The day I crawled onto the NYC subway tracks to save my iPhone, or every 20something's worst nightmare realized*

If you have been fortunate enough to spend any time around me, you probably know at least two things: 1. I'm clumsy as fuck, and 2. My iPhone screen is cracked to hell from a (completely sober) tromp around Times Square this summer. And now that these two highly relevant facts are general Internet knowledge, we will proceed with the story of my morning, and mayhaps you will find said story - though still hilarious - a bit less shocking.

It's perhaps a lesser known fact that when it rains, NYC becomes CFC: Cluster Fuck Central. The trains get fucked up, the buses gets fucked up, the average commuter is practically reduced to tears from the frightening - and very real - prospect that she might drown in a sea of wet umbrellas. It's miserable. This morning was no different, as my bus was about eight minutes late. Therefore, I blame the MTA for the pseudo-tragedy that followed, and nearly made me one of those "I'm only 23 and I've had a heart attack" statistics.

After I got off my late bus, I walked to the subway and waited for the downtown train, which I'm sure was also late. (Because, from what I hear, the subway trains are actually supposed to run on this thing called a "schedule," though I have never seen any evidence of this.) As per yooj, I was listening to music on my iPhone. I really wish I could remember what I was listening to, because I'm sure it was something that now reveals itself to be super fucking ironic, as the universe tends to have a twisted sense of humor about stuff like this.

Anyway. The train approached. Naturally, I decided to pull my iPhone from the safe coccoon of my pocket so I could begin reading The New York Times daily email, because, you know, it was of the utmost importance that I read it right then. Because I always read it, every morning, and never fill my valuable time and brain space with Word Warp or Tap Tap Revenge.

The train stopped. The doors opened. iPhone in hand, eyes fixated on screen, I moved toward the open door. Then, something happened. I have no idea what. I would not be surprised if, had a photo been taken at the precise moment when this thing happened, you could literally see the hand of God reaching down through 116th street, into the subway station, and through my earbud cords, tangling them up and yanking with a malicious intent I will never understand. The iPhone tumbled from my hands, the earbuds popped from their snug homes in my ears, and the whole kit and caboodle went crashing down. Of course, this all happened in slow motion.

The phone hit the train, then the subway platform. My hand shot up to cover my mouth. (Side note: why is this such a natural human response when bad stuff happens? It's like the international sign for "OH SHIT! FUCKKKKK! SHITITITITITTTTT FUCKETY FUCK GODDAMNIT!") I said a silent, fervent prayer. Are you there, God? It's me, Meghan. Please please please no please don't let my iPhone fall into the gap, onto the tracks. No no no please.

I watched. It fell. It was gone. Heart stopped. I peered down and saw it. The screen was still lit up from where I had opened my e-mail. It glared up at me, and I could almost hear it crying: "You bitch! How dare you?! I (sob sob) love (sob sob) you (sob sob) so (sob sob) much (SOB). I looked up, into the still open doors of the train, and all the people were looking at me. Every single person on this crowded 6 train was staring at me, this poor jaded girl who had just lost her iPhone and her earbuds in one fail swoop, with her hand over her mouth. They all looked genuinely concerned and sympathetic. The front part of my iPhone case was on the train, so I reached in to grab it, and a man reached down to help me. They all scooted in to make room for me to board. But no. I waved thank you to them, and politely declined. I knew what I had to do.

The doors closed and the train lurched forward. Chucka, chucka, chucka. I looked down into the gap and saw the reflection of my still-lit iPhone screen over and over again in the frosted silver covering each subway car. Chucka, chucka, chucka, faster now. I would have taken a photo, but alas, in a brilliant fucking twist, the only camera on my person was now sitting at the bottom of the New York City subway. Chucka, chucka, chucka, faster still. Its light was a beacon of hope, on repeat. Here I am. Here I am. Here I am. I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here. To the beat of the train's wheels gliding along their tracks. Chucka chucka chucka. Come and get me.

The train passed. I moved faster than I've ever moved in my life. I took off my bag and put my (yes, wet) umbrella down. I jumped down onto the tracks. I grabbed my phone and the earbuds, which were still attached. I placed them on the platform. I looked down one more time. No sign of the back of my two-part iPhone case. Oh well, casualty of war. I hoisted myself back up, which was no small feat, because those rails are pretty far down. Standing in the pit, the top of the platform came up to about my chin. So I had to do that awkward move you do whenever you're getting out of a pool. Hands up, hoist up, lift one leg to the side and hoist again.

Once back amongst the living, I grabbed my phone and cradled it in my hands like a just-born kitten I had saved from certain death. I have no way of knowing this now, but I feel like I might have actually rocked back and forth, there on my knees on the subway platform. Don't fear, baby, mama's here, everything's going to be OK now. Amazingly, the screen was no more cracked than before I had dropped it. It was responsive to touch, and the home screen button appearaed to still be working. For good measure, I turned it off. It had just had a really traumatic morning. It needed to rest.

I turned it back on a few stops into my ride. It appeared to be working fine. Fuck, how lucky. The only thing I lost in this whole experience was the back of the case, which was a $5 investment I made on the streets of Harlem. Oh, and a little bit of my dignity and cleanliness - small prices to pay for a working iPhone that has made a trip to the bottom of the NYC subway.

I was planning on asking Santa for a new one this year, but now I kind of want to stay with this one forever. You know what they say about two individuals who have been through serious trauma together: they are connected for life, forged together forever, never to be torn asunder. My iPhone and me, we got this shit. We are strong. We are resilient. We are one.

