What I'll Miss: The Little Things, Everything, Et Cetera

I'll miss walking streets that look like movie sets, with smoke billowing out of orange cones, making it seem like whatever is going on below is far more interesting than just changing air temperatures. 

I'll miss the cheap manicures at 13th and 1st avenue that allow me to pretend to be a put together adult. 

I'll miss the kindness of strangers, seeing a random man helping an equally random woman with her stroller up the subway steps, always making me think, "These New Yorkers aren't nearly as bad as people say." 

I'll miss the little old women who teeter down the street, resting on their carts every few steps in order to make it home, but never losing heir tenacity and perseverance that allows them to continue surviving.

I'll miss the hustle.

And I'll also miss the bustle. 

I'll miss the friends I've made, the people I've known, the faces I see. 

Someday, who knows, maybe I'll live here again. 

But no matter what, I'll visit. As often as I can. 

Because that's the good thing about loving a city as opposed to a guy. It's always there to come back to.

Best Last Weekend

My final few days as a New York resident have been perfect. A crazy blur of people and places, but wonderful nonetheless.

On Friday The BFF returned from her holiday break in Austin to start her second semester of grad school. We ended up at The Standard Biergarten (hooray for being able to translate the German signs!), followed by Bar Pitti for the best Italian ever, and ending things at a party at 49 Grove, the same bar we went out one of the first nights out in New York. Everything continues to come full circle, which makes this change seem more palatable.

Saturday morning was spent celebrating the belated birthday of Ole Miss Mollie with a perfectly girly brunch at Bergdorf Goodman's top-floor restaurant overlooking Central Park followed by drinks at the Plaza. Might as well end things on a high note, right?

Following a costume change or two, The BFF and I arrived later that night at Mollie's to set up my going away party at her great loft. Y'all, the elevator door opens into their apartment, that's a big deal!!! I am so mad at myself for not making an effort to take more pictures (or charge my camera). Oh well.

The BFF and me. I will miss this gurrrrrl.

Ithaca pals. Can't wait to see y'all in April!

Thanks Molls (and roommies) for being such wonderful hosts!!

The party was perfect. My favorite people. Cheese. Vodka and orange soda. Jello shots. False eyelashes that landed me tons of compliments and only a few second fear of partial blindness. Some tears toward the end, mostly of happiness, but that's to be expected right?

Sunday was spent catching up with Ashley at a final Dos Caminos brunch (it used to be the only place I'd ever go! Free marg!), and then dinner with The BFF, her BF, and his roommate BK (the one who visited me in Berlin) at Traif, a small plates restaurant in Brooklyn that impressed us all.

I am so full - from calories and love - and want to thank everyone who was a part of this weekend. It really was perfect.

What I'll Miss: Madison Square Park

My love of Madison Square Park is no secret. I think it is the perfect spot in New York. A little haven of green surrounded by postcard-worthy buildings. Depending on which spot you're standing, you'll have a full view of the Empire State Building, the gold-roof New York Life Building, the Met Life Tower, and my beloved Flatiron building.

And I can't forget the art. The first time I walked through the park, silver aluminum trees were sprouting from the ground. Since then there have been phantom shadow light displays, tree houses, and a giant head sculpture. (Here's a great montage of some of the old stuff if you're interested. Some of it is pretty crazy.) Recently it was this little guy these people:

Plus the park has lots of activities going on at different times during the year. (Once I saw a FRENCH BULLDOG HALLOWEEN COSTUME PARTY THERE. BEST DAY EVER.) Plus there are concerts, US Open tennis-promoting viewing parties, and the Big Apple BBQ Festival! (Ash, I will miss this and you most of all!!)

One of my favorite corners is documented below, including some fun, educational real estate facts! (Because we all secretly love architecture, I know.)

The squatty one to the left was supposed to be almost three times as tall, but then The Great Depression hit and they ran out of money. And the tall, skinny building One Madison has had plenty of its own money woes and resulting issues.

I'll miss walking through here on my walk home, but luckily no matter where I'm living I'll be able to enjoy the view at home thanks to this great print:

Gifted by the wonderful aforementioned Ashley.
Mounted on an old cabinet I found on the street courtesy of moi.

Hopefully if you're in the city you'll swing by and enjoy it for me! Especially in the spring. The flowers. Oh the flowers, I forgot to talk about the flowers! 

(Sigh, pre-mature nostalgia is a bitch...)

