I can't express to you how refreshing it is it be in new york, or how I'm at ease amidst chaos.
I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see old friends and share drinks with them, reminisce about old times. For those I raised a glass with this evening, I'm so happy to be in your company once again.
a letter...
Dear Disgusting Excuse for a man on the 4 Train this morning,
You are lucky.
You are lucky I slept well last night, had an extra 45 minutes to get ready this morning and enjoyed my entire cup of coffee on my sofa while watching the Today Show. Otherwise, when you so blatantly grabbed and groped my ass you would have felt the heel of my hand thrusted strongly into your genital region instead the hard hand slap and demeaning remark I directed your way instead. Lucky, capital L.
Signed,
a piece of ass you'll never enjoy again.
gross right? I've become adept to throwing an elbow to the sternum of the man behind me who lazily grazes my tush with his knuckles. I mean, seriously? Are you that ridiculous that you try the express train for a piece? Unbelievable.
I had a good day, aside from the nastiness of the 4-train groper. Everything was handled, multiple clients, multiple retouching sessions. I was on top of it all today. I hope I continue in snyc the rest of the week. Off on friday, catching up with old friends from Atlanta, more then excited.
but not groping excited.
I've been to a handful of Auburn home games during my tenure in the South thanks to my cousin Jason and his very giving friends who always threw a ticket my way (as long as it wasn't Auburn v. Georgia, or the Iron bowl). I screamed, chanted, decked in Orange and Blue and shook my shaker. (That's a pom-pom on a stick for the Northeners). I had so much fun blending in with the students, pretending for a second I was still back in school and a 65 hour + workweek wasn't ready to meet me come Monday.
But yesterday, yesterday took the cake. On the north side of the Rutgers stadium I sat with a large group of friends including 2 of my best college pals. We cheered, screamed, decked in Scarlet Red and black, ate hot dogs (see previous Post: countdown to Turkey) and had that general warm feeling of respect for our school. It all came together on the 20 yard line. So much so that I had to text one the Auburn boys to let him know I finally understand.
I know now why you have to buy 4 area newspapers just to see who said what about your team, and how sports center becomes a ritual, as does the BCS rankings. Funny, coming from a female's mouth you think, or even more so, a Northerner? These times are a changin', and I am amazed of how many college women and alumni can rattle off Brian Lenoard's stats- and I'm not talking about eye color or height.
The final score was 38-7, we were all hoping for a shutout but Rutgers if any team knows what's it's like to put just one number on board when you are on the losing side of the game. Maybe I'm too sensitive, but Syracuse, take that 7 points with pride, you just scored on one of the top defensive teams in the nation.
After the game we went back to Laur's brother's house who's still a student. We drank cheap light beers, ordered pizza and argued who's takeout was the best. (Sadly, king's pizza is no longer the shrine to mozzarella and sauce it use to be). I felt like we were all back in school and New York was a place of my internship, not my life. It was a strange but good feeling.
At a favored bar around the corner from my old college house, I met up most of the old roomies. How far we've all come, progressing in different areas of life, marriage, children, career, socially. All stable in our own ways. It was the kind of night that when you get home your cheeks hurt from smiling.
I'm not quite sure where to end this post, because it's he kind of day that you can deconstruct and pick a part every memory, a paragraph for each. You'd end up reading web pages, upon web pages of my college years. And some of that I hold to sacred to share.
So I'll end with this...
the 20 yard line made my cheeks hurt.
and I'm exhausted. So I've taken to an old college t-shirt a comfy pair of pj bottoms and a warm cup of coffee. I'm about to polish off the non-thinking chick-lit book I picked up at the train station and call it a night.
Families get to you, they exhaust you but underneath it all, they're you blood. I'm sure one day when I'm a parent I'll realize that when you raise strong independent children, they come equipped with strong independent opinions. But there is a big difference in being opinionated and saying everything iota of thought that creeps into your mind. Listening to a relative's running commentary for 48+ hours straight could irk a nun, let alone a 20-something daughter. I could think of one question only while counting to 10 inwardly, "Can't we just give thanks?" Apparently, I am not alone in my ramblings of Thanksgiving meals, and the pressure to make the holiday perfect, check out this article that was in yesterday's New York Times.
