiiiiit, it's fucking Les Demoiselles de Avignon' then I'd go 'I'm supposed to have a moment, why is it kicking slowly, yet as usual?' then I paced myself, stood at a good spot and at the moment when no one was obstructing the view, I thanked my lucky stars I'm here at all.