Hiatus Day..um. Whoops.

And FINALLY.

Remember that O internship from another lifetime?

The one I didn't get?

I got it this time.

Yay!

Good Night!

p.s. the blog resumes in January! But better this time, ok?

If Women's Mags were High Schoolers (IMHO)

Vogue would be the legend, the long-since-graduated heroine who lives on in whispered stories. Marie Claire would be the queen bee, long-time girlfriend of the quarterback, former-BFF of recent graduate ELLE and erstwhile trend setter. Marie's comrade Cosmo thinks she's the new Vogue, but she's not. You see, Cosmo's great-grandmother was rather famous and important, and her mom was a great feminist, and Cosmo thinks she's a little of each of them, but she's really kind of a slut. Her lackey duo, Glamour and Allure, are like all followers: probably better than their leader, but overshadowed by her generally loud look and manner. Cosmo thinks she should be dating Esquire, but she actually belongs with GQ. Meanwhile, Esquire, a graduate of Mag High, is having an affair with Vogue, who's quite the cougar.

Cosmo's little sister CosmoGirl! died in a drunk driving accident. She was the drunk one. And this wasn't CosmoGirl!'s first experience with DUI. No, a few years back she fatally wounded YM. They were driving on the same one-lane road, and CosmoGirl! was going the wrong way. CosmoGirl!'s step sister Seventeen has assumed her post of alpha dog, but with a lukewarm reception. Meanwhile, YM, an organ donor, lives on in TeenVogue, who has the sense to take after her big sister.

Hiatus Day 8

And rejected again!

At least it was a very nice letter saying they'll keep me on a short list of freelancers. Honestly, at least they let me know. Whew. Now the limbo feeling can ease off a bit...for now anyway.

Hiatus Day 7

And I'm 22.

Day 48

And I cannot fit everything in two suitcases.

And I'm too tired to blog.

Procrastination+not realizing how much stuff I have=going to UPS in the morning. Whoops.

Gnight.

Day 47

And nearing the end.

I think tomorrow will be my last post for a while.

Today I kept working on the edit test, cleaned up, packed a little and then spent a long while sketching. I'm not much of an artist, but if I spend a while with a pencil in my hand, I always end up doodling. Doodling turns to drawing, drawing turns to erasing and redrawing and erasing and redrawing and erasing and redrawing. I'm getting pretty decent at it, and by decent I mean you can generally tell what it is I'm trying to draw within the first three minutes of looking at it...ish.

Nonetheless, it's fun. So clearly I don't have much to say tonight.

Happy birthday Michael (and Harry!)!

Day 46

And metaphoric again.

One really neat thing about this summer has been the feeling of limitless possibilities. Like I said earlier this summer, everything can change in a moment. But on this side of that moment, I get to imagine all sorts of things that could happen.

I had an interview today, and got a little peek behind one of those doors. How strange to think that if it works out, I'd be through one door, and all the other ones would disappear...for a while anyway.

I'm not letting myself think too hard about what happens next. First things first: finish the edit test!

Goodnight!

Day 45

And hitting the hay a little early.

Today I got to see the American Museum of Natural History. So I'm pretty much jonesing to see the rest of Night at the Museum. So I got a little education in today! That certainly is the missing goal isn't it?

I spent a little time in the space section (why don't they sell freeze-dried ice cream in regular stores?), and a little in Africa, too. But I really wallowed in Asia.

So much of the space was devoted to eastern religions. There was even a wall on Jews in Asia, where a little girl was asking her mom question after question like some sort of all-encompassing pop-quiz. I've already forgotten so much of what I learned in religion class in high school, and I never would have realized it if I hadn't checked out these exhibits. It's a pretty cool place.

Anywho, I have to hit the hay early tonight, so I'll end my explanation there.

Gnight!

Day 44

And I saw Mr. 44. President Obama. Or his motorcade anyway.

Just as David, Amy and I were coming back from the Wash U event at the Times building, the NYPD were giving a dandy little parade down Houston. We decided to wait for a bit (not that I could have crossed the street to get back here if I wanted to), and sure enough a battalion of motorcycles blazed through, followed by a series of black SUVs and an ambulance (eek, too real). David thinks he saw Obama's silhouette in the biggest SUV. They were moving so quickly I don't know what I saw, but I thought I saw someone. Still, it's probably the closest I'll ever get to the most powerful man in the world, and being a patriot, I was pretty excited.

It's fitting that I saw the Presidential Motorcade on the same day I went to the NY Supreme Court. David had to wait for some papers, so I took the chance to check out legal life (it's nice that there's still a profession more scorned than journalism, isn't it?).

The court is rather artful. There's a rotunda that honors other judicial systems and icons: Greeks and Romans, Jews and Catholics, The Egyptians, Lincoln, Marshall, and Moses.

Looking around, I realized that this is our cathedral. Other countries have Westminster Abbey, the Vatican, Notre Dame. How pretty to think that in our country the cathedral is a court and the G-d we share is Justice.

Good night!

Day 43

And part of something.

It somehow happens that every time a situation arises this summer, Basic Black has a response. In fact, the two things seem to coincide seamlessly.

Well today I finished Basic Black (finally!), including the bit that says to round out your life by taking part in community affairs.

I also went to my first T and V planning session today. Even though I mostly kept quiet and observed, I liked being part of a group again. It feels so right to sit on a committee. It's a huge part of feeling like I belong here. I have a role in it now, a stake in NYC.

Gnight all.

Day 42

And too tired for a real post.

So I'll leave you with this hilarious bit of entertainment.

Also, why does cilantro ruin everything?

Day 41

And contented.

There are some nights that remind me just how much I love this city.

The rain washed away all the heat and humidity of the past few days and left us with a perfect evening. I read my book, watched the storm, took a walk and got some fro yo (Ben and Jerry's chocolate fudge brownie, yum!), but then after nightfall I was starving again.

I just love stepping out into NYC. I always feel shocked when I look up and remember where I am, no matter how many times I do it. It's just nice to walk out into a city that's always awake, always alight, always bustling. I got my pizza and headed home, but I wish I could have walked for a while. There's just something about nights like these.

Gnight.

Day 40

And my date book is as empty as empty as it's ever been.

Not that I keep a date book. I don't need a planner to remind me to get a job, which is the only legitimate plan I have right now.

On the upside, tonight I got to do something fun. Bianca, a fellow former Martha intern, invited a bunch of friends out to a club tonight. I figured I may as well go since Bianca was so much fun last summer and my schedule has been so empty this summer.

If I thought marching around the City in sneakers was cause for complaint, then totting around the City in heels is cause for amputation. Ow.

But dancing is always fun. And meeting Bianca's friends was fun, too. They're all in similar fields: illustration, design, advertising. So we commiserated.

I left the second club just in time to get caught in a rainstorm. It felt great to cool off, but the slipping and sliding around my heels caused potentially irreparable damage. Again, ow.

So my dance card's a little empty these days. At least I got the chance to do some fun things in the City this summer. Maybe when I come back I'll get to do some more.

For now, I'm glad to be going home for a bit. Just a bit.