And I just realized that I never fucking read The New York Times e-mail. Typical.

*It's worth noting that I wrote a good chunk of this post on the train, on my iPhone, post-drop

Home, times three

Normally I would start this post with an apology, because (once again) I am sucking it up in the blogosphere. Before I moved to New York and even for the first couple of months after I got here, I was all about my BtoA blog, and I updated at least once every few days. Slowly it slipped into once a week, and then shortly after that, once every ten days. Now it's been a full 13 days. Instead of apologizing, however, I'm here to say that I'm actually really happy about it. I'm not sorry, because the significant lack of blogging has been caused by a significant increase in awesome life experiences, which I will of course share with y'all now.

I went home and to Oxford last weekend. It was pretty uneventful. I ate Ajax and Taylor and went out to the new Parrish's and City Grocery. Everything seemed basically the same. It felt weird to be back in the South, riding around in cars and driving and feeling how slow everything really is compared with NY life. While I still miss my parents, going home was a nice reminder that the South is not where I want to be right now. Maybe when I'm older and want to have a family and stuff, but for now I just know NY is where I'm supposed to be.

I started my new job last Monday. It pays, and while for the purposes of office duties I am technically an "editorial intern," my supervisor gave me the okay to put "freelance editorial assistant" on my resume. She told me this on my first day, and it was pretty much an amazing start to a week that would prove to be equally amazing, as far as first weeks go. I got to write, and I have several writing assignments pending. Of course I also do entry level duties like shipping stuff, sorting mail, taking phone calls, and transcribing, but I am doing all these things for money in New York in the worst economy in recent memory, and thus I do them with nothing but joy.

I went to DC this weekend to see A, and it was basically a perfect weekend. The weather was uhmazing, nearly 70 degrees both days and sunny. I had brunch with all his friends, and they're hilarious and tatted up and amazing. We went to the National Museum of American History, which I found surprisingly enjoyable, aside from the nauseating number of tourists. We went to the cherry blossom festival, which was fun but also really touristy, vom. The trees are beautiful though, and we sat by the tidal basin under the blooms and watched ducks as the sun went down. I know, I know. Blablabla TMI.

So gorg

We celebrated my new job Saturday night; he bought us a bottle of champagne (nom nom nom), which we promptly consumed while we watched Twilight (yes, lolz) before heading out to the bar where he works most weekends. PS, Twilight = probs the worst movie ever made, but that didn't stop A from constantly asking questions and sitting on the edge of his seat while Bella's pathetic fate was decided. Lolz best boyf ever? Mayhaps.

I finally feel like things are coming together for me. I have a job that I already love, and even though I still look forward to the day when I'm full-time with benefits, I am learning the value of patience in a terrible economy while in the meantime just doing the best I can professionally. When I left for DC Friday evening and I watched the city disappear in the distance, it dawned on me that I am literally making my dreams come true. I'm not by any means finished with this process, but I am at least through the first and most difficult stage. Since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a writer, and since the first time I came to NYC I knew I was meant to live here. And here I am, getting paid to write and taking the 6 train to work everyday and living in a brownstone walk-up in Harlem. How many people can say they've even attempted what they always dreamed of doing? Not many. I'm in love with my life right now, and I can only be gratious and humbly accept the amazing things I am lucky enough to experience.

Until next time.

New Yorkers aren't assholes

Ha! It's my second post of the day, just in case you suspected my devotion had wavered. It has not. Plus, I had something blogworthy to write about.

As I was walking home from work-->train-->grocery store, I passed an old man on my block, just a few buildings down from mine. I had my headphones in, and as is the norm, I was just looking straight ahead, trying to avoid eye contact. (In New York, this is The Way. It's not because people are rude, it's just The Way it is.) But I could feel this man pause, and I could feel his eyes following me as I walked by. Not in a creepy way, but in a sweet old-man-wants-to-say-hello way. Something inside me stopped me and told me to take out my damn headphones and actually talk to the man. So I did.

He said, "You watching the parade today?" Never the biggest fan of St. Patrick's Day, I said, no, I'm not, and smiled.

He said, "Oh, well you look like you could pass as being Irish. Are you Irish?" I was charmed at this point.

"No, unfortunately, I'm not; not that I know of, anyway," I told him.

He said, "Oh, well you look like a beautiful Irish girl. I mean, you're a beautiful girl, of any nationality." Then he smiled and waved and we said our goodbyes.

It seems that every time I actually stop to talk to someone in New York, they're actually really friendly. True, most guys eyeballing me as I walk by are total creepsters, but this man lives a few buildings down from me and now we sort of know each other. I wish I had gotten his name and all that, but oh well. I'm sure I'll see him again.

Sigh, NYC. Just when I think I might be over you for good, you go and win my heart back. It's true what they say about living in and loving New York: it really is like a relationship. There are ebbs and flows, moments of love and moments of hate. But for those of us who truly love this city, it's an undying love, a marriage. For better or for worse.

Until next time.

Money, home, and some other things

Y'all. I am sorry. Srsly. I remember back in the day when I used to update this blog like every two days or so. It's now been 10 days since my last update. Wtf! I have a couple good excuses, but for the most part I'm just lazy, LBO.

Excuse #1: I started another part-time unpaid internship, my second. I'm blogging in a semi-official capacity now, which is exciting. Please check it out and holla at me. My avatar is, as you may have guessed, Ms. Meg. I have lots of ideas for what I want to do for the site, but I'm not sure I will get to implement them because...