Staycation Art Day Is The Best Day

Well, I finally did something worthy of being written about! I had the greatest staycation afternoon imaginable. My friend Dana, who awesomely doesn't work on Wednesdays, suggested we go paint pottery in Williamsburg at Baked in Brooklyn since we both love arts and crafts. 

(Sidebar: Whenever I used to leave work during the day (rarely) and I'd see all the people just wandering around I would always ask myself, "Who are all these people out and about all day? What do they do?" Then it dawned on me recently that now that I've become that person. And in case you were curious what that person does, now you know the answer.)

Anyway, the pottery place is super cute and run by an equally adorable owner and her dog Leon (also my grandfather's name, nice!). I would highly recommend checking it out because not only is it a good time, there are a lot of fun choices of things to paint - like the kind of stuff you could actually use on a regular basis. (As recently justified to myself.) I also think it would be fun to take a friend for her birthday or organize a girls' night out. (Of course I come up with these ideas as I have one foot off the island!) 

But seriously, you should go if you are the kind of person who really loved elementary school Art class, which was obviously awesome.

Here are some pictures from today. Which really was a great day.

This is reaching the upper limit of number of consecutive instructions I want to follow at this point in my "off-season".

I'll take one of each!

After much indecision, I went with the elephant ring holder and the votive candle holder. Quasi-practical, right?

Here's Dana's beautiful mug and the pattern that inspired it. (I was really impressed with Dana's steady hand and attention to detail until I remembered "Oh yeah, she's an eye doctor, she's used to precision and focusing on things.")

Here's my elephant. I figured he would look cute with my blue Babar The Elephant print from Paris and the blue elephant LillyBerlin lamp. (Plus I currently do not have tabs on any of my favorite rings, whoops.)

My citrus votive, my inspiration, and my pallet. Fingers crossed it turns out pretty. (And is ready before I leave!)

If I got to go back, this is what I would paint next. I love the idea of having a sponge holder like that! (Because it's really what I need at this point in the game.)

What I'll Miss Most: Grand Central

[During my last week in New York, I figured it might be fun to reminisce about some of my favorite memories I've made and places I've been in this concrete jungle where dreams are made of. Plus it's way more interesting than anything I'm up to in real life, aka packing/cleaning/nothing.]


For the better part of two years, almost every weekday my routine has led me through the most beautiful building in New York. Sure, there are lots of impressive structures all around the city, real life art installations taking up a block wide and stretching a mile high, but for me, the most stunning architectural feat is hidden inside. (Pretty much the only time the phrase "really beautiful on the inside" can be said without being offensive.)

See what I mean, nestled below the Chrysler? 

Anyway, the place I'm talking about is Grand Central Terminal. Maybe you already read it in the headline and this is no surprise. Maybe you read it and then immediately forgot it. Like when someone introduces herself to you and you forget her name (or, more correctly never learned it) because you're too busy trying to make sure you have an answer ready for when she asks you yours. Because you're a conceited idiot.

Just me? Where was I?

Grand Central, seriously stunning. And the weirdest part is, it's a train station. frustrated commuters, homeless people, mouses scurrying around the subway tracks. But none of that matters.

The cream marble, floor to ceiling. The Tiffany's gold lamps and big-bulb chandeliers. And above it all, a turquoise sky lit up by Astrology figures.

Technically this was the day Occupy Wall Street was there (coupled with new Apple store madness)
so it's slightly less charming.  But still, even though this does not do it justice, it's beautiful.

Sometimes it's easy to forget the little things when you see them every day. Once something is a habit I find it's harder to carve out the individual memories.

But that never happened with me and that space in the city. Although the rest of the commute - the sardine-squeezed subway, the cattle herd mentality - monotonously faded away into the background, every time I walked into that grand room - I mean that's it's name! - I made sure to appreciate it.

Because it really is stunning. And I will miss it.

Tourist tip: This is a really good place to go when it's raining and you're looking for a non-museum activity in Manhattan (there's shopping, food, etc.)

For The Sake of Posterity

Today has been by far the laziest day since I was officially stripped of my Productive Member of Society status last Wednesday. And at first I felt so guilty about it, but then I realized it's a rainy January Monday and, sort of like designer purses for next to nothing, you just have to embrace them when the opportunity comes ago!

(I know, hate me, I deserve it.)

