Knights vs. Rosie the Riveter

At some point on every Sunday I peruse the New York Times wedding section (online, of course). Each week a new couple is featured. They're always glamorous in some sort of way--not your average, everyday kind of couple. I'm not sure when I started reading the wedding announcements, but I continue because I'm a hopeless romantic. I may not seem like the hopeless romantic type, but deep down I am.

Ugh. Society send conflicting messages about what we, American women, should want. One message is that a knight in shining armor will come and save us from singledom. We, me and my knight in shining armor, will happily ever after. The second message is that we, women, do not need anyone to save us. That we are independent and happy without a romantic someone in our lives; we don't need Jerry Maguire's you complete me thoughts. There are definitely women that fall into one category are the other, but I fall somewhere in the middle which is completely frustrating. I don't think a man will save me from myself, but I do want one to woo me. Someone who won't complete me per se, but rather compliment me.

Bah. Sometimes it is hard to continue believing that I will find the right someone, the person I want. Alas, I try. Last week I had a dream that I got engaged. I don't think I ever saw my fiance's face, and if I did I don't know him. (I do remember that the ring was not my taste--very superficial of me, I know.) Last night I dreamt that I was getting married to someone I didn't know (both in real life and in my dream). Like the engagement dream, the man was not my focus. (This time it was the dress.) Obviously I'm not ready to be married. Nor do I have plans to be married in the near future. I'm just missing something right now, and whether it seems good or bad I think it's more of a someone than a something.

Bleh. I hate feeling out of control, but I want to be able to let go. As if that makes any sense.

Spotted . . .

Spotted today in Tompkins Square Park . . .

• 3 of New York's finest telling some kids to get off the grass (no pun intended).
• 1 pair of love birds (the kind without wings) up in an oak tree.
• 2 Buddhist monks in orange robes circling the park carrying, each carrying a small brown paper bag in his hand.
• 17 dogs in the dog park. There was a little dog side and a big dog side.

Spotted in Manhattan on Monday . . .

• Thousands of people wearing black (and gray).
• 1 person wearing yellow.

Spotted in Manhattan on Tuesday . . .

• Hundreds of people wearing green.
• The rest wore black.

Spotted everyday I go to work . . .

• The Empire State Building.
• Macy's (the one from Miracle on 34th Street).

I forget sometimes that I live in the city that I do, that millions of people come here to visit and see the sights. I don't take advantage of it nearly enough, and I am reminding myself now (through this blog) that I need to do so. With that said, I'm creating a list of things I need to do and see in New York. It will never be complete, but I hope that by writing it down I will hold myself to some of these things.

1. The Cloisters
2. Ellis Island/Statue of Liberty
   
3. Circle Line Cruise
4. Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
5. Carriage ride through Central Park
6. Beer Garden
7. Museums (multiple)
8. 1/2 marathon
9. Paddleboats

Gray and the City

A dear friend of mine told me that after moving to NYC most girls' wardrobes evolve into tight, black clothes. Surely, he didn't mean this would happen to me. "All I'm saying is that I've seen it happen a lot," he said. These girls start off with bright, patterned clothes and slowly buy more and more of what is essentially the New York uniform: black and gray with a splash of brown and tan. Surely, it can't be true that New Yorkers only wear black. My mom must have exaggerated when she lamented about it. My dear friend had to be wishfully thinking that the colors fade (although why I'm not sure).

It turns out they were right. The uniform truly is a uniform. While riding the train to work one day this fall I noticed the riders sitting across from me: khaki pants, black pinstripes, brown dress, black skirt, etc. To the left black, to the right black. I looked down to my lap: hot pink cords. That's right, hot pink cords."Who is that girl and where is she from?" they must have wondered. (Well, maybe not. Most New Yorkers are so blase about everything that they probably didn't notice at all, but that's a different blog topic.) I have never seen another person in hot pink cords in New York. My heavy jacket, not coat, is pink as well, and you better believe I've definitely never seen a person in the city with a pink L.L.Bean jacket. I, however, love it and it keeps me warm. Hot even when I'm on the train.

My solemn vow is to not let all of my outfits turn into the NY uniform. I, who love pink and blue and purple and yellow, will not wear black everyday. I will not give up my color. I have a sense of possibility, and I will relentlessly pursue results. I'm on a one-woman mission to brighten NYC.

