Don't Hate Me 'Cause I'm Indie and You're Punk

Good Girls Don't Wear Sequins

Ok, now that we've gotten all that talk about FEEEELINGS out of the way, let's have some Real Talk about the awesome shit that comes with being a BiSC attendee. This (maybe not so) flattering picture of me was taken by my roommate/favorite person Dominique in our fancy Flamingo Go Room which had a MOTHEREFFING tv in our bathroom mirror. Guys, I don't have cable (YEAH, I SAID IT. LOOK, I WAS RAISED WITHOUT TV SO YOU CAN GO SIT IN THE CORNER AND JUDGE MY PRETENSION WHILE I JUDGE YOU WATCHING DANCE MOMS AND WE CAN ALL BE HAPPY WITH OUR JUDGE-Y LIFE DECISIONS). I don't even know what to do with a tv in the bathroom mirror, we turned it on once while we were doing our makeup, it was confusing. See also: comfiest beds ever and multi nozel shower.

WARNING: The Go Rooms and the regular hotel rooms at the Flamingo are really not the same. I stayed in one of the regular ones in January and it was actually kind of more like Motel 6 quality. So don't go booking hotel rooms at the Flamingo and come bitching at me because you got the cheap option.

At the bottom of the bed is my giant pile of SWAG. Missing from the giant pile of swag: the free drink by the pool coupon sponsored by GelaSkins. It's missing because that wristband means I just came back from the crazy Flamingo Go Pool. Which is the adult pool. (No, not THAT KIND of adult pool) As in the pool where the booze is. And the fancy VIP day beds. And the waterfall to swim under and then end up in a nifty grotto. Also, where we played never have I ever for toys from Babeland. Are you wondering how things could get more ridiculawesome? So was I at this point. Pool day already seemed like the best day of my life but then IT GOT BETTER.

One word: ZUMANITY. Sexy Cirque du Soleil. Hilarious and amazing and naked. Also incredibly disturbing. Well, only the crazy contortionist that kept popping things out of sockets and shit was disturbing. I actually had to cover my eyes. Then dancing, dancing, dancing. Happiest when dancing in sequins and 4 inch heels. Until I'm tired of the heels and have to switch to sandals. Whatever. Happiest when dancing in sequins.

Wait, did I say happiest when dancing in sequins? I might've meant happiest when wearing sequins and eating waffle fry pulled pork nacho... I don't even know how to describe these, but Sara and I managed to start a trend that apparently had like 40 people eating these piles of amazingness the next night. Seriously, what is happening here? Why did we each order our own plate? This is insanity. Also, this is 3am.

HI, now it's time for sleeping.

In case you are unaware, breakfast is my favorite meal. by which I mean, breakfast foods are my favorite because I almost never eat breakfast. So buffet time on Saturday where I got to eat bacon, sausage, french toast, waffles and potatoes was pretty much my idea of heaven. I may've also made it boozy thanks to mini bottles of Skyy. The only thing better than regular brunch is boozy brunch.

The next epic adventure was to the roller coaster on top of New York New York that Alberto insisted did not exist (SPOILER: it exists) but for some reason agreed to join Dominique, Kelly and me in walking to the other end of the strip to go on it. Or to prove us wrong. I 67% think he was hoping to prove us wrong. I really love roller coasters, but also am unable to keep my eyes open on roller coasters which probably defeats the purpose of going on a roller coaster on top of a hotel. BUT WHATEVER, I went on a roller coaster on top of a hotel because that's the kind of shit you do in Vegas right before you play Pac-Man battle royale and the world's biggest version of fruit ninja. Clearly I chose the right group for the afternoon. For those of you playing along at home, at this point I have gone multiple hours without booze in Vegas, a situation I find mildly intolerable because apparently I'm really easily over stimulated which doesn't mix with Vegas without alcohol. BUT DON'T WORRY.