Excuse #2: As some of you saw on fb, I got offered a paying gig with a magazine company. It's still just an internship, and it's only hourly with no benefits BUT it's still money, and it's editorial work. I will be broke as a joke for a while, and my parents will probably still be helping me out a bit, but at least I'm not selling my soul. I will hopefully keep blogging for my second internship in the evenings and on the weekends, but we'll see how that works out.

Excuse #3: I had what can only be called a mini-breakdown this past Sunday night. A spent the weekend with me in NYC, and we had a good time for the most part, and then Sunday night after he left I couldn't sleep, I was hot and couldn't cool off, and I just tossed and turned all night, and every now and then I would randomly break into tears. WTF. I was honestly just feeling depressed because of my joblessness, the long-distance thing with A, strained friendships, and missing my family and home.

I realized I was starting to question all my fundamental beliefs: what had I done so wrong to be so lonely in this big city--to be unemployed--to be longing for something, anything permanent to hold onto? I thought, maybe the universe isn't balanced after all. I have always believed that the universe gives you exactly what you need and leads you down the right path, even if it's not obvious to you that this is happening; but in my sadness over all this ish, I started to doubt it.

The next day I got the e-mail offering me the job. OK, universe. I get it. I'm back. Sorry I was being such a little bitch.

In other news, I might go home for several days/nights next week. I'm really excited. I miss my parents and I miss the South and I miss my cat tha Queen B and I miss cheese dip.

Until next time.

Pastadentally yours

Sorry I've been so sucky at posting lately. This week has actually been crazy busy. Monday and Tuesday were each an odd combination of slow and ridiculously busy. We had our longest editorial meeting since I've been there yesterday--over an hour. Ah! Then I rushed out the door to take an advanced beginner jazz class at Broadway Dance Center. Yes, it was a lot a lot of fun. But those classes are really expensive, so I'm going to have to limit how many I take. Maybe one every few weeks or so.

Anyway, then I got up pretty early this morning to meet with a health insurance rep to discuss my options. I'm currently uninsured and have been since I moved up here. My parents are both pretty passionate about making sure I have some sort of coverage until I get a job with benefits, so they've been wanting me to look at my options. So I talked with this guy for almost two hours and learned a lot about health insurance; it was actually really informative, despite the fact that he was trying to sell me something. Now I know more about HMOs and POSes than I ever wanted to know. No, not that kind of POS. Lolz.

Then I got home and took a nap, and while I was asleep for about an hour I got three work e-mails, including one that said I have three stories due in the next two weeks. Umm what! Ah! So then I spent the afternoon setting up interviews and stuff. Sigh. I love journalism. I really, really do. I love reporting and finding out information and writing. I just love it. When I have moments like that, where I remember why I'm up here trying to pursue this career, it makes all the hard stuff worth it.

Now to the main point of this post. I made pasta for dinner tonight, and it was UHMAZING. I was sauteeing veggies in a pink sauce and I accidentally dumped a lot of black pepper in. At first I was like, well shit I ruined my sauce, but then I just stirred it around and hoped for the best. This was the result.

Iz delicious. Eat me. twss

Recipe for deliciousness:
Whole wheat pasta
Red sauce
Alfredo sauce
Lots of black pepper
Some crushed red pepper (I did five shakes)
Sauteed veggies (I used red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, and onion)

It basically ended up being a Cajun pasta. I think it would also be amazing with some kind of sausage or ground meat in it. It's quite spicy, so if you don't like that kinda stuff, then pass. But OMG so. good. nomnomnomnom

Sigh. Full belly.
Until next time.

Exploring El Barrio

In a monumental effort to avoid making a trip to Ikea to return my defunct bedside lamp, I decided to spend my Saturday afternoon exploring East Harlem. I went down to E 115th and found a new grocery store that's cleaner, more spacious, and cheaper than the one I go to now. I am very excited about this. Also discovered a Duane Reade on 3rd Ave near 115th that is, again, cleaner and more spacious than the Rite Aid I was used to frequenting. All and all, a very successful afternoon for finding new places to run errands.

After a trip to said drug store to get cold meds--I woke up today feeling worse than I have been, which is impressive since I've been feeling pretty bad for about a week and a half now ugh--I was going to just go home, but I really felt like I needed some exercise despite my respiratory issues. So I decided to walk around East Harlem and see what I could see. I walked up 3rd Ave to 125th, which is basically the heart of El Barrio. It's getting more and more gentrified--there's an H&M and Old Navy now--but there's still some cool culture and stuff. The street is lined with vendors selling random shit: "authentic" shea butter from Africa, all kinds of Obama memorabilia, and MLK Jr. stuff. Apparently even though East Harlem is officially Spanish Harlem now, black people still have quite a presence. Which, of course, I couldn't be happier about.

Also, I walked in a couple random stores, including a furniture store that was having a huge closeout sale. There I saw this:

Sign reads: "KIDS' RECLINER $100"

It might just look like a normal recliner in this photo, but don't be fooled. It's kid-sized. It's the smallest, cutest recliner ever made.

In other news, what is my deal with chairs? Strange fetish? Mayhaps. Also, I'm twittering now. Follow me!

Until next time.

My life was a movie

For a moment, at least. Normally y'all know how I feel about relationship blogging: I do it, but I keep it to a minimum, because no one gives a shit about my personal wees and woes, LBO. But I have talked about it before, just because it certainly is a part of my life, and sometimes I feel really affected (effected?), and that leaving it out would be leaving out a part of myself . This is def one of those times.

