I (still) LOVE NEW YORK... one year later!

Get a cup of coffee and get cozy. This is a LONG one..

I had high hopes for writing a kick-ass year review in the end of December when I was home nursing my wisdom teeth craters, but I instead I watched a ton of holiday shows and drolled on the couch for three days straight. Then when I came back to NYC, gal pals TBK and CS came for the best New Year's Eve I could imagine and we galavanted around the city for the long weekend. Then I started back at work as a full-time hated nanny for three little nanny-haters. Hence, my deep contemplation and analysis of my past year has been pushed back once again, and I've decided that instead of writing a reflection of 2011, I am going to look back on my first full year in New York City. 1 year ago today.

That's right folks, today is my city-versary! I'm One New York year old!!

THE START:
I moved to New York City on January 26th, 2011 during the worst blizzard of NYC's winter. My flight into La Guardia was the last to land before the 20 inches of snow fell that night. I was surprised by EO and EH at baggage claim, and we threw (read: carefully placed and repositioned several times) my life-containing luggage into EO's mini-coop, turned on the windshield wipers, and popped in a burned CD I had made as we crossed the bridge into Manhattan. This song played as we drove into Harlem at night, the Apollo Theater on the right, 3 wig shops/African braiding salons to our right. Here in Harlem is where it all began.

I had a fresh-off-the-press Master's degree but no job and no apartment. Every night for our first week, EH and I crammed into a tiny futon at EO's place which she shared with three other toilet-seat-courteous dudes until we found our own Harlem apartment. At a properties office in Midtown, I wrote a check for the amount of money that I had been saving for the past six months. It was truly painful. I moved my three-piece set of luggage down two Harlem blocks covered in two feet of snow, hauled them up three flights of stairs, and EH and I ordered Chinese food which we ate on the floor in the echos of an empty apartment. We slept on the hardwood floor with nothing but towels and rolled up sweatshirts that night, and went to Ikea the next day where we preceded to buy the bare necessities of furniture and the cheapest that Ikea offered. That night, we slept on beds. Things were looking up.

Moving to the most expensive city in America with money I earned at one of the lowest paying states in America proved to be slightly devastating. It appeared as though every time I even looked at a Duane Reade, zero's disappeared from my bank account. That's not true at all, but I did go broke very quickly which made exploring the food, art, theater, and shopping of the city virtually impossible. I did a lot of looking in windows but never going in those first couple of months. It's all a part of the experience.

From those first few weeks of futon, then floor sleeping with no job and no money, things did eventually look up (they had too, after all). In the year that followed, I had many firsts and a couple lasts, I came and went, I was happy and I was sad. I made friends and found jobs, learned a lot, worked hard, and slept very little. This year has consisted entirely of high highs and low lows, with very few moments of "eh" in between, which is exactly what I wanted. There's plenty of time for "eh's" later on. Although my first year in NYC didn't involve a cute coffee shop called Central Perk with a group of best friends or crazy sexcapades while wearing $400 shoes and drinking cosmopolitan martinis, I think the experience as a whole is still fairly entertaining. You be the judge:




What I remember from the past year, stream-of-conscious-style
(Note: I fully admit that I'm probably leaving big things out, but I want to post before my carriage turns into a pumpkin!) So I type...


JOBS:
I came to New York without a job. It wasn't that I hadn't been looking for work, because I had. I had applied for over 70 jobs ranging from education to writing to answering phones with a nice voice. No one would hire me, so I did what any recently graduated English Master's degree holder would do, I signed up at a nannying agency. I started going on nannying interviews to posh townhouses and suburban mansions to talk to stay-at-home mothers who needed to hire full-time nannies. The first interview I went on (and didn't actually know it was an interview. I stupidly thought I already had the job) was with a family of three little boys ages 1, 3, 6 in a brownstone on the UWS (these dudes become a significant part of my story later on). The next week, I took a 30 minute train to Manaroneck (a suburb of the city) where I met the craziest of all rich, bored moms who told me that she wanted me to be like Julie Andrews, making dresses out of curtains. She had two boys, so I still don't even know what that means. I met with a personal assistant to a Russian businessman with a three-year-old Russian-speaking daughter who told me that the job was $55,000 a year plus travel. A major stipulation was that I couldn't speak of anything regarding religion at all. "If the girl points to a church and asks what it is," said the PA, "Tell her it's a building." I think my work with nuns on my resume really threw me out of the running for this one though I was hoping that my MA in TEACHING ENGLISH AS A SECOND LANGUAGE would be beneficial. Clearly, I'm not still bitter. I interviewed with a Turkish mother at a Starbucks in the UWS, and I didn't get that one either.