I must admit I had a little setback today, but even people who change their lives with 12-step programs sometimes have setbacks. Still, I went to Macy's today and bought a coat. It's color? Gray.

Know Your Audience

You probably know if you've read this blog before, but my dad's a priest. He's a really good one too. As a good priest, he preaches to his congregation at each church service with great enthusiasm. He would never preach at people, you know, like those people on the subway. One of the very many things that differentiates my dear father from those hell fire and brimstone people you see on the street is that he understands the importance of knowing his audience. If, for example, he decided to give a sermon in a subway car, he knows no one would listen. (And thank God, he would never do that either.) Instead, he might offer a small act of kindness: hold a car door open, offer a hand to someone who slipped. Little things that make others feel better, not inferior.

He knows his audience and he works with them to deliver the right message. That being said, my first night home for Christmas as we gathered around the table for dinner, he offered this blessing: Good food. Good meat. Good God. Let's Eat.

Like I said, he knows his audience. I love you Dad!

Overheard on a Sunday

Overheard in front of the Museum of Natural History . . .

Father: What do you want to see most in the museum.

Daughter (4 years old): I don't know [pause] . . . everything.

Father: We're probably going to have to wait in a line for a while.

Daughter: In a lion?

Father: [Laughs.] No, in a line.

The Greatest City in the World

I live in the most amazing city in the world. People from around the world travel to New York like it's Mecca. Fashion, culture, food, people - it's all here. Name a country, you can find someone from there. (It might be your cab driver, but, hey, he's living the dream.) Actors, actresses, singers, artists of all kinds - they come to make it big, to become a star. Broadway, films, galleries: they're on almost every corner. (Well, Broadway is on Broadway, but let's not get too specific.) Museums and sports, glam and rock, Wall Street and Harlem.

It's New York. Who can ask for anything more? Well, I jcan: where are the grits?

You can take the girl out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the girl.

3000

It's execution time at work this week. We're interviewing over 3000 people across the country. That's right, 3000. The crazy thing is there are 3 more interview periods this academic year and there will be even more people interviewed at each one.

Tweedling My Thumbs

It's Saturday afternoon, and I'm stuck at the office. I've been here since 9:00 this morning. I'm not complaining about working on a Saturday. It might seem like I'm complaining, but it's a differnt kind of complaint. The problem is not that I am at work on a Saturday. The problem is that I'm at work on a Saturday with nothing to do but wait and I have enough time to blog.

It's a beautiful day. Fall is here. The air is crisp, and I'm sitting in the office. Staring at a computer screen. I'm ready to be gone for the day.

What to Wear?

I don't know what to wear. I realize this is a problem most women think they have. They open their closets, pick through the thousands of dollars hanging inside, and debate what to put on. I admit I've done this. I still do this; however, my problem is more real now. Fall is upon us, winter is approaching, and I live some place where I can't wear flip flops year round for the first time in my life. I don't know what to do!

Ok, so I never lived in a place wear I could literally wear flip flops all year, but it was pretty close. SC - flip flops, NO - flip flops, MS - flip flops. NY - no flip flops. I need to buy some boots, and I think I have the pair picked out. We'll see.

As for clothes, I know I need to layer. I just don't want to look like a blob when I'm outside because of all the layers I wear. I suppose I'll have to pick the lesser of two evils, warmth or blob, depending on the situation. My biggest problem, other than footwear, is jackets and coats. I have the body type of thousands of other people in the world. Unfortunately, the fashion world hasn't caught on. Specifically - coats and jackets never fit me in the armpits. It might seem like an insignificant problem, but, trust me, it's horrendous in the winter. In order for something to fit in the armpits, not to mention over a sweater, I have to find something at least two sizes too big which then swallows the rest of me.

I will not let the cold temperatures beat me this winter, but I am a little worried. Don't get me wrong--It will be cold soon and I will freeze, but I will persevere (mostly by staying inside). Who knows? Maybe I'll love the cold weather. My guess is, however, that will not happen until hell freezes over.

Tourist Living in the City

Last weekend I moved into my first apartment outside of the South. To be more precise, I moved into an apartment in Astoria (Queens). I've lived in New York for a month now, and I'm not a single step closer to becoming a New Yorker. Don't worry, that's not my goal; I'm just very much a tourist who happens to live and work in New York. I hear you asking how that's possible. Trust me--it is. Let me elaborate . . .