As I told you, A and I decided to take some time apart (OK, we broke up) after I went to DC for the inauguration. A lot of shit went down (again, nonnayobiz) and it was dramatic and exhausting and I was pretty much over it. We didn't talk for a week or so, then I started to feel really angry toward him for the hurt he had caused, and I decided I wanted to tell him about it, for the sake of getting it off my chest and making sure he understood just what he had done wrong and just how badly I was hurt. So we talked on the phone Sunday night, and I told him everything. One of the things I told him was that when I left DC, his behavior showed me he didn't care enough to fight for me: he pretty much put me in a cab and sent me off, and he barely spoke to me that morning, and he wouldn't touch me. He knew he was losing me, and instead of fighting, he just sent me away. That's when something clicked in my head and I was ready to say goodbye to him.

Anywayz I told him all of this and more of the reasons he hurt me, and he said, "If I knew it meant you would give me another chance, I would pack some stuff into a bag and start walking to New York right now." I was like OMGZ, first of all, that's the most dramatic thing I've ever heard, and, second of all, it's bullshit because it's really easy to say something like that when you know I would never ask you to do it. Ever the skeptic, I denied in my brain that he would ever do something like that. So we left that phone conversation right where we had started.

The next day at work I started thinking about things and getting pissed off again, because how dare he say something like that to me when he had no intention of carrying it out? So I IMed him (never a good idea, PS), and confronted him about it. His response was to e-mail me a confirmation for a bus ticket that he had bought earlier that morning to come to NYC Tuesday night. He had bought a ticket without telling me, and was going to show up at my house without telling me; part of me resented the intrusion, but more of me was overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture.

I came home from work/happy hour Tuesday night and he was waiting for me on my steps. Of course he was sort of awkward and acting unsure of himself, because he's just sort of that way all the time, and some of my friends still disapprove of my letting him come see me, but I've always wished in my heart that someone would care enough about me to do something like that, and now he's done it.

The human heart is amazing and ridiculous and stupid.

Until next time.

The chair as a symbol

I jumped the gun on the chair. I got up this morning and measured my doorway and it's only 29 inches across; the chair is 32 inches at its narrowest point, so I can't even get it in my room. It's the little stuff like that, stuff that doesn't even really matter (there will be other chairs), that I find really getting me down. But it's about more than just the chair. It's hard to do things in the city.

I've been here a month now. I knew moving to the city would be hard. I knew it would be hard to get all my shit up here, find a place to live, find a job, get settled, and all that stuff. But I didn't realize, at least not fully, what an emotional strain it was going to be. Since I got up here, my emotions have been all over the place. It's a daily, sometimes hourly, thing; I never really know how I'm going to feel when I wake up in the morning. Sometimes I wake up feeling productive and like, despite being unemployed and alone in one of the biggest cities in the world, I might actually be able to accomplish what I want to do. Then by the afternoon, I might feel really depressed and lonely and like no matter what I do, I won't be able to get the job I want because the jobs simply aren't there.

And the city is just hard. It's a hard place. Not just physically, but figuratively. It's difficult to do anything, to get anything done. Last night on the way home from going to the gym and going to look at the chair, I took the bus, and we sat in traffic and got stopped at literally every single red light between 91st and 118th. Sometimes the city is just against you. It's hard to do things; at home, in the South, you can just get in a car and go anywhere you want at any time you want. Up here, you rely on others to transport you, which sometimes works out really well, and sometimes makes you want to cry because it's so frustrating.

Also, I have an interview tomorrow at the gym I told y'all I applied to. On the one hand, I'm like, "YAY! A job interview that might actually lead to something substantive and a little bit of income." Then on the other hand, I'm like, "Really? Four years of college and this is what I'm doing with my life? Hoping to get a menial desk job at a gym so I can pay the bills and afford a (discounted) gym membership? This is what it's come to?"

It's not that I'm ashamed. I have a lot of respect for people who work in service industries; I've done it before and it's one of the hardest jobs out there, at least in terms of stress levels. But I just know I can do so much more. I realize that a month is not a long time, and that in the longer scheme of things, it's essentially nothing. And I have accomplished some things since I got here--my internship at the Web site being one of them. I spent the morning applying to temp agencies and some more jobs on Craigslist. I'm trying, I really am, and I don't want to sound too whiney.

I just wonder when I will feel settled. I mean, really settled. I can't wait until that moment when I can sit down in my room--maybe in a chair?-- or sit down to dinner with friends and think to myself, "This is it. This is the moment. I have a job I love, wonderful friends, a home that I feel at home in, and I live in New York City. This is it." I feel like a leaf blowing around in the wind after a bad storm. I just want a nice place to land.

I know I can't rush these things, but I have to ask myself.
What if that moment never comes?

Until next time.

Chocolate cake, at long last, and a chair

A few days after I first arrived in the city, back when C was in town visiting, we went to dinner at a barbecue place in Brooklyn. After we finished, I remember walking around and saying, 'I really want some cake. Like seriously I want some cake, let's get some.'

Of course we didn't get some, which is fine, but my craving didn't go away. It hung on. It gnawed at me for weeks. It was a very specific craving. It had needs: chocolate cake, chocolate icing, lots of chocolate, extra chocolate plz. I had a birthday cake in DC that A got for me, which was quite good, but it wasn't exactly what I had been craving, so the beast remained, calculating the perfect time to nom. Tonight, that time came.

