Why is it so cold here? Someone make it stop!!! It’s pretty rare that I notice the cold. I’m a normal Midwesterner- We discuss the weather (incessantly) but we don’t complain about it. How much you can stand before you break down and admit to being cold is a matter of pride, and I will never give in, especially not around all the whiners in NYC. Buck up, kiddos! When it’s -32, your complaints will start to be legitimate. When it’s 32 degrees above zero, you are just a whiner.
But I admit. I’m giving in. I’m cold! I need to go to the grocery store, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to walk 4 blocks in the cold today. I’ll just eat that lonely Lean Cuisine that’s been languishing in the back of the freezer and hope that tomorrow the temperature is higher. I really should have gone to the bank today, but oh hell no. That check can wait until my ears aren’t pink from the cold, despite my awesome hat. Instead, I will curl up on my couch with a glass of red wine to stay warm (some people might suggest hot cocoa or coffee, but they clearly have never experienced the warming powers of a bottle of Montepulciano, poor souls.) I will watch Gossip Girl reruns and 30 Rock DVDs and let my idol Blair Waldorf and true alter ego Liz Lemon enjoy a chilly NYC (after all, they look so much cuter in it that I do!) while I remain in my toasty warm apartment (not that my apartment is all that warm, but it is once I am cocooned in 8 layers of fleece, flannel, and down!)
I’m starting to think the prairie dog has the right idea after all. Wake me up when spring returns, okay?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Property Values...
Am I old? Of course I’m old. I mean, I’ve always been a cranky, cynical 85 year old woman on the inside (and outside as well… sometimes I shop at Eileen Fisher…) But I must be old, because lately, I really, really want to buy an apartment.
I mean, I have a great apartment. Or rather, I rent a great apartment. For more than half of my monthly take-home salary, I might add. But what can you do? This is the (second) greatest city on earth (my heart will always belong to London) and it requires sacrifice to live here. I don’t mind… most days.
But I want to own property! Maybe it’s the Midwesterner in me? It must be. As I reach the turning point of my quarter-life crisis, I’m becoming so traditional! Not only do I now want to get married, I want to own a home. I want to paint it whatever color I want! I want to be able to hang pictures on the walls without worrying about how much of my security deposit I’m losing with each nail! I want hardwood floors and crown molding and a stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator! (As you can see, I also want to be independently wealthy.) I want an Upper East Side penthouse. No, a brownstone in the West Village. No, a sprawling loft in Tribeca. Ooh, a Riverside Drive condo! So many choices. I can fill it with antique furniture and black-and-white photos that I’ve taken on my travels around the world (assuming I ever actually do any more traveling.) I can sew curtains and make little potpourri sachets for each bathroom and… DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM?
Who is this domestic diva? Where did she come from? Can I send her back? I’ve never wanted these things in my life. Potpourri sachets… I can barely keep myself stocked with tissues and contact lens solution. I’m no Brie Van De Kamp… I’m lucky if my dishes ever make it from the drainer back into the cupboard. I Swiffer maybe once a month, unless I’m having visitors. When the power’s out or the boiler quits or the basement floods, I like that I can call my landlord any hour of the day or night and make it HIS problem, not mine (but then, I suppose if I had a husband, I could make it HIS problem… reason #136 that marriage might not be so bad after all…)
All in all, it’s a moot point, anyway I suppose. I can barely keep my head above water, much less save for a down payment. I’m struggling to keep 3 months emergency money in my savings account, I’m never going to come up with 2 years’ salary for a down payment. Is this why people move back to the Midwest? Cheap home ownership? Yikes. We’ve clearly gotten the girl out of the Midwest, but it’s still going to take some work to get the Midwest out of this girl. I just want to own a piece of my beloved concrete jungle.
Is this adulthood? I resign. Where do I turn in my clubcard?
I mean, I have a great apartment. Or rather, I rent a great apartment. For more than half of my monthly take-home salary, I might add. But what can you do? This is the (second) greatest city on earth (my heart will always belong to London) and it requires sacrifice to live here. I don’t mind… most days.