Well, I'm going to call it a night, veg on the couch and enjoy the silence of my apartment accompanied by the noises of 1 st avenue. Tomorrow's black Friday, and I'm gearing up for some early shopping.
Best wishes to you and yours today, above all, give thanks and try to find some silence of your own.
I don't travel enough. I've been watching a Jamie Oilver special on the Travel Channel for the past 2 hours now. He is traveling Italy on a quest for Italian foods, my heritage.
In 2007 I vow to save and take 10-12 days off and see the mother country. Granted I'm a split 50/50 Polish/Italian. Let's start with Italy first. I'd love to see Poland, don't get me wrong, but I've grown up with Sunday Italian dinners since birth until the passing of my Grandmother, known pubically as Mae, but formally as Filomena.
It's a different upbringing, my history, with turns and families hidden, tucked away. But it's what I know on the surface, Italian. Sauces, gravys if you will, fresh ingriedients: tomatoes, basil, lemons, olive oils, etc. Unbelievable. I want to see it all. I'm at the position in my life where I have to act on my dreams. Now or never, right?
and quick question. why do people argue on holidays? seriously. give thanks.
just a quickie post. but LL cool J is 'da house at JWT now. just saw him. my 3rd star sighting of the week.
On Saturday night in Soho I saw Bridget Moynahan: --- this one I'm 80% positive it was her, if not the girl should model or invest her time in celebrity impersonation. The third celebrity was a guy who's name I can't remember and it's killing me. (suggestions gladly accepted.) He is a fashion commentator for E, Style network, etc. Does red carpet stuff- not like Joan Rivers but more "best/worst dressed" kind of after shows. He's about my height, icy blue eyes, dark hair, has a thin mustache and I'd say he's in his late 30's, early 40's. Anyway. he's the third. oooh. He's also on VH1 from time to time.
anyway. back to work, thought i'd share.
Yum. turkey is one of my favorite foods, next to hot dogs that is. Ask my family what some of my favorite foods are and they'd probably name the aforementioned along with a few Italian dishes in the top 5. My "last supper" in Atlanta was turkey, basically a Thanksgiving meal.
I'm a bit sad though, over the past 4 1/2 years I spent every birthday, Easter, Thanksgiving, one or two Christmas' , Mother's Day, Father's Day- you name it, with more then a half a dozen family members, and a few little ones added along the way. It'll be the first time "Aunt Ro-Ro" spends a holiday in "Apple City." ----Kids crack me up.
I'm happy to be home, with my brother and parents, but I'll miss the noise of a big family. It would be fun to get us all together again soon, before the little additions get too old.
so. upon this Thanksgiving, I'm channeling my 'southern relations' and making Paula Dean's pumpkin pie. Check it out here, YUM! It's probably 8 bazillion calories, but it's Thanksgiving. No one should count calories, Points, Carbs etc. on this day. The Pilgrims didn't.
well. time for this Pilgrim to get some shuteye.
(and someone else's wireless....shhhhh)
I LOVE photobooth. It's fun. My mom stayed the night to shop yesterday and we played with the random settings you can use. Think fun house mirrors. cheeky. literally.
I'll post a funnier one at some other time. so i've been thinking, about new york mostly.
I can say it's the best city on earth, but I haven't been to every city, nor have I explored all parts of the cities I have visited. But, it blows Boston, LA, Paris, DC, and sadly Atlanta, out of the water. Traffic? none here, well not for me at least. Sure I have to deal with a packed 4,5 train or some random guy grabbing my ass on the L (shortly after he got a sharp elbow to the sternum) but it's new york. Having a bad day? You're having a bad day in New York. Depressed about your job? You work in New York. It's the solution for everything. Feeling Fat? Your fat in new york. You not fat in Tupelo, Mississippi or Kittybunkport, Maine.
