Monthly Archives: June 2014

Sunday, A dog shit blood on the sidewalk and I think I saw my first celebrity….



So my first week in the city ended with a free three hour self defense course on Friday evening. I went home a little tipsy (they gave us cider) and happy.  Yes, that seems counterintuitive: a women’s self defense course located in a dojo in one of the many darkened warehouse streets of the city that ended at 10 pm and let us free with alcohol in our veins.  But I promise it wasn’t that weird.  We had plenty of time to digest and eat chips and chat and make friends to walk to the train with and it was exactly what I had wanted to do once I got to New York.  They did warn us that the moves we learned needed to be practiced—they cautioned us against becoming overconfident for having momentarily excelled at maneuvers that needed to become second nature to ever be of use.   But I will say that it was exceptionally empowering to learn about—to understand—my body as a thing of force, rather than a thing to be invaded.  And once having had that sense, it is easier to envision future potentialities without fear.  

Screen Shot 2014-06-17 at 2.40.42 PM  


The rest of the week I trained for the host position I’d interviewed for on Tuesday.  I am happy to say I am officially on the schedule now, even if the promised “full time” hours never materialize.  It is good just to know I’ll be getting a paycheck in a few weeks.  I had another interview on Thursday or so, and could not tell them what my availability would be until the other job scheduled me.  The places have similar hours though, so it looks like, if the second still works out, I will mostly be working at night. That leaves daytime for ‘real job’ applications, portfolio work, and room for a publishing internship/job come fall.


IMG_8584 IMG_8596The weekend also brought Brooklyn Pride Parade and a great night of dancing afterwards.  One of the things I miss most about New College is the ‘Walls’: our school-wide parties on Fridays and Saturdays that centers around dancing and drank. I love dancing, sober and otherwise, and didn’t get to do it much this past year in any public venue.  That feeling of ‘ecstatic wonder’ that the best of New College experience embodies is what we hope to take with us when we graduate.



 Saturday and Sunday I went in for the rest of training for the brunch shift.  I was posted as a door host (read: one of those idiots standing outside attempting to smile but not too creepily at passerby) and spent the best of the time chatting with my fellow hostess, Kim. This work environment is very communal, at least from what I’ve seen. There are ‘family dinners’ at four and the staff often goes out after work together.  It’s exactly the type of place I wanted to work to start putting out some feelers and setting down roots.  And I don’t know why I can’t seem to cease to be surprised that anywhere you go you can meet people that feel like people you have met before—call it ‘archetypes’ or ‘casting,’ or whatever you will.  But that too is reassuring in a macro sense.



  It was while attempting to smile at passing (mostly hetero) couples invitingly without essentially flirting with just the male counterparts (easier said than done when it proved easier to catch their eyes) and while trying not to make mental/visual comparisons of myself to other images (also beckoning, also trying to sell something) that the dog shat.  A small black spaniel a few steps behind his owner started crouching down and the next thing we knew, there were blood clot splatters literally only in front of our doorstep.  The owner apologized with a hurried “Oh I’m so sorry, we just got back from the vet’s and he’s still having problems” but produced no poop bag, which would have been impractical given the consistency.   I burst out laughing and Kim, horrified, spent the next ten minutes tossing water onto the sidewalk in between unsuspecting passerby.  During that time, I am pretty sure I saw the guy who looks like Andrew Garfield but isn’t (let’s call him a C-lister).  He was tall, dressed smartly, and walked with purpose through the crowd while talking on his Bluetooth with that air of absolute focus…. that most New Yorkers maintain.  But I’m still pretty sure he was a ‘someone.’    


Welp, That Happened.  (First Monday in the City)


CAM00640  CAM00721CAM00651

I almost missed my flight leaving Florida.  I cleaned up and organized my room and threw stuff out and burned countless piles of paper days before and up until the last, and I almost didn’t leave.  I said many goodbyes and had two bon voyage parties and kissed my cats several times and thought I’d packed what I could (two big bags and a small carpet bag carry-on) and I almost missed the flight: because of a navigation error and a full parking terminal and a jittery hand scrolling past “add additional bags” on the self-service kiosk and a few extra TSA checkpoints that made no sense.   My mom insisted on taking multiple pictures of stressed-me smiling and a 40-something guy offered freaked-out-me lunch or at least a drink if I didn’t make my flight and they called my name over the intercom as I sprinted, half in my shoes, to Gate 2 for the most final of final boarding calls.  And then I was on, and we waited, and then we were rolling on the tarmac, and Florida finally vomited me out.


CAM00632 (1)


Thoughts on Leaving

–Did that airport guy really just ask me my age when my dad asked him where I was to check in for Delta?

— Hell yes, my carry-on carpet-bag fits (I always wanted a carpet bag)

— TSA better not have jacked my stuff

–That Mercury in retrograde ALMOST had me.

–“Running Late to Airplanes: A Memoir” 

Three hours later, a long interlude in a baggage claims office while I was trying to get online with my phone to access my bank account to pay my Metro PCS bill to access the internet again (those Catch 22’s are forever in style) while listening to some guy with an open bag complaining about his stolen Kindle and a disgruntled Brooklyn hipster saddened by the state of customer service:

“This company is just making it harder for those who have lost their bags to reclaim them…My favorite shirt? What kind of a question is that? They are all my favorite shirts, how’s that for a favorite?…..Well your manager has a manager who has a manager who has a manager, right?”


Now I’m here, in NYC.   So in a way, this is the year-long-prophesied follow-up to my “Me and I” page.  It’s me, in the future, now, with nothing but the NYC part filled in.


I’m staying at my best friend’s place until I find a sublet, I’ve already been to two amazing free workshops (gentrification and book-binding) , and I’ve got an interview tomorrow.

Wish me luck.