One Year Ago Today

One Year ago today I started work at my first job in New York City. I was living in a hotel in Chelsea for that first week.  I had originally planned on moving to New York in July when my sub-lease was set to begin, but I wanted to start work as soon as possible so I made the necessary arrangements. I went from the hotel in Chelsea to a "Home Away" short term rental in Bed Stuy, to my summer sub-lease, to a disaster in Crown Heights, and then finally to where I am now; My cozy little basement hobbit hole in Woodside. The ceilings are low and I am often lulled to sleep by the faint rumbling of the 7 Train two stories above me. That job I started exactly a year ago today is no more. I made friends who, for unavoidable reasons, I do not and probably will not see much  which is strange for me given that I spent the first 24 years of my life in the same small state and was bound to see everyone I ever knew at least once a year.

 I am happy to report that while living in New York I was only ever made late to work one time as a result of failing to read the subway notifications. My new job, which I really like so far, has its offices right between Times Square and Herald Square. This is...kind of the worst. BUT I basically work at the center of the Universe as far as cultural consciousness is concerned so that's pretty neat. If I am so inclined I can use the bathrooms at Macy's Herald Square and be back before anyone notices I'm gone. That's not really true because my job doesn't have much down time but you get the point. Macy's is a great place to pee.


Before moving to New York I wrote about how I thought living in New York would help "distract me from the insularity of independent consciousness" or something to that effect. Phrasing it that way was a load of self indulgent crap but so far I think its proving to be true in its own way. I never worry that I'm out of touch with the bulk of humanity because the bulk of humanity is represented here. There may be a sickening wealth gap, but everyone is crammed together in such a way here that a disgruntled homeless man can intentionally puke on a Wall Street dude without having to go too far out of his way and I think that's just great.

Blame It On My Glands

As far as my endocrine system is concerned, there is absolutely no difference between forgetting to pay my credit card bill and forgetting to turn the oven off. One is a small error which effects only me. The other is a potentially life threatening error which effects my roommate, her cat, our neighbors, and potentially an entire crew of emergency medics. I get the same sweaty, blotchy, bottomed-out feeling when I make any error of any kind. I actually don't make that many serious errors in my personal life, but you can imagine how this particular defect would effect me at work- and especially at a new job. I'm not intellectually prone to stress- I understand that I don't need to spend too much time worrying about small errors as long as I fix them and learn not to make them in future. Unfortunately that understanding does not stop my adrenaline glands from sending my body into panic mode whether I've made a small mistake that no one will know about but me, or a big mistake that will negatively impact everyone. Luckily the errors decrease over time so my days will eventually start feeling slightly less like 8 hours on a plane in turbulence.

Me, and That Other Asshole, Myself

Although it is impossible, or at least very challenging, to confidently assess the inner workings of another person's consciousness, I think it's safe to say that most adults operate around a basic duality; two dichotomous selves whose interests are in opposition. There is the childish, primal self who prefers to let its whims be the guide of its actions, and the sensible, aware self who has to find some way to trick that other asshole into behaving in a dignified and healthy manner. When one is out of the parental home, one must learn to parent themselves. I can't know for certain that this is how other people operate but I have made the assumption that I am not a dysfunctional sociopath and therefor most people know what I'm talking about. Or maybe this is distinctly a characteristic of people in their 20s in which case the only people who don't understand are people younger than I am. Either way, if you have no idea what I'm talking about then probably stop reading. This isn't going to start making sense for you.

This isn't my attempt to write a psych paper. This is just my description of how my day to day life works. If I'm lucky I wake up in full governance of my own actions. These are days when I wake up at the time I told myself I would the night before, complete the tasks I set out for myself, and eat according to plan. There are other days though- days on which I seem to have no memory of yesterdays good intentions and I simply forget to go running and then rather than eating the carefully selected, already purchased foods that wait patiently in the fridge, I instead buy a corn muffin at the 7-11 and don't even try to pack myself a lunch.  Within 20 minutes of waking up I have already destroyed my budget, my diet, and my attempt to form a healthy exercise habit. My hope is that on my good days I am taking steps towards training myself against these bad behaviors. In fact, my second self is really more of a neurotic Border Collie than a human child; a border collie who does NOT want to go running and who would really prefer to eat nothing but pasta and cheese. 