Unless, of course, one of you faithful few wants to hire me.

Gnight.

Day 39

And sorry guys, it's about to get religious.

Tradition is something that by definition has to be clung to. If you don't keep it up, it disappears and it can't come back.

I don't go to temple to be closer to G-d, I go to be closer to the Jewish people. It's the tradition I want.

I've been synagogue shopping, and the one I went to tonight had a good thought on one of the pages:

"More than the Jewish people has kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jewish people."

That was the basis of the rabbi's (?) speech, too: keeping Shabbat. But it was also about how we should not lose sight of what we're keeping when we say we're keeping Shabbat. In other words, don't forget the spirit of the law while you're trying to stick to the letter.

By the end of the sermon, I was nothing so much as confused. Sure, I've asked Chanie, a Chabad rabbi's wife, if she ever does any actual resting on Shabbat. I always thought sticking to the nitty-gritty rules made Shabbat less restful than say, driving to services or ripping your toilet paper right off the roll would. But on the other hand this synagogue's musical service, though pleasant, felt really wrong for me. It made temple feel like a concert the way those Obama t-shirts they sell in Union Square make the president seem like a rock star.

I finally got to hear familiar tunes and they were coming from an electric guitar.

I'm just saying I miss what I know. It's not right or wrong, just familiar.

Good night.

Day 38

And sniffly.

Just a bit. Just enough to make me tired and hang out in my apartment most of the day.

But I did manage a few accomplishments.

Like poaching an egg for the first time:

Actually, I screwed it up the first time. That was the second time. The egg was so "jumbo" it had two yolks. Wowsa.

Yes, I know that it is entirely too obvious that I took a picture of a picture on my phone. But as you can see, it couldn't be saved, and I had already started eating, so what was I to do?

Looks pretty good, right?

Next time I'll add hollandaise. Not the biggest fan of the texture, but the taste is good.

My post-poaching plans included a walk in the park to spend a little time with my book, Basic Black by Cathie Black (then president of Hearst Magazines, now Chairman).

Washington Square Park is a breeding ground for unusual sights (esp. 00:45-00:57 the

same applies to WSP).

I particularly liked this one:

Yes, the pigeons are climbing all over that man. What's funny is that a few minutes earlier, another man sat there and the pigeons gathered from far and wide. They left when they realized he wasn't the man with the goods. He left when he realized the pigeons had the advantage in numbers.

I spent the rest of my time in the park talking with a nice Greek/Italian man. He told me how his family moved from Greece during WWII, how his father was arrested and his mother carried him around because the Germans liked his blonde curls and Aryan face. When his dad was released they fled again. He spent a good amount of time in Sicily before moving to America as an adult.

He reminded me to marry Jewish. Christian himself, he has a son who married a Jew and a daughter who married a Palestinian. Talk about a house divided.

He thinks Jews make better husbands. Love that stereotype.

I finished the day off with a little dance practice for exercise. Health goal, +1. Who's keeping score here?

Gnight!

Day 37

And when life hands you nothing in particular, bake bread.

I was inexplicably grumpy today (I think I'm getting a cold), but I honestly believe that baking bread is good for your soul. So I bookended my day with bread.

This morning I made crescent rolls from a can. The can makes seven. I've eaten 5 so far.

Lunch was bacio gelato. (Health goal -1)

Dinner was focaccia. I made it from scratch and it's so simple and delicious! I bought asiago cheese, yeast, sun dried tomatoes, baby spinach, and Italian spices from Whole Foods and used this recipe.

I only put the tomatoes and spinach on one half, then made an oil and spices dipping sauce for the rest. Look how pretty!

In retrospect, I wish I had put a little of the cheese and some spices into the dough for more flavor. I foolishly put the sun dried tomatoes on too early. In ten minutes, my thermometer-free oven produced a beautiful focaccia loaf topped with charcoal worms.

I picked them off and replaced them with tomatoes, then sprinkled on some more cheese. Mm mm good.

I also wish I had olive oil to brush over it. And maybe an egg wash. Next time.

Who needs culinary school?

Good night!

Oh and P.S. I have been working on the health goal. I've been trying to get a better mix of the food groups and at least one solid, nutritious meal a day. Baby steps, guys.

Day 36

And considering my options.

I left Jeff at the top of the stairs and ducked back into Grand Central Station. The express from Scarsdale was letting out a steady stream of the City's movers and shakers. Squaring my shoulders, I walked against them. Before long, they were all gone and I was back where they all started.

Day 35

And rejected.

That's ok. On to the next.

Day 34

And looking forward to tomorrow?

It's silly how ambivalent I feel about tomorrow. On the one hand I'm excited: another day to hang out with Steph a little, I get to see Jared and his dad for lunch, and (of course) it's another chance to get a little good news. On the other hand, I'm nervous: it's another chance to get some bad news.

Every weekend is a little relief. No potential employers can email me. No jobs get posted. I can relax.

Monday morning gives me something to look forward to and something to fear a little.

But I'm keeping a level head, really. I won't let myself hang everything on one job. I've applied to a bunch of places. Maybe one of them will hire me. It'll be ok if I get rejected. Just move on to the next thing. Really.

Today Stephanie and I visited the MoMA, which was interesting-ish. Again, it was cool to stand close to something Van Gogh made himself. Steph also helped me with one of my goal three projects: learn a little French. She says my accent's good.

What's the French word for anxious?

Je sui anxieuse.

Good night.

Day 33

And putting my Nikes to the test.

Today seemed like an endless walk. David came over early to pick up his bags, and we walked up to breakfast at the lovely Gramercy Park Hotel, where our "aunt" Yvonne and "cousin" Stephanie were staying. Gramercy Park is extra nice because you can only use it if you live on the perimeter and have a key...which we didn't. But the rooftop breakfast was like dining in a tranquil greenhouse.

Steph's staying with me, so we took her stuff back to my apartment, then took her to meet her friends uptown for a summer program(s) reunion.

Meanwhile, David and I got on a six train so crowded that it couldn't make the usual stops. So we got off and walked. We got iced/frozen teas. And walked. We stopped at stores. And walked. We checked out the farmers market at Union Square. We tasted cheese that had a 27 Zagat rating. We bought maple candy, scoped out artwork, and walked.

Then we crashed. For about three hours.

My Nikes are scuffed. The once-white mesh is gray. Health goal: +1

Gnight.

Day 32

And still no call.

But thank goodness it's the weekend. I can't get a call now, so I have to relax.

Today I got to experience a New York institution: Restaurant Week!

Restaurant week is actually a biannual, multi-week event (this summer it's two weeks). Certain (read: fabulous) NYC restaurants agree to offer prix-fixe menus for dinner and possibly lunch. And we lucky ducks get to try these legendary, famous, delicious meals at what amounts to be a terrific discount. David and I decided to test it out on a whim.

Then we hit a snag: we keep kosher-ish.

The prix-fixe menus include an appetizer, entrée and dessert. Most desserts are dairy, so that limits our already limited options. Plus there were so many restaurants, we hardly knew where to start.