On Tuesday morning I took got off the train and headed to work. My stop is 34th street. If you've been to New York, you know that there are usually multiple exits at each subway stop. The smaller ones might only have one, but often there's at least two. Signs point out whichever intersection you're exiting to and even which corner (e.g. Lexington Ave and 59th St. NW corner). Bigger subway stations have a multitude of options with exits on different streets and such. This particular Tuesday morning, I simply went out the nearest exit instead of walking underground to an exit closer to my office. As I got to the top of the stairs I noticed Macy's. "Nice," I thought, "I know where I am. There's Macy's, and I'm on 34th street." A light bulb went off in my head. "Wait a second, that's the Macy's on 34th street. Oh my God, Miracle on 34th Street." Yeah, I'm a nerd.

Thursday I left my karate class (oh yeah, I started taking a mixed martial arts class - I'm a white belt) and headed to the train to go home. I passed two Broadway shows and Times Square on my way to the train. It's so weird for that to be normal.

The hardest part of living in this city is passing beggars on the street. I don't like it. I want to help, but I don't know how. I know I'm supposed to donate to charities and not give cash to people, but it still sucks. It helps knowing that I work for an organization that's goal is to reduce educational inequity. It still doesn't make it easier passing people on the street though.

Other than that, life is good. I had lunch at Tiffany's today instead of breakfast. I'm learning the subways, sort of. (I will never understand the buses.) I have a very cute apartment (on par with my State Street one). I'm a fan of this place so far.

Dirt

I don't know how I blocked this from memory, but New York is dirty. More precisely, it makes me dirty. Literally. My hands are always dirty. I wash them obsessively. My nose is dirty too, and I'm not talking the outside. (I know that's gross but whatever. It's the truth.) Apparently, the feeling goes away and my body will adjust. In the meantime, I need to invest in some hand sanitizer.

The Update of Updates

On Thursday, July 31st, I picked up my 14 foot U-haul and packed all my stuff inside. Technically, Erich picked up the U-haul because I refused to drive a massive truck that would be towing my car and because Erich never gets to drive and so doesn't let me when he has access to a vehicle. I also want it on the record that I reserved a 10 foot U-haul which still would have been too big for all my stuff so 14 foot one was almost comical. Anyway, on August 1st I left Oxford, Mississippi never to live there again. Not never to visit necessarily, but I'm pretty sure I won't live there again. We drove all the way to my parents house in Columbia, a mere 518 miles, on Friday. The truck and the trailer with my car added two hours to our trip and hundreds of dollars more in gas, but whatcha gonna do? My parents had dinner ready for us when we got there - a feast of grilled salmon, asparagus, and orzo salad. It was delicious. Plus there were fresh peaches for dessert. My dad also shared the news that he accepted the position of priest-in-charge at our home church, so not only is he now employed, but also my parents don't have to move. Yay!

Day 2 - August 2 - Erich and I took our time leaving Columbia. I hung out with my parents as Kate slept on the couch. I said goodbye to my car as I left it in the care of my parents either to be sold or used by them. We headed off for the next leg of our journey in the early afternoon after my parents made sure we knew which gas station to go to for the cheapest gas. Like a good daughter, I indulged my parents and made sure to go to the cheapest gas station which was close, but not easily accessible (especially in a U-haul). We made a couple of minor stops - one for lunch at Groucho's (yum), one in Greensboro, NC to visit Erich's friend Julie, and then we headed on with our sights on New York (is that the right word or is it site or is it a different word entirely?). After an internal debate about whether to stop and spend the night in D.C. we saw the lights of NYC at 4am. It was then that my decision to move hit me. What the hell am I doing, I thought as I saw Manhattan from the BQE (that's the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway for those of you not in the know). At 5 am, we fell into bed after 737 miles on the road.

Day 3 - August 3 - You thought Day 2 ended it didn't you? Well, in typical Sarah and Erich fashion we incorporated the most retarded plans into my move. Instead of unloading my stuff into a storage facility in New York, we continued on to New Haven, Ct (home of Yale and Erich's mom who was gracious enough to let me store my stuff there until I find an apartment). We unloaded, spent the night in New Haven (or East Haven). It was an easy day - only 77 miles in the car.