The reason I bring this up is because I've been in NYC for almost a year now and when I look back at the events I see a pretty even split of rational, adult decisions and reactive, immature nonsense. I've lived in four apartments in four distinct neighborhoods. I've been both evicted AND laid off. Due to my brief foray at a certain health club which will not be named I now know with some certainty that I really don't want to be doing sales unless the base pay in equal to at least twice my rent. Why didn't I know that before? I actually did, but the part of me that has no patience decided is was better to have any job as soon as possible than to wait for one that felt right. My adult self tends to become spineless during panic mode, and I panic easily. 

Now I have some free time. I'm going to my parents for 5 days to watch the animals while they're in florida and attempt to recollect myself. I don't have a license and no one else will be there. There is limited cable television and I've pretty much exhausted Netflix. There is nothing of interest within walking distance. I'm basically treating myself like an overnight camper in my own life for these five days. There will be daily itineraries. Meals will be pre-determined. Job-hunting time will be pre-allocated so i don't get sucked into a craigslist/careerbuilder hole. If everything goes well this should be very productive and I should feel much better by the time I return to NYC. Or I might read young adult literature and drink wine all day. We'll see.

Onward and At An Undetermined Angle

Today I made a small scene at the Panera Bread near Northern BLVD in Long Island city. I don't know if any of you have spent much time in this particular area of Queens but it is seriously depressing. All car dealerships and the stench of dying dreams. This was my last day off before starting a new job and I had just been to a movie. I didn't end up having time to buy snacks because there was a group of teenagers buying tickets in front of me and they couldn't seem to figure out how money works. It was a 1:25 Matinee and I hadn't eaten lunch so by the time I got out I was really hungry. Panera Bread was the first thing I found.

I ordered a panini, gave them my name, and sat at the nearest open table to read Game of Thrones while I waited. They seemed to have a loud speaker so I was confident that I would know when my food was ready. I went over to the counter to check every so often and saw nothing that resembled my order so I decided to just sit down and wait for my name. My name was never called, and after some amount of time I politely inquired if perhaps they had heard my name wrong and possibly given my sandwich to the wrong person. "For Emma? Yeah we put that out a WHILE ago" was the very 'tude heavy response from the assembly line. "Sorry miss", said the counter boy, "we'll make you another". "NO," I said in a shaky voice which exposed my overly emotional response to the situation, "I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE. I JUST WANT MY MONEY BACK."

I can't explain why this was my response at this moment. I knew that these are low paid employees who have no incentive to do their jobs particularly well. I knew that going all bitchface on everyone was not going to do anything but make me feel like an asshole later on. I stopped for a moment and considered rescinding my request, but instead what I said was "I just didn't realize that there would be NO effort made to get that message out." I waived my arms around like a crazy person while I said it. I cried a little. It was not good. The bewildered counter attendant gave me my $10 back and I left.

So that's what I did today. I might be a little stressed out about being unemployed.

Confidence! MANIC Style.

(NOT amused)

The company (or corporation, to be specific) I work for has decided to move the particular department I work in, along with several others, to Orlando, Florida. This (pause for three seconds and imagine me making a pondering hand gesture) is not ideal; mainly because I, as you may or may not know, am NOT in Orlando, Florida. I am in New York City. Not that they were OFFERING people in New York jobs in Orlando, but if they were I would sooner eat a bowl of Ke$ha's hair than move to Florida. They're keeping us until May and there are the standard consolation offerings so I do have some time to sort things out. It's not the worst way to get a new job if you have to do it...but I started working less than a year ago so I'm just feeling a little harrumphy about it all.