Thank goodness Jared has more experience in this matter. One g-chat message to him and we had a slew of recommendations and reviews. We considered Morimoto (you know, the guy from Iron Chef), but they weren't taking reservations anymore. So we landed on Tau.

I'm so glad we did.

On 58th between Park and Madison, there's an oddly un-corporate stretch of facade. A nice gent outside helped me with a door that weighed roughly the same as a baby cow, and I crossed through the windowed antechamber to the main event.

I blinked at the dark chamber before me. A lineup of hostesses said...nothing to me. This place is so cool. Eventually, one of them noticed me squinting into the darkness and asked if I had a reservation and another sent me into the lounge to wait for David.

This place is so cool.

I settled into a sleek leather couch against the wall (David later stared at it for a few seconds, debating whether it was meant for two). The lounge included rows of leather benches that would be totally indistinguishable from their companion wooden tables if they didn't have arms. At one end was a bar.

Sitting against the wall I could see a sliver of the dining room. Chic patrons moved in and out, like a mismatched runway show. The music was so soothing and the atmosphere so dark and open, I couldn't imagine how I was still in New York City.

The dining room took it to a whole other level. The back wall featured a one-story Siddhartha. To the left and right were lofted dining areas. I sat on a cushioned bench with cushioned dividers to separate my seating area from my neighbors'. On my right was an accountant (?) turned culinary student and his dining companion was a funny Jew. They made for great entertainment. Our server never stopped smiling. She hovered far away, then appeared just as we needed her.

The service was as good as the food. That's saying something.

It turns out Tau does the prix-fixe thing every weekday at the Restaurant Week price of $24.07. So if you like, you can have this meal year-round.

One reason we chose Tau was the non-dairy desserts. Asian food doesn't usually mix meat and dairy, so we didn't have to worry about sticking to one or the other.

We split our appetizers: Chicken satay with a peanut dipping sauce and vegetable egg rolls with duck mustard sauce. Well worth burning my tongue. (I knew the roll was hot, I just tend to ignore that kind of thing.)

We asked our servers (Smiles had an assistant) to leave the peanut sauce. David really liked it.

Next came Hangar steak with seasoned fries. Lovely. I love steak, even (especially?) in its

simplest form. This was not steak as I know it. It was more like a beef dish in a delectable sauce. It was sweet, but mild. Almost like butter. The fries were crispy and the seasoning tasted like BBQ chips without the spice.

For dessert, we each had a mango sorbet in coconut milk with fruit. My dessert philosophy, "Fat tastes good," applies here. Coconut milk is not diet food, it's an indulgence. I especially liked dipping my spoon under the surface, not knowing what fruit I would get. Lychee was a nice surprise. The coconut milk had a dulling effect on flavors that are often too tart. I liked drizzling it over the sorbet and watching it harden.

It was a terrific experience, like being on the set of a show. A midday treat.

Good night!

Day 31

And pensive.

It's funny coming home to no one. Sad in its solitude, soothing in its freedom.

Driving on the highways around Manhattan, you can see the whole City at once. You can even see the people through their makeshift curtains, eating their dinners, laboring over projects.

The City looks so solitary out on its own with nothing to insulate it. Even its neighbors give it a wide, watery berth. The bridges from here to there are spindly lines tossed afar. They are not leads. They are not ties. The towers silhouetted against the blocks behind them are defiant in their height, but when you look down, you see they're practically floating on an island that was built upon itself.

All of New York rises from nothing and climbs to unseeable, unreachable heights.

Day 29

And still playing the waiting game.

I keep checking my phone and email, but still no call from O. Maybe tomorrow. I'm not getting my hopes up.

Meanwhile, I never did explain what I was doing during the hiatus.

After my weekend at Ciara's grandmother's house, my friend Amanda came to visit from Jersey for a few days. We kept it pretty mellow, checked out a comedy show, hung out at Sony Wonder and saw the Haunted exhibit at the Guggenheim, which I thought you might find interesting.

Haunted focuses on the effects of time. Some pieces are photographs whose subjects have long since died. Another part of the exhibit just shows front pages of the International Herald Tribune from a November long ago. The words have been removed so all we see are the photos and the masthead. It's haunting how unimportant yesterday's news is today. My least favorite part was a video that showed a little boy in black and white, lying in bed and biting his nails. The video cut out and restarted every few seconds, and every time it restarted, the pile of shredded nails in front of him grew. I left when his fingers appeared to bleed. It was manic, disgusting, too much for me. My favorite part, however, was a collection of photos cut out of ads and magazines. Collected into a series of 8.5 by 11 inch sheets, they documented a life cycle. Some of the milestones were obvious, like learning to walk, others we more ambiguous, like understanding authority. It was fun to stand in front of each sheet for a while while I tried to decide what it meant.

The downside to Haunted was that it left us feeling a little gray at the end of the day. The eerie, monotone voices on our headsets left us cold and numb and looking for a pick-me-up. So we grabbed coffee (for her) and a doughnut (for me) and shopped Times Square for a comedy show.

More on that later.

Goodnight!

Day 28

And we get it, Miley.

You're not a child star anymore. You're bigger and badder than everyone "expects" you to be. You're devious. We know. And you know what, we're fine with it. We're all ready to accept you into pop culture as a teen harlot. All we ask is this:

Shhhh.

I know I'm not Perez Hilton, but I have this little soap box here and it's too tempting.

I like Britney Spears. I think she's entertaining and her songs are catchy. Really, there's no one better at playing pop star than Britney. She's an excellent performer.

Why did I jump from Miley to Britney? Well, I like to think of "Can't be Tamed" as one of the last rungs in Miley's ladder to Britney-dom. It's Miley's own brand of "Slave 4 U." She may as well have told us she's "Overprotected" and if she wants to drum up a little scandal, well that's her "Prerogative."

"Tamed" even sounds like Britney, from the auto-tuning to the "Toxic"-style chorus. It's not up to "Circus" standards, but as a video and song, it's not altogether bad. Granted, the lyrics sound like excerpts from Dr. Seuss's lesser-read "Oh the Places You'll Ho," and I particularly like the moments when it sounds like she's saying "I can't be shamed," but on the whole it fits right in with the Britney-Christina-Post-Mickey-Mouse-Club genre.

I kind of like that in a summer dominated by what people are calling "abstinence porn" Miley is letting it all hang out (oh. no. too. literal.)

But enough now, Miley. You can stop telling us you're bad, and just go for it. You'll be 18 soon. Go scandalize yourself and have fun with it. If you're lucky, all that "Crazy" your song says you have pent up inside will make you the next Britney.

Day 27

And lazy!

I think I took my own advice a little too seriously. I mean, I wanted to chill out, but today was extreme. I did laundry, cleaned my apt, and watched like a million hours of TV. Ok, less than 24 hours, but not much. I just didn't feel like going out.

Goals accomplished: uhm...none. Whoops.

I'm getting tired of playing tourist, but I know there's more out there. If you were me, what would you be doing?

Sorry for the lame-o post. I guess I'm too lazy to be clever!

Gnight!

