Feng Shui, Or Something Like It

Our apartment has been completely redefined. I don’t even recognize it some days, and mornings when it’s still dark outside my feet have recently had some run-ins with our new hallway furniture on the way to my toothbrush.

Did I ever mention that my room is a cave? I may or may not live with bats- it’s questionable. We've all has started to make vampire-hissing noises when we walk outside in the morning- the cheap gallery lighting in our place keeps playing tricks on my retinas.

AV and KR went to a hardware store Saturday morning, and I returned from a sample sale to find the sidelined wooden dresser we found the other night looking almost unrecognizable. They had taken out the rusty gold handles, spackled some holes and painted it black. I even took one for the team and stopped by an Anthropologie to get new drawer pulls. I know, so self-sacrificing. Kind of like how KR “allows” AV and I to wake up before her on the weekdays, staying in bed so as not to monopolize the bathroom. It’s all about balance, really.

Late Saturday afternoon I went for a walk/jog down Riverside Drive, right by the new buildings lining the river on the West side. I ventured down near the water, and it was practically deserted. That’s one thing about living in Manhattan- you are rarely alone. There are always people everywhere. I took full advantage of it as I ran up and down the stretch of pavement, admiring the view, and eventually found a pier to walk down. I walked to the very edge and turned around to take in the full view of the city.

I almost wished I had brought my camera along, but I also liked the fact that I was the only one seeing the West side in the setting pink sunset. Well, me and everyone in Hoboken, New Jersey, right across the river.

I read an article about brunettes this weekend, and it used words describing us as being perceived as “trustworthy” and “responsible”. We can’t even get “mysterious”? The only thing those adjectives will come in handy for will be the next time I run for student council secretary of my fifth grade class.

Speaking of fifth grade, I survived my headband yesterday, a la Blair Waldorf. It may have actually been the first time in my life I’ve worn one for an entire day. I am a weak being indeed, considering I did not last two hours before taking ibuprofen.

Hey, the article didn't say anything about a high pain tolerance.

“Show me a girl with her feet planted firmly on the ground and I’ll show you a girl who can’t put her pants on.”
– Annik Marchand

We Asked For It

Figure I: "Fate has me highly skilled and loaded with talent." -Vince Vaughn, "The Break-Up"
Figure II: My bag of tricks

So, Ikea. Again.

As the saying goes- fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

The thing this- we were not fooled, we just ARE fools. We awoke on Sunday morning, the subject of going to New Jersey levitating over us as we had our coffee and cereal, and finally the decision was made.

We would go.

Dragging RM by the heels- KR and I led onward to the Port Authority. We got on the bus, and 40 minutes later were dropped off in front of the Swedish furniture and meatball-making house of horrors. It was even more chaotic and crowded than I remembered- if that’s even possible.

We had a list of what we needed, and having made mistakes the last time, we crept our way through the store with the rest of the herd determined to make our trip as short as possible. A desk, a bedside table, an ottoman and a dresser later, we realized that we would be requiring a plan B for returning home. And that is when renting a car became a viable option.

Lucky for the millions who are car-less in the Tri-State area, Ikea has a rental car company situated right inside the exit doors. So when you’re desperately wheeling your huge cardboard boxes into the freezing cold, you have the option of breaking down and paying the $85 because you're under the age of 25.

And who even has a map of New Jersey? Not I. Not KR, and definitely not RM, who was the driver-elect. Lucky for us, though, we and our furniture made it through the Lincoln Tunnel unscathed.

The hitch in the giddy-up was the fact that the Kia had to be returned to New Jersey the same day, or else we would be charged more for dropping it off in Manhattan, or we would be charged for keeping it an extra day. How very inconvenient.

So to Manhattan we went to haul the furniture upstairs, and back to New Jersey we fled, wanting to make it back before the 6 PM bus left. There was a small altercation with a man and his P.A. system, but we lost him somewhere under a bridge headed to Jersey City.

Sunday night we went to dinner in our neighborhood, then to see 27 Dresses. It received our high approval rating- probably because of all the weddings going on with friends our age these days.

Monday morning we woke up to face the music of all the long skinny boxes lining the even longer and skinnier hallway that stretches the length of our apartment. Alright, so we woke up at 11:15 and the day got started a little late- don’t hate me because my employer celebrates National holidays.