 In the meantime, I started working a temp agency where every day I was sent on assignments that ranged from one day to one week long commitments. My first job was at the front desk of an Israeli real estate firm where everyone's name was Aram or Avi or Ari. I worked one day at a PR firm for women's clothing and products where everyone weighed less than 100 pounds and no one looked me in the eye. Bitches. For one week, I worked at a financial office where I showed up hungover on the first day and met my soulmate, an intern who also confessed to me that he was hungover. He stopped at the front desk to talk to me and eat candies all the time, and his name was Jim. We were so funny together, and I was convinced I was his Pam for the whole week. On my last day, we said goodbye at the elevator and he told me to have a nice life. I told him I'd try. In February I went with the family of three boys and their grandparents to the Pocono Mountain resort where we all got the stomach flu. I came back with an empty stomach and $400.

Then I unexpectedly got an interview for a ESL teaching job at a language center next to the Empire State Building. I hadn't prepared myself for actually being able to use my degree, but I winged it in the interview, and an hour later I had a job. I was to start the next day to teach a two hour class in the morning and a two hour class in the evening. That morning my phone rang at 8am and they needed me there to sub immediately. I ended up teaching 10 hours that day. Only 4 of which I had prepared for. There were no lesson plans. I can't begin to describe the anxiety of the first few weeks of impromptu teaching, but I survived it thanks to many mirror pep talks and a lot, I mean a lot, of caffeine. While I was killing myself teaching a zillion hours a week, I was still in major debt and needing to save up for two best friends' weddings in July and September, so I took a weekend job nannying for twin three year olds belonging to a State Senator and well-known NYC bookstore owner. I worked from 8am-8pm every other Saturday and Sunday, following the family carrying scooters, diaper bags, and jackets, and making and serving food that I had never prepared or in some cases, never even heard of (ie lox and eggs, tofu, swordfish). I was teaching from 10am-10pm at the same time, and eventually my 12-days of 12-hour shifts took a toll on me, and I needed to take a step back from nannying. I continued to teach for another 2 months, but then again, ran out of money, this time with the addition of student loan re-payments. So I called the Poconos family of three boys, accepted a full-time nannying job, and gave the language school my two weeks notice. I've been babysitting the three dudes (K, JJ, JT) since October. It's been... rough.

DUDES:
I came to NYC as a single, independent woman, but figured that the single thing was getting a little dull so I tried to push aside all midwestern-pre-conceived notions about online dating and made the plunge in February. I met a lawyer who worked for Amnesty International, and I agreed to go on a date. It. was. awful. At one point during dinner, I literally thought that I was on an MTV reality show and that by sticking it out throughout the whole date, I would win something. No one won that night. No one. A month or so later I met a guy, tall and in school to be some kind of eye doctor, with EH at Crocodile Lounge. He and I exchanged numbers and a few weeks later we ran into each other again, but he was with his girlfriend. There was some major NYC-style drama that night. I'll tell you about it sometime. At separate times throughout the year, I got hit on by three different men on the subway. The first was 50+, missing teeth, and quite obviously not a physical therapist like he claimed to be. The second was a ping-pong instructor who was easily a foot shorter than me and whose first words to me were, "You tall." His english wasn't so great. The third had all his teeth, was taller than me, and spoke articulately and kindly. I hesitantly gave him my phone number, and we went to a museum and to brunch on the afternoon of September 11th. It was a weird day. After being more than slightly concerned about our age difference, I stopped texting back (except for once, months later when I couldn't take it anymore and asked him his age.. 33, he said. Hmm.) These are the most interesting of my not-so-mr-right NYC stories. Although they are pretty good writing material, I wouldn't mind if 2012 cut me some slack and sent me some less traumatic dating experiences.

VISITORS:
As I was working as a temp in March, my mom and sister came to visit during their spring breaks. I had been virtually broke since my arrival and the weather had been shitty so my knowledge of the city was sub-par. I was the blind leading the blind. I was so happy to see them, though, and sad to see them go. For Easter, DP came up from D.C. and of course it rained which of course we loved because of our Hilary Duff history. We made a beautiful Easter meal complete with a football shaped ham, but didn't have time to eat it because of a slow church service and pressing bus schedule. We did get to go to H&M though. In June, LS and her mom came to NYC to visit and explore. They slept on our futon in the parlor and kept me extremely well-fed and happy for the duration of their visit, during which LS turned the big 2-6, and they bought me a ticket to see Wicked! Then in September, ES came from Wisconsin, and we left no NYC rock unturned, taking in all the sights, checking out a weird club in Times Square, ordering in Chinese food, and getting harassed by a man on the street who called me "a real woman, a fine thoroughbred." You had to have been there. MM came up from D.C. a couple of times, and though both trips were short, they were sweet. We did some city stuff, but we mostly laid in bed and had girl talk like when we were in Theta. Mama L, aunt PP, and cousin CP came in October and they impressively adjusted to my constant darting in front of oncoming traffic and occasionally getting us lost. (Yes, it still happens). We ate at cool places, took the big red bus, watched the Vikings play the Packers, and laughed A LOT. For New Year's, TK and a 6-months pregnant CS (what a stud) came into town and we celebrated the end of 2011 and beginning of 2012 by "being bold" in a Times Square office building with a view of the ball. We enjoyed unseasonably warm weather all weekend and saw some things in the city that were new to me too (ie 9/11 memorial and the DASH store). I was sad to see them roll away in a blue shuttle van at 3:00am, but so so happy they came! I wish that every day was a weekend so I could have visitors all the time! Sadly, working weekends and all those pesky errands keep me from hosting as much as I would like to.