Day 26

And trying to be aware of my surroundings.

The value of paying attention in New York cannot be underestimated. If you're walking home late and all alone, depositing a check in front of a man asking for money, or taking a shortcut through an unfamiliar neighborhood, it's just good sense to be aware. But what about the other situations? The ones where there are no threat? How often do we remember to pay attention there?

My friend Avi's sister walked me home tonight because I wasn't comfortable going home alone so close to midnight. We talked as we walked.

If you watch the news and read the books and hear the stories, but never take the time to look around and see New York for yourself, you're going to miss a lot.

Goal 5, subgoal ??: check out the parts of New York I think are scary. In daylight.

Oh and I tried Indian food tonight. Not a fan.

Day 25

And it was worth the wait.

I figured I could blog about the last few days in installments, but I have potential good news, so never mind!

Guess who got an interview?

I did!

And can you guess where? I'll give you a hint: it's the only one you've read about. I applied to three different internships at this place. It was founded in 2000 by Hearst and features the same fabulous person on almost every cover.

O, the Oprah Magazine!

Eeep.

I've been telling myself to relax and get my mind off of the job hunt for a while now. Last year when I finally stopped worrying (read: flipping out) about getting an internship, I got a call. This weekend, I was really hoping that being away from my email and the job boards for a few days would make me relax. I know the two events are unrelated, but the water just seems to start boiling a lot sooner when you take your eyes off the pot.

All I can say is I'm glad. Even if I don't get the internship (fall, food, fun!), I'm just glad someone noticed me. I'll hear back next week. I think the interview went well, but I know there's competition. I'm keeping a level head.

In other good news, I decided to try out a local synagogue tonight and had a blast. They had this great young adults event and everyone was so friendly. I'm hoping to join the group that plans all the events. It was really just a good time with good people.

I am most certainly back, blogosphere. I'll see you back here tomorrow.

Good night.

Day 19

And headed out to the 'burbs.

I'm staying with Ciara at her grandmother's until Monday, so I won't be around to blog. I think it'll be nice to get out of the City for a bit.

Have a happy 4th of July!

Day 18

And friendly.

It was only too nice of Amy to invite me out for her birthday even though David wasn't around. I met up with her and four of her friends at Havana Central, a Cuban restaurant near Union Square. That was nice because it gave me a little while to sit and read in the park before dinner.

My first instinct at these kinds of things is to feel like the little sister, the tag-along. But as Amy's friends started to arrive tonight I realized that a) they didn't know I was David's sister until someone told them and b) I don't look like I feel. It's too easy for me to forget when I'm around hip-looking twenty-somethings that I actually look like I fit in. I always feel a little nerdy on the inside, but when I'm dressed like I was tonight -- strapless jersey dress, heels, straight hair -- I don't necessarily look it on the outside. Then again, I did break out the reading glasses in the park, so I guess I can't hide the nerdy altogether.

I never want this blog to turn into some sort of emo catharsis outlet (where black eye-shadow is always half-off), but that really was the most significant part of today: feeling like one of the gang.

Day 17

And liberated?

Renoir once said, "There are enough ugly things in the world not to add to them."

So today after I emailed O to follow up and found out that they already hired someone, I figured I ought to get out and see that Met exhibit I've been looking forward to.

I headed uptown and checked out an audio guide (always worth the $7), got the student price on a ticket (the saleslady was nice), breezed through the statues and busts and things and headed up to the second floor. I was headed to the American Woman, but keeping an open mind, I stopped off at "Hipsters, Hustlers, and Handball Players: Leon Levinstein's New York Photographs, 1950–1980" The photographer is supposedly known for his unemotional approach, but I don't think I'm sophisticated enough to appreciate that yet, because I preferred the photos in which one subject was looking at another. For instance, in one shot, a girl in very short shorts was crossing the street and a guy was checking her out from behind. Or in another, a group of conservative-looking women were ogling a heavy-ish woman with super-coiffed hair wearing a short dress and heels. I just liked the expression.

The best part of that exhibit had to have been the people, though. These two girls behind me rushed from picture to picture. Passing me, one of them said to the other, "You know how when you watch an old movie and you can't tell who's popular and who's not because all the fashion...(here she started to giggle and I lost whatever else she said.)"

Sometimes people are the art.

Continuing on my way, I saw a picture of Joan of Arc I really liked, because the setting was so earthly and her expression was so eager, but I don't remember the name.

So on to American Woman.

I love that the audio tour was narrated by Sarah Jessica Parker. I wish there had been more information about the history of the dresses (Where was each piece worn? Why?). But the pieces were exquisite. Paint and stone may lose me, but embroidery I understand. The exhibit started with evening gowns from the 1890s, moved to turn-of-the-century sportswear, then moved to the bohemian look, the Gibson girl, the Suffragist and the Patriot, the flapper and jazz babies, and the starlet. I wish it went on longer--the fashion of the 60s was so important!--but I loved what I saw. Could I have done without the constant insistence that the image of American women is slender to the point of being androgynous? Yeah, I probably could. I actually felt guilty being so hungry while I toured. I should have grabbed a box of croissants and helped kill the stereotype. Nonetheless, the exhibit was very well done. Each era had a room decorated to look like the perfect setting for the time (a ballroom near Washington Square Park for the 1890s' heiresses, skyscrapers for the flappers). Each room was circular, and the final room was lined with two semi-circular screens. They flashed so many images that I watched the show straight through three times. The pictures and videos drew such wonderful comparisons. Caroline Kennedy in an evening gown, then the Obamas dancing at the inauguration. A black jazz baby shaking her hips wildly next to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video. A video Venus Williams celebrating after a black-and-white shot of another female tennis player going for the win. Of course, there was more than one video of the Sex and the City girls.

There was a lot of talk about liberation through fashion.

I came home and baked cookies. Red and white for Independence Day.

Liberated, huh?

Day 16

And not seeking advice.

I think I'm a little over-advised. I came to New York because someone (a couple people) told me it is easier to get a job if you're already here. I pull out the Newhouse reference sheets every time I need to write a cover letter or networking letter. I ask questions of anyone in the industry willing to listen and they tell me hold out, try different things, play up your other strengths, focus on your core strengths, check the job postings, you need to know someone, you're qualified, there are just no openings. I worry to you, my friends and family, and you ask if I can't just send out a million resumes or talk to one person or apply elsewhere. It's too much. I need an advice break.

Whew.

Today was a walk in the park...s.

I grabbed a couple books (the one on French idioms and Basic Black), and went to Washington Square Park. I didn't worry about the job situation as much. I just walked the park, sat down across from three adorable toddlers, and relaxed. I stopped by Peanut Butter and Company for a Dark Chocolate Dream (dark chocolate peanut butter, cherry preserves and shredded coconut), talked to Michael (yay! congrats!) and headed to Union Square for more of the same.

It wasn't hot, it wasn't exhausting, it was nice.

The only advice I got today was from one of my books, Basic Black. The author is the president of Hearst Magazines. Again, the advice was conflicting (editors don't mind a follow-up call, she says, but then why do they all say "no phone calls please"?), and sure, she's talking about a different era (three years ago and earlier), but it was heartening in a way. She just makes it all sound possible.

