Oh New York

Times Square - where it's better to be over the top

Staten Island Ferry Wharf

A looming city

Empire State

Sunset perfection

Atlas Shrugged - one of my favourite moments

Columbus Circle

Central Park Pouts

Fifth Ave Hugs

Stand Up Comedy NY night of laughs

Flatiron

American Institute of Graphic Art

It's Superman, it's a plane ... oh wait it's just a bird

I recall only several dinner time memories from my childhood quite vividly. One time, I was told that if I didn't finish my mushrooms then I wasn't permitted to watch television. So there I sat, with a pot of mushrooms in front of me growing colder and colder as my mother finished washing the remainder of the night's dishes behind me. Dawson's Creek was playing that night, and although I wasn't a Katie Holmes fan then and still am not to this day, there was something satisfying about being stubborn enough to give up television(!) for making a strong culinary decision.

Another time, I remember sitting at the dinner table alone (it always took me much longer to finish meals because I was obsessed with the concept of chewing, or mastication if you wish) and eating with a yellow Birdie spoon from McDonald's. Now this was no ordinary plastic spoon - I'm sure it would have been dish-washable, it was that sturdy, even though I didn't have a dishwasher to prove this (mental thought for later: to ask dad if dishwashers with their excessive water consumption are more or less evil than microwaves). And I remember trying to bend this spoon so that it would break. I didn't dislike this spoon, so destroying it wasn't an act of anger towards the spoon, however at 7 years of age it may have caused scandal because what would cause Vivian to commit such an act of vandalism to an eating utensil? I remember thinking "Break. BREAK! I just want to see if I can break it." Suffice to say I don't remember what happened to the spoon. It no longer resides in my kitchen. I don't even remember if I actually broke the thing, because it didn't matter. 

Do we sometimes push people, thinking that they'll crack at some point and just be done with? And when they don't weaken, does this frustrate us even more or are we grateful for their strength in our lives? At what point does making a point cross the boundary into foolish? Some people think it's weak to say sorry - they are the ones who do not value apologies and consider such a five-letter word on par with the word kebab. To indirectly quote Michael Scott (circa 2006) I think it's emotionally magnificent.