bird by bird

"Much of what I saw terrified me, yet I was intensely happy, perhaps because my fear was the closest thing I'd felt in months to a genuine emotion, but also because I'd already fallen in love with the excess, the overabundance: too many people, too much to see, too much noise, too many bright colors. It seemed less like overload than replenishment after the sensory-deprivation tank in which I'd been living." "Going Native" by Francine Prose

EH and I have spent most of the night laying in our bed searching IKEA online (counting down the hours until we have our own beds). Then LS reminded me of these scene from Fight Club. It's so fitting and so freaking true.

When I was in grad school and I was overwhelmed with how smart everyone else was, I would tell myself, "It's ok, girl. Maybe you ain't as book smart, but you gots street smarts, yo!" Now, I'm hanging out on the streets everyday, and I'm realizing that I ain't street smart either! I am lost all the time; the subway is like a labrynth with no Bowie. Even simple tasks like operating elevator buttons and getting cashier checks are like complex mind games. I'm a bumbling idiot who follows "real New Yorkers" around, and it has become apparent to me and everyone around me that I have absolutely NO street smarts. I am awkward and uncertain and naive virtually all of the time, but there was one glorious and fleeting moment last weekend when I finally got to be the cool kid... We went to an NYU swim team party, and all my friends bought 40's at the deli on the corner. When we got to the party, we all realized that no one had a bottle opener. Ju

Whoa, baby. I live in New York City! It's only been 5 days, and I'm already falling behind on documenting this unbelievable experience. I have been so lost, astonished, confused, elated, and exhausted, but above all I feel so alive . Let me first introduce my friends/roommates/tour guides... EH is a best friend from high school. We currently share a room, a futon, and a suitcase covered bedroom floor, and we're hopefully moving into our new apartment next week. Until then, we're staying with EH's best friend EO and her boyfriend. We're so lucky that they're letting us crash here until we get moved in! There are also a couple of other guys who live here too, who are great and are actually really diligent about putting down the toilet seat. Thanks guys! In total there are 3 boys and 3 girls.. but we're nothing like the Brady Bunch. Trust me. Thanks to my new friends and their ability to navigate the public transportation system (which I still have yet

Tomorrow I meet with my new family! They live in a townhouse on the upper west side, and they're paying me more than I've ever made to play with their kids, take them to school, and schedule "play dates." It is going to be awesome, and I'm sure plenty of blogworthy stories will arise. Stay tuned. 

I made it! EH and I are going apartment hunting in the a.m. so I have been googling murder and rape rates in potential neighborhoods . This was a terrible idea. Addicting, but really terrible. We found ourselves saying "only 67 rapes in this neighborhood last year" and "only 11 murders, that's nothing!" EH and I just looked at each other and realized it was time to log off. I'm tired and anxious and excited tonight. MORE UPDATES TO COME!

In 24 short/long hours, I will be taking off from SF airport on a one-way ticket to NYC. I have been anticipating this flight for months, but what I didn't anticipate is the amount of shit I have to take with me. And it's not just the amount of shit that is the problem but also the weight of the shit. I just told EH that if it was July right now, I would be packing tiny tanks and flip flops instead of winter boots, coats, and sweaters. My luggage is out of control, and I still have close in the dryer and another pair of boots in the closet. On a related note, the forecast in NYC for tomorrow is 39 degrees. Maybe I could just pack flip flops after all.

I keep having to remind my mother, "I am not dying ." It doesn't really make saying goodbye any easier to either of us. This month, there have been so many goodbyes, and every time I walk away from somebody without really knowing when I'll get to see him or her again, I get sentimental and nostalgic, and I get a little sad. It's funny to me how much we all appreciate each other when we are close to saying goodbye. In preparation of my big move, I've written letters, sent cards, and had phone calls to many of the people I love. I've declared my love, recalled fond memories, and confessed my sadness in leaving, but what continues to bewilder me is, what took so long ? Why don't I tell the people I love "I LOVE YOU PEOPLE" all the time, every day? A good friend once quoted a good rapper who said, "People never get the flowers while they can still smell them." It's so true, you know. We all care about each other so much, but som

There are some brilliant, beautiful, inspiring people in the world who really love me, and no matter what I do, I still can't quite figure it out. They remember me on happy days like graduation and sad days like anniversaries. They call and email, and they drive hundreds of miles to hang out with me. Just to hang out! I know I don't deserve it, but I'm sure glad they haven't caught on to the fact that they are all much cooler than I am (and please, don't tell). This past month, my friends have gone out of their way (way out of their way) to spend time with me before I go. It all sort of hit me on Friday night when we were dancing at Club David in SF and CS requested "New York State of Mind"by Jay-Z. When the song came on, I ran up on the sweaty stage to share a sweaty mic with the sweaty DJ (if that's what you want to call him), and my friends were waving their arms and screaming the lyrics with me. As [admittedly] corny as it all sounds. I knew look

This is me in 1 week.