Anyway, the most productive things I've done all are cook two meals, re-read The Great Gatsby (as gifted to me recently by my awesome friend David when we met up for Dim Sum last week), and set up two new Craigslist ads for my TV and my love seat (dealing with people on that website is the bane of my existence).

Remember when I made that New Year's resolution to do something worthy of being written about every day?

Ehhh. We knew that could never last.

Best Buffalo Exchange Ever

When I came back from Austin after the holidays, I spent an entire morning de-hoarding all of my belongings. And, to be honest, it was kind of a nightmare. 

My first problem was that when I returned from Berlin I brought back two obscenely large and heavy suitcases both pushing the Business Class maximum, roughly the weight and difficulty to maneuver as two strong-willed kindergartners who are big for their age. I also had a small carry-on suitcase and a giant, overflowing purse. (It gave me a huge appreciation for moms juggling kids at the airport. How is that even possible? Can you take a class on that?)

And in addition to all that, when I got home I discovered I still had TONS of stuff I'd left behind. Considering when you're on the precipice of a Vagabond Adventure you should probably aim to travel fairly light, I realized I needed to start paring down my worldly possessions. 

"Bless it and let it go," is a favorite phrase of my mother, taught to her by one of those professional closet organizer people. It is the perfect mantra to help you purge stuff you still like but know could stand to go. For example cheap Forever21 dresses that have been in way too many Facebook pictures already. Say goodbye. There will be others! 

Back to the point of the story. That day in early January, I made myself two glorious piles: Donate and Sell. By the end, I trekked six bags of stuff to Salvation Army. And two other bags got shoved in the corner. These were full of items I felt like maybe just maybe someone would be willing to pay money for. Nothing that nice, but stuff that up until last Wednesday was part of my staple wardrobe, including two of my prize man-repellent items from last year - the crazy fur sweater vest sweater and the long ballerina skirt. (The gay circus ringleader sequin jacket remains a fan favorite.) 

Anyway, since I don't have the patience for eBay because mailing packages is the bane of my existence, I geared up to stop by Buffalo Exchange. It was not a difficult job. There is one only a few blocks away. I literally have nothing better to do. 

Instead I kept avoiding it all week because I literally never feel as bad about myself as I do when I walk into that damn store and they reject every item I put on the counter. And you're all "Oh, really,  you don't even like that super cute J.Crew skirt that I got tons of compliments on every time I wear it?" And your self esteem deflates like a punctured balloon, complete with hissing noise. 

It's the worst, right? (Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? Please tell me it's not just me.)

Anyway, after I'd avoided the job long enough, finally yesterday, Friday, I made it a priority. I took the necessary time to pump myself up. I recited the "Bless it and let it go" mantra, and I told myself that whatever was meant to be was meant to be. 

Because I'm a giant baby with a strong fear of rejection. 

I walked in with my head held high. And you know what? It was great! The people were nice, I made some chitchat with strangers, they bought multiple pieces, including the man-repellent! I even got some compliments! 

In terms of monetary value, I can order one ridiculously overpriced diner delivery breakfast in exchange for the goods I sold, but whatever. The high I felt walking to the counter to get my cash felt like when they play the National Anthem after someone wins a gold medal at the Olympics. (I'm assuming.) 

And then that's when it happened. 

I walked to the register, getting distracted by the bag hanging over the cashier's head. Tan leather, gold hardware, Jimmy Choo. $85. The guy caught me looking at it and asked if I want to see it. 

Wellllllllllllll in that case, why not. Then the internal struggle started. The devil on my shoulder points out that I get $33 worth of store credit therefore the purse is practically free. The fiscally responsible angel doesn't bother fighting that flawless logic. 

Plus, I mean, how many opportunities are there in life to get an almost perfect condition Jimmy Choo purse at a Buffalo Exchange for $50? Who am I to reject this good luck? 

In other news, I got yelled at by a mean woman at the post office for approximately twenty straight minutes the other day, so I guess it all kind of evens out. 

Full Circle

It seems just like yesterday.
 (Except I was not tan and blonde yesterday.)

As I wind down my time here, one theme that keeps repeating itself is how everything that's happened in New York seems to have come full circle.

When The BFF and I arrived four years ago this week, we stayed in our wonderfully generous friends Nicki and Dana's apartment in the heart of Greenwich Village. The two of us shared their futon, one that when folded out touched almost four walls of the living room nook. 

We were new to New York, waiting to start our jobs a few weeks later. While scouring for apartment listings day in and day out was not particularly great (read: traumatizing), those two weeks were perfect for helping us fall in love with the city - for making us feel like we belonged.