I bought RM a latte got him to join me at Best Buy- which wasn’t hard seeing as he stared in awe at the wall of huge televisions watching old college football highlights while I was on the phone with my Dad, asking which to purchase. He took advantage of racking up points on his Best Buy reward cards as I paid, which made me feel better about asking him to carry it home.

We got down to business assembling furniture (with the help of the $9.99 toolkit purchased at Ikea) and may have actually finished assembling everything we purchased. We were all so proud, too. AV and AV II got back from running errands and I was so eager to show them what I had made- talk about creating a new sense of self worth. You would have thought I was a newly potty-trained toddler.

We hammered and nailed things and finished in time for our reservation at Butter- an NYC celebrity-spotting haven… or so we read about the next morning. While we were enjoying our pea soup and osso buco, courtesy of Restaurant Week, we kept a shrewd eye out for anyone noteworthy. The music was well-selected and the food was rich, but I left with little more than a matchbook and the sinking feeling that my nice long weekend was winding down.

Imagine my surprise when Kristen sent me a link to a celeb-spotting website Tuesday, confirming that Giselle and Tom were seen dining a few tables away from Leonardo Di Caprio Monday night.

At Butter.

“Should we have stayed home and thought of here?”
- Elizabeth Bishop

We'll Talk About This In The Morning

“Three day weekend” is officially my new favorite phrase.

How glorious to wake up on a Monday morning, realize you’re late for work, subsequently realize that it is freezing outside, it is indeed a holiday, and go right back to sleep for two hours.

Our weekend with RM was nothing short of whirlwind, which is what he always promises on his trips to the city. Friday night AV’s sister AV (we’ll call her AV II to avoid confusion) flew into town for the weekend. RM had already been here- I was greeted in my room by his two big bags full of business professional/business casual/weekend city GQ sprawling in all directions. The three of them left and went to see Mary Poppins, and KR and I were content with a night indoors.

Saturday we woke up to a deceivingly sunny day. It was also frigid. KR and I dragged RM out of the house and out to the new Magnolia Bakery, which is now located in dangerously close proximity to our apartment. They grabbed cupcakes and we jumped on the C-train going downtown to Union Square.

RM browsed the artists in the park while KR and I ventured into Forever 21. A great place for inexpensive and fun clothes, I was confused to find some weird “collection” they’ve started, which is basically like all the other clothes they sell, just with different tags and higher prices. Who do they think they’re fooling here?

We weaved in and out of other furniture stores, a burger place, TJ Maxx, etc. before heading home. We headed home early because AV had made everyone dinner reservations at La Esquina. With five people getting ready in one bathroom, we walked out the door about ten minutes before the reservation. Feeling ambitious on our way to the subway, we spotted a three-door antique dresser on the side of our street with a sign attached that read ‘please give me a good home (sad face)”.

As if on cue, RM picked it up and started walking back to our place. Being the only girl who wore flats, I helped. We had to shove into a cab, and were still about 25 minutes late for our reservation, but they let us in anyways. There were earpieces, walkie talkies and lists involved, but we still got in. Thank goodness too, because the Bistec tacos at La Esquina would have been missed.

We roamed around in the plummeting temperatures, looking for a bar some of RM’s college friends had mentioned to him earlier. Come to find out, it doesn’t exist anymore. Neato.

AV and AV II headed home for the evening after a long day walking around the city, and so KR, RM and I found a laid back bar called the Spring Lounge to sit and chat in until the rest of the city finally decided it was late enough and cold enough to go outside. We got corner seats on wooden benches by the windows, which were perfect for people- watching inside and outside while all the hipsters ventured into their trendy venues of choice.

RM’s friends from college, as well as friends of those friends, met up with us along the way, and we ended up at a crowded bar on Ludlow street on the Lower East Side. We paid five dollars to go upstairs, hoping it would be less crowded, and found it much less so, and with a good DJ. RM made it his job to make sure everyone was having a good time, and KR and I ended up hanging out with two guys from Boston. The guy I talked to got my number before I left, and I was joking with KR thinking that I am now “ Texas Girl from some New York bar” in his phone.

All of this after a day spent listening to RM lecture us about how you can meet nice people at bars. Being accused for years of being snobby and picky when it comes to guys, we finally heard RM say that he was “so proud” of us. Thanks, Dad.

Sunday involved a trip (actually two) to Ikea in New Jersey, which is another story for another day. Probably tomorrow… maybe Wednesday. I’m also going to get with the program on my picture posting. Even though I glow like Casper under a flash these days.