Siiiiiiiiiiigh.

I made this cake with my bare hands. And a fork. Z and I decided to take the evening to finish season one of our Mad Men Marathon (M3), eat dinner, and make cake. If I have two weaknesses in life, it's chocolate/cake and beautiful men in beautiful suits. Check and check; done and done.

Don Draper plz to have babiez wif me

In other news, I got a chair today! Well, I went and looked at a chair and made a commitment to buy it. It's a big oversized arm chair, light green with red pillows (to match my room!). I'm paying $100 for the chair + the two pillows + the moving truck and two guys to move it into my apartment. I think it's a pretty good deal. Here's a pic:

Courtesy of Craigslist = terrible quality

It's almost four feet wide. That's a big chair. I'm going to put it in the corner of my room where my radiator is (in front of my window), and maybe some time in the future I'll add a little TV stand with a TV and a DVD player. It will be my own personal living room. I'm so excited. This chair is basically perfect for wrapping up in a blanket, sinking down, and watching DVDs or reading a book. More pics to come after it actually arrives.

Until next time.

PS. Avenue Q was lolllllz.

Candlies?

It's been a productive four hours. I found a microwave for $20 on Craigslist and ventured downtown to take a look at it. On the way I stopped by the laundromat and dropped off my clothes. After seeing it, I decided to take the microwave, but because of the shitty shitty shitty weather today (read: rain/snow/grey sludge mix) I decided to wait to pick it up until tomorrow. Then I headed even further downtown to go to K-mart where I got: a full-length wall mirror (YES! at long last), some frames, two pretty pillows for mah bed, a wall clock, and some other small things. My room feels a little bit more complete. This makes me very happy.

Also: J got two free tickets to see Avenue Q tonight, but she has another show to go to, so Z and I are going together. I'm pretty much thrilled. I've been wanting to see this show for a long time, and now I get to go for free. UHMAZING.

Oh, and while I was in K-Mart, I saw these:

Candlies?

They're candles that smell like (obvs) various candies. The Almond Joy one even had little "candy bar chunks" on top. I was like mmmmmmmm, then I was like, oh wait, this is made of wax. I don't want something in my house that looks like delicious candy unless I can eat it.

So on my way out of the store I bought some Valentine's Day candy. Nom nom.

Until next time.

A sign of the times, my friends

I just spent 30 to 45 minutes filling out an online application for a job. To be a front desk associate. At a gym.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I am now resorting to shitty hourly jobs in hopes that I will soon be able to pay my own billz, instead of relying on my parents forever and ever. In truth, I picked the gym on purpose because I'm hoping to get a discounted membership out of it, at the very least. When I started my internship last Friday, I got a free week-long pass to the gym, so I went to yoga and abs yesterday, then Pilates earlier tonight. And I feel so much better. I mean, I always knew that physical fitness is a huge part of my happiness/mental competence level, but now that I'm in the city, I'm realizing it even more.

In other news, I'm really liking the internship. It's so different from working at a monthly magazine, where everything is pretty slow and quiet most of the time. Since this is a web site with a total of like four editorial staffers (including two interns) who post five stories per day, things are always bustling. Deadlines always need to be met, stories always need to be written, and blogs always need to be posted. That sentence was very poorly constructed, but you get the jist. It's fast-paced, and I love it. Plus I pitched a blog yesterday and the editors liked it and I created it today. So that made me feel good.

Still job searching though. In the meantime (hopefully if even they will hire me) I'll see you at the gym. Would you like a towel? Lolz.

Until next time.
Majorly yours.

Hello from NYC(home)

Hi faithful readers. I am coming to you tonight from the delicious comfort of my king-size bed in Manhattan/East Harlem. I started an unpaid internship at a .com yesterday; it was a very busy day! My supervisor kept me busy from 10 to 6:15--I posted content to the site, wrote a post, and put together a couple of blog entries. I am really excited to get some Web experience, even if it's unpaid. Some of you may know, but most of you don't, that one of my dream jobs is to work for Jezebel. It's a snarky feminist blog that comments on news, politics, and pop culture. Basically, loves it.

So the inauguration was insane. All in all, I am glad to say that I was there for such an historical event, but there's a reason it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity--because most people in their right minds would never do it more than once. As some of you may have heard (there are groups on Facebook too!), lots of people with purple, blue, and silver tickets were left out in the cold (literally) that day. The whole event was so poorly organized that some ticketholders could not find their way inside the gate.

A and I were among the purple ticket holders who were confused and angry; when we got off the metro to walk to the gate/entry point, we found that a bus was blocking the way in. A police officer told us that someone had been injured/gotten stuck under the bus (probs a lie), so they couldn't move it yet. Anyway, eventually the mass of people in which we were standing started moving forward, and we went along. When we got closer to the bus, however, it was clear we had two directions we could go, and neither was toward the gate. We asked some police officers which way to go, and each one gave us a different anwer. None of the cops had megaphones or bullhorns or any method of being loud at all. We eventually wound our way around to another purple gate, and by sheer force of will, found our way in. Now I know we were among the lucky few. Had we walked a different way, we probably would not have made our way in.

The event itself was great. At first we were standing behind a group of really tall people who also happened to be on an incline, so I literally could not see anything except the backs of their heads. I was so frustrated at this point that I almost started crying. I was cold, hungry (we didn't eat breakfast that morning), distraught, frustrated, and I couldn't see. So we moved back a little bit, away from the Capitol, and it was like opening a window or something. I could see everything, and it was officially amazing. His speech was great, I actually really liked Rick Warren's prayer, and the music was beautiful (though pre-recorded).