Now, all these years later, the four of us are still friends (plus now we've gotten to know all their other, wonderful college friends living here too). While we've been busy with our own lives (them getting married and finishing grad school; me with....eating?), it's always fun when we are together.

So I was more than excited last Sunday when I got to spend the day with Nicki and her fiance at their beautiful, adult apartment. It was a miserably cold day, the kind that makes you instantly regret leaving your bed. (I got past this by donning sweatpants because my Pajama Jeans haven't come in the mail (joke! but seriously I kind of want them).)

After a few hours there, we decided to cross Shake Shack off my bucket list and head to Dana's (equally adult) apartment to see her too. This is where the problems started.

You see, as I already mentioned, it was cold. Too frigid to have any part of the skin showing with leggings. And it was Sunday so regular pants were out. (Who do you think we are, Kate Middleton?) This only left Nicki with the choice of the pants she had on. Snowflake fleece pajama pants. But - alas- they are "indoor only" pants.

Because, I mean, if you can't hold some things sacred, what is the point of life? So after hour(s) debate about what to do, she finally left her apartment sporting some snowflakes. As we approached the shack in the middle of Madison Square Park, I instructed Nicki that if they asked her for a name on the order she had to say Snowflake. Because why not?

Unfortunately you can't read it, but it DOES
say Snowflake as the order name. Priceless.

After we ordered our (delicious, gluttonous) to-go meal, the woman asked The Question. Nicki stood there like a giggly deer frozen in the headlights as I coaxed her from the sideline, "Say it! Say it!"

And she did. My Snowflake made me proud. The woman at the register (luckily) thought it was funny and laughed along with us.

When our food was ready, we braced the wind whipping through the buildings and made our way down Park Ave South (my old neighborhood) toward Dana's.

I remember the first time The BFF walked those streets. All of the spots I now know by heart, new for the first time. The memories we made in that area of the city will remain long after we're gone.

(The calories consumed at Shake Shack will probably do the same. Damnit.)

But it's great to be able to come full circle, measure our current selves versus our past. And if the aforementioned story says anything about us, it's that while in some respects we are so different, we aren't so mature that we can't laugh about indoor pajama pant nicknames. (Thank God.)

Because what would be the point?

Foreign Relations

It took me approximately one month in New York to stereotype foreign guys as either total Stage Five Clingers or irrevocable womanizers. This is because I, like most Southern girls who migrate north, often found myself at Pianos, a Lower East Side bar that played amazing Middle School Dance Music (aka 90s R&B) and was always brimming with cute guys. Cute, foreign guys.

Eventually after a few of these encounters I was able to judge, within minutes of hearing a faraway accent, the type of guy he was. If I were to give him my number, I'd either receive a million unanswered texts messages within 24 hours, or after being wooed all night, I'd never to hear from him again. There was never any middle ground.

It was with this hesitation I geared up to be surrounded by "foreign guys" while I was in Berlin. Then it really dawned on me that wait, actually no, I would be the foreigner. (Which taking into account I am rarely if ever considered "exotic" I was kind of excited about. Even if it meant I might be creepy, but what else is new?)

Anyway, after a little of Column A and a little of Column B, when I left Germany I was breezy. I planned to avoid the inevitable horrible long-distance whatevership, and for the first time in a long time (ever?), I genuinely did not give a shit about guys. I had zero desire to deal with the effort and expectations necessary. I looked forward to only focusing on myself. Only looking forward.

Sure I had the best last week I could have imagined in Berlin, but what did that mean? There was an undeniable connection, but how did that make a difference when we were thousands of miles apart? Only forward, I thought to myself.

But then we continued to keep in touch. He said he would come to visit, and he did. We explored my city. We had fun. When I suggested he stay a few days longer, he did. There was no stage five clinging, no aloof game playing. It was perfect.

He's gone now, but we've been in touch. A lot. And there have been talks about potential trips together. (No surprise that I didn't seem to leave my wanderlust behind when I left Europe.)

To be honest, I've been torn about what to do. A million concerns scroll down my mind. My mother's voice racing through my thoughts. The general apprehension I feel toward any guy who boldly professes his interest so early on haunts me. (After hearing the same thing from more than one idiot who was anything but genuine, I just can't believe it counts for much.)

But then on the other hand, I can't help but simply examine the facts: A handsome, smart, passionate, successful, caring, thoughtful Greek guy wants to pursue me. Maybe it's okay to just go with it and see where we end up?