I've been on this high since I arrived. After one drink that turned into a handful on Friday night with a work friend, I finally admitted to her my worry. I'm worried about the fallout. I'm sickly happy. Where's the twenty-something roller coaster of emotions? I mean, I'm not welcoming a broken heart or huge trauma, and or sure I'd like a pair of pants to fit a bit better, and I'd like to arrange my apartment to resemble a room in New York Home, but those aren't "big deals." She said quite simply "it's all what you make it." There is this quote in Ray LaMontagne's song "Empty" that gets me every time, here it is: "I never learned to count my blessings, I choose instead to dwell in my disasters."
I do that, we all do. Don't get me a wrong, a pity party complete with girlie movies, wine & pizza is definitely in the only prescription for some pains. But I want to stop dwelling. The dwelling stops here.
geez this post is heavy. that stops here as well. instead, here is a picture of my new lamp over the left side of my "living space." haha. it looks like a boob. I hope to never lose my childish humor.
boob..hahah
I am not giving up on them. I won't. i want 10-0, but if it's 9 -1, I am still very proud of the RU boys. maybe it's what we need, a little scare to get us ready for WV.
c'mon boys, c'mon.
hmm...
i can't seem to see my blog. can you guys see it? anyway. here's my to do list:
1. laundry
2. laundry
3. laundry
4. laundry
5. laundry
yep, completely procrastinating. and I'm lazy and I don't want to do it. Should I to send it out? 75 cents a pound I think is the going rate. then again, I may be pissed off if they shrink my pants. I can rarely find anything the right length so it may be a gamble.
I need a book to read whilst laundering.
open to suggestion.
now let's see if this works. for viewing.
I just bought a computer. a brand new computer. and It pained me to click the "purchase" button, but with the way the job's been going, I think i'll have some working nights at home. But at least it's at home right?
Here she is, the one in the front, ain't she a 'beaut? See me in a month or so when I get my bill. yikes. But it does mean one good thing, I can talk to you good people more often. I get so cloudy-headed at the office worrying about purchase orders and color moves I can't write anything smart enough that's worth your time reading. There, perfect example, I'm not even sure that last line made sense.
Okay. well. since the rain seems to have let up a bit and the piles on my desk have gone down 1/8", I think I may have to call it a night.
until tomorrow.
Unbelievable. UNBELIEVABLE!!! Last night's game had to be one of the best games in college football. It is amazing how much my body hates me right now due to excessive drinking, screaming and celebrating, so if I stop making sense somewhere throughout this post, please excuse me.
So, let's start off with this. The Empire State building, in Rutgers Scarlet Red. They don't light it up for just anyone. That is some real metropolitan area pride. Then, there's this:
RU, Rah, Rah;
RU, Rah, Rah,
Whoo-Rah, Whoo-Rah;
Rutgers Rah
Up Stream Red Team
Red Team Up Stream
Rah, Rah, Rutgers Rah
Let's make it 9-0.
go RU
Pink bathrooms do not rock, but the rest of the apartment does.
Lots of light, amazing window sills, door buzzer and a little fire escape ready to be equipped with a small herb garden...give me 6 months, after the frost and I'll be ready to make homemade pesto.
Oh the Italians. Being 1/2 Italian myself, it's one of the things I missed most when living south of the mason-dixon. The breads, sauces, cannolis --everything fresh and homemade. so good.
Here's an update on the few neighbors I've met in my building. Anthony (I think that is what his name is, his accent was think and mumbled), has a lived in 4R for the past 45 years. Forty-five years...I've been alive 26, I can't conceptualize living in the same city for 45 years let alone the same apartment. He knows the neighborhood like the back of his hand and will be my go-to person for all things Gramercy. The man in 1F blasts his television. He was watching what I took to be a "talkie," old black and white. --Think Home Alone when McCauley Culkin uses the gangster film to distract Joe Pesci from entering his house, and that's what I opened the door to the other day. I laughed up two flights of stairs.
there's a couple in 2R, another single girl in 2F and then there is my building nemesis in 4F... Not quite sure what she looks like but she sounds like an elephant on stilts. Stilettos on hardwood floors at 3:30am are for hookers only and I'm pretty sure I don't live in a brothel. We may have to meet on bad terms, I'll give her a week. Or him... It's New York afterall.