The whole (really long) weekend was kind of overshadowed, however, by some major drama that went down with A and me. I won't go into details here, because frankly it's nonnayobiz, but I will say that he and I are taking some time apart. I mean, we're always apart because of distance, but like apart-apart. I just got to a point where I felt more unhappy than happy, and that is never a good sign. So now I'm alone, living in New York City, unemployed, and feeling kind of low. I mean, my life is great; I have a warm bed, a place to call home, great friends, a supportive family. But everything is still not settled. My room still feels bare and empty. It's also kind of dirty from the girl who lived here before me, so I need to remedy that. I still don't have a microwave. It's hot in herr and my window is stuck shut. In all honesty, I'm terrified of being alone in this city. I know it's what's right for me right now, but it's still scary, you know?

Ah well, I need to go do some shopping for apt stuff.
Majorly yours.

Brrrrrrrrz

It's cold. Since I moved up here, it's been pretty temperate. I mean, there have been a couple days where I was like OMFG it's srsly cold and snowing or something, but overall, it's been more than tolerable. Yesterday was so nice that my landlord decided to turn the heat off for the day. Today, I assume, he will not be.


That's right, it "feels like 4 degrees F" outside. I have my window open because my radiator (which is controlled from my landlord's office downstairs) is cray cray and really hot, so typically I need some fresh chilly NYC air because I can't stand to sleep while I'm hot. Well I woke up this morning, about 30 minutes ago, and was like brrrrrrrrrchhchchchrrrzzz it's cold in here. I'm too lazy to even close my window. I just put a sweatshirt on and am bundled under my covers. Fail.

On the job front: I heard back from the mag I did the edit test for. They decided to go with someone more experienced. Sad face. BUT I am staying positive, because I fully acknowledge that that job was pretty much my dream job, and that I probably will have to work up to it. To get it right out of the gate would have been too easy. I need to start smaller.

I have had several interviews since I got to NYC: one to be a style intern at a major women's mag (but it only pays $7/hr and it's a closet internship, not an edit one, boo), another to intern at a woman's mag web site (this one is unpaid but it's only a couple days a week, and I would pretty much get to set my schedule, while getting web and blog clips, which is good), an HR interview, and one later today for a part-time temp position writing newsletters for a large media company. The last one is more a PR position, but it would be a foot in the door, it pays really well, and I could spend my extra time applying and interviewing elsewhere.

Whew. I've basically been running around town interviewing and trying to become familiar with my neighborhood for the past few days. It's pretty tiring. In case you haven't seen, I uploaded photos of my apt to facebook, so check 'em out!

Other big plans: Going to DC this weekend to see A and to go to the inauguration. I can't believe I will be there to witness the most historical event probably in my lifetime (aside from Obama actually winning the election).

Majorly yours.

I can't believe I live in New York

I've been in New York for 10 days now. A week plus three. In those 10 days I have: visited the MOMA, gone to the Met, rode the Staten Island ferry (which is free, BTdubs), had an HR interview at a huge mag company, interviewed for a style internship at a huge mag, and gotten an apartment.

What? Oh yeah, I got an apartment. It happened really fast. I found this posting on Craigslist for a "huge room with two windows" in East Harlem, and I responded on a whim. Craigslist is so shady and you never know what to expect, so I tend to think of replying to any post as replying on a whim, but whatevz. The girl e-mailed me back the next day explaining that she was moving out and needed someone to move in her room ASAP, so I went uptown with Z and C to check it out. I walked in the room and immediately knew I wanted to live there. The room is, indeed, HUGE, and the girl is also selling me her king size bed for $150. Basically, uhmazing. And the rent is $790 plus utilities. I'll be living with two other girls (the living room space is converted to a bedroom), but for the price I can deal with that. The neighborhood is cute--despite what you may have heard about Harlem--and it's a brownstone walk-up.

Mah front door and one of the windows of my room.

I love the outside of the apt, I love the room, it has a really nice kitchen, and there's a pretty good-sized bathroom for NYC. And it's in Manhattan, so the commute is not too bad. Yeah, it's way uptown, but it's only three bus stops (about ten minutes) up from where Z lives, which will be super nice for going out and hanging out and stuff.

I've been walking around the city a lot, and sometimes I look up and feel the cold wind on my face and see the glow of the city reflecting off the sky at night and I really can't believe I live here. I don't understand when people say they don't like New York, or even when people don't choose the place they start their lives based on how that place affects them. I can't imagine starting my life somewhere I don't absolutely love, or anywhere but New York actually. Everything cheesy New York lovers say about the city is absolutely true for me. It makes my heart beat faster and sometimes I feel like crying because it makes me so happy to be here. I first came to the city when I was 18, and as soon as I stepped off the bus I knew I was meant to be here. And here I am, starting my life and making and watching my dreams come true. How many people can say they have done the same? I really am just so thankful that I have people in my life who love me enough to help me and support me in this.

I love life.
Majorly yours.

Iz here

That's my life. In that photo, you can see everything I brought up with me to NYC, minus of course my computer, tote, computer bag, the clothes I'm wearing (or am I? lolz), etc., sitting in the corner of Z's living room. It's been busy busy the past couple days, with me spending time with C and Z since we haven't seen each other for a collective like 9 months. Tomorrow C and I are going to watch the Cotton Bowl at this bar on 34th street, and I'm preeeeetty excited about. Football + Manhattan + cheap drank = luv.

