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!