So that's the plan. We'll just see where we end up.

(Cough cough Greece cough cough!!!)

I want to go to there.

The First Day of The Rest of My Life

Today is my last day of work. Forever. Just kidding. [Reality punch in the face.] But at least for now.

Rationally I know I should be a lot more freaked out about my future than I am, but then I realize that the stars have more or less aligned in my favor for a brief second to make all this possible.

[Full disclosure about something you probably don't care to know but I somehow feel obligated to share with you just so you don't think I'm the most fiscally irresponsible person ever, because I'm not and I take pride in it: Spending your time watching entire seasons of shows online for free while sitting in your company-paid-for apartment, cooking meals at home due to lack of friends, is a great way to save money. Ch-ching.]

Anyway, I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff looking out over the horizon. Which makes me incredibly effing nervous because it's not so much that I'm afraid of heights, it's more that I worry about being the one in control of my own ability to plummet to my death. Strapped, harnessed on enclosed in something that will keep me from falling? Totally fine. Relying on my own clumsy prowess? Terrifying. So basically this little stint of unemployment is a test to see what I can do on my own, without the safety net of a full-time job keeping me in line. And again, it is scary!

But then I think back to two years ago when I was finally wading to shore after spending several months sinking in depression. The economy sucked, I was stuck at a job that made me question my mental sanity on a regular basis, and I lived in a personal hell made up of stolen condiment accusations and passive-aggressive toast-making.

The time itself was painful; I wondered if it would ever get better. But the experience made me realize things had to change. I wasn't happy so I sat down to brainstorm what I could do to be happy. In a little black Moleskin I jotted down ideas across the spectrum, ranging from realistic to idealistic. There on one end was consultant, on the other end, writer.

After years of denying the possibility that writing was what I was passionate about, I finally accepted it. But I soon realized there was no way to make the leap without falling on my face. I needed experience. I had to be patient.

One day I started this blog to serve as my creative outlet, the diary of my journey, and a way to ruin countless future relationships. (Oh well, most were really just excuses for blog fodder, let's be honest.) I also kept applying for "real jobs," eventually finding one as a consultant. And, finally, The BFF and I moved out of the inner circle of hell.

Little by little life eased back into being tolerable, slowly making the switch to enjoyable and finally to awesome. Although I'd hoped to be able to write more without the shackles of depression weighing me down, anything other than semi-regular blog posts took a place on the back burner. Life got in the way. 

So now, as I wrap up this phase in life waiting to see what comes next, I'm pledging to myself (and to you, The Internet) to make a real effort. Recently it dawned on me that most people are successful because of their relentless drive to make something happen. (I'm not totally sure why it took me so long to realize this. Am I a late bloomer?) But now I know I want to be that person.



I'm a H-U-S-T-L-E-R baby, I just want you to know.

Conan O'Brien's wise NBC send-off said it best:

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don't be cynical. I hate cynicism -- it's my least favorite quality and it doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen."

So I'm going to work on that. And we'll see what happens.

Making Up For Lost Time With My Favorites

While I was away from New York, I missed the food more than anything else. I mean friends, not food. My friends. My people. It's all about the people.

But also a little bit about the food. Okay, a lot about the food. 

Fine, I missed them both, truly, in their own ways. But definitely the food.

I'm leaving in two and a half weeks. I have to make up for lost time and get in as much food time as I can. I mean friend time! Gosh. My friends. They mean the world to me. As long as we're eating while we're hanging out. Which is pretty much always. So we have a great time together. Man, I'm going to miss them.

Anyway, thinking about all these feelings (of hunger? Perhaps love? Like the theme of Twilight: Maybe I Love You, Maybe I'm Hungry), I started making a list of some of my favorite places I've recently been to with some of my favorite people. Because this blog has now entered into the "personal record of my fun, awesome NYC life to look back on when I'm old and surrounded by cats dogs" phase. I'm sorry.

