Hello, remember me? Because I barely do remember myself!
Today I handed in my MA Dissertation, which means that I should be finally out of the tunnel, if my supervisor doesn’t come up with too many corrections and stuff. It seems like I might be graduating once again. Anyway.
What I’m gonna complain about today — now that my complaints can encompass a variety of topics and not just focus on the deadly routine and general shittiness of life-under-a-deadline — are the daily quakes that the crooked walkup building where I reside is experiencing since I’ve been living here.
They are building a new subway line right across the street from where I live. The vibrations are crazy and they freak me the F out. And it’s like this every. single. day.
NYC felt a little earthquake in late August this year. NYC is not really used to quakes, so everybody obviously freaked the F out. To the point that Gothamist bothered interviewing a seismologist to explain the psychosomatic effects of the quake to the traumatized newyorkers, and even listed a series of post-quake/quake-themed foods for the readers to eat and cheer themselves up.
Below a picture of how NOT to react to a quake:
Newyorkers are excessive, that’s for sure.Going into therapy for a little fart-like quake is not an option, especially since somewhere else things get really awful when the earth shakes (here, here, here and here).
But seriously, these construction works on 2nd Av that the NYT rightfully summarizes (“noise, dust, barricades and occasional explosions”) have been going on forever, and I really wish they would just stop.
After a year of this torment I think I can understand why my apartment leans so much that I have to empty the tub by pushing water with a foot towards the drain, so that it doesn’t sit in there after I take a shower (TRUE STORY).
Shall I get a “Survived the MTA” tat myself? Leave your suggestions below.