Even though it looks like a regular run of the mill Irish pub from the outside, Dempsey's holds a lot of really personal memories for me. I remember the summer I turned 19 when I started serving there and was admittedly one of the worst waitresses on staff. I gave out tartar sauce instead of sour cream, forgot to give refills, and one time I asked a gentleman how he would like his philly cheese steak prepared. My dad came in often, and on Thursday nights he brought his keyboard in and was "the piano man." He modified the name John for Bill when he sang: Now Bill at the bar is a friend of mine He gets me my drinks for free And he's quick with a joke and he'll light up your smoke But there's some place that he'd rather be We jokingly competed for tips; though at the end of the night, he always emptied his tip jar and gave me the money. On St. Patrick's Day when I was 20, my dad played music at Dempsey's all afternoon, earning himself a free

Wouldn't it be cool if this was a preview for EH's and my adventure in NYC?! I told her that what we lack in wealth, we make up for in booty. Seriously, we do.

This last one's kind of weird. (And why are my eyes closed?)

After a long day while standing in a hot shower When you're feeling angst-y and high schooler-y When you feel happy and sad at the same time and you don't know what to do about it Right before something big is about to happen When you really want to get over someone already For when he's being a dickhead When you're feeling a little unsteady During a full moon When you're feeling funky When you're nostalgic  When you're driving with the windows rolled down (and only when the windows are rolled down) When you're swooning over someone wonderful When your mind is telling you no, but your body is telling you yes

I'm teen-sitting MJ this week, and it's caused me to remember some things about my own experience with adolescence, specifically the horror of the two years of middle school. I generally have tried to block out that especially embarrassing, awkward, and insecure time of my life, but the memories have been flooding back since I dropped MJ off at school on Monday morning. I suddenly remember so many awful experiences and anxieties. For example, I f-ing hated story problems. I still do. I love stories; hate the problems. I overheard MJ reading one out-loud involving pies in a bakery, and I became anxious immediately. By the way, those teachers totally lied to us. We absolutely can use calculators in the real world. Also, how terrible were the rules in middle school?! No gum, no bookbags, no going to the bathroom without a huge hall pass like the one that Mr. L made us use that was actually a toilet seat. And gym uniforms? Gold shorts and purple shirts. Pu-lease. When I was in mi

It's one of those rare but great conversations that you have with someone you just met. It's an unexpected meeting, not planned or premeditated, and you're wearing something you threw on last minute unsure about whether or not you remembered deodorant. You start talking and keep talking, and there's no awkward silences or lulls in the conversation. The server or bartender can barely get a word in to see you if you want a refill or are ready for your check. You find that you both appreciate the same things about the Catholic church, or you both love American literature (but only the early 20th century stuff), or you both think Kanye is genius despite the fact that he's a huge douche. He thinks you're funny, and you think he's real. An hour into your talking and you already have inside jokes and deeper understandings about where each of you come from. You laugh loudly and you nod enthusiastically and agreeably, and so does he. You can't stop smiling becaus

Don't tell me you don't know what love is When you're old enough to know better When you find strange hands in your sweater When your dreamboat turns out to be a footnote I'm a man with a mission in two or three editions And I'm giving you a longing look Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book Chapter One we didn't really get too far Chapter Two I think I fell in love with you You said you'd stand by me in the middle of Chapter Three But you were up to your old tricks in Chapters Four, Five and Six And I'm giving you a longing look Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book The way you walk The way you talk, and try to kiss me, and laugh In four or five paragraphs All your compliments and your cutting remarks Are captured here in my quotation marks And I'm giving you a longing look Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book Don't tell me you don't know the difference Between a lover and a fighter With my

I have a Bachelor's degree and a Master's degree. I can teach, write, snow blow, and make superb brownies. I am tall so I can reach things on the top shelf, and I'm friendly, so I'll do it if you ask politely. Despite my many talents and skills, I still painfully unemployed. During the few weeks left that I'm spending in South Dakota, I have been determined to make as much mola as possible before I'm unemployed in one of the most expensive cities in America. This has involved selling old clothes to D's closet, selling old books on half.com, and selling my bed on craig's list. There's been some sketchy interactions, but I've made almost $200. Next, I decided to pick up some shift's at Dempsey's, where I serve as the worst waitress on staff (yet ironically, the most highly educated). My immediate confession to my patrons that "I just started" has made up for my lack of experience, and the tips have actually been quite good. Just

At the end of every semester, students at USD fill out evaluations that rate the instructor and the course. At the bottom of every evaluation, students are given space to write personalized comments for the instructor, and these comments are typed up and given to the instructor several weeks after grades have been given. A lot of the comments are really generic. Comments like "instructor gave too much homework" or "great class, terrible textbook" or "I hate English" are the most frequent comments, but occasionally, students write comments that are very memorable. Here are the 'best' comments I have received for each of the three semesters that I taught freshman English. Please keep in mind, they are freshman. (I really can't stress that enough). First semester: "Amanda is the rudest person I have ever met" --bitchy student Second semester: "your a good teacher, eaisy and comfertable to get along with" --clearly unimproved

KG told me about this guy and how hilarious and right-on he is about relationships. See for yourself. Do you have advice about a breakup? Thinking about breaking up with someone? Don't draw it out—nothing is worse than the humiliating realization, some days after you've been dumped, that the person who dumped you wanted out of the relationship weeks or months earlier. Just been broken up with? Cry, eat, delete (phone numbers, e-mail, texts, sexts), defriend, hit the gym, hit on someone else. I'm the "other woman" to a man 14 years my senior. I left home for school, and he stopped contacting me—this after 1.5 years and visions of a future together. Did I get played? Yup.