Not to seem too flippant, because secretly on the inside I'm freaking out. I don't have a place of my own to live, and I don't have a job. But, ya know, I'm still waiting to hear back from that interview I had before Xmas, and if that doesn't work out, at least now I'm in the city and will be able to apply and interview for things in person. I'm trying to stay optimistic and be more excited than I am unsure or scared, but it's just scary right now. I'm coming up on my fourth day in the city and I'm already like ZOMG I want an apartment, a bed, and a job plz. I know I just have to be patient. I'm so glad to be here with C and Z, and I have hope for the future.

In conclusion, if you know anyone who lives here and is looking for a roomie, holla atcha guh.

Majorly yours.

Omgz tired

OMGz. Xmas and the past week and weekend have been insane. I don't really even know where to start. I last posted on Dec. 19, which was also my last day at my internship. I cleaned out mah cube and peaced out. I have lunch with the people from my department tomorrow, so I can't say I was sad to leave. It will be sad to say goodbye tomorrow, but that Friday, I was just so ready to be out of there and prepping for New York. Which is what I've been doing since.

I turned in my edit test last Tuesday. No word back yet, but that was also the day before Xmas Eve, and I assume the person I've been in contact with took a few days off for the holiday. I anticipate her being back in the office tomorrow, and I hope to hear back either tomorrow or Tuesday. Fingers crossed! I still appreciate any positive thoughts y'all are willing to vibe my way.

Since then, I have: visited family in ATL for Xmas, got in a huge fight with A, made up with A, had a really good time with A (he's in town visiting family as well), had a last supper with my Birmingham friends, and, at long last, started packing. Here is the evidence:

From bottom left, clockwise: Suitcase, pile of shoes, vacuum, vacuum storage bag

I'm not quite finished - I still have jewelry to pack, technological stuff, a hair dryer, toiletries, last minute clothes, etc. But right now that suitcase contains a vacuum-sealed storage bag filled with work clothes (dresses, tops, etc.) eight pairs of shoes (only three pairs of heels, gasp) and then more sensitive clothing stacked individually on top of that: a suit, silk top, cashmere sweater, etc etc. Basically I packed all my clothes in these suction bags because they save a ton of space - except for really delicate stuff, which I left out and placed gingerly on top.

There is also this bag:

I can has army duffle plz?

Sorry for the shitty picture quality. My dad is in the national guard, so he has all this random army ish laying around, and he suggested using one of these heavy-duty army duffles as my second checked bag instead of the smaller of my two suitcases. Turns out, like most of his ideas, it was a great one - the full bag you are looking at, which weighs more than 50 pounds (I'm sure of it), contains the following:

• One full-size down comforter
• One pillow
• One set of twin sheets
• One bath towel, one hand towel
• A loofa
• Three scarves
• Two hats
• Underwear, stockings, exercise clothes
  
• A collection of sweaters, coats, and other winter clothes

All of this ish is contained within two of the vacuum storage bags, except for the tiny, pliable items, with we rolled up and stuck in the crevices around the plastic bags. I have to give A credit here; he is mostly responsible for packing things into this duffle. He has really long arms, so he was good for it. I have to give props where props are due.

One thing I've always heard you need in NYC is a big tote to carry around with you. Wimpy little purses won't do for everyday happenings, because you leave your apartment in the morning, go to work, go work out, go hang out with friends, go to dinner or happy hour, whatever it is you do all day - you have to have a big bag for all your daily ish. So I went to Target and got one on clearance for like $27. It's big and black and has three compartments. Twss?

All I have left to pack is last minute stuff: toothbrush, razor, computer, chargers, etc. It's crazy to think that in less than 48 hours I will be a New Yorker in the making.

Majorly yours.

Quick NYC update, minus the sigh

I don't really have time today for a deep, thoughtful post (sorry, I know y'all are used to those), but I wanted to update everyone really quick about some major happenings in preparation for NYC.

I applied to an assistant editor position at a national magazine in NYC, kind of on a whim. It's actually a step above entry-level; the order is (generally) editorial intern-->editorial assistant-->assistant editor-->associate editor-->editor. I didn't really expect to hear anything back, but the job sounded amazing, so I was like, why not. Well, they e-mailed me back yesterday and wanted me to come in for an interview! I was like oh noez I can't, I'm in Birmingham. But they were open to doing a phone interview. So it's this afternoon at 5 EST/4 CST. As I drove home from work yesterday, it suddenly dawned on me: this is my first-ever interview for a real job. Not an internship, not a college job. A real, 401K, benefits, and salary job. OMG amazing.

Also, A and I are officially going to Obama's inauguration. He got us tickets. It's the day before my birthday: January 20, 2009. Best b'day present ever. <3 Big Jackie O sunglasses might be required.

Back to work. I need y'all's help. Please be thinking of me this afternoon/early evening when I have my interview. I really believe in the power of positive thought.

Majorly yours.

I get the beat from maestro

Sometimes I listen to Weezy at work on mah iPod. It's so gritty and so offensive and so ghetto and I love it.

Today marks two weeks. Two weeks until I move to NYC. Two weeks. I can't believe that it's real. I still haven't packed a damn thing. I'm too busy contacting people in NYC, setting up informationals, talking to potential roommates, and applying for jobs. I haven't really been posting about it but that's what I do every day.

