I grew up listening to a lot of music. Some of my earliest memories are of listening to Bing Crosby or Nat 'King' Cole Christmas records. I have fond memories of sitting in the backseat of my father's maroon Pontiac, windows open as he drove to drop me off at cheerleading practice, listening to the classic rock station spinning The Who and Queen. I always talk about digging through my older sister's cassette tapes, looking for the latest mix of Hip-Hop dubbed from the radio. Most of all, my mother instilled in me this deeply sincere love for the Motown Sound. I don't even recall when or how it came about, I just know these records have always been near and dear to my heart.
I swear to Claire, this morning on my walk to work, cement dripped from the construction site I was walking past and landed on my face. Not just anywhere on my face, right near my lip as I was eating my breakfast.
When I was in high school and my Italian teacher would teach us a new concept, she would finish it by saying "It is going to be this way 99% of the time. Why? Because that's the way it is!"
(Unfortunately for me, this will probably end up being a series)
Last night was my first night at my new apartment. I got to New York Sunday afternoon and was dreading the whole ordeal. I packed my suitcase, resenting each shirt or pair of pants I folded and stuffed into it. My mom and I did a little decorating, part of which involved an attempt at turning a king & queen size duvet into a slip cover for a sofa (a work in progress, I assure you.) After my mother left, I closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and turned around to face my fears.
It’s a beautiful night in New York City tonight. The thickness that’s been in the air for the past few weeks has subsided, but that comforting warmth of summer still wraps around you the moment you step outside. Most nights when I get out of work I practically run to the train station so that I can get home and get in bed. Tonight, though, I lingered a little. I left the office later than usual, and I walked through Rockefeller Center to get to Grand Central. Usually I avoid tourist attractions at all costs, but there was something calm and peaceful about it tonight. Maybe because it was almost 9:00 on a Tuesday night, and the only people still wandering around don’t have to travel to far to go home. I almost wanted to stay even longer, just to walk around the city and take everything in. I realized that pretty soon I’ll be living just a few blocks from work and I can linger all I want. I realized that when that day comes, I’ll probably just want to get away from New York.
I’m getting pretty close to the day where I will have no more excuses as to why I have not moved in to my apartment yet. The shelves have been cleared, the floors scrubbed, I’ve broken every last nail on my fingertips lifting boxes and washing walls. Even the thick smell of incense that hits you as soon as you unlock the front door has subsided. What was once a dark space filled with chaos and bits and pieces of memories long gone is now a bright yet serene apartment, filled with the scent of a fresh start.
Perhaps its because usually I have a set date that I’m moving out of one place and into another, and I have time to mentally prepare. It could be because I am truly terrified of what I’ve waited my whole life for, but I just don’t think that’s it. Whatever it is, I can say something inside me is just not ready to live in that apartment. I don’t think it’s the actual living there that’s getting to me either, I think its what it will mean for me.
My mind is racing with what-ifs. What if I’m not good at it? What if I never find a job? What if I don’t have enough money? What if I want to go home? What if I don’t want to? What if I just plain can’t do it? I feel like I have to grow up overnight. Everything else was just temporary and this is semi-permanent.
Time flies when you're hauling garbage from your new apartment to the side of your mom's house.
Two weeks ago I made my first trip to "the apartment." I came with 4 of my friends and my mother, armed with a granny cart full of Fantastik, Clorox, Lysol, 4 pairs of rubber gloves, sponges, buckets, pledge, etc. We split up into teams, one team tackled the bathroom and the other got started on the kitchen. You can imagine how small a kitchen and bathroom can be in an apartment in New York. It took all day. Since I am cleaning out the whole apartment and can't throw the garbage away in the basement, I've been loading it up into my mother's car and then unloading it on the side of the house.
After that first weekend, I couldn't convince any of my friends to come back. My mom and I went Saturday morning and spent 12 hours on the bedroom alone. We dusted light fixtures, scrubbed the windows, polished furniture, sorted through costume jewelry, and threw out loads and loads of useless crap (I'm convinced that when you turn 65, it is a rite of passage to begin a collection of plastic bags that are at least 10 years old). The car was stuffed to the brim with garbage bags and Sunday morning I added them to the pile collecting on the lawn. Sunday night my mom and I went back to take more garbage. We loaded up a granny cart with a few bags, and I carried three out to the street. We stopped for a moment to rest, and the cart started rolling down the street. I ran after it and we tried to collect ourselves despite the flock of people walking by staring at us in disbelief. It took us three tries to bring the garbage to the car, after many attempts at stacking it every which way and it toppling over every time. The end result was me running bags back and forth amid confused stares from passersby. My favorite was the trip where my mom carried a bag with a bright orange pool noodle popping out the front and I paraded down the street with an enormous ebony carving of African elephants and a Hoover vacuum circa 1950. Bag after bag we carried, into the steamy hours of that Sunday night. You cannot fathom how much crap an 85 year old woman can aquire in her lifetime. Some if the things are gems, just waiting to be uncovered. Unfortunately, most of it is crap. We arrived home and proceeded to add more garbage to that ever growing pile.