Thankfully Minus 5 ice bar had us covered for the afternoon. Sadly we weren't allowed to take any electronics in or I'd have fifty million pictures and have tweeted so many clever things. Or just talked a lot about how one of the rooms made me feel like I was in Narnia because of the trees etched into the ice. Did I mention that everything was made of ice? And have I ever mentioned my lifelong goal of staying in an ice hotel? This did not lessen my desire to stay in an ice hotel. We had our picture taken in a giant ice throne so that we could yell "King in the North!" but it turns out most people sit in the giant ice throne to get a picture with the Vegas sign because when we came out the woman was all "oh, you have the picture in front of the Vegas sign" and we were like "what are you talking about, lady?" because we thought we took our picture on the ice throne and are possibly too nerdy AWESOME to notice Vegas signs . Oh well.

(Side note: I'm kneeling in a really short skirt in an ice room because I was sitting the same way as Alberto and Kelly and the photographer said "You need to sit in a more flattering position, can you kneel?". And I wanted to say "Whoa dude, just how badly do you think I want this photo?" but I hadn't finished my second margarita so I wasn't feeling quite that sassy yet.

Post side note: the drinks, which were served in ice cups, rocked my socks)

More buffet. More eating all the Le Bon Garçon caramels in my gift bag. Then slowly getting ready for the Mad Men party. Where, you know, NBD, we just skipped a giant line to get into Chateau, the club on the roof of the Paris hotel from which you can see the Bellagio fountains go off. It was only so awesome that we all had to take a minute to tweet/facebook/foursquare/etc about it. That's all.

I mean, how adorable is everyone in their 60s duds, on their phones? It's pretty great. Anachronism win. Cue more dancing. Have I mentioned that I like dancing? No, really, I really like dancing. I need to go dancing more (at all) in New York now that I work normal people hours. Who wants to be my dancing buddy? Let's just go ahead and assume this girl does.
Yes, this is kind of an awful picture because it was dark and we were using the front facing camera, but I don't even care. And now we've reached the point where this post is just going to devolve into pictures. You're welcome.

Exhaustion

Las Vegas and California. Waiting on the plane to get home. Las Vegas was AH-MAZING. I'm still surprised at how little attachment I feel to California. It's familiar and full of things I love but it's not home. Given my constant desire to leave it, I don't know if it ever was. But the people I love are there and there is a very happy thing and a very sad thing happening right now and I could really use a teleporter.

One is silver and the other gold

 A year ago, yesterday, I broke up with the guy I was living with and told him I was moving to New York. The next day, my birthday, was marked by emtpy closets, packed boxes, anxiety and excitement.

You might say the moment I made it in New York was when I was asked to come back to my job as a sous chef. Manhattan sous chef. There's a lot of us, but the jobs aren't easy to come by, the competition is fierce and the commitment required, is, well, kind of insane. I'd say this is the moment the city had decided to give me an opportunity to stay, that it wasn't quite ready to chew me up and spit me out like I hear it's done to so many others. New York can be a difficult city, I love it, but I understand why it isn't for everyone.

But still I struggled, because as much as I want to pretend the absolute commitment to my career is all I need in life, it turns out, I really like people to be in my life too. I made a close work friend who moved to Connecticut. I turned internet people into IRL people but struggled because my schedule is so different. I slept with people for the wrong reasons, but also sometimes for the right ones. And I was lonely. A lot.

This month I went back to CA to visit. It was a whirlwind of bar crawls, restaurant visits, girls nights and family time and I was not lonely. And it was good, but at the end, I was ready to get back to New York. Ready to be HOME.

The week since I've been back has carried on with the same crazy social life I had in California. Birthday shennanigans and tweetups and silly pictures on facebook. I know it won't continue at this pace because part of the reason is that we've got a lot of January babies in my current friend group, and I'm not actually sure I can maintain my current pace of spending more nights in January out than in, but it feels like the moment where I've actually made it in New York. I'm not fully immersed back at work yet, so it helps that I'm not an exhausted mess, but right now I have a lot more confidence in my ability to make and maintain friendships than I usually do and I'm pretty fucking excited.

(Part of my feel good is also all the BiSC love going on, but I'll talk abut that more in another post)

So here's to my favorite city, staying connected to the people I love at home and new friends that are starting to not really need that "new" qualifier.

Twenty six is going to rock. I've decided.

 

There and Back Again

I got back Friday from nine days in California.