Basically I just find these contacts through people at work--some of them are former interns at my current place of work. I send them a brief e-mail that includes something along the lines of the following:

I'm currently interning in the --- department at ----- in Birmingham. I've been here since July, and my internship ends this Friday. I'm moving up to NYC Dec. 30, and ------ gave me your contact information. Where did you intern at ---- and what do you do now? How do you like the city? I would love to talk to you some time soon, just to get some advice about going from Birmingham to NYC. It would be great to have a network of Southerners when I get up there! Let me know when would be good for you. I have attached my cover letter, resume, and clips just for your reference. Thanks!

Sometimes I leave that last part out, if I'm just sending a casual hello e-mail. And if I'm cold e-mailing someone who isn't from the South and didn't work at my current company, I leave out all the stuff about Southerners and the South, obvs. I just introduce myself, give a brief bio of my work experience, and tell them I would love to speak with them about their move to NYC and their career path. I've been doing this every day for weeks now, and I've found that most people write back. Of course there are several e-mails I sent and never heard back from, but that is to be expected. People iz busy, nomesayin? But for the most part, people are cooperative and want to help.

Every time I get a response from someone, I print the e-mail and put it in a green folder labeled "NEW YORK." Yes, I am just that cheesy and organized. I actually started doing this because I was sending and receiving a lot of these e-mails from my work address, and after this Friday I won't have access to them. So the folder is filled with invaluable information: schedules for informational interviews, contact info, people I've e-mailed about potentially rooming together, HR forms, etc.

Green is for GRNY

Two weeks. So many questions still loom. How many bags will I try to take up with me? Two or three? Will I take my laptop with me on the plane or try to pack it securely? Will it be snowing or something horrible when I arrive? Will I have a roommate lined up? Should I use a broker to find my apartment? Most importantly: What shoes will I take? DAMN IT. I fear I will have to leave behind some tried and true favorites.

Majorly yours.

Missing the relationship gene

I can safely say I've never been in happy, healthy, normal, adult relationship with a guy. At least for no extended period of time. I was definitely in love with J, my first boyfriend, in high school, and we dated for 5+ years. It was young love, infatuation, stupid. We were never right for each other, which is why it ended and I haven't spoken to him in months. Oh, and he's married now.

The next guy I dated, D, was a bundle of issues I didn't want to deal with. We dated off and on for six months, and it ended worse than my first relationship. We no longer speak. The last words I said to him were "fucking shitbag," if that tells you anything. He is also dating someone seriously now.

And now I've entered into a long distance relationship (LDR) with A, without really knowing what I'm doing. We started talking in July, and I honestly never thought it would go anywhere serious, and I basically told him that when it was time for me to move to NYC, it would also be time to end the relationship. He didn't like this, of course, but we kept talking, and eventually I got to the point where I didn't want to break up with him. And I don't now, I don't think.

I just wonder what my deal is. Why can't I meet a nice, smart, funny, honest, sane guy who lives in the same ZIP code as me? I hate LDRs, and I'm also pretty bad at them. So why do I keep getting sucked in? I did it with J and now I'm doing it with A. Why? Why do I keep doing this? Is there something wrong with me?

I know this isn't an original thought, because Carrie talked about it on SATC when she was reconsidering her acceptance of Aidan's proposal -- but maybe I'm missing the relationship gene. Maybe some people just aren't cut out for serious relationships. Maybe the reason I can't meet someone who I want to date, who is a good guy, and who lives in the same city as me is because I repel relationships, like the negative ends of two magnets. No matter how hard you try to get them to touch, they just won't, and it's really annoying.

Then again, I think I'm way too young to be worrying about this bullshit. So what if I'm kind of bad at relationships? I'm 22. Maybe I'm supposed to be bad at them for a while. Maybe that's how you learn to be good at them.

I just wonder how long A will put up with it. He says he wants to be with me, and he's willing to work through our difficulties because he thinks I'm worth it. But for how long? When I get to NYC, we will be entering into a new stage of our relationship, yes, but it will still be an LDR. So how much different will it be, really? I will be physically closer to him, but we still won't really be sharing our lives. How well can you really know someone if you only see him once every week, or two weeks, or three weeks?

When you're about to embark on the adventure of your life, these are the questions you're forced to ask yourself. It sucks because it hurts, both yourself and others. But it's better to ask beforehand and be prepared than to enter into something blindly just because it's easier.

Majorly yours.

Over driving

One of the myriad reasons I am so looking forward to moving to NYC is that I really hate driving. Well, I don't hate the act of driving itself, I just hate that there are other people on the road who think they have the right to drive at the same time I am driving. I mean WTF? I am very impatient with stupid people and bad drivers, I drive offensively, and I yell a lot. All of these reasons probably relate to my getting in a minor fender bender last month. Suck.

This is what I drove to work in this morning.

In case you can't tell, it's rainy and thundery and windy and nasty. It has been raining since approximately 10 last night, and it hasn't stopped. As a result I drove through several huge puddles on my way to work. Vom.

Anyway, I can't wait to not have to worry about it anymore. Of course my dislike of driving will probably be replaced by a general dislike of public transit, because the grass is always greener I guess. And I suppose walking in the rain is going to suck more than driving in it. But for right now I am so looking forward to walking everywhere and taking the subway and the occasional splurge-y cab ride.

E-mail of the day from a senior editor at a huge mag in NYC: "Sorry for my MIA-ness—just been busy over here!"

I quickly forgave her, because obvs anyone who says "MIA-ness" is meant to be my BFF.

Majorly yours.