Day 4 - August 4 - (Told you we make crazy plans.) What else could we possibly fit into a move to NYC? Why, a trip to Maine of course. We headed out in our rental car now that neither of us has a car and drove. And drove. And drove. And stopped in Freeport, Maine at the L.L.Bean store which is massive and advertises tons of free parking, but there's not nearly enough for all the people that go just for L.L.Bean. I got an xl canvas bag with my initials on it because I'm a nerd like that, Erich got some toys for his bike, and then we got back in the car. And drove. And drove. And drove until we got to Bar Harbor - 414 miles. Ugh.

Maine is beautiful, and everything I wanted it to be. We went on a whale watch, a lobster and seal watch, and to Acadia National Forest. By the way, you don't watch lobsters - everyone asks - we watched them pull up traps and then saw the lobsters. Did you know every resident of Maine is entitled to 5 lobster traps for their personal use? After 5 relaxing days, we headed back to New York. Last Monday, I started my job as the Operations Logistics Associate. The easiest way to explain my job is to say that I reserve all the sites for the TFA interviews across the country. That's 4 times a year x ~3 days each time x hundreds of cities.

I'm settling into life in New York which is to say that I'm not settled at all. I don't have an apartment and finding one is pretty much a pain in the ass. Fortunately, I amazing friends who let me stay with them. (Thank you, thank you, thank you.) It's a huge change, I'm out of my comfort zone a bit, and I'm not sure what the future holds, but I'm excited. It's an adventure.

Putting Southern Studies to Good Use

Today I was offered a job. Hell yeah! I did it all on my own too. Uh, huh. More details to come as I learn them.

Oh yeah, it's in New York. I'm putting my southern studies degree to good use.

Catch 22

If I get the job, I don't go on vacation. I drive to Columbia, drop off my car, see my family for a brief amount of time, and move to the big city.

If I don't get the job, I go to Maine for a week. I drive from a state on the bottom of the country to the one on the top, see some friends along the way, and fake move to the big city.

I want the job. I want to go to Maine.

Catch 22.

The Cheesiest Post I've Written

My life consists of work right now with a few outside activities. This is not a bad thing. In fact, I'm enjoying it quite a lot. I do my jobs, and for the most part, I do them well. I am happy and content, which is saying a lot considering I don't think if you asked most people they would say the same. I do question things in my life and wonder where I am going at times, but at the moment I am not worried. A couple of weeks ago, I was. Waking up night after night at three and four in the morning, restless and fearing the future. It is hard for someone like myself, a person with control issues, to let go and let what will happen happen.

I know for a fact the next few months will bring uncertainty, upheaval, and change into my life. I will move to someplace new - I haven't yet decided where. My parents will move to a new place - they haven't yet found out where. In effect, I will be homeless for a while, and that is terrifying, but I know that I am strong enough to handle it. I have the resources and people in my life that will anchor and support me. They will not, however, pave the path for me, but they will encourage and push me in the direction of my choosing. I just hope that I will be strong enough to decide which path is the best for me at the moment, because life is simply a series of moments. (This post is getting cheesier and cheesier.)

A couple of weeks ago someone told me that I need to grow up. I don't think that's entirely true. I don't think that a person can ever truly grow up, because if he does then he stops learning. The best thing is to continue to grow so that you continue to learn. I hope that I continue to grow into the best person I can be.

And now for some updates from the weekend.

• Taught a group of kids and their parents to make a tornado in a jar.
• Saw "Much Ado about Nothing" at the Oxford Shakespeare Festival.
• Went to dinner with a group of friends.

Like I said, I'm pretty content at the moment.

Excitement from the Weekend

Weekend Activity List

1. Worked - not exciting, but lucrative
2. Roasted a pig - well, I didn't roast it, but I did host it.
3. Wedding reception - not mine. The bride wore a below the knee dress with sandals and the groom wore a pinstripe suit with tennis shoes. The wedding was at Faulkner's house and the reception followed at Barnard Observatory. (I didn't go to the wedding, but I wish I'd seen it.)
4. Girls Night - Sex and the City movie followed by dinner at Yocona. All, surprisingly, paid for my boss.
   

In case you're wondering

So in case you're wondering, I did it. I completed my master's degree. I am a graduate of graduate school. What they don't tell you about graduate school is that it's easier than undergrad. Seriously. Don't get me wrong, I wrote tons and read even more, but it still seemed easier than undergrad. I wish I felt smarter than I did before grad school. Oh well.