“Enjoy yourself. These are the good old days you’re going to miss in the years ahead.”
- Anonymous

The Wonder Years

I'm 23 years old today. Okay actually I've been 23 for two days, but who is counting?

I'm wondering how it's possible to feel as old and as young as I do at the same time. Old because I have graduated college and have entered the working world, and young because my entire adult life is just beginning.

Last year on my birthday I was still at home for Christmas break, snowed in and unable to leave home (literally) because the weather was so icey. It was the Sunday before MLK, and I walked in the snow and ice to my friend MK's house for a tea party. Before my parents moved, I lived in a neighborhood with several of my close friends within walking-distance.

I remember the next day meeting up with my roommate KW and having the most nerve-racking driving experience of my life trying to get back to College Station. You never realize how many bridges and overpasses you cross on a three and a half hour drive until you're praying for your life over EACH and EVERY one of them.

File that under "things I never told my parents".

I spent Monday wishing and hoping that we would get a few snow flurries, so that I could sing the rendition I had already come up with of "I'm dreaming of a white birthday". It didn't happen, or if it did, I was already asleep. I'm 23 now people! My bedtime peaked on or surrounding my 19th birthday, when I was a freshman in college and I survived on croissant sandwiches, my daily dose of Days Of Our Lives and five or six hours of sleep a night.

Our friend RM is back in town for job training- he blew into town in his typical outlaw-fashion, and took AV, KR and I out to dinner at a quaint, dimly-lit little Italian place about 20 blocks up from us.

AV and KR made me vanilla-on-vanilla cupcakes with pink and light purple frosting for the occasion. I also hauled a huge box home from work that my Mom had mailed me the other day- so we were all fixed up with little kid sunglasses, Mardi Gras beads, huge plastic cocktail rings and Happy Birthday headbands. Barbie herself could not have dreamed up a better party. RM left to go back to his hotel at 10:30 and we all practically collapsed from exhaustion.

My friend MC from work has a birthday tomorrow, and so last night we and our other assistant friends all went out for a joint birthday happy hour at a bar near our office. It was nice to get to hang out, relax and enjoy a drink without the usual constraints of the lunch hour.

I was asked for 23 pieces of wisdom the other night by RM- and I gave him a few “Rome wasn’t built in a day, dance like no one is watching, if it’s not broken then don’t fix it” clichés… and not because I felt like being smart, or because I’m actually incredibly witty, but because I kind of realized that I didn’t have anything to say.

I mentioned the goal-setting/goal-reaching thing a few posts ago- that with the combination of my rapid aging has gotten me thinking. I feel like I accomplished what I set out to do as a 22-year-old, and I hope to do the same this year.

23 obviously worked some magic for Michael Jordan.

While I’m figuring out what exactly my special somethings for 23 will be, I can certainly say that I am very loved, and Monday reminded me of that. So thanks to everyone who called, e-mailed, text-ed, IMed and Facebook-ed me to wish me well. And thanks for reading this; because that’s the best birthday gift I could ask for.

"I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of starts makes me dream."
- Vincent Van Gogh

There's Always Next Year

How ‘bout them Cowboys?

Alright, obviously this blog is here to chronicle my New York experience, but I would be insulting my family, my state and all that is good and holy if I did not stay loyal to the Texas A&M Aggies, the Dallas Mavericks and clearly- America’s Team: The Dallas Cowboys. I also like the Stars and the Rangers, but I don’t take the time to keep up with them on a regular basis. I’ve got the game on as I’m updating today.

Dang, the Giants already scored. Rough start. I can practically hear my Dad and brother yelling all the way across the country.

I actually enjoy watching sports. (I say “actually” because I’m a girl, and due to gender expectations, it’s more of a bonus than inherent). My Dad always took the time to explain different games to me when I was younger and answer my 376 questions regarding whatever we were watching. There was that one time he tried to convince me there was a new rule in the NBA that sanctioned four-point shots, and I kind of believed him until he couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. That was actually kind of recent…

My Dad is also concerned about the size and number of T.V.’s in our apartment (small and one), and thus we will soon be the recipients of a new flat screen for my birthday. I’m just buying my time until our friend RM gets in town for job training again this week, and then I’ll con him into some physical labor.