But I want to own property! Maybe it’s the Midwesterner in me? It must be. As I reach the turning point of my quarter-life crisis, I’m becoming so traditional! Not only do I now want to get married, I want to own a home. I want to paint it whatever color I want! I want to be able to hang pictures on the walls without worrying about how much of my security deposit I’m losing with each nail! I want hardwood floors and crown molding and a stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator! (As you can see, I also want to be independently wealthy.) I want an Upper East Side penthouse. No, a brownstone in the West Village. No, a sprawling loft in Tribeca. Ooh, a Riverside Drive condo! So many choices. I can fill it with antique furniture and black-and-white photos that I’ve taken on my travels around the world (assuming I ever actually do any more traveling.) I can sew curtains and make little potpourri sachets for each bathroom and… DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM?
Who is this domestic diva? Where did she come from? Can I send her back? I’ve never wanted these things in my life. Potpourri sachets… I can barely keep myself stocked with tissues and contact lens solution. I’m no Brie Van De Kamp… I’m lucky if my dishes ever make it from the drainer back into the cupboard. I Swiffer maybe once a month, unless I’m having visitors. When the power’s out or the boiler quits or the basement floods, I like that I can call my landlord any hour of the day or night and make it HIS problem, not mine (but then, I suppose if I had a husband, I could make it HIS problem… reason #136 that marriage might not be so bad after all…)
All in all, it’s a moot point, anyway I suppose. I can barely keep my head above water, much less save for a down payment. I’m struggling to keep 3 months emergency money in my savings account, I’m never going to come up with 2 years’ salary for a down payment. Is this why people move back to the Midwest? Cheap home ownership? Yikes. We’ve clearly gotten the girl out of the Midwest, but it’s still going to take some work to get the Midwest out of this girl. I just want to own a piece of my beloved concrete jungle.
Is this adulthood? I resign. Where do I turn in my clubcard?
Friday, January 2, 2009
Things I should Probably Do this Year
I'm not making any New Year's Resolutions this year. Every year I make somewhere between 12 and 15, and every year I break them all. So this year, instead, I'll just create a general master list of "Things I should probably do this year."
Things I should probably do this year:
Curb my spending: I know, you’re all thinking that I’m the cheapest person you know, how could I possibly curb my spending, unless I stop eating or paying rent or buying a Metropass. But the truth is, I’ve gotten lazy, and lazy means I’m spending more money than I should. I’m cooking less and eating out more. Going to the library less and buying more movies and books. Filling my apartment with all sorts of wonderful things, but running out of places to put them. In this time of recession, when everyone’s cutting back, it’s odd that I’m finally starting to cut loose. Why am I always such a weirdo?
Decide once and for all whether or not to get therapy: Let’s face it, I’m f-ed up. I can either face it head on or ignore it and put it behind me, but it’s time to make a decision.
Learn French: How have I gotten this far in my life knowing so little French? It’s not that I need to know it, or that I regularly feel myself lacking because I don’t know it. It’s just one of those things that I’d feel better about myself if I knew. This will require a serious, concerted effort, something more than just buying French Vogue at the newsstand and turning on the French subtitles while I watch Gossip Girl reruns.
Find a man: This is the year I make my grandmother's dreams come true. Whether I have to go to church, the singles' bar, or finally agree to date that creepy guy from the library, this is the year that I achieve a semi-functional, longer than three months, sort-of adult relationship. I always swore I wouldn't join an online dating service until I was 25. That said, see you on Eharmony on April 13 of this year.
Further my education: Ooh, maybe I should take a French class! Two birds, one stone! More than that, though, I’ve got to find a graduate program and get started on it. I might or might not want a Ph.D, but if I don’t get started on something soon, the opportunity’s going to pass by, and the decision will have been made for me by my own inertia. (Oh my goodness, that could apply to so many areas of my life…. Oh dear, must find therapist with whom to discuss! See resolution 2)
Leave the country: I've not crossed the US border (not even to Canada!) since returning from London 4 years ago. I'm not even sure where my passport is these days. I'm getting antsy... Where shall I venture this year? So many options, so little vacation time!
Blog more!!! My life is actually pretty interesting… at least, it keeps me entertained. Why shouldn’t everyone else think so? Besides, everybody’s got a blog these days. If I can’t keep up with Lindsay Lohan, I’ve got even bigger problems than I realized!