Last year, when I stopped worrying, I got an internship. Maybe that'll work this year, too.

Day 15

And missing Publix.

I have a theory about New Yorkers and grocery stores. It's a cycle:

People avoid groceries because they're a hassle. Then they get hungry, so they have to go to the store. Being hungry makes them cranky. Being cranky makes New York grocery stores a hassle and a half.

I swear when I came to New York last summer I was shocked at how friendly people were, given New Yorkers' tough reputation. Then I went shopping and realized that the NYer stereotype was developed at the market.

The truly rough part is that there is no good time to shop. The good stores (ok, there's really only one good store and it's Trader Joe's, and it's only good because it's cheap) are packed from open to close. The line winds all the way through the store and workers have to hold signs way up high so people know where the line ends.

Getting past the lines to get to the aisles is made more difficult by the fact that people don't know the words "excuse me."

"Well folks, standing and glaring is doing a lot of good, but you know what would really help? Moving. You're blocking the butter."

This works the other way, too. Not only do people not understand that hearing "excuse me" means they should move, but they don't know how to use the phrase to their advantage.

"You know, miss, instead of resigning yourself to being stranded in the frozen aisle, you could say "excuse me" and see if some non-native understands you and opens up a path to the dumplings."

I think I'm aging faster in New York. I'm here for two weeks and I'm already griping like an old lady.

Good night.

Day 14

And solicited.

In New York City, there's always someone trying to shmooze you for something. Whether it's the suits on Wall St. or the tattered on every corner, everyone wants something.

But mostly, they want manners. (See what I did there with the other use of "want"?")

As I walked up to the Met last week, I was accosted by a guy selling candy bars (he was with a group, but I don't know whom the profits benefited). There was a throng of people moving toward the entrance, so I did what everyone did: I gave the international symbol for "no thanks"--you know, when you sort flip your hand up-- and kept walking.

But he turned to me and said "Don't be mean!"

So I said, "Oh, sorry, no thanks."

So he called after me, "Skinny @** Sally."

Ok, I am kinda skinny, and my name does sound a lot like Sally, but that was uncalled for.

This from a guy who just told me not to be mean.

I don't know why I responded, but I laughed and said "Hey, you 'don't be mean!'"

He muttered after me. You're hustling tourists outside a museum, and you think you're being harassed? Love the irony, Mr. Candyman.

Today's hustler wasn't rude exactly, but he did continue to talk even after I breezed past him. I was tagging along with my friend Christina while she got things in order for her year in Spain. We ran across one of those Children International representatives (I'd link them, but I don't need to do their advertising), whom everyone was giving a wide berth. That left us in his line of fire.

The guy said something about us being his heroes or something, introduced himself, and asked our names as we walked past. I simply said "Sorry." (Why am I always apologizing to street teams? Why do I like parenthetical comments so much?)

He said "Sorry?! Who names a kid Sorry?"

Again, I don't know why I did it. It was just too easy.

(Over my shoulder): "I was a mistake!"

Shamelessly punny. Maybe if there had been a rim shot, people would have known it was a joke.

Day 13

And connected.

So today I went to the pride parade. No, wait -- today I was in the pride parade. On a float. How about that.

So I thought it was going to be really out there, out of my comfort zone, out of the norm, and parts of it were, but actually, it was just a fun thing to do. I didn't love the attention on top of the float during the parade, but I did enjoy the people.

The float was for a group called COLAGE. COLAGE is for the children of lesbian and gay couples, and really anyone who needs it. Since my friend Avi is a part of it (four dads, two moms, and a boatload of friendly), I got to hang out with the COLAGErs. I loved the shirts that said "I (heart) my dads" and "Turkey baster baby" -- complete with turkey baster graphic -- and the signs that said "Heather isn't the only one with two mommies," but the best part was the way people reacted to the group. They all wanted hugs and photos.

It's pretty cool that so many people come out (haha, come out) for this event. There are so few groups that can command that sort of attention from insiders and outsiders alike.

As cool as the parade was, I have to say the best part of my day came later. On my way back from Ciao Bella where I got a scoop of mint (made with mint leaves!) and a scoop of chocolate (made with the entire annual output of Hershey, PA?), I ran into three people I went to high school with. It was just so nice to see some familiar faces. This city isn't really so big.

And it better get smaller. In the spirit of connectedness, and the goal I set earlier this week, I talked to a contact in the industry tonight. Her advice: don't just apply, find a connection and follow up. Eeep. I hate networking.

But she's right. A resume just isn't the same as an inside connection. So I sent out a couple emails. I can still feel my teeth grinding. I really hate networking. It's just so pushy and awkward. Four contacts down, one to go. Tips?

Good night.

Day 12

And defeated.

Or the United States soccer team is. I had lunch at a not-that-great sushi place near Columbus Circle with David, then headed to the Phillips Club to watch the game with Amy. It was really fun. And painful. I was so wracked with nerves that it actually, physically hurt.

Does watching soccer count for goal two? Does eating frozen chocolate chips count against it? -1. Wow, no goals furthered today. Bad Talie.

Just wait 'til you hear what I'm doing tomorrow. It doesn't count for a goal, but, well, you'll see.

David's coming to stay tonight so he doesn't have to head back to Jersey. Company! Gnight.

Day 11

And cultured...sort of.

Today's mission was to tackle goal four: get cultured.

I thought I'd start with the Met since it's less freaky than the MoMA and a girl I know from college is giving tours of one of the exhibits.

There was a little confusion and rescheduling and I ended up hanging out in Central Park in a pretty little quiet area where the trees blocked out the heat for most of the afternoon. Not too shabby, really.

In the end I did see a little of the museum, but I'll get to that later.

I firmly believe that you don't need a ticket to see art in New York.

I stepped out of the subway into one of my favorite parts of New York: The Upper East Side. Doormen in funny uniforms greeted tenants. Pretty urns and fancy desks peeked through windows, even on the bottom floor, as if the offices were trying to keep up with the homes above them. Women with weathered skin hung their heads and pushed strollers while toddlers who look nothing like them gazed at the sky. It's a fanciful picture, a facade, I know, but as long as you don't think too hard about it, it's a nice part of town.

Turning left on 84th, I saw just the corner of something mammoth in the distance. Rounding onto 5th, I got the full view. Suffice it to say that the Metropolitan Museum of Art is striking. It fills every corner of your vision. Difficult to take in, impossible to ignore.

The guards at the entrance are bored. I'm gawking at the dome, they're calling me forward so they can search my bag. But they are hired to protect this majestic place so that tourists can come and stare in awe, and I'm staring.

Here the confusion sets in and the plan gets muddled and I leave for the park until Roshni (college-Roshni, not best-friend-Roshni, for those in the know) has some down time and calls me in.

With an impressionist's take on a simple button/pin clipped to my dress, I'm allowed in free of charge (thanks Roshni!). Roshni breezes through the impressionists where I get to see works from my childhood favorite, Monet, up the elevator and onto the roof.