So now I'm done, and I'm searching for a "real" job. It's not fun. The economy has gone to shit. Jobs keep disappearing. I kept reading about it happening and then it hit home. Literally. My mom lost her job. Try accepting money from your parents that they want to give you for your birthday and graduation when all you want to do is take care of them instead--it sucks. All I do right now is work. Day in, day out. My internship turned into a job for the summer, so that's nice. Not that it's a lot of money, but still, money is money. I'm still working at the restaurant too. I had probably my worst shift ever on Friday night. It wasn't bad financially; it just wasn't my night. I was not on top of my game, and I hate feeling that way. Not to mention the fact that I'm not one of those people that can hide their emotions well. In fact, I wear them completely on my face. Friday night, my face said, "I hate you people, and I hope you all die." Apparently it came across, because one customer took it upon himself to go the restaurant the next morning before we opened and complain to the owner about me. And I know the manager from the night before left her note about my performance as well. I don't know what it said, but I know it couldn't be good. Like I said, it was a bad night. Not to mention the fact that I'd already worked at the restaurant earlier in the day. Whatever - it was just one night - I have to keep telling myself that.

So yeah, I'm a little tired and overwhelmed right now. I work at the museum from about 9 until noon pretty much Monday through Friday. I do some job searching/applying/eating lunch/running errands from noon until about 4. Oh yeah, then I go to the restaurant from about 4:30 until 10 or 11. Then I pass out. There's some variation in the schedule, but it's pretty much six days a week of work. Doesn't it sound glamorous? I have Sunday and Monday off - two whole days in a row. I'm retardedly excited.

I didn't expect this post to be quite so whiny. In fact, there was other stuff to write about. I guess it'll just have to wait.

I'm Rich!

Woohoo for being a student and therefore being poor thus getting all my taxes refunded to me. Woohoo for getting $600 in Bush's economic stimulus plan - I'm not sure how the government just gives everyone $600 but whatever. Maybe they should cut federal spending on, oh I don't know, the war in Iraq, but this is not that blog.

So, let's see with my refund and stimulus money I can now pay my car payment for the next 4.5 months, or pay my rent for the next 3 months, or save it to repay part of my student loans in the next 6 months.

Then again, I could just go on vacation and pretend I'm made of money like my friend who's rich. His name even says he is.

Birthday Blog

I turned 25 on Monday - woohoo? Val made me these for my birthday. They're cupcakes in ice cream cones. Pretty cool, huh? I thought it was a pretty novel idea. All in all it was a lackluster birthday. I jogged, I ran errands, I worked. Some friends came to the restaurant while I worked. Truthfully, I wasn't very excited about this birthday. I mean, I guess 25 is a "big" one. Maybe that's why I'm not excited - who knows. I need to buy myself a present. I'm sure that'll help. I think I want this or this. Or a job.

Ellen Gilchrist, MLK, and Victoria's Secret

This past weekend, the Center for the Study of Southern Culture helped host the Oxford Conference for the Book. I must admit that I did not participate in the conference, neither as a presenter nor a participant. I did, however, volunteer with registration and monitoring a panel discussion one afternoon. Someone bribed me to take one of the authors, Ellen Gilchrist, to the airport in Memphis today. Now I know the name Ellen Gilchrist, but for the life of me I have no idea why. Last night after I got home from work, I googled her but to no avail. I still know her name, but I don't recognize any of her work. Oh well. In googling her I discovered that Ms. Gilchrist writes both novels and short stories, and she was born in Mississippi in 1935. Let me just tell you, I'm not a literature person. I also do not interact with people over the age of 40 on a regular basis except when working and then it's only to serve them gyros. I was a little worried about the drive to Memphis. Afterall, it's an hour away and I didn't know what we would talk about. Fortunately that was not a problem. Ms. Gilchrist traveled in my car without a hitch. She was easy to talk to and quite a character. (Anal sex came up in conversation, and I was not the one who brought it up.)

The adventures didn't end with Ms. Gilchrist. I accidentally happened upon the Civil Rights Museum during commemoration festivities for the 40th anniversary of MLK's assassination. I should have stopped, but I didn't. I did however go to Victoria's Secret where the sales associate gave me the number to her personal bra specialist because alas my boobs are enormous. Not as large as the sales associate's mind you, but still too large for the average bra store. Oh yeah, one more random tidbit for the day - I was promoted at work. I'm now the newest manager at a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. Woohoo.