Things I should probably do this year:
Curb my spending: I know, you’re all thinking that I’m the cheapest person you know, how could I possibly curb my spending, unless I stop eating or paying rent or buying a Metropass. But the truth is, I’ve gotten lazy, and lazy means I’m spending more money than I should. I’m cooking less and eating out more. Going to the library less and buying more movies and books. Filling my apartment with all sorts of wonderful things, but running out of places to put them. In this time of recession, when everyone’s cutting back, it’s odd that I’m finally starting to cut loose. Why am I always such a weirdo?
Decide once and for all whether or not to get therapy: Let’s face it, I’m f-ed up. I can either face it head on or ignore it and put it behind me, but it’s time to make a decision.
Learn French: How have I gotten this far in my life knowing so little French? It’s not that I need to know it, or that I regularly feel myself lacking because I don’t know it. It’s just one of those things that I’d feel better about myself if I knew. This will require a serious, concerted effort, something more than just buying French Vogue at the newsstand and turning on the French subtitles while I watch Gossip Girl reruns.
Find a man: This is the year I make my grandmother's dreams come true. Whether I have to go to church, the singles' bar, or finally agree to date that creepy guy from the library, this is the year that I achieve a semi-functional, longer than three months, sort-of adult relationship. I always swore I wouldn't join an online dating service until I was 25. That said, see you on Eharmony on April 13 of this year.
Further my education: Ooh, maybe I should take a French class! Two birds, one stone! More than that, though, I’ve got to find a graduate program and get started on it. I might or might not want a Ph.D, but if I don’t get started on something soon, the opportunity’s going to pass by, and the decision will have been made for me by my own inertia. (Oh my goodness, that could apply to so many areas of my life…. Oh dear, must find therapist with whom to discuss! See resolution 2)
Leave the country: I've not crossed the US border (not even to Canada!) since returning from London 4 years ago. I'm not even sure where my passport is these days. I'm getting antsy... Where shall I venture this year? So many options, so little vacation time!
Blog more!!! My life is actually pretty interesting… at least, it keeps me entertained. Why shouldn’t everyone else think so? Besides, everybody’s got a blog these days. If I can’t keep up with Lindsay Lohan, I’ve got even bigger problems than I realized!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Resolutions for the Rest of You
Well, that time of peace and joy and love for my fellow human beings has passed. We’re now in the dark winter of cynicism and sarcasm and wishing everyone else would get a clue already. However, before writing me off as a bitter Betty, consider that it is only my deep concern for my fellow human beings (and my high regard for myself) that allows me to present the following list of Resolutions for Everybody Else. Follow them, and make the world a better place (for me) this year.
1) Resolve to always take note of your surroundings. Are you walking down 8th Avenue in a throng of hurrying commuters? Then perhaps now would not be the best time to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and tie your shoe. DUH.
2) Resolve to hold the door open. It’s common courtesy. Whether you are male, female, old, young, whatever, it is very, very rude to let the door slam in the face of the person behind you. DUH.
3) Resolve to turn off your cell phone in churches, theatres, and other quiet environments. There are signs everywhere. It’s printed at the top of the church bulletin. There’s an announcement before the show starts. There is no excuse for “forgetting” to do this. Can’t miss a call? Every cell phone on the planet has a “silent” tone. Learn how to use it. DUH.
4) Resolve to have your method of payment ready at the check-out. You’ve seen those commercials for the Visa check card? They’re more accurate than you think. Don’t be the dingbat fumbling in the bottom of your pocket for and additional 12 cents. You know what that time you spend standing in line is for? It’s for you to get out your cash or your credit card, find your wallet, end your cell phone conversation, and just generally be ready for your interaction with the cashier so that you don’t hold up the rest of us. DUH. And for that matter, if you are one of the 14 people left on earth who still write checks at stores, buck up and join the 21st century. Get yourself a debit card and learn to use it, STAT. Or at least stop shopping at the places I’m shopping, because I will shoot you murderous looks and not so subtly mutter about you under my breath. DUH.
5) Resolve to send thank-you notes. Has someone done something nice for you? Did they give you a gift? Did they go above and beyond for you? Don’t you think you could do them the small honor of taking pen to paper and thanking them? Like your mother always told you, it builds character and it displays character. Be a good person. DUH.
6) Resolve to let other people exit before you enter. This applies to train cars, elevators, and buildings in general. There’s no need to shove yourself in. That seat isn’t going anywhere, that elevator isn’t going to move, until the people who are already inside get out. Make life easier for everyone and do your waiting on the platform. DUH.