 I don't like job hunting. It causes my stomach to inefficiently allocate its resources and my sweat glands to over-produce. The only thing that causes me more stress than having an interview looming is not having any interviews set up. The only remedy is getting hired, and the only thing worse than not knowing whether or not you've been hired is getting that cookie cutter email or voice message informing you that they have gone another way (I like to imagine they've eliminated the job altogether in favor of a very fancy lizard terrarium) but they will keep you in mind and hope you will apply for future openings. How badly does an interview have to go, by the way, to NOT get this response if you don't get the job? Indecent exposure? Unwelcome physical contact? Deliberate destruction of the very fancy lizard terrarium? (Only one way to find out....)  It's all very inconvenient and generally disruptive to my growth as an individual. A few weeks ago I was just trying to figure out where the line is between legitimate annoyance and racism when you really are the only white person on your very crowded train and are all these short latino men really this oblivious or are they TRYING graze my chest with their knuckles every five seconds and why do so many full grown asian woman have tiny little baby voices? I don't have the luxury of wondering whether my reactions to these things are acceptable any more. Worrying about my future is my new train activity. Or it was until today when I decided that enough is enough. We all need to agree that I am great and stop entertaining the possibility that things are not going to work out. I say we because this is my new strategy; the assumption that everyone on earth is in agreement with my positive affirmations.

There is really nothing to lose by filling all of the empty space in my head with borderline delusional, Tori Spelling style, completely unsubstantiated confidence. It's not that I don't actually think I am capable and intelligent, but when it comes to finding jobs I am well aware that no matter how comfortable I am with myself there are a whole lot of reasons why someone might not want to hire me. In order to make it through the next few months without becoming paralyzed by the possibility of rejection I need to just think I'm the shit, say I'm the shit, and not FUCKING accept it when anyone suggests otherwise. If you're picturing me sitting in an interview smoking a cigar and laughing condescendingly when asked what my "weaknesses" are then GOOD.

Here is a list of assumptions that might be running through my head at any given moment and that I now assume everyone else is thinking (about me) as well:

- I am very good at everything I've ever done

- I am going to be excellent at everything I ever try

- I am just as good at anything as anyone else. I just haven't done it yet...whatever it is.

- I choose to be 12 pounds overweight because it's Victorian and classy. 

- (follow up) I have excellent willpower. I just don't need it because I am already awesome.

- I am the best looking person in this train car

- People are very impressed by the fact that I earned departmental honors in college

- Everyone is always actively excited to see me

- I am the best looking person in this Duane Reade 

- Everyone is interested in my stories about my experiences at a private ski academy

-  I get points right away for being in my 20s

- These bronze metallic jeggings are WORKING on me

-The following song is about me:

So all of these things are now emphatically true until I sort out everything else.  Having a sensible worldview is for cripples and ugly people and I do not have to put up with that shit. I am a winner and winners assume that everyone is on board with their nonsense. So you're all on board. Let the nightmare begin.

The Emma Look Book

If this is your first time visiting this blog I would appreciate it if you would, before reading this post, go to my "most popular posts of all time" section and read those first. The reason for this request is that today I'm going to be discussing fashion, kind of, and I don't want anyone to think that this is a fashion blog, because it isn't. Thank you. 

Back? OK great.

My personal sense of style is a little hard to pin down. I don't have a lot of money and I have no patience for waiting in line for dressing rooms or putting up with snooty shop girls. I don't pay attention to trends and I really hate it when I can't find anything I like in a store because a bunch of bitches in a room somewhere decided that THIS SPRING IS ALL ABOUT NEON! Fuck those bitches. I like neon fine and all but sometimes I really just want a forest green t-shirt, ya know?  So it's a lot of sales rack finds, thrift store treasures, and mostly things that I never tried on before purchasing them. Anyway. I've been documenting my outfits this week so I figured I'd share that with you. It's easier than formulating full ideas.

Look 1: The Lazy Equestrian.
Shirt and Jeans from Old Navy. Boots from TJMaxx by some cheap brand. A pretty straight ahead look that I wear when I am lazy, but not so lazy that I need to resort to sweatpants.

Look 2: THIS HAT WAS EXPENSIVE

Hat from Anthropologie. Sweater by Old Navy (size xxl). It was in the sale bin and there was a sign in the store saying everything on sale was an additional 50% off. The hat was originally $250 marked down to $70 so I was like, yeah OK I can do a $35 hat that was originally $250. I'm assuming it's made of unicorn hair or phoenix feather and will reveal it's magical properties to me at some point.