Nine days under the stars and redwoods.

Nine days forced to slow down.

Nine days reflecting, examining, turning around past choices in my head. Not having regrets, just playing the "what if" game. I felt so removed from Sonoma County. In eleven months, I changed in some way that made me absolutely certain that that is not my life anymore, that I really was just visiting. It made me think of all the decisions I've made that could've left my life in different places and it made me really examine the life I have now.

What if I hadn't broken up with Jacob? Would he have broken up with me by now? Or would we, nine years into a relationship, actually be planning a wedding instead of just assuming we'd spend our entire life together? (I know, I know, we'd probably both feel miserable and trapped but that's not how the "what if" game works) I once knew with absolute certainty who I was going to marry. That's so foreign a feeling now, yet at the same time I feel like I'm always chasing after it. I don't know what "it" is anymore, but I know I'll know it when I feel it. I think.

What if Che had realized what an ass he was sooner? What if all the apologies he gives me now had happened two years ago? Would I have forgiven him? Would we still be dating? What if I had accepted his wine cellar proposal instead of moving to New York? Would I still be working at a group home, going to school and living perpetually feeling slightly ill at ease? Or would I somehow embrace being a country wife? There was a moment once where I thought I could do that (before the wine cellar proposal, by which point the moment had long since past), settle down where I could raise my own animals and grow my own food and turn it all into a meal each night. While I still love those things, I just can't picture myself in that life anymore.

What if that guy I'd had a crush on since 8th grade, my Harry Burns, had made a move sooner? What if I had been dating him for a year, instead of Matt, when Michelle offered me a room here? Would've I have accepted her offer? Or even, what if he had just asked me to stay in those last two weeks before I moved? He never would have, and that's one of the reasons I love him so. But he's also probably the only person who could've given me pause. I didn't even try to see him while I was in California. I don't know why. I don't know if I was afraid that that relationship never having a chance to happen would turn into a full blown regret if I did see him or if I'm just a pansy and couldn't bear the thought of the disappointment if we no longer connected in the same way.

I think I've been so focused on relationships because they were so often the thing I let hold me back but also because I felt like the reoccuring theme of my visit was "You work how much?! And when?! When do you have time to go on dates?". It's easy to forget here that there are plenty of people in other places only working 40 or 50 hours a week. People that work normal hours, have normal social lives and go on dates that aren't either in the middle of the night or at a normal time but on a Monday. And mostly my answer was "I don't" because that's an easier answer than "Well, there's this one guy I've been sleeping with but he's kind of an ass and I have no desire to date him and he has no desire to date me and it's kind of perfect in an absolutely no emotion sort of way and then there's also this other guy that I've had a crush on since July and I don't really know where we stand at the moment because I'm too afraid to ask because I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get the answer I want but I really really like him and it's fucking up what few dates I go on because I keep comparing".

(Sidenote: I know where we stand now. It definitely wasn't what I wanted. We definitely did have that conversation in a bar at a friend's birthday on my first night back in New York. So. There's that. To steal a phrase from my grandma, my heart could use a bandaid right now. But it doesn't need stitches, because we were never really dating, so it can't really warrant more than rejection hurt and disappointment it didn't become what I wanted. Basically, I'm sad, I'm not sobbing into a pint of ice cream sad but, still, sad)

I've been chanting the "my career will never leave me" mantra for a year now (thank you, Lady Gaga) but I'm starting to realize how much I've let it take over. I used to give up myself in relationships to the point where I no longer could define myself as somebody outside of it and now I don't know who I am outside of my job. When I'm off work for too long I start to get uncomfortable because I don't know what else I do other than work, laundry and sleep and also because I end up spending too much time with myself. My focus has been too much on work and not on building friendships. I'm not entirely sure how to change this yet, but I know I want to. I know I value having relationships more than my career. I also know I focus on my career as a way to hide from putting myself out there and taking the emotional risks making new friends requires.

Once again, I'm striving to find the middle way instead of always going to extremes. I'll get there.

Someday.