7) Resolve to ask yourself, when faced with a behavioral conundrum, what would Sarah do? If in doubt, feel free to ask. I will always have a right answer for you. DUH.
So take my advice and take my help, and do your part to make my life a little less stressful this year. It’s the least you can do to make the world a little nicer!
1) Resolve to always take note of your surroundings. Are you walking down 8th Avenue in a throng of hurrying commuters? Then perhaps now would not be the best time to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and tie your shoe. DUH.
2) Resolve to hold the door open. It’s common courtesy. Whether you are male, female, old, young, whatever, it is very, very rude to let the door slam in the face of the person behind you. DUH.
3) Resolve to turn off your cell phone in churches, theatres, and other quiet environments. There are signs everywhere. It’s printed at the top of the church bulletin. There’s an announcement before the show starts. There is no excuse for “forgetting” to do this. Can’t miss a call? Every cell phone on the planet has a “silent” tone. Learn how to use it. DUH.
4) Resolve to have your method of payment ready at the check-out. You’ve seen those commercials for the Visa check card? They’re more accurate than you think. Don’t be the dingbat fumbling in the bottom of your pocket for and additional 12 cents. You know what that time you spend standing in line is for? It’s for you to get out your cash or your credit card, find your wallet, end your cell phone conversation, and just generally be ready for your interaction with the cashier so that you don’t hold up the rest of us. DUH. And for that matter, if you are one of the 14 people left on earth who still write checks at stores, buck up and join the 21st century. Get yourself a debit card and learn to use it, STAT. Or at least stop shopping at the places I’m shopping, because I will shoot you murderous looks and not so subtly mutter about you under my breath. DUH.
5) Resolve to send thank-you notes. Has someone done something nice for you? Did they give you a gift? Did they go above and beyond for you? Don’t you think you could do them the small honor of taking pen to paper and thanking them? Like your mother always told you, it builds character and it displays character. Be a good person. DUH.
6) Resolve to let other people exit before you enter. This applies to train cars, elevators, and buildings in general. There’s no need to shove yourself in. That seat isn’t going anywhere, that elevator isn’t going to move, until the people who are already inside get out. Make life easier for everyone and do your waiting on the platform. DUH.
7) Resolve to ask yourself, when faced with a behavioral conundrum, what would Sarah do? If in doubt, feel free to ask. I will always have a right answer for you. DUH.
So take my advice and take my help, and do your part to make my life a little less stressful this year. It’s the least you can do to make the world a little nicer!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Holy Family Sunday=Hate My Family Sunday
I’m pretty sure that sometime, a couple hundred years ago, some pope had it in for me. I know you’re thinking, “Yeah, sure, dude. I’m sure Gregory the Eighth or whoever developed this modern liturgical calendar was deeply concerned with how it would affect your sad and pathetic little life.” But I say, “Clearly so.” How else to explain the fact that the Feast of the Holy Family falls on the Sunday after Christmas every single year, ie, the one Sunday a year that every Catholic college student and young adult is guaranteed to be sitting in church beside his/her disapproving father and grandchild-crazy mother.
Let’s face it. Most of us were raised Catholic and are now about as likely to darken a church door as reruns of Arrested Development are to show up on the Hallmark Channel. (I myself, with my Eucharistic Ministering plot to meet an eligible, non-gay bachelor, am the rare exception.) But we all go home for Christmas, to listen to our parents tell us every year that this is the last year we will be receiving gifts as we unwrap our new Ipods, to eat ham at Grandma’s house and be slipped a fifty dollar bill and a bag of chocolates on the way out the door with the admonishment to not tell our parents, and to revisit our high school days by sitting sullenly beside our parents in a pew the next Sunday, silently mouthing the words to the Nicene Creed after being elbowed by our mothers and playing a rousing game of “Can I make my sibling wince by squeezing his/her hand during the Lord’s Prayer?”
So some Pope, back in the day, was clever enough to realize that if we’re only going to make it to church one Sunday a year, they ought to make it the one where they can annually beat us over the head with St. Paul’s admonishment to obey [our] parents, and for wives to be subordinate to their husbands (reason number 612 I will probably never get married.) This in turn, seems to make our parents believe they have free license to harangue us for the rest of the day about our life choices and our crazy, liberal, hippy beliefs about gender equality and ideas that maybe, just maybe, we don’t see things quite the same way as our parents and that at the age of 25-ish, it might just be time for them to buck up and realize that the days of obedience are over, and the best they can do is offer unsolicited advice that we will at best, ignore, and at worst, openly mock before defiantly ignoring.