It turns out that Roshni was hired just to give tours of a living art piece on the roof of the Met. It's called Big Bambu. I say it's "living" because the artists' concept was to create a piece that reflects human life and is constantly being assembled. When the work is complete, Mike and Doug Starn (identical twins!) will immediately set to work taking it apart. Roshni tells me that when the artists began Big Bambu, they were afraid of heights, so rock climbers are helping them fasten the colorful nylon ropes around the bamboo shafts.

Got your interest? Let me explain. Big Bambu looks something like those play areas behind fast food chains. But it's all bamboo. It's part sculpture, part building. They even had to get a building permit. There are walkways high in the air and visitors need to follow certain guidelines to stay safe. When finished, it'll look like a cresting wave, but the art is in the performance. Big Bambu is alive. The rods are bones and the nylon are joints. The people walking through are blood. Roshni tells me they call the walkways "arteries."

If you're having trouble picturing it, click here.

It's amazing how a little guidance can illuminate an art museum. Roshni had to go, so I decided I'd come back as a paying customer some other day and get a full tour. There's an American Woman exhibit I think I'll have no trouble understanding. It's fashion, and that I get.

Day 10

And finally cooling down.

I have air conditioning! The maintenance guys came by and replaced by noisy fan pretending to be an air conditioner, with a humming, digital, remote controlled dream of a machine. I celebrated by setting it to frigid and buying overpriced ice cube trays. When I came home from running errands, I was greeted by a blast of icy air. Bliss.

But I don't totally hate the environment (do you hear that, coffeehouse people?), so I cranked it up a little.

Speaking of things that are cold and eco-friendly, I love my Thermos. I swear, it is the only way to survive the summer heat. It may be a little pricey at about $20, but assume you would buy 21 water bottles in the time you own this thing, and fork it over. It's terrific. I put ice in it at lunch with David and the ice was still there for dinner.

And speaking of lunch (pizza) why have I been neglecting three of my goals? So today begins the road to goal two: get healthy. Since my Wii is out of commission for the time being, I have to get creative. I'll take any ideas you have that don't require me to get down on the floor of my apartment. Ick.

I'm starting with posture. Mine used to be perfect, but college disabused me of that. I've noticed that as my posture got worse, by abs got softer and my back got achier. So sub-goal 2.1 is posture. Wanna join me?

Internet!

T-mobile tells me I'll soon get internet on my phone! Woohoo!

So I guess that means I can blog more often-- maybe even with fewer words in each post. (Lucky you.)

Goal 1 update: After the O internship snafu, I'm starting to check the internship boards as often as the job boards. I found a pretty good one today that pays minimum wage so I sent in my stuff. Who knows what will happen.

And as far as the networking sub-goal: two contacts made, three to go.

Day 9 (the original post)

And frugal.

How to have a perfectly New York day with about $12 (actually, I did it in about $6, but I already owned a few things):

Today started lazy. My friend Yana had already told me she couldn't make it to dinner after all, so I had no plan. My brother texted me that Jimmy Fallon would be on the Engadget Show and the taping was not only free, but minutes from my apartment. I considered it while I browsed a blog that kept me in stitches for an embarrassingly large chunk of the morning (and evening, actually): Cake Wrecks. I inevitably checked the Jon Stewart show and found out that today was the only day in the foreseeable future with available tickets. Jimmy or Jon, techy or funny? Funny wins.

So I headed out, grabbed a bagel and cup of ice (yes, they charged me for ice) at Bite and got on the subway where I dumped the ice into my Thermos...and lap. Sub-total for me: less than $3. Sub-total for others: about $5. I already had a MetroCard.

Out on the West Side, I got in line between 3 and 3:30 p.m. The line wrapped around the corner. It was a long wait, but the studio was kind enough to provide unlimited, ice-cold water bottles. The interns manning the line told me I could still get in without a printed confirmation as long as my name was on the list (it was) and I could show them something (a picture on my phone of the confirmation email). When they came around about an hour later with tickets, they didn't even check the confirmation picture. I just gave them my name and received a flimsy ticket clearly printed off a computer and cut out (badly) by an intern. My cost: still less than $3.

Samantha Bee walked by. She really is always pregnant.

They brought us into the studio around 5:45 p.m. I wasn't the only loner in line, but the loner in front of me stopped off at the bathroom. So when they needed to fill one seat in the front row, they directed me right up front. Cool!

There were some unexpected faces in the audience. An older woman (65 maybe?) kept her fingers in her ears while she scowled at the loud music they use to pump up the crowd. Another woman--botoxed within an inch of her life, but still obviously past the 70 mark--didn't move a muscle, even when the hilarious warm-up act singled her out as "the fanciest woman" he'd ever seen. Then again, maybe she found him hilarious, too, but couldn't afford the laugh lines.

The point of the warm-up guy was mostly to remind us that the Daily Show needed us to laugh: "If Jon goes two seconds without saying anything, that means there was a joke and you probably missed it. So laugh."

Then they brought out Jon. They warned us he was short. Let's put it this way: he's mostly face. But a very nice, and funny, guy. He chatted with audience members, fielded questions (I tried!), and made cracks about his appearance.

When the show started, they said they'd pan the audience, so we had to go nuts. They didn't, but we did.

It went off without a hitch. Boy, there is nothing glamorous about TV. Those newsrooms in the background aren't even real set pieces. Some are, but most of it is projected on screens (I could see silhouettes moving behind them--wait, wouldn't the silhouette be moving on the screen? Language is funny.) After the show, they taped a piece of the international edition. Jon conversed with international audience members about their soccer teams. I kept expecting him the make a joke to the Slovenian woman in the back, but he was genuinely complimentary about her team. It was really odd to see the character Jon Stewart joke about the same things the human Jon Stewart was so serious about moments before.

I have to say, if you get the chance to see a taping in NYC, take it. It really is a lot of fun.

Actually, on my way back (cost to me: still <$3 -- hmm, weird broken heart emoticon-- cost to others, about $7.50) I saw a crew filming a young woman with teased blonde hair wearing a glittery gold dress and makeup that was comically obviously supposed to convey that she had been crying. The scene was simply her getting into a cab as far as I could tell. I didn't pay it too much attention. I was hot and hungry, so I figured I could splurge on an iced coffee from Think Coffee. Sub-total for me: <$6, for others: $10.50.

The downside to this day: I didn't eat very well.

I came home, snacked and whipped up pasta from a box ($1 because it's from Whole Foods, but you could do it for less). On the upside, I have enough pasta to last a week. So let's call it $6+ for me, $11+ for you.

Bon Appetite.

Day 9

And down.

The first thing I do when I wake up or get home is check my email. When I realize (again) that I have nothing but spam in my inbox, I switch over to the job boards. So I just got in, ready to post about my New York day (I'll post all of that later), and laughed at myself for checking. I actually said something dubious out loud. Usually, when I check my mail or the boards, the worst thing that can happen is nothing. Not so bad. But O reposted the internship.

Blow 1: that probably means that the resumes they received were insufficient.