Look 3: The "You don't KNOW that I didn't just come from the Gym." Super lazy look involving spandex from The Gap.

Look 3: Recently Homeless Space Princess

It was snowing but I wanted to wear a pretty dress. Dress by H&M. Boots by Sorel.

Look 4: The Unsupervised 6 year Old

This is a floral dress worn OVER a polka dot skirt because the dress was just a little short and I was like fuckin...whatever I'll just wear a skirt under it. Also note the belt, headband, leg warmers, AND tacky necklace.

Look 4: Recently Homeless And Slightly Provocative Unsupervised 6 Year Old

I'll let you sort this one out.

Questions? 

The Life and Times of a Cautious Pedestrian

I don't like to cross the street unless there is a crosswalk. I don't like to cross the crosswalk when a stern, pixelated hand is strongly suggesting that I had better not. How stupid would I feel if I got hit by car, or even almost hit by a car? I'd prefer my demise to come in the form of something more dignified than being squashed under tires, mangled in a metal grille, or splattered against a windshield. And what's the rush anyhow? I can wait two minutes for the light to change and it probably won't alter the trajectory of my day too drastically. It's an exercise in patience to not cross the street when there is obviously, logically, absolutely no car coming but I would rather improve my patience than form habits that might someday render me paralyzed, dead, or worse yet slightly cross-eyed. 

I live in New York City now which means that I have to ignore my street crossing preferences most the the time. Any New Yorkers with whom I might be roaming the streets typically have  no patience for waiting for lights or for walking a half a block out of the way to a cross walk when there is a perfectly reasonable break in traffic to dash across. So I have to shelve my discomfort and buck up when I'm in a group but when left to my own devices I still prefer to play it safe. I walk fairly quickly and I'm small so I can weave in and out of foot traffic without causing too much trouble. You'll often find me standing at the head of a swarm of Asian tourists, with one foot in the street and one on the sidewalk, poised and determined like a general about to bring a very confused army into a very small battle.

I work in the Financial District and I was living in Brooklyn in the summer of 2012 so I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge on several occasions. I figured since I was by myself I wouldn't have too much trouble getting around the tourists and traveling at my preferred speed. Unfortunately there is a logic vacuum that exists within 100 yards of any internationally renowned landmark and the Brooklyn Bridge is no exception despite its status as an functioning bridge in one of the most populated metropolitan areas in the western world. One German girl was sitting on the white line that separates the walking lane from the bike lane so her friend could take pictures-and not just one or two-this was a full blown photo shoot. I don't mind telling you that she was rather corpulent and my sympathy had she suddenly broken through the wooden planks and plummeted into the cars below would have been...limited. 

It is important to note for those of you not acquainted with the Brooklyn Bridge that the bikers in the bike lane mean business. There are a few spare tourists teetering along but for the most part these are people who bike to and from work. I should also mention that I've only actually been on the bridge twice and I've done exactly no research so my assumptions shouldn't be as statements of truth. A walk across the Brooklyn Bridge at 6:00 PM on a balmy summer's eve is by no means a leisurely affair. Unless, that is, you only have your own interests at heart and are either too stupid or too arrogant to acknowledge the present danger and general mayhem you insight when walking five abreast, wandering into the bike lane (or forcing other people to do so in order to pass you), stopping suddenly, insisting on having your professional wedding photos taken when the bridge is at its most crowded, or letting your brood of small children scatter like sentient marbles. 

I think I might walk more than a lot of people since I A) don't drive (planning to start soon maybe if I can find a decent affordable a class!) B) hate NYC busses (I would try to work through this but I'm actually prone to motion sickness and I think it's best for everyone if I don't) and c) would rather walk a few extra blocks than transfer from one subway line to another. Several of the heels on my more comfortable fancy shoes have been worn away to the metal or plastic core. You can tell that I walk with my ankles rolled a bit to the inside because the wear on the heels is set at a noticeable angle. With all the walking that I do, though, I haven't actually adjusted to the New York cross-when-you-can method of bipedal locomotion. That's not to say I don't do it- I just don't ever feel quite at ease with it and I don't think I ever will. We'll see.