At least this is how it all goes down in my family. No matter what day Christmas falls on, the Sunday after is always that point where we are just about sick of each other and itching for excuses to slam doors and sulk in our childhood bedrooms, if only for old time’s sake. So thanks, liturgical calendar, for adding one more layer to the crazy family Christmas traditions that will keep my therapist in business for the next ten years. At least his kids will get a pool out of it.
Let’s face it. Most of us were raised Catholic and are now about as likely to darken a church door as reruns of Arrested Development are to show up on the Hallmark Channel. (I myself, with my Eucharistic Ministering plot to meet an eligible, non-gay bachelor, am the rare exception.) But we all go home for Christmas, to listen to our parents tell us every year that this is the last year we will be receiving gifts as we unwrap our new Ipods, to eat ham at Grandma’s house and be slipped a fifty dollar bill and a bag of chocolates on the way out the door with the admonishment to not tell our parents, and to revisit our high school days by sitting sullenly beside our parents in a pew the next Sunday, silently mouthing the words to the Nicene Creed after being elbowed by our mothers and playing a rousing game of “Can I make my sibling wince by squeezing his/her hand during the Lord’s Prayer?”
So some Pope, back in the day, was clever enough to realize that if we’re only going to make it to church one Sunday a year, they ought to make it the one where they can annually beat us over the head with St. Paul’s admonishment to obey [our] parents, and for wives to be subordinate to their husbands (reason number 612 I will probably never get married.) This in turn, seems to make our parents believe they have free license to harangue us for the rest of the day about our life choices and our crazy, liberal, hippy beliefs about gender equality and ideas that maybe, just maybe, we don’t see things quite the same way as our parents and that at the age of 25-ish, it might just be time for them to buck up and realize that the days of obedience are over, and the best they can do is offer unsolicited advice that we will at best, ignore, and at worst, openly mock before defiantly ignoring.
At least this is how it all goes down in my family. No matter what day Christmas falls on, the Sunday after is always that point where we are just about sick of each other and itching for excuses to slam doors and sulk in our childhood bedrooms, if only for old time’s sake. So thanks, liturgical calendar, for adding one more layer to the crazy family Christmas traditions that will keep my therapist in business for the next ten years. At least his kids will get a pool out of it.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Merry New York City Christmas!
Confession time: I’m a Christmas-aholic.
I love Christmas. I love wandering in and out of stores to the dulcet tones of Bob Gedolf making offensively stereotypical generalizations about the entire continent of Africa. It’s the one time of year I can forgive the tourists in Rockefeller Center, because let’s face it, I find the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree pretty damn exciting too. I break out the tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, spend hours wandering the holiday decorations aisles at Target, and annually download tons of new Christmas music from iTunes (What? I have a thing for pop Christmas music. This year’s catchiest tune? The Jonas Brothers’ “Girl of my Dreams”. STOP making fun of me.)
The entire month of December is just a whirlwind of parties and festivals and shopping and traveling and celebrating and I love it. It’s my favorite time of year anywhere, but I think there’s something especially magical about Christmas in the city. Twinkling lights. Carols in the air. Christmas trees and pretty wrapped packages in shop windows. Fluttering scarves in a rainbow of colors as the people scurry home with their shopping bags. Bags from Bloomies, from Saks, from Tiffany, Lord and Taylor, Zabar’s, the Met. Frosty bus windows from which to watch the city fly by. Light snow falling. Holiday greetings everywhere. Smiles. Laughter. Joy.
It’s so rare that I view things with this rosy perspective. I know that if I stop and think about it, I will realize that there is really no difference in the season. No one is kinder or more polite to their fellow human beings. We all race through the streets ignoring each other, caught up in our own little worlds the same as always. That big bag from Macy’s might contain a gift for your mom, but no way is anyone going to let that old lady cut in front of them in the line for the subway turnstile.
But just for one brief season, I choose to ignore my inner cynic. I choose to believe in the spirit of the season. I choose to celebrate Christmas, and to believe that everyone else will make the right choice too.
Merry New York City Christmas!
Bring it on!