• Les Halles with my two favorite grad students The BFF and Ashley where I ordered the amazing confit de canard with truffle potatoes and frisee salad. This restaurant has been a staple place since The BFF and I first moved here since it was located down the street from our first apartment. Highlights: Once we were seated next to Anthony Bourdain. Swoon.
• Bite with Ole Miss Mollie where I ordered my favorite neighborhood combo meal, the eggplant/mozzarella/pesto panini and goat cheese salad. It is only $8. That is practically free.
• Chipotle with myself on more than one occasion. Because I have issues.
• Baoguette with Ashley for my favorite bahn mi in the city.
• Momofuku Bar Bar with The Russian (blast from the past Part I) for whiskey cocktails.
• El Camion, a new East Village mexican place, with LA Jim (blast from the past Part II). 
• The Dutch with my ex J (blast from the past Part III) for a smorgasbord of delicious comfort food.
• Five Points for a brunch catch up with some of my favorite girlfriends. The baked eggs with ricotta and roasted tomatoes was to die for.
• Mermaid Inn with The Greek for dinner where we shared a lobster roll and fish tacos. Heaven.
• Piola for the best white pizza ever (Sarajevo = smoked mozzarella and ricotta) for Wednesday Free Wine Ladies Night with my Ithaca pals.

 

A few other places I'm dying to enjoy again before I go:

• Cafe Cluny for delicious food (and the memories of some great dates).
• Shake Shack for Shake Burger and/or cheese-stuffed portabella burger. Or both if I have given up on 2012 at that point.
• Momofuku Ssam Bar for the steamed pork buns and spicy pork sausage and rice cakes. 

 

What I want to try before I leave:

• Minetta Tavern for the $26 Black Label Burger. Because it is important to be able to regale ridiculous tales of New York's fabulousness.

Hopefully I'll find some friends willing to accompany me on these culinary adventures. Otherwise it really will be all about the food. And then it's just sad.

 

(Or is it?)

Your Personal Tour Guide

One of my dream jobs would be to work as a personal tour guide in New York. Is that a real thing? Do you think I could find people willing to pay to hang out, eat and drink with me? I can add in really riveting facts like "That is a Whole Foods I occasionally buy stuff from, but not my main grocery shopping location."

Based on that hard sell, it seems like my services might not appeal to everyone, but luckily I was able to spend last weekend with someone who cared about my little piece of life here. The Greek (identifying guys based on their exotic nationality just seems to be easiest), otherwise known as the guy from my last week in Berlin, came to New York for meetings, adding in an extra day to see me.

Swoon.

We had dinner at Kittichai and brunched at Beauty & Essex (the tequila, cinnamon & honey cocktail was a-mazing). We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge followed by a stroll from SoHo through the LES and East Village to Union Square. (I'll miss these stompin' grounds!)

We made a stop along the way at Pipa (which I found out means blowjob in Greek?!?) where I drooled over ABC Carpet & Home chandeliers (someday!!!) and sipped on sangria. We ended the evening in my single favorite spot in the city - Madison Square Park - a little piece of heaven hidden away by its surrounding statuesque structures.

We did all this on foot, mind you, because to me the cornerstone of New York appreciation is walking, the only way you can get a full sense of the city's charm. I especially love sharing this view of my favorite places with those who have never experienced anything beyond Times Square and other Uptown madness. Every few blocks you encounter a new neighborhood, the juxtaposition of different atmospheres constrasting the million options the city has to offer. 

It is all very magical.

And it will remain that way, long after I leave. But hey, I can always come to visit.

(Especially on someone else's dollar. Any takers? Disclaimer: Personal Tour Guide is not code for hooker, just so we're on the same page.)

New Year's Resolutions That I've Stuck With For A Whole Week

First of all, New Year's Resolutions are total crap. Second, I totally love making them. But this year I've tried a new thing where I haven't broadcasted them until now in an effort to limit my documented failure.

So now, a little over a week later and going strong, I will share with you my new daily resolutions. Basically, I learned a lot about myself living alone in Berlin, e.g. that if given the opportunity, I will not shave my legs until I have to, and also I'm kind of a slob. I'm a real catch, I know!!!

Let's be honest, things are probably only going to get more slovenly next week when I am no longer going to be a productive member of the professional workplace. Then it will be even more paramount that I get my act together and impose some semblance of structure in my life.

Hopefully the following resolutions will stick until at least February:

1) Stop living like a homeless hoarder. Just because it is easier to let stuff pile up, and even though I totally know where everthing is!, doesn't mean it's acceptable behavior. Hang up clothes, stay organized, and make the bed each morning. (This goal will immediately fall to the wayside if I move home and live with my parents where I will no doubt revert back to High School Rachel, Queen of Disorder and Defiance.)

2) Write everyday. Because really, what better things do I have to do?

