Archive for April, 2009

Life Coach

I decided my two options for tonight would be a) update this blog, or b) Become a certified life coach 16 hours online classes weekly (from a link to my gmail).

Even if I took classes, I still wouldn’t be qualified to be anyone’s life coach, and I think this is true of most life coaches. Although I often act like I’m trying to be someone’s life coach, and usually it is to the tune of “Don’t leave NYC! Keep trying! It will get better!”

Over the past few years, friends have let me know they don’t know how much longer they can “take” New York. It took me some time to learn not to take this personally, and I am still learning how to not try to force them to stay here, because that’s my instinct. I guess it’s because I’ve never once thought “I want to be somewhere else but New York.” Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get here, and even in college, I remember thinking “I like this place, and it’s a good place to be, but someday I will be in New York.”

I guess I just can’t relate to those thoughts of unhappiness. I mean, sure, I’m unhappy sometimes. But I could never blame this place.

I realize what I sound like, but I can’t help it. So if you are one of those friends whom I have ever tried to persuade to stay, I’m sorry. If I do it again, please, pat my head (and rub my tummy) and tell me to cool it, toots.


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Old Neighbor

Thursday’s hangover was a major setback in terms of me completing anything. But yesterday, I made up for it and unpacked my entire apartment! It’s pretty.

I’m completely out of the old place. I have to say, of all the things I will miss, I think I will most miss the building across the street, which always stood proudly:

I hear the super is super!

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I’ve moved into my new apartment in Sunset Park, and yesterday my former roommate and I finished the painting and cleaning in the old apartment. It feels great. Now, for the next two weeks, I’m staying at a hotel in Midtown. My boyfriend is a guest writer on SNL for the next two weeks and they’re putting him up in this hotel. And who am I to not take advantage of a fitness room and very deep, luxurious bathtub?!

So here I am. Not everyone’s favorite part of NYC, I know. Most New Yorkers I know avoid this area at all costs for various reasons such as “I’m not eating lunch at the Times Square Olive Garden” or “Tourists don’t know how to walk.” Sure, there isn’t much for me in this area (with the exception of the Broadway theatres), but I could never say I hate Midtown.

When I was a kid, NYC was Midtown. I didn’t know any other areas, and I didn’t care to. This was before Times Square was “cleaned up” and every block had at least one Private Eyes or Peepers. Peepers? Was there really a Peepers? Sounds right.

It was in this area that my mom noticed a strange phenomenon: Men would turn their heads at a certain angle like clockwork as they passed us. Investigating the angle, my mom determined that they liked the shape of my thirteen year old ass.

(Eleven years later, in Midtown East, a man followed me for atleast four blocks yelling “DAMN…. you a little white girl but you got some black girl curves! Damn! You one of those albinos?”)

I’m pretty sure I ate more room service than food from restaurants in the area when I was a kid. These days, I see a tourist about to enter an overpriced, overrated steakhouse near Times Square and say to her husband “Well, honey, I know it’s expensive, but it’s not a chain, you see. We’re not like those other tourists.” I wish I could tell them to walk two blocks over to Ninth Avenue and go into any one of the restaurants, but I can’t. This is their experience. Times Square is their cage. Besides, their heads might explode. (“What do you mean there’s a NINTH avenue?)

I like these tourists. I can relate to these tourists. I am happy they choose to stay in their Times Square cage for the most part, and I’m sure the New Yorkers of the 90’s were happy that I did too. I used to beg my parents to ship me off to boarding school in New York City so I could, I don’t know, have math class backstage at the O’Neill?

For the next couple of weeks, I get to play tourist again. I can catch up on theatre and agree to take some people’s pictures standing next to a taxi cab. I won’t go to the M&M store, though. And I’ll probably walk to Ninth Ave for dinner.

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