I love Christmas. I love wandering in and out of stores to the dulcet tones of Bob Gedolf making offensively stereotypical generalizations about the entire continent of Africa. It’s the one time of year I can forgive the tourists in Rockefeller Center, because let’s face it, I find the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree pretty damn exciting too. I break out the tree the weekend after Thanksgiving, spend hours wandering the holiday decorations aisles at Target, and annually download tons of new Christmas music from iTunes (What? I have a thing for pop Christmas music. This year’s catchiest tune? The Jonas Brothers’ “Girl of my Dreams”. STOP making fun of me.)
The entire month of December is just a whirlwind of parties and festivals and shopping and traveling and celebrating and I love it. It’s my favorite time of year anywhere, but I think there’s something especially magical about Christmas in the city. Twinkling lights. Carols in the air. Christmas trees and pretty wrapped packages in shop windows. Fluttering scarves in a rainbow of colors as the people scurry home with their shopping bags. Bags from Bloomies, from Saks, from Tiffany, Lord and Taylor, Zabar’s, the Met. Frosty bus windows from which to watch the city fly by. Light snow falling. Holiday greetings everywhere. Smiles. Laughter. Joy.
It’s so rare that I view things with this rosy perspective. I know that if I stop and think about it, I will realize that there is really no difference in the season. No one is kinder or more polite to their fellow human beings. We all race through the streets ignoring each other, caught up in our own little worlds the same as always. That big bag from Macy’s might contain a gift for your mom, but no way is anyone going to let that old lady cut in front of them in the line for the subway turnstile.
But just for one brief season, I choose to ignore my inner cynic. I choose to believe in the spirit of the season. I choose to celebrate Christmas, and to believe that everyone else will make the right choice too.
Merry New York City Christmas!
Bring it on!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thank You and Good Night!
It's that time of year. Time to think about my life (as though I don't spend all my time thinking (and writing) about me and my life.) Time to reflect on the past year, consider which New Year's Resolution I will be breaking in about six weeks, and start hunting for a dress to wear to Grandma's on Christmas that will NOT be deemed "sexy" by a creepy relative. Time to start making lists (again, as though my OCD doesn't compel me to do that all year long). Lists of things to do, things I want, things I will have to give other people so that they will give me things I want in return (Hey rich big brother! I'm getting you a fabulous-but-within-my-means Christmas gift this year! Please reciprocate with something that costs the same percentage of your yearly income, not the same dollar amount! Love you!)
So before all that starts, let me take a moment to let my inner good-person-ness make a brief appearance with a list of things I am thankful for this year.
My job: I know I whine and moan about it alot, and the fact of the matter is that my boss is capital C-razy, but all in all, a huge step up from last year. I loved being able to tell people where I worked last year, loved the name recognition and the status that came with a position in that organization, but never, at any time, did I truly enjoy the work I was doing. In fact, mostly it just made me miserable. I thought that I would be the kind of person who thrives on 80 hour work weeks, but they just became an excuse, a crutch, to both explain and avoid the mess that was the rest of my life. I ruined relationships, threatened my health, and came dangerously close to losing my fragile mental and emotional stability, and the more I blamed my job for my overall unhappiness, the more I took refuge in it. If I could only work a little harder, be a little more successful, everything else would take care of itself. It never happened, and I'm thankful that I finally woke up and saw what I was doing to myself. I'm thankful that once I decided to make a change, everything fell into place. The way the economy is going now, I'm glad I made this realization when I did, because waiting even just a few more months could have been disastrous.
My apartment: Good heavens, I love my apartment. Yes it's tiny, and rather dark, and has terrible public transport links. But the fact of the matter is, it's on a respectable, middle-class block, is safe and convenient to work, has responsible and conscientious landlords, and is in my price range. You can't ask for any more than that in the city. Sure, I dream of someday having Monica's apartment in the Village, but for now, I'm just happy to be free from wacko roommates and creepy Howard's management company.
My city: I'm thankful to have the chance to live in a great city while I'm young and independent. Yes, it's been harder than I'd anticipated (see above re: my job) and there have been times I've considered packing it all in and going back to the midwest. As I've grown up, I can even see myself doing that someday. But in so many ways it's what I've always dreamed of. Always the drama, the options, the entertainment, always something going on that is not happening anywhere else on earth. It's staggering, overwhelming, amazing. The city is a sensory overload but once its ingrained in your heart it's hard to get rid of. And why would you want to? This frenzied, pulsating beat of glitz and glamour and LIFE around every corner... it's exhilirating. It's mesmerizing. And I'm a part of that. And I'm glad.