Why does Tony Romo look so nervous right now? The Giants just hit him with a blitz and he looked like he had never seen one before. Lest we forget the fumble on the one yard line last season.

My parents said that this morning in Sunday School, their friend who teaches the class had written the prayer requests on a dry-erase board, as usual, and in an upper corner apart from the others, wrote “Tony”. Quarterbacks are people too; they prayers just like everyone else.

Okay, T.O. scored a T.D. All is well.

I’m starting to yell now, maybe that’s why I’ve been left alone to watch the game.

I think I like watching sports because (as per the aforementioned reasons)
1. I know what’s going on for the most part,
2. Games never get old- unlike reality T.V. shows and sitcoms that taper off after a few seasons, and
3. No two games are alike. The players, the feel of the game, the season. All are unrepeatable.
I have no idea why I’m suddenly waxing poetic about my love of the game. It’s the play-offs- they do this to me. Just wait until March Madness- I take bracketology to a whole new level.

The Boys scored again. 14-7. A 20-play, 10 ½ minute drive. I like it.

Okay so I left during halftime to cook dinner and ended up listening to the third quarter from the kitchen. I made it back in front of the T.V. by the beginning of the fourth quarter, but most of the damage had already been done. They lost… again. The interception in the end-zone at the end was just the icing on the cake. You could even hear the disappointment in former Cowboys’ star Troy Aikman’s voice as they wrapped up the commentary.

I knew it was you, Tony. You broke my heart. You broke my heart!

"It is not enough to be good if you have the ability to be better."
- Alberta Lee Cox

Grass Is Always Greener

I was introduced to a new breed of awesome this week. I simply called a restaurant on Monday to make a reservation, and was subjected over the phone to the physical equivalent of a full-body search.

Credit card information, multiple contact phone numbers, e-mail address, blood type, first born. The usual drill for a Tuesday lunch.

The Customs Official on the other end of the phone proceeded to e-mail me a list of terms and conditions (including fiscal penalty per guest if the reservation was cancelled) regarding the lunch. There was a signature under her name that read ‘Reservationist’. Even as I write this, my spell-check is telling me that it’s not a word.

Thank you, Microsoft, I knew she was taking her fake job way too seriously.

Speaking of people who are on vacation- my brother is currently in Colorado skiing with his buddies. Am I bitter? No, not quite. Jealous? Nail on the head. But these are the kind of things that happen when you’re on the verge of your 23rd birthday.

I looked up at a bakery the other day to see a package of birthday candles- which I had never noticed come by the two-dozens. I’ve never been the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to math, but that means that in two short years the celebration of my birth will require the purchase of two boxes of candles.

I know- looking two years into my future is alarming. That’s why we decided to make brownies tonight. AV was the funds, KR the feet, and I was the talent. We’re a team around here, especially when it comes to food.

KR joined the gym at work, and AV and I have been going on a few power walks this week. We finally made our way over to Riverside Park to explore a little, and enjoyed the normalcy of it; you know the GRASS and the cars on the HIGHWAY. It wouldn’t be strange anywhere else but Manhattan.

Weird how some things can be so out of place- like Tony Romo in Mexico with Jessica Simpson and pals when he should actually be practicing for the play-offs.

Ouch.

“I have always had a dread of becoming a passenger in life.”
- Queen Margaret II of Denmark

NYE in NYC

Obviously New Year’s Eve has come and gone, and once again I find myself recapping, but we all know me well enough to know this isn’t unusual.

CC made it here in one piece, as did AV’s friend LO for the holiday weekend. Since CC got in so late, we went to sleep and did not wake up for a few days. Okay maybe not, but we got close. Sunday CC and I got up and went to brunch at Penelope in Murray Hill, which proved to be delicious as always. I made her walk a lot, and we browsed through Bryant Park on our way to pick up our show tickets.

The one thing CC had insisted on wanting to do was to go see a show, and she chose Jersey Boys. We had Sunday matinee tickets, and though I’d heard how great it was, I had not taken the time to learn what it was actually about. C somehow already had the soundtrack, and so I got to hear all about the music before it even started.

For those less fortunate as not to have Broadway only a subway ride away, Jersey Boys is the story of Franky Valli and the Four Seasons. The music was amazing- especially the guy that played Franky Valli. He hit high notes better than most girls I know. I do know some really bad singers though, myself not excluded.