Blow 2: They posted it for college credit. I had so much trouble getting college credit for internships when I was actually a student that I decided to avoid it this year. Shoot.

I'm trying to find a way around it. Maybe a community college around here will do it.

You know that "hope" thing I posted last night? Yeah, not so much anymore.

Day 8

And playing my part.

On the subway riding home (home?), I'm surrounded by suits. They play their roles effectively: check the smartphone, loosen the tie, look weary. In my flimsy, floral tank top, I'm indistinguishable from the tourists crowding the streets. Nothing hints at the fact that I'm a recent magazine grad hunting for a job (unless they noticed the Esquire in my bag or the cloud of despair hanging over me). I am the unencumbered girl on the subway. That's my role.

Today I'm in Keds, a tank top, a skirt. In a week I could get a job, a pair of pumps and a blazer and be one of them (actually, those things are waiting in my closet for when I get a job). We really do wear costumes, don't we?

Today's summary: dessert for lunch at Serendipity3 with Tony, then a walk down to Herald Square to meet David for dinner (Kosher Delight was terribly disappointing this time). I even played the tourist and bought 10 post cards to send Kayla at camp. Now that's a dollar well spent.

On another subject (and goal), I just applied to a position I'm very excited about. It's an internship, but it's paid and at my kind of magazine: O, The Oprah Magazine. Even without the subtle nudging from just about everyone who talked to me this weekend, I would have loved to apply for anything at O. Really, I'd sweep the floors or fetch the entire staff coffee if it meant getting a peek into a meeting that planned content across all the Oprah platforms. (I am such a magazine drone.) So, um, cross your fingers, toes, legs, arms, eyes, and t's. Heck, whip up a batch of pretzels and hot cross buns, because if I never hear back about this one, I think I'll be a little extra disappointed.

It's fun to have hope.

Good night.

The book!

I may not be employed, but I do have one little project in progress.

This weekend at the Ryan Nece Foundation's annual gala, guests got to see the first glimpses into a children's book about the charitable organization's theme, "The Power of Giving." My cousin Jodi Bender and I coauthored the book with Ryan's guidance and ideas, and I am so excited to see it come to life with illustrations. Jo sent me these photos, so I thought I'd share them with you.

The book follows Sammy the Squirrel on his adventure through the forest to find pecans for his mom's pie shop. Along the way, he meets Presley the porcupine, Buckee the beaver and Melvin the moose, each of whom could use a helping hand. Small but mighty, Sammy is happy to help them out, even if it means running afoul of the horrible, horrible hawk.

I just love the message of this book. Ryan believes in "paying it forward," so whenever the characters ask how to thank him, Sammy tells them to do something kind for someone else. I can't wait to see it in print.

Day 7

And unemployed.

It's starting to hit me that I haven't been hired. I know these things take time. I know there's no shame in being an unemployed college grad in June. I just feel strange having no mission. No nine to five. No schedule. No plan.

Please hire me.

My building just had a fire drill. I opened the door of my apartment to a deafening, rhythmic screech. I'm talking about the kind of noise that fills your whole head and leaves room for nothing else. I remembered to take the stairs, but flight after flight, I heard nothing but my own Nike-padded footsteps. I actually felt a little silly evacuating because I seemed to be the only one. When I stepped outside, it was the first time I had seen signs of life from my building since the day I got here. The one kid in the building I had already met, Ben who went to Newhouse, too, was chatting up a girl who I now know is interning for Chanel's PR.

She offered to take my info and sniff around Chanel's many magazine connections to see if she could help. In the time it took me to look ancient by pulling out a pen and hunting for paper, she whipped out a Blackberry. Whoops, I forgot I had one of those.

Nonetheless, I made a contact. Cool.

I started this blog to help me stay on top of my goals, but I've been avoiding blogging about goal number one: Get a job.

Sure, I've applied to postings I found on Ed2010 and MediaBistro. I contacted the one real networking contact I've made and sought her advice (she says to hold out for what I want as long as I can afford to). I just haven't heard any good news.

I have the grades, the resume, the skills, and the drive. But if there's one thing I'm really missing, it's networking. And that's what everyone says I need. So I'm making a subgoal: contact five people who may be able to help. Yes, I'm starting small, but this networking thing is really nerve-wracking for me. I feel like I'm bothering people for no reason.

On the other hand, feeling intrusive is better than being an unemployed lump, so here goes...um something.

Wish me luck.

Day 6

And alone at last.

Shelter Island was beautiful and it was so nice to see the Diamond clan. They're so welcoming, I always feel like one of the gang. I'm almost sorry that this was the last of the weddings for a while. All the older boys are married, so it looks like Jared's next in line (woah there).

I explored the neighborhood just enough tonight to find a market with kosher meat a few blocks away, and get myself a Swiffer (so much for not shopping). No goals furthered today: bad blogger.

I'll check the job listings in the morning and get back to you.

Good night.

Days 4, 5 and 6

And starting to settle in.

I didn't have my laptop yesterday (day 4), since I was visiting my brother in Morristown, New Jersey. Mom and I headed out from Penn Station and met David for some more practical shopping. (Btw I am so glad this weekend includes no shopping. I'm starting to feel pretty guilty). We got kitchen stuff for the apartment, then took Mom to the airport and headed back to David's apt with his roommate/old friend/? Amy. Today he drove me back in to the City with my wares since it would have been a hassle and a half to get it all on the train.

New favorite thing: driving to New York City.

It's like nothing else, not even riding in a cab.

Access is a funny thing in NYC. On the one hand, you have every different culture, cuisine and style packed into a sardine can of a city. Want Chinese food or aspirin or dry cleaning at any hour? Leave your apt and turn right.

On the other hand, there are high prices, crowded streets and skeevy neighborhoods. And sometimes those things are limiting.

I love being in New York, but if there's one thing I miss (besides the familiarity of home) it's the control I feel behind the wheel of my giant SUV (go ahead and hate me, coffeehouse messiahs. It has eight seats). I love revving up the engine, singing at the top of my lungs and deciding where I'll go and how I'll get there (I also like that no one can hear me belt show tunes at full volume). I know I can get anything I want in this city, I just don't feel like I can do it all alone.

Speaking of alone, this is the first time I've been alone all week, but it won't last long. Jared's plane just got in to LGA and he's on his way. We're going to yet another of his cousins' weddings out on Shelter Island. That, incidentally, is why I won't be posting again for a couple days. Jared and I are seeing Toy Story 3 tonight (and psyched about it!), then heading out for the whole weekend.

And it might take you that long to read all this! I have got to learn to shorten my posts! Happy weekending.

-TT

Day 3

And seeking entertainment...

Today was casual. Mom and I met up browsed Macy's while we waited for David, then tagged along with him on a messenger mission to the courthouse in the Bronx (via the D train).

After a bite at Al's Deli, Mom was pretty wiped, so we headed back to the apartment for a break. Mom napped, I hooked my Wii up to my computer.

This did not go so well. I don't know the jargon, so I'll explain the best I can. On Monday, David tried to use a converter that turned red/yellow/white cables into USB to link the Wii to my TV tuner which connects to my computer through USB. He couldn't pull the Wii up in Windows Media Center.