That night, I dreamed (or should I say nightmare-ed) of the pile of crap growing on the side of the house. Garbage at a barbeque. Garbage at work. Garbage in the rain. Garbage. Crap. More garbage, more crap.
At this point, you just have to laugh, or else the crap will kill you.
Last summer, while living in the hell hole that was "student living at a fabulous New York hotel," I wrote about visiting a cousin of mine. To refresh your memory, this cousin has been living in Manhattan since my own mother was younger than me, and yes, it is rent controlled. On Monday night, we found out that she will be giving up this apartment. It was like the loss of a piece of living history, knowing this place would now only be a family legend. My mother asked my sister and I to go to NYC this week to pick up a few of her things that we would like to keep. I pictured all the African masks coming off the walls, her jewelry boxes emptied of costume pieces bought in countries I will never see, and all her records coming to a halting stop.
Yesterday I wore heels to work, and I got sent out on a lot of walking errands. So today I wore big comfy cuddly snow boots, because when the Big Boss comes in, it's a guarantee I'll be going somewhere, at least once.
A few hours after I'd been at work, Vin asked me to go meet Big Boss at the cell phone store. I looked up where the store was and asked what I was going there to do (its always good to be prepared) and Vin casually said, "She just needs you to sit in her car while she goes in the store." I thought "oh" casually, this sounds easy enough and I was on my way. Vin gave me his metro card so I could get there fast and told me to call her on her cell phone when I got there and to look for her car, its a BMW. As I was sitting on the train I started to think about how this little task would play out. I pictured her running into the store, and me sitting there waiting. Easy enough.
Then my mind started to race. What if someone came and told me I had to move the car? Would I have to drive it? Where would I even drive it to? Why can't I just go in the store for her and SHE sits in the car? I can't do this, why can't Vin do it?! He drives her car all the time.
I finally got there, and by there, I mean 6th Avenue and 42nd street, you know, really close to Rockefeller Center where they'd be lighting the Christmas tree in a few hours. The traffic was INSANE. This was not what I pictured at all. I slowly pulled out my cell phone and told Big Boss I was at the store, she said she was looking for a spot or somewhere to pull over and told me what street she was on. I walked down a block or two and found her sitting at a red light. We hung up the phone and she pulled down her window and asked what I thought she should do. I stuttered and stumbled over my words...like I know ANYTHING about driving around midtown Manhattan in a mob of Christmas tourists.
Before I knew it, she'd grabbed her bag and hopped out the car, leaving the door open and the car running and said, "Here, you drive it..just circle around the block" and was walking up the street before I could protest. WHAT?????? This is exactly what I didn't want to happen! I just stood there, dumbfounded, trying to process this in my mind. Did she really just leave her car running at a red light on 6th avenue and tell me to drive it?
Did I mention this was a BMW?
I guess she looked back and still saw me standing there, so she called out behind her, "You do know how to drive, don't you??" I yelled, "Y-y-yea..I know how to d-drive" I looked inside the car for a moment, trying to calm myself down, and all of a sudden remembered, "WAIT!!! Is this a standard?!!?" She turned around and said that yes, it was. I thought GREAT! I don't know how to drive a standard, glad thats over. Then she said, "I mean, no it isn't. I mean..you don't need a stick to drive it" Great, I was stuck now, I had no excuse. So I got in. First, I had to figure out how to put the seat back, because Big Boss is actually Tiny Boss, she barely even comes up to my shoulder. There were a ton of buttons, no bar that you pull that moves the seat back like in a regular car for us middle class people. This was not my Mercury that I'm used to. So I started pushing the buttons, the seat went up & down and up & down...that wasn't right. I pushed a few more, the seat back went forward & backward, forward & backward, the side mirrors went up and down, left and right. The seat wouldn't budge. I pressed another and got it to move just a little, but that sent the mirrors into a frenzy and I couldn't see out of them. I put the car into drive and slowly took my foot off the break, I went to press the gas pedal and I couldn't find it, I swore it wasn't there! I felt like I was in some type of horrible nightmare. My boots were too big for the tiny gas pedal, I stepped on the break with my left foot and slowly felt around for the gas. Finally I turned onto 41st Street and went ever so slowly. Big Boss had turned the hazard lights on when she pulled over and I couldn't find that little red triangle button to save my life. I looked everywhere. Meanwhile, a line of cars behind me was beeping and cussing at me. I reached a red light finally, found the button and turned those annoying lights off with a hard push. At least that was settled. I was in such a state of shock when I got in the car that when I put my seat belt on, I tangled my iPod wire in it and now had to leave it that way, while Keyshia Cole blared from the headphones. This was awkward.
I circled around once. It took about 10 minutes, still no call from the Big Boss. I kept seeing signs that said to avoid the streets I was driving on because of the tree lighting...great, who else but me would be stuck in this predicament on such a day? So I went to circle around again. By this time I started to feel like I was in a bad video game. Driving the same track over and over. Dodging obstacles in the road (trucks unloading, dumpsters, cars cutting you off every which way), watching out for people jumping in the road, and swerving through crazy driving cars.