AV had made the four of us reservations at a fun little dive-looking restaurant later on Sunday night. It was typical New York-chic: completely unassuming from outside, unmarked and underground. We walked down a narrow staircase, through the kitchen and into the lounge and bar area where we waited for our table to be ready.

It was smaller than I imagined, very intimate and dimly lit, which obviously makes it the perfect celeb hang-out. No sooner had we discussed this when we sat down, than one of the girls at the table next to us asked if we had spotted anyone. We had not, and neither had they, but they said the last time one of them was there George Clooney was sitting at the table right behind him. GEORGE CLOONEY- a.k.a. male perfection. I would not have even known what to do with myself.

Good thing he wasn’t there.
Monday CC and I went to the Met, and roamed through the Age of Rembrandt exhibit, as well as the European paintings and a fashion exhibit. We met up with our friends W&MD at Bloomingdale’s for hot chocolate and to catch up after the holidays. We roamed around a few stores when we left- all completely ransacked in post-Christmas turmoil.

We cooked dinner at home with AV and LO, and found a good alternative to the Times Square crazies by going downtown to the Brooklyn Bridge to see fireworks. We ran out to the perfect place on the bridge, took pictures and admired the skyline as we waited for midnight to roll around. It came and went, thousands of others with us waiting for show. People finally began to file off the bridge- we waited and watched several forms of NYPD appear on the scene for some unknown reason.

Defeated, and reminded that New Year’s is continually overrated, we went home. A cute older woman in a floor-length black fur coat, matching black leather gloves and red lipstick was standing dumbfounded with her husband and an open bottle of Veuve Cliqueot, and said in her perfect Yankee accent as we were leaving: “I’m embarrassed as a New Yorker! They always have fireworks here!”

The one year I’m in New York for New Year’s it turns out lame. Hopefully it’s not an indication of how the rest of 2008 will turn out. Before I sound even more like Debbie Downer- I’ll go ahead and wrap this up.

KR sent me a funny e-card website yesterday, and my favorite one was for a graduate, and read: “congratulations on getting through the easiest part of life”, with a kid in a cap and gown, waving his diploma.

Welcome to 2008.

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach our eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Farewell 2007

2007 has been a big year.

It was a year of endings and beginnings, milestones and other life-changing events. I remember a teacher in high school letting us do Top Five lists periodically in class, to get the day started when we came into class with particularly apathetic adolescent attitudes.

I always thought it was fun, and ever the list-maker, I thought I would do a year-end top five full of cliche categories to sum up my year.

Top Five:

Songs of 2007:
- “Apologize" -Timbaland feat. OneRepublic
- “Stereo” –John Legend
- “No One” –Alicia Keyes
- “Won’t Go Home Without You” –Maroon 5
- “Only Grace” –Matthew West

Memories of the Year:
- Watching the sunset on the beach in Destin, Florida over Spring Break with my friends
- Finding out that I could, indeed successfully complete two math courses in the same semester of college
- Graduating
- Moving three times… oops, wrong list
- Spending my first Christmas in my parents’ new home in Texas

New York Moments:
- Discovering the washer/dryer in the studio we were living in with MK
- Walking into the apartment we now live in for the first time, and actually getting excited about living here
- Waking up to the first snow in the city
- The first time I was asked for directions and could successfully help the confused party
- Leaving IKEA alive

I have learned that with all of the changes and decisions life throws at you, you have to commit to a direction and go with it. If you stand staring at a closed door, you’ll miss everything happening behind you. And by ‘everything’, I mean life.

2007 taught me to take life as it comes. Plans are useless, but goals are important. My dad told me in high school to write down my goals and keep them somewhere I could see them often. The goals had so be tangible and also realistic. I did write them down, when I started my college career, and I recently took the time to read my list again and see that I had indeed accomplished my goals. I could hardly marvel and pat myself on the back for long before I realized that it only meant I should take it upon myself to create new ones. I told my dad this over Christmas and so instead of making New Year’s Resolutions, I get to make a new list of goals for myself.

New York is the perfect place for me right now because it is making me the best version of myself. I think AV and KR would agree that the city accepts only the best. You have to work hard to get to here, to stay here and to thrive here.

This time last year I had just returned home from the city, visiting with my friends, and the thought of moving to NYC was hidden in the far reaches of my mind.

What a difference a year makes.

"Nothing is too wonderful to be true."
-Michael Faraday