HOME SWEET HOME:
Because of my inconstant work life, I have been able to go home three times since moving to the city, each trip for over a week. When I think about this, I am reminded of how INCREDIBLY lucky I have been, and it totally makes up for the instability (both financially and mentally) that juggling and dodging jobs has caused. In June, Mama B (TK's mom), helped me pull off the greatest surprise I have ever been a part of when I surprised TK for her bachelorette party in Kansas City. It was the first time I had left the city since moving, and it was so bittersweet coming/going back. Then in July, I went back for T's beautiful wedding and got to spend some time celebrating the South Dakota summer. JJ (the bf, not the kid I babysit) got married in September in the most holy ceremony I've ever been a part of, and she did a pretty good job of trying to convince me to move to the cities, too. I got some quick friend-visits in while I was back, too, including one glorious night in Vermillion with some people who define what it means to be a good friend. Finally, thanks to Chanukah and Hebrew School break (read: no need for me to nanny), I got to spend 10 whole days in South Dakota for Christmas. I lost some things (wisdom teeth, new hat, and more), but came back to the city excited for a fresh, new start.

ROOMIES 4 EVA (or actually just a few months):
EH and I tested out our friendship by putting together Ikea furniture (without tools- don't ever do it) and sharing a bathroom, kitchen, and parlor for 6 months. [Insert something about testing gold by fire.. 'cause we're GOLD]. We made a bomb ass "To Do in NYC together" list on a giant piece of tag board, which I still have and is embarrassingly unfulfilled (though we can't be blamed for whoever wrote "nun-chucks" or what it means). We did have many spontaneous adventures, though, and too many to recall in this already novella-sized blog post. We went to gallery openings in Chelsea and outdoor movies in the park. We played trivia, went dancing, stole books, savored Sunday brunches, and so much more. We also watched a lot of True Blood, Greek, and Glee. Eventually, our time came to an end and EH moved back to Chicago, and I went on a roommate search that strangely reminded me a lot of sorority recruitment (ie: the house tour, the voting.. oh wait). After a long week of meeting weirdos, HK walked into the apartment, met a long-winded weirdo on her way out, and said, "I'm sick of looking at apartments. I'm normal and chill and I want to live here." And I said, "I'm sick of meeting potential roommates! I'm normal and chill and I want YOU to live here too!" Ok, so that conversation wasn't verbatim, but it was close. We've found a shared love for microwave popcorn and Mad Men, and with the exception of a very disgusting shower drain incident, our co-habitat-ing has been smooth sailing.

FIRSTS
I ate sushi for the first time, went to the Macy's Day Parade, played spin the dreidel, taught English to people from countries that I had never heard of. I experienced my first Fashion Week, ate Moroccan food, went to a Moth story slam, spotted several semi-famous people doing their own thang. I went fishing in the Atlantic Ocean and caught a starfish. I fainted on the subway. As I watched out my bedroom window I witnessed a stabbing, a shooting, and the bodega across the street go up in smoke. I was in the city for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I went to the first Penn State game without JoPa as coach after the huge scandal. I made best-city-friends with a girl who I went to high school with but didn't really know until we both moved here (LOVE you, KS!). I spent NYE in an office overlooking Times Square with some incredible people. I finally watched The Graduate.

SHOUT OUTS:
I highly doubt that anyone has made it this far in this blog entry to even be reading this, but if you have and if you are, congratulations! You just earned yourself a shout out!

Though it sounds kind of cool to say "I live in New York City," it hasn't always felt that cool. In fact, this whole experience has been so much more emotionally depleting, physically exhausting, financially straining, (yet utterly worthwhile) than I ever expected. BUT I could not have survived it without you, dedicated reader (read: mom). You have listened to me crab about every bump in this road and yet you still pick up the phone when I call, and you send me pep talks in paper, electronic, and prayer form. Though I can count on one hand the number of people I can really count on in this city, I know that I have such a solid base at home (read: wherever you are), and that helps me get through most days. THANK YOU for letting me call you my friend and for admitting that we're family.


There is [always] more to write, but I have to save something for my book! :)