Move your money

Move your money. Go on. Give it a try.

I moved my money from Citibank to the much smaller, much more personal, TD Bank. I'm done with "too big to fail" banks that fall apart and need to be bailed out. I'm tired of the annual fee that they suddenly started on my credit card. I'm appalled that they gave me the option of "going paperless", and then continue to send marketing spam in the mail every week anyway. And if I get one more of their spam emails about balance transfers again, I might just pull all my hair out.

So in the interests of preventing my premature balding, I decided to switch banks. TD bank isn't quite the tiny credit union I would have aspired to in the ideal world. But it has absolutely everything I want. It's committed to being carbon neutral. It donates significant amounts of money annually to charity. And of course, it hands out those free pens all over the city.

For several months now, I have secretly coveted a TD Bank pen. I'm not quite sure why - surely, it's just a pen - but it has suddenly become so ubiquitous in the city, it seems like everywhere I turn, there's someone with a TD Bank pen. And then suddenly I had to have one too. Probably the same sound reasoning behind why I had to open a facebook account. No need to snicker, I never claimed my aspirations were lofty ones.

So finally, I'd had enough and I moved my money. To a bank that's environmentally conscious. That's socially active. To a bank that, much to my excitement, has given me my coveted pen.

A great mayor for a great city

I noticed Mike Bloomberg in the baseball audience, which reminded me, of course, that it would be remiss of me to end the day without a little cheer and hurrah for the man. Couldn't say the election results came as a surprise, but that doesn't reduce the elation all the same.

It's rare to come across a politician that actually makes you dizzy with their vision and promise of all to come. The Obama's took the world by swing last year, but this year, in his own microcosm of the universe, it's Bloomberg's turn.

So, Mike, a couple of requests, if you please:

- Can we please try and finish up on the Second Avenue Subway? I know it's one of those legacy projects that has been going on since 1920 and all, and it would seem a disrespect to history to get it completed all of a sudden, but, well, could we please try? Especially now that the MTA has started digging the station in our building and all.


- More bike lanes, please. The one's you've put so far are great. But, like everything good in life, they've only made us greedy for more.

I hope that wasn't too forwward of me. I'm just excited, that's all. Here's to yet to another great term, MB.

Optimistic and hopeful

I hesitated to write this, I didn't want to go down rathole of politics, but I just have to. Or else think I might just burst.

"I think I'm going to head down to DC for Obama's inauguration speech in January," I told one of my colleagues yesterday.
"Oh you're just saying that because he's black." she retorted (obviously a republican).
I just blinked. I had no idea how to respond to something like that. It hit me in that instant, our spheres of comprehension, our parameters of reality, were so entirely different from each other, I couldnt' even bring myself to talk to her on the subject.

Of course it's because he's black!!! Don't you understand the enormity of what that means?! I wanted to shout.
But propriety (and my role as an HR bod) demanded a more polite etiquette than that. So i just smiled outwardly, and bit my lip inside till I almost drew blood.

But it was so much more than the race issue. It was larger than the petty and singular view of race that had polarised the country before. It marked the point in time when we had suddenly grown up, as a people, as a country. When we actually said to ourselves, that's enough of this rubbish - we are better than this. And for this, I could barely comprehend the surge of pride I felt. For this country which wasn't even my own, but to whom I felt a sense of belonging anyway. A country which had risen to the demands of the current day, and proved that the whole is truly better than the sum of its parts.

On election night, we had called everyone over for an election party. Over pizza, beer and wine, we alternately cheered and jeered at the telly, lifted by our own elation. Outside in the streets, as the news slowly unfurled, all of New York turned into a roaring continuum of excited chants and cheers. The atmosphere was contagious, spellbinding.

For the situation is more than Obama himself. It is the philosophy of unity he stands for. It is about witnessing history, in the making.
I am optimistic and hopeful, for the future that lies ahead.

Obstinacy and tenacity

Each morning, I quickly get online to check whether the Obama-Clinton decision has been made yet.

Checked Monday morning. Nope, still neck and neck.
Checked Tuesday morning. Nope, still the same.
Checked Wednesday morning. No change yet.
Checked yesterday. Hold your breath - oh no, the debate was still heated.
Checked today. "The democratic candidacy is still under heated contention,..." the newscaster was saying, when I switched the TV off mid sentence.

I can't wait to check again tomorrow. Maybe the situation will have sorted itself. The anticipation is killing me.

A super tuesday

I woke up with a start early this morning, before the alarm even went off. Note - NOT after pressing snooze three times, as would be the norm. In an earth-shattering surprise even to myself, I suddenly found myself springing upright in the wee hours of the morn.

I did a quick health check to make sure all was okay. Bad dream? no. Anything I'd forgotten to do at work yesterday? no. Any trouble I was in? no.

And then suddenly I remembered: It's Super Tuesday!!!

Considering I'm not even allowed to vote in this country, I spend an alarming amount of time absorbed in the melodramatic soap opera of national politics.

So I jumped out of bed with a skip in my step and a song in my head. Headed over to work with a spring in my demeanour, and a freebie smile for fellow passers-by. I asked everyone in my morning meeting whether they had voted yet, and bandied pointed looks at those who hadn't.

And now here I am waiting with bated breath, hounding the telly, alternatively shouting or rejoicing as the various candidates rotate through. Waiting for the evening's results to unfold.