Obligatory Thanksgiving Post

So as you may or may not know, Thanksgiving isn't really my favorite holiday. It's probably one of my least favorites. Or my least favorite. I don't like turkey or stuffing or cranberry sauce, if my yams are marshmallow free that is 100% ok and I basically just eat mashed potatos, salad and pumpkin pie. On the plus side, I really do love mashed potatos and pumpkin pie. They're both probably in my top ten favorite foods. Also my grandma usually makes a ham because I'm a picky brat and because there are 25ish people so it's not like just a turkey is enough anyways. Anyways, Thanksgiving is full of food I don't really like, usually help cook and ALL OF THE HECTIC. Control freak, chef me, would have lists and timelines and so much stuff prepped but that is not the way my grandma likes to do things. So dinner is usually about 2 to 3 hours later than scheduled which means Thanksgiving dinner is at normal dinner time and by that time I've not eaten because she keeps saying "it's almost ready" and I don't know if you've ever been around me when I've gone that long without eating or spent that much time in an inefficient kitchen, but I'm generally ready to hulk smash your face.

So I'm basically the Thanksgiving grinch.

I REALLY love Christmas and Channukah though. Presents and trees and ice skating and sparkles and latkes! Wee! (Just don't make me listen to holiday music for the entire month. Please)

So in an effort to not be the Thanksgiving grinch, here's an obligatory things I'm thankful for post:

1. That I don't have to spend Thanksgiving with my family this year, because I am in no emotional state to handle it.
2. That my family is wonderful and sends me things like cards with dancing turkeys, turkey candles, a Ruth Reichl book, halloween goodies and coolers of bacon.
3. That my mama is getting married in January because she has lived a life (as they say) and deserves happiness. Also because she's getting married in Vegas by Elvis and I get to go both home and to Vegas in January. Win.
4. Technology that allows me to communicate with friends in California when it's the middle of the night here but not there and everybody here is asleep and I am sad and lonely.
5. $5 yoga
6. That I may not be bringing in the stacks of cash but that my income easily covers the necessities of a roof over my head, food to eat and paying off that pesky student loan debt. Also that it allows me to do/buy the things I want (within reason, I mean, no, it won't let me buy all of the plane tickets to Paris and twenty million Louboutins, but all of the cardigans and croissants is still pretty acceptable)
7. That I can see the Manhattan skyline from my roof.
8. That since I'm in New York for the holidays this year I get to do Jewish Christmas. Any excuse to eat Dim Sum is something to be thankful for in my book.
9. Outdoor ice skating. It makes me really happy. It doesn't really exist in California. Do you like to go ice skating? PLEASE LETS BE FRIENDS. I really like ice skating. Like if you ever want to see me get all giddy and smiley instead of tough and sarcastic, let's go ice skating. Wait, I think I just decided what I'm making everyone do for my birthday this year...
10. Only working four days this week.
11. My new hoodie dress which will be prefect for days when I want to be lazy and cozy and warm but still look cute. (PS, there's still a $25 for $50 0r $50 for $100 American Apparel groupon going on, I might even buy another because I might just need that dress in every color for maximum laziness)

That's all for now.

Also pumpkin pie.

And bourbon.

And making a bourbon pumpkin pie. Possibly with pecans. Think about it.

I guess I've been bruised, if we were to speak plain

I'm a big proponent of "if you're unhappy with you're life, change something". I quit jobs, I break hearts, I move. My hair changes color, my wardrobe gets replaced, I redecorate. I have a hard time settling. I do better with ideals than reality and potential than actuality.

I'm trying to learn to lower my expectations, and I don't know if I like it. Trying to find the places where what I want and what I can have realistically meet.

I want to be a pastry sous chef in New York. I don't want to work 50-60 hours a week. Being a sous chef in New York means working 50-60 hours a week (at least). Do I really want it? Do I love it enough? Because there's no doubt that I love being a chef. There's no doubt that I'm a great chef. It comes to me easily, it always has and it always will. But do I love it enough to give up every aspect of my life for it? Am I still driven enough? What do I want my career to look like, if not this? With what exactly, am I unhappy? Would I be ok with the hours if I got paid more? Would I be ok with the pay if I worked less? If the number of hours were the same but at different times, would that be better? How do I change this? Where's the reality vs ideal intersection?