So I tried a new approach. I took my converter that changes red/yellow/white cables into a coaxial cable link and attached it to the TV tuner with a coaxial cable and tuned to channel three. That worked...sort of.

I knew there would be a delay. I was just hoping it wouldn't render the whole thing useless. I figured out how to time the ski jump balance game on Wii Fit/Wii Fit Plus just right, but that's about it. If you have any (inexpensive!) ideas, comment below, please.

So I pulled up an episode of Glee, then walked up to The Strand. Three random trivia books, two giant bags of M&Ms, one slice of pizza and a viewing of "Love Actually" later, it's time for bed. G'night, blogosphere.

P.S. I didn't actually polish off the M&Ms. Health goal=relatively on track?

Day 2

And boy do my feet hurt.

I left the walking shoes I bought last summer (Anne Klein iFlex loafers like these without the platform, I think) at home, so I've been wearing my MIA Isabel sandals. They have that cool, flat-bottomed, many-strapped-top look, but I may as well have gone barefoot for all the support they lend. So I broke one of my cardinal rules: I bought Keds for almost $30.

If I thought $30 was too much to spend on shoes, I'd be in for a rude awakening in the city of Blahnik, Weitzman and Ferragamo.Don't worry; I know. But I never pay more than $15 for Keds.

Why? Because I collect Keds, and if I could buy any pair I wanted, it would just be too easy. I'm up to 11 pairs. It would be 12, but I got rid of a pair of thick-soled white ones recently. Today's pair was white. My feet are content.

I marched those Keds up to the New Amsterdam (makes me think of Counting Crows) to see Mary Poppins tonight. My review: rave.

Mom and I loved it. The show has a little of everything, including a trite little ending only Disney could concoct. It's a perfect introduction to Broadway for young theatergoers, and a delightful treat for those of us who long for more shows like 42nd Street.

Maybe I'll write up a real review later, but for now it's goodnight!

Day 1

Welcome to New York.

I'm all moved in and settled in a little studio apartment in lower Manhattan. I have no followers and no idea how to blog. Here we go.

I hoped to do at least one thing each day to further one of my goals. Today's goal of choice: get to know New York.

I'm in unfamiliar territory here. I lived by Union Square last summer, and I loved the hustle and bustle, the wide streets, the always-populated park, and the easy access to food, books, transportation and just about everything else. I felt safe enough to walk around late at night (I was careful, I promise), and I could count on the street/avenue names to make sense.

I'm down where the streets have no numbers now and that totally throws me. The streets are smaller, darker and quieter. I can't sense midtown's looming presence here, and at the risk of showing what an outsider I am, I have to say I love midtown. I love Times Square. I like the tourists with their cameras and dropped jaws. I like being anonymous among them. I like being in one of the icons of the U.S.

It's a good thing I don't have readers. If I had some, they would probably leave me around now for sounding so hokey.

For the record, I don't do too well with change. Nostalgia, I get.

But here's the upside: I have a whole new area to explore. I have to get out of my comfort zone. And my parents are letting me spend a summer in NY looking for a job, so I'll take what I get and I'll like it. Oh, and I have my own bathroom. Hooray.

So back to the goal:

Today was all about exploration. Once we (that's my mom and me) dumped my bags and plugged in enough wires to fill a Best Buy, we ventured out to run some errands and meet my brother David at Herald Square where he has an internship this summer. We grabbed lunch at Kosher Delight, which had surprisingly good Chinese food (then again, tube socks would also be good if you dropped them in a deep fryer). Miscellaneous goal achieved: find good kosher Chinese food. Hmm, that was almost too easy.

He headed back to work, and my mom and I went up and down the stairs of a subway station trying to decide if we wanted the orange line. We did. New goal: figure out transportation. I prefer to walk, but I should know how to get around underground.

Map in hand and determined to commit the subway system to memory, I fell asleep on my bare mattress for an hour. When I woke up, I figured out how to get online and navigated to Hopstop, the cheater's approach to achieving the navigation goal.

Bed, Bath and Beyond is on 6th avenue between 18th and 19th st. Take the F or V. Easy enough.

Dinner time. David took us to a Japanese restaurant called Tomoe (we keep a moderate sort of kosher, so we eat out). We waited in a line outside for about half an hour, then sat down at a teeny corner table meant for two. I ordered the assorted tempura vegetables and tuna roll. Word to the wise: ask them to cut the rolls. What I got was like a nori cone of tuna mush and rice. I ate David's tuna sashimi. Loved the tempura, but then again, it's deep fried. Negative points on the health goal. We shared the green tea mousse for dessert. It has a super weird texture, but I loved the taste! It had the freshness of my favorite mint-chip ice cream, but smoother, without the bite of mint. I'm sure I won't eat quite as well once my mom heads home, but it was a nice treat.

Now I'm back here in my apartment. I can't believe I'm still awake. This city may not sleep, but I have to. So, it's time for me to clean up and head to bed.

I hope I get better at this blogging thing soon. Meanwhile, if anyone stumbles upon this blog, I hope I can still provide a little insight on the move to New York.

Good night!

So here's the plan...

I just graduated from college with a bachelor of science in magazine journalism from the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University. I'm moving from my family's home in central Florida to the big city so I can find a job at a commercial magazine.

I'm starting this blog to help me stay on track with a few goals:
1. Get a job. This is the big one. I love magazines. I love what they can do for people , the way they can establish a community, build trust, and give advice. Plus, when you put a picture of a holiday meal or a wedding dress or even just a really cute kid on a glossy page, it transforms. People may think the industry is dying; I think it's just changing. I’m glad I’ll get to be a part of that change.

2. Get healthy. I'm naturally slender, so I look fit, but I'm not even close. I'm laughably uncoordinated, weak and clumsy, so I shy away from sports. I detest gyms. The sport I like most is walking (I actually love to walk). I run on carbs, chocolate, red meat and stress. So with the help of my Wii, the food pyramid and more than 2,000 city blocks to explore, I hope I can whip myself into shape.

3. Get educated. This one sounds a little funny, because I am educated. I've been through seven years of private school, eight years of prep school and four years of college. I'm spoiled with education. My schools have been the best gifts my parents could possibly give me. But I only have one degree to hang on my wall (or more likely, file away in a safe place), and in this day and age, that's not much, so I want to keep learning.

4. Get cultured. I have a head start on this one. I love musical and straight theater. My grandmother loves the arts and lived 2.5 hours from my college, so I often drove in for a weekend of symphony and opera and, of course, theater. I've taken enough classes and seen enough shows to appreciate a good actor or dancer, but I know less about music, and very little about art. Actually, I know nothing about art. Especially modern art. My grandmother's walls are covered in works that make me wonder if the artists behind them are brilliant or just clumsy. I swear at least one of them is just spilled paint on canvas. Color me ignorant.

5. Get to know New York. This category covers all manner of sins from watching street performers to finding the Cash Cab. Got ideas for what I should explore next? Comment!