Everyone else remains a mystery. I wonder if they think the same thing about me, the newbie. "Must she drop her remote continuously while watching TV?" or perhaps "Does she have to sit out on the fire escape while the building is not burning?" hehehe.. who knows.
Speaking of the fire escape, I'll give you a little peek. This shot was taken at night, looking East. The avenue you see is First, on the left side of the street there is a pub called MJ Armstrong. I'll be there on the Thursday night for the Rutgers game. On the right side there is a small wash & fold, the counter attendant waves at me when I walk past, can't wait to meet him.
And that's my hood. More to come.
but you can never take Jersey out of the girl.
It's my last night in NJ. As of 8:42 AM when my Long Branch train pulls into Penn Station, I'll be an official New Yorker. I'll overpay for my small studio apartment, groceries --just about everything but stamps. But it's the Big Apple, the greatest city in the world. It never sleeps, you know.
Ever since I was a little girl I've always dreamed of living in New York. I skipped countless days of high school to sit in Washington Square Park with friends. We'd smoke cigarettes and drink street corner coffee while watching the street performers break dance and try their best at spoken word. With every inhale I'd come to the same thought: this is a place I could call my own. Looks like the city is mine now.
I picked up the rest of my belongings from Hoboken this morning it was super clear out and a great day to be on the road. Driving down the Turnpike I passed good ol' Lady Liberty and said hello. She's so welcoming.
She's welcoming you to visit, once I am settled and all the boxes are unpacked. Maybe we can sit in Washington Square Park and you can dream of calling New York your home city one day.
See you next to the sword swallower.
I got my keys yesterday, ready to open a whole new world. I was going to take a picture of them, but I thought you'd enjoy a shot of my building instead. The building looks like of ethereal, doesn't it?
My place is the one on the right, I have the third floor (3 windows). I am so excited. Can't wait to put a little window box on the fire escape with flowers and an herb garden. My own little fire escape. how new york.
2 flights of marble stairs. I'm a tad clutzy, well, more then a tad, let's just hope I don't trip...to often.
So here's to a new apartment, new experiences and Starbucks & Dunkin' Donuts around the block.
but let me tell you, the Hoboken Police Department, those are some quality individuals. Frankly, I don't know how the Parking Authority workers sleep at night. They must dream of booting and towing as I dream of good cheese and bread. (my mind rarely drifts from food...)
So, here's what happened. Friday night (10/23) I went out downtown with a couple of friends. The weather was getting nasty but we celebrated good times anyway. We had a couple of drinks, then a couple more and then were collectively in that happy-buzzed state. It got a little late so after a few hot dogs at papaya dog we parted and I caught a cab to the PATH. Once in NJ the rain and wind had gotten ten times worse and my poor little umbrella was not having it. The cab line was forever long so I thought I'd brave the elements.
The umbrella kept flipping inside out, the headphones pulled out of the jack on my ipod and it was raining sideways.... and then a cop car pulls up next to me. First thought? Crap. I've never gotten a ticket for public drunkenness, even considering all those times in college when we'd stumble down Easton Avenue singing at the top of our lungs. The policeman rolls down the window asks if I'm okay and as the umbrella shivers in the wind, I chuckle and say "it's just a little windy." So the nice policeman tell me to "get in, I'll drive you home."
unbelievable. (mind you I was in the front seat) On the short 5 minute drive we talked about how I am new to the area, what I thought about Atlanta (his boss spends a week there every 2 months) my soon to be NYC home---he even put the lights on once to pass a car. As he pulled up to the house he wished me a good night and said if I ever needed anything to give the department a call.
Now that's the kind of policeman a first grader wants to be when he grows up.
Hoboken PD? I salute you.