My family: Yes, they drive me crazy. Yes, they have their quirks and their issues and their sometimes downright irritating nature. But they're also sweet, and generous, and I do believe that somewhere deep down, they care about me and I care about them, even though we will probably never really understand each other. And maybe that's okay.
My friends: I'm thankful for the widening circle of friends I'm building in the city. The few friends from home who've journeyed east along with me. The co-workers-turned-friends who helped me survive my old job and the new ones who make my current job much more fun. I'm excited to have reconnected with old friends from college who've moved to the city over the last year. My undying gratitude belongs to to my inner circle of college roommates who've seen me through a variety of physical and emotional trials this year, and have never give up. They still call, they still visit, they still care, no matter how bad things got. They are my rocks.
And I guess more than anything, as I reflect, I'm thankful for one important detail. I'm thankful that MY LIFE IS NOT A MOVIE. Because if it were, it would have to be nearing completion. Surely I've lived two hours worth of entertainment in the last few years. But, baby, believe me, the adventures have only just begun.
So before all that starts, let me take a moment to let my inner good-person-ness make a brief appearance with a list of things I am thankful for this year.
My job: I know I whine and moan about it alot, and the fact of the matter is that my boss is capital C-razy, but all in all, a huge step up from last year. I loved being able to tell people where I worked last year, loved the name recognition and the status that came with a position in that organization, but never, at any time, did I truly enjoy the work I was doing. In fact, mostly it just made me miserable. I thought that I would be the kind of person who thrives on 80 hour work weeks, but they just became an excuse, a crutch, to both explain and avoid the mess that was the rest of my life. I ruined relationships, threatened my health, and came dangerously close to losing my fragile mental and emotional stability, and the more I blamed my job for my overall unhappiness, the more I took refuge in it. If I could only work a little harder, be a little more successful, everything else would take care of itself. It never happened, and I'm thankful that I finally woke up and saw what I was doing to myself. I'm thankful that once I decided to make a change, everything fell into place. The way the economy is going now, I'm glad I made this realization when I did, because waiting even just a few more months could have been disastrous.
My apartment: Good heavens, I love my apartment. Yes it's tiny, and rather dark, and has terrible public transport links. But the fact of the matter is, it's on a respectable, middle-class block, is safe and convenient to work, has responsible and conscientious landlords, and is in my price range. You can't ask for any more than that in the city. Sure, I dream of someday having Monica's apartment in the Village, but for now, I'm just happy to be free from wacko roommates and creepy Howard's management company.
My city: I'm thankful to have the chance to live in a great city while I'm young and independent. Yes, it's been harder than I'd anticipated (see above re: my job) and there have been times I've considered packing it all in and going back to the midwest. As I've grown up, I can even see myself doing that someday. But in so many ways it's what I've always dreamed of. Always the drama, the options, the entertainment, always something going on that is not happening anywhere else on earth. It's staggering, overwhelming, amazing. The city is a sensory overload but once its ingrained in your heart it's hard to get rid of. And why would you want to? This frenzied, pulsating beat of glitz and glamour and LIFE around every corner... it's exhilirating. It's mesmerizing. And I'm a part of that. And I'm glad.
My family: Yes, they drive me crazy. Yes, they have their quirks and their issues and their sometimes downright irritating nature. But they're also sweet, and generous, and I do believe that somewhere deep down, they care about me and I care about them, even though we will probably never really understand each other. And maybe that's okay.
My friends: I'm thankful for the widening circle of friends I'm building in the city. The few friends from home who've journeyed east along with me. The co-workers-turned-friends who helped me survive my old job and the new ones who make my current job much more fun. I'm excited to have reconnected with old friends from college who've moved to the city over the last year. My undying gratitude belongs to to my inner circle of college roommates who've seen me through a variety of physical and emotional trials this year, and have never give up. They still call, they still visit, they still care, no matter how bad things got. They are my rocks.
And I guess more than anything, as I reflect, I'm thankful for one important detail. I'm thankful that MY LIFE IS NOT A MOVIE. Because if it were, it would have to be nearing completion. Surely I've lived two hours worth of entertainment in the last few years. But, baby, believe me, the adventures have only just begun.
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