I want a relationship. The real kind, with talks about the future and cooking dinner. I can't have that right now. I know I can't. My schedule doesn't allow it, but it doesn't stop me from wanting it. And then I wonder how much I want a boyfriend or how much I just really want a best friend here or how much, ideally, I want them to be the same person. I wonder if this is a flaw in my self sufficiency. Do I want a relationship because I want somebody to go through life with or do I want a relationship because I'm trying to fill some void, some part of me that just doesn't know how to be alone? I'm pretty sure I don't think having a boyfriend would magically fix the other things with which I'm unhappy, it just seems like having someone would make them more bearable. But pretending that I can have someone, trying for something more when I don't really have the time, only seems worse. There's a boy, I like him, I only see him a couple of times a month. Maybe I need to just realize that that's enough. Maybe that's where "want" and "can have" meet.

I really want to do volunteer work. I miss the girls in the group home. I started the application for Big Brothers/Big Sisters and got a call back, but then I never had time to return the phone call. If I don't have time for that, I don't have time to be in a child's life. I refuse to be another adult that lets them down. Maybe this is something I have to let go of, for now. Maybe I need to look into it a little more or find out about the CASA program here. Maybe I just need to tell my work that this is something for which I need to be able to make time. I kind of think this needs to be a priority for me to feel fulfilled and happy.

I'm trying to learn to be kinder to myself.

To tell myself I'll never be that preculinary school weight and that's ok because I'm not 18, part of my job is to eat things and the general consensus seems to be that I have a pretty fantastic ass.

I'm starting to realize that if I'm going to stick with being a chef and I'm going to work this much, it's ok for me to budget a massage in every month because my body fucking hurts. All of the time. In fact my current plan is to start stockpiling all massage groupons because there is no amount of fancy, orthopedic association approved shoe wearing that is going to fix my wonky joints and pronated ankles when I'm standing 10+ hours a day. It's not a sign of weakness, it's just a fact, my body needs more care than I'm giving it. Related, I can't go running on city streets. I just can't. It's too hard on my knees and I need to be ok with that. I'm not sure what the replacement activity is yet, but it really can't be that.

I'm staying in New York, but I'm not moving into Manhattan. It just makes more sense financially for me to live in Astoria. I can keep replenishing that savings account I completely depleted, I can maybe afford to buy more plane tickets home, or plane tickets elsewhere. Somewhere I can see the stars. I really miss the stars. Like, near tears in the planetarium the other night, miss the stars. Compromise, I want to live in New York but I don't want all my money to go to living in New York. Some of that money will get spent on repainting and refurnishing. This isn't really settling.

Maybe, maybe I'm starting to learn that when I reach my goals, when I accomplish my dream, I need to take some time and sit with it. I need to congratulate myself, instead of moving onto the next thing or deciding another aspect of my life isn't good enough. For a while, I was so focused on gaining back humility that I think maybe I need to gain back a little pride.

Maybe, like always, I need to find the middle way.

It always comes back to that.

Download 03 Skeletons

Alana Goes to Boston, Part 2

So probably one of the reasons Sarah is my soul mate is because she says things like "OH! We have to go to my favorite socialist bar, you'll love it!". Sadly we were too tired to actually go into her favorite socialist bar on Saturday night, but we did walk by and it's definitely on my next time I visit list. Yeah, that's right, two Irish Jew girls are going to go chill out at the socialist bar in their Banana Republic heavy wardrobes. That's just how we roll. Probably because when we were in high school Sarah said something like "all my dad's side of the family went to socialist Jewish Summer camps" and without batting an eye I was like "Yeah, my great grandfather told off McCarthy" and then we were inseparable.

Anyways...

Right. Recapping Boston.

Sunday we had AMAZING brunch with possibly the most pretentious person I have ever met. He spent an inordinately long amount of time talking about grad school and the tax law related research he was doing and then turned to me and said "So what do you do?".