3) Do something interesting and/or worthy of being written about every day. (That one is for you, guys, you're welcome.)

4) Physical activity of some kind.

5) Learn to cook new things or really just attempt to use one of the cook books I own, especially the ones I insist on taking with me from NYC.

6) Stop watching TV shows in the small screen version on my tiny net book, which is exactly the size of my iPhone screen, because it is ridiculous.

7) Revert back to consciously eating. (Currently reading Bethenny Frankel's Naturally Thin book for inspiration.)

I know seven is kind of a random number to end on, but that's all I got. Unless you have some good ones you think I should be doing too. Anyone? Bueller?

What's Next For Me, I'm Sure You're Wondering

Because I assume you've been on pins and needles waiting to know where I will go and what I will do after I leave New York, I've decided to answer some hypothetical questions:

Are you moving to Austin?
At some point, but not right away.

So where are you going?
I've decided to take a "winter sabbatical" in Colorado for a month or two. My incredibly sweet friend S, who I visited last February, has offered to let me crash on her couch in Denver.

What are you going to do in Colorado?
Nothing? Enjoy the bevvy of hot, single men? ("Menver" haha). No, but really, my only priorities are to enjoy life, ski on the weekends, cook, practice yoga, convince S's cat that her (his) name is Mrs. Beatrice, and write. One goal I've had for awhile is to write a book, and now the stars have aligned to make it possible for me to dedicate some time to it. Of course the level of self-motivation required is ridic (especially competing with the possibility of endless hours of TV watching), but we shall see. Hopefully I will make the most of it. In which case, do you know anyone who works in publishing? (If only my mother could channel her energy and transition from being my Pimp Match.Mom Agent to my Literary Agent, then I might have a chance... ;)

Please tolerate me while I live the dream. 

So you're just quitting your job in the middle of a bleak economic downturn to be unemployed on purpose...?
Yep! If you think about it, I'm kind of a jobs creator. So, you're welcome, America.

And your parents are supportive of that decision?
Surprisingly, yes. Although, considering my father and aunt both lived in Colorado as ski bums in their 20s, I guess there wasn't much they could say. It's in my genes!

What are you going to do for work after you've depleted your savings account?
I don't know, have any good leads for me? The fall-back plan is to move to Austin and "live off the land."

Does "live off the land" mean live in your parents basement and eat their food?
Trick question, it's Texas, there are no basements! But yes, generally, that is the idea. I also plan to put together a dossier of aggregated promises my mother has made to me via gchat in an effort to bribe me to move back to Austin. "You can have your brother's car, he doesn't drive it very often," for starters. "Get as many dogs as you want!" (Okay, that one might not be verbatim.)

So yeah, basically I should probably be more worried about my future than I am. We'll see what happens, but it's a new year and I can't help but to be optimistic.

Anyone else doing anything crazy with the fresh start of the new year?

*crickets*

Just me?

Oh New York, It Could Never Last

I have loved New York since I was young. What started out as a harmless crush turned into the only long distance relationship I ever felt worthy of pursuing. Four years ago I bought a one-way plane ticket to make it my future. I have never regretted that decision for a second.

But the thing is, New York is not easy. Like any relationship, it takes work. We have had some amazing times together; we have had those moments when you look down in disgust and think, "Now this is what real hate feels like!"

New York can be cold and icily cruel. It has been distant, isolating and stoic. But then when I least expect it, I am enveloped by love. A bear hug of awesome. Even the most mundane activities together lead to unexpected joy. My appreciation for the little things has been heightened times a million. Seasons, nature, fashion, strangers' compassion, individual satisfaction. 

When I first arrived, naive would be a generous word to describe me. I mean, I still believe most infomercial gadgets are probably going to cure cancer, but about real-world issues, I have a clue now. New york is the best teacher: Financial bailouts, political gridlock, gay rights, real estate envy - I had a front row view of it all.

But it wasn't all Cable News Network. New York provided a well-rounded education too. Celebrities, I've seen 'em. Culinary delights, I've tasted them. Fashion icons, I've literally almost run into them. These experiences have made me a better version of myself. (Or at least, a more self-important version, which is fine too.)

But personal growths leads to internal reflections. I notice that the whimsy has warn off, the newness no longer a pull. There is an undeniable level of comfort, but is that enough of a reason to keep things going? "I could have an amazing time here for another decade, but my life probably wouldn't be that different from how it is now."