"I'm a baker"

And I wish I had a camera to capture the look on his face. The only response he could come up with was "oh" and it was kind of like he had discovered some brand new species and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Most of the time telling somebody my profession garners responses more along the lines of "Can you make...", "I have a brother/uncle/sisterwife that's a pastry chef at..." or "That's so awesome". That was the first time anyone had seem dumbfounded that they had met a real life baker. But the guy did have fruit, ricotta and honey for breakfast while Sarah and I were eating pesto, chevre, bacon and egg sandwich goodness, so really, what can you expect?

Plus side: Free meal, because obviously, us ladies couldn't be allowed to pay. Whatevs. I'll take it.

After breakfast I learned that the Harvard Natural History Museum is crazy. There's just stuffed animals and skeletons everywhere. I'm entirely unclear about the organizational logic. I guess most of the time when Sarah brings people there they get really disturbed because it's so many dead animals in such a small space so she was really excited to be able to explore farther due to my exceptional looking at dead animals stamina. Yeah, It's basically like if all of AMNH was stuffed into three small rooms and some hallways. But with less dinosaur bones and a bigger Lestodon. At least I think it was bigger, I can't actually back that up for sure.

I mean there's just an elephant head stuck on top of a case of unrelated skeletons. What? Who's in charge of curating this craziness?

Sunday afternoon was dedicated to walking through Boston commons and downtown Boston. Also to choosing things for the other person to try on at H&M. This isn't at all travel related but it did lead to a lot of jumper and skorts outfits. They were pretty terrible. It was fun.

Home for siesta, which is probably another reason I love Sarah- we had afternoon chilling out and reading time each day.

Sunday evening I went to a party where I met a bunch of her friends who all had much more normal reactions to "I'm a baker," though a surprising number of them had never met a baker before. This seems really weird to me, but I do spend almost all my time around other food service people, so that might have something to do with it. Also, I'm pretty sure I consumed an entire bottle of two buck chuck by myself. It's been a while. Does that stuff actually have alcohol in it? I'm not really sure it does, because normally when I consume an entire bottle of wine I am a) fairly drunk and b) hungover the next day and neither of those was true.

And I will save accidentally walking into historical reenactments for Part 3, because I need to go be irresponsible and possibly pull yet another all nighter now.

 

Alana Goes to Boston, Part 1

I knew my trip to Boston was going to be good when I sent my friend Sarah this picture asking if we could go to the bakery this cookbook is from and she replied "It's already on the itinerary". Yes, there was an itinerary, but not the scary kind with exact time and boring historical sites, but the awesome kind full of things we should try to get to if we feel like it.

It started Friday with dinner at a restaurant called "North by NorthEast" which did seasonal North East and Asian fusion. I was pretty skeptical at first. Fusion is a trend that's gotten a little out of hand and is often done pretty poorly these days, but the food was AMAZING. Just really really fantastic. Did you think you could use rhubarb in asian cuisine? I sure didn't, but they did and it rocked my world. Definitely a step up from the Roy Roger's french fries I had at the rest stop on my way to Boston.

(Sidenote: First time I'd ever been in a Roy Roger's. They have ads for them on tv in CA, but I'm pretty sure they don't exist West of the mississippi, it's confusing)

Saturday I slept all the way until 8am which is actually sleeping in five and a half hours for me, which is really really disturbing. Sarah woke up early too, so we hit up Flour where I had a perfectly flaky and moist croissant, she had an ooey gooey sticky bun and we took a couple of pastries for the road. Of course our logical next stop was Harpoon Brewery where the first tour is at 10:30 am and the first tasting they give you is promptly at 10:30am. It's a fun, informational tour with unlimited tasting for a bit after the tour is over and well worth the $5. I'm 100% certain I drank more than $5 worth of beer AND you get to keep your tasting cup.

Next we discovered that the Institute of Contemporary Art is pretty awesome when you're tipsy. Piles of record slipcovers as a statement about society? Sure, why not? Tipsy me is a lot more tolerant about modern art than sober me. Also, I love records and miss mine so I was inclined to give the whole exhibit around vinyl the benefit of the doubt. I'm also pretty fond of Shepard Fairey and the ICA has a really cool multimedia room that hangs over the water so overall it's a pretty swell museum.