What we had, New York and I, was never guaranteed to last. I knew going into it that building a future together would require sacrifices. Was I willing to make them? At some points along the way I thought yes. Could I handle never being the center of attention? How about not ever requiring a commitment longer than a calendar year? Maybe, I thought, I could keep it breezy. Perhaps all those trappings of conventional life are outdated by now, I justified.

But unfortunately, as much as I've tried to rationalize my love, I realize New York will always leave me wanting something more. We want different things. I won't lie, the age difference has been a factor. New York, so old and wise, and me in no position to disregard the history and pattern of behavior. I'm not the first young, idealistic girl to fall in love with these streets, and I won't be the last. If there is anything I have learned in life, it's that you can't change 'em. 

Basically, what I am trying to say, is that New York is the George Clooney of geography.

They wine and dine you better than anyone else, share a slice of glamorous life others will be jealous of, and you cannot deny they both gotta hell of a smile. But at the end of the day you can't require anything more. There is no agreement for forever. You will never be able to afford to buy. At some point, you have to walk away, satisfied by the memories and ready for what ever is next. 

We will be parting on good terms, New York and I. It is a difficult time and we hope you can respect our privacy. We are committed to staying friends.

Kind of Sad, Allegedly

In an effort not to start 2012 incredibly let down, I went into New Year's Eve with low expectations. I mean, I was excited for an opportunity to get dressed up, see friends and be back in the city, but in general, I just really could not make any grand effort one way or another. Because New Year's Eve is the worst.*
*With the exception of 1982 when my parents were married. Happy 29th anniversary, guys.

Anyway, my night actually started off amazing, lifting my spirits for the possibilities ahead. What grand act could bring me such happiness? I found a cab in less than five minutes. Granted it was still fairly early, but still. New Year's miracle! Of course this great luck landed me at the restaurant 20 minutes head of the friends I was meeting for dinner.

Normally I would be uneasy about being forced to sit alone at a bar, but bolstered by my newfound "I am a confidant lady who lived in Europe!" experience, I sauntered up and ordered myself a dirty vodka martini. Like a champ, texting (legimately, not even pantomiming, but we've all been there) and sipping my adult beverage.

And then, after I'd marinated in my comfortable smugness for a few minutes, the guy sitting to my left confronted me with the statement, "We have been wondering what you are doing here by yourself." Followed by his embarrassed girlfriend interrupting to clarify they had not in fact been "wondering" about me. It was more or less the greatest fear I have ever had about going to a restaurant by myself. Luckily I was able to assure them I was in fact meeting people and not alone like a total loser alone on New Year's. And then I waited with baited breath for my friends to show up before the couple left so I didn't look like a huge losery liar. (The girls soon came and all was right in the world.)

Following the meal, my friends and I managed to find another cab within a matter of seconds to drive us to The BFF's BFs TriBeca apartment for a party. With a limited amount of eligible bachelors in attendance - although a 22 year old in town visiting his brother was fairly adorable cougar bait - I spent the Midnight Countown awkwardly congregated in a corner with my other single friends. Which was totally fine until I started reminding myself "How you spend New Year's is how you'll spend the new year." Real inspirational.

But it was fine. Low key and low expectations. Which is why I agreed to stop by a bar on my way home to say hi to my friend Jim, the poster child for someone you should under-estimate. It was good to catch up, but more importantly, it was good to get two more cabs with little to no effort. No trouble getting home? NYE VICTORY!!!!

Due to my fairly well-behaved evening, I was rewarded with a hangover free New Year's Day where I took advantage of the warm(ish) weather with a long walk in Central Park. And I have to say, it was pretty perfect.

I was feeling proud of myself and my good decisions until I talked on the phone with my mom. She had been dying to tell me about her night. She wore a dress I had suggested she try on while we were on a post-Christmas shopping trip, "something she would never have chosen for herself." It looked great on her, and I had a feeling it would inspire a fun night out. (I am giving the dress more credit than it deserves - put my mom in a situation with live music and she will have fun, no questions asked.)

Anyway, she was giving me the play by play of the night, I was half paying attention, and then all of a sudden the words, "And then the waitresses dancing on the bar suggested I get up there and I figured 'when else am I going to say I did this?' so I got up there too!!!"

Yep. My mom thinks her night was great because she danced on a bar. I thought I had a great night due to my efficient cab hailing.

When I gave that comparison to her on the phone, her answer was: "That is kind of sad, Rachel."

Hope you had a special time too!!!!!!!!!!!!!