Going on right next to the ICA was an "Extreme Sailing Competition". Not being Bostonians with the privilege of free sailing lessons when we were underage, Sarah and I had no fucking idea what that meant but were totally game to observe. As far as we could tell it was people sailing around buoys along some sort of course? Mostly we just decided it was time to sit for a while and eat our remaining pastries. I'm pretty sure this is also the point in the day when I really got horrifically sunburned. SPF 30 is just not strong enough, I have no idea what I was thinking. Maybe too many summers in foggy Northern California have made me forget the actual strength of the sun. Or maybe I'm an idiot. Either way I've now got some pretty ridiculous tan lines.

I would like to point out that so far we've gotten to 1ish on the first day of my trip. Yeah, we made that itinerary our bitch.

Next stop: KO meat pies, where Sarah and I learn that Australian meat pies are delicious and will keep you full for the rest of your life.

Then it was time for a walk through the North End on our way home to siesta, because seriously, that is a lot of shit to get done before 3pm on a Saturday.

Saturday evening is when I realized that food service professional are maybe not normal people. Since pretty much all of my friends here work in food service I kind of forgot that not everybody swears constantly, drinks like a fish and generally ignores their body's need for sleep. I partially blame Michelle because she has an office job and still does these things, reinforcing my idea that this is normal. Believe it or not, I am actually quite good at modifying my language to suit the situation. However, I am not good at modifying my drinking habits apparently. In the time that Sarah and her friends finished nursing one drink, I finished two and I felt like I was drinking the SLOWEST EVER IN MY LIFE. And then we went to bed. True Story. Really. I only drank two drinks and was asleep by 11 on a Saturday. It's basically like I was replaced by an alien.

Sunday and Monday really deserve their own post mostly because we had a brunch with somebody from high school that was so amazingly awkward it really needs to not be glossed over and Monday we accidentally stumbled into a historical reenactment. If that doesn't make you want to come back and read more, I don't know what will.

All the things that I thought were so easy

Ask anyone that knows me and they'll tell you I talk about New York City like it's the holy land.

Yes I know crowded, terrible traffic, expensive, snow and humidity instead of lovely temperate weather year round, but

Have you seen Central Park freshly covered in snow?

Need I mention the museums?

The ballet?

The having any food you want delivered?

Places other than bars being open after midnight?

Have you ever walked along the streets somewhere and suddenly felt overwhelmingly alive, energized by the rush and swirl of people around you?

New York City is the crush I'm too afraid to say anything to because I don't want the illusion to be broken.

For years I've told myself I would move to New York, but something was always holding me back, money, a boy (usually a boy), or my own sense of what's practical and what isn't. I just told Matt that I couldn't pass up Mia's offer because if I did, I would be terribly disappointed in myself and would resent him for keeping me back even if it was my own decision. I'm moving to New York.

And I'm absolutely fucking terrified.

But if I don't come back then I won't look behind me

Or...

Well there's three people In the mirror And I'm wondering Which one of them I should choose (Reprise)

I'm supposed to start school Tuesday. I just started a new job.

But...

I'm in New York right now, and we all know what that means; that I flew into JFK bright and early Thursday morning, walked out the airport as the sun was rising to piles of snow and crisp freezing frakkin cold air and smiled; that I don't want to go back on Monday; that I am questioning every aspect of my life right now because I so badly want to be here, in this place that makes me smile, that has always felt like home.

I met up with Mia yesterday for lunch and some shopping before heading back to her place and meeting up with her man. I witnessed some of the most impressive couple team work I've ever seen. They have a roommate moving out, they will soon have a spare room. They were on a mission to convince me that I needed to move into that spare room until I figured out whatever I needed to figure out to get my own place. (Mia actually asked at a chocolate shop we went in to if they were hiring she was so on the mission) Even before Mia and I met up, I was seriously wondering "Am I the type of person that could go home Monday, sell all my stuff, move across country and leave everything behind?".  When I didn't know about the room, I was still fairly seriously pondering that plan. But now there's a room. How can I resist a room?

I'll be twenty five Thursday. That's not old, but as always, birthdays make me re-evaluate. I've always wanted to move to New York. For how long am I going to wait? Which things am I willing to continue let holding me back?

I just sent out four resumés. We'll see.