I kept thinking about how hard it is to drive in New York City, and that I'd only done it once before for just a few minutes. Why did my first time have to be in my boss' BMW??? More than 20 minutes had gone by, and I kept hoping she would call as I was passing the store, because if she called after I'd passed it, she'd have to wait 10 minutes for me to get around. Finally, Vin called. I answered the phone and he must have heard the fear in my voice because he said, Intern Chick??? Is that you?? Are you okay??? You sound terrified! All I could muster was "yea, I'm...fine." He said Big Boss was ready for me, just at the time I was approaching the cell phone store. Big Boss got in the driver's seat and I got in the passenger seat. I mumbled an apology about having to move her seat, luckily she was on an important call so I dodged the bullet of having to talk about it.
Phew, I'd made it. It wasn't so bad once I actually did it (and of course, after I figured out how to turn the hazard lights off). Yet another example of how your internship will force you to do things you never thought you could do, and show you that you can, in fact, do it.
My task for tomorrow? Fill Big Boss' new cell phone with ring tones.
So this past weekend my roommates from college came to visit. It was so nice to be around familiar people who knew who I was and know that I'm a little silly, and maybe sometimes a little anal. Anyone who has been to New York once in their lives has been witness to the crazies we have running around here.
Last week on the subway there was a lady having a very heated argument with herself. The whole train stopped their chatter so they could listen to her, and everyone was staring at each other because it was really awkward, she was getting really feisty! I must say, I even put my iPod on pause to get a clip of the convo. Or, yesterday I was grabbing some dinner and this man came running up to me, frantically speaking Spanish...he came out of nowhere! My favorite crazy person New York story though is the time I saw someone pretending to walk their dog, leash and all, and telling the dog to sit.
I used to wonder a lot about what it is in NY that makes people literally lose their minds. When I first moved here last year, I would get on the train and see someone talking to themselves, and look around at everyone else to see how they were reacting. No one would even bat an eyelash, people talking to themselves is pretty normal here. But I could never figure out why! But now I get it.
Being in this city can get pretty lonely. Its so big, and there are so many things to do, but when you're alone, I imagine you must feel that same feeling you got when you were a kid and lost your parents in the grocery store. I guess thats how people go crazy living here, and why most of the time you see them pretending their accompanied by another person. I was so glad my roommates came to visit this weekend, I think they bought me another month or two of sanity :-)
At work, I feel like the outcast at recess who has no one to play with. In real life, I feel like a million bucks. Is there a sign on the door of my office building that read, "check your confidence at the door" ? If there is, I'm probably holding my head too high to see it, but one thing's for sure, my confidence never even makes it to the elevator.
The office culture at my job is like a secret society. Only the cool kids are allowed and somehow I snuck past the border and they let me in. I can tell the difference when I go to my newest internship and this one. At my new one, everyone smiles and says hello, if you're in the elevator with someone and they see you're getting off on the same floor with you, they immediately strike up a conversation with you because they know you are on their side. At this other internship though, its more like a contest, or something. Whenever I see someone walking around my office, I just get stared at blankly. Sometimes I get looked at up and down and I know all the females there are probably making fun of my clothes in their mind, I can just see it on their face. It didn't even bother me at first, it's just recently starting to get to me.
It is the meanest office culture I've ever experienced. But what are you gonna do about it? I talk to a few people here and there and have found that the ones that are most snotty are the ones that are in fear of their job (aka executive assistants and people who have made up jobs, (like "Brand Manager" seriously?)). The ones who are secure are fairly nice and at least you get a half smile from them.
I've never had such a hard time fitting in at the office before. My first internship it took just one day. The most recent internship I had before all of these, about a week and a half to two weeks before I started getting invited places. I recognize it usually takes longer than this but I'll never fit in at this one and I think I decided 3 weeks in I didn't WANT to fit in there. I could write a million blog entries on each specific person and the things I've noticed while at work, but I don't want to get down to their level.
Here's one indication though, that says a whole lot. I sit next to a mirror. Why there's a mirror in the office, I'll never know, but I sit next to it (a living hell when you're having a bad hair day, its a constant reminder that you look like a crazy person). People come up to this mirror non stop all day to look at themselves in it and make sure they look okay...and no one ever says hello to me. I've said hello to them and have been met with blank stares. Really? I'm all for checking myself in the mirror as much as the next person, but I'm not for having an ego so huge there isn't room for anyone else to be on my side.
My thing is, if we're all working for the same company, we should all be working towards one common goal...when the company does good, we all do good and when one of us messes up, we all mess up. I've seen battles between companies in the music industry, and I've seen the claws come out, but not between people who are on the same team.
There's always someone tryin to take your spot, and there always will be. I'm just glad I'm not the one who's so worried about it that I forgot how to act...
Me and networking have a love/hate relationship. And by that I mean, I love that it exists, I hate doing it.
I've already posted about networking before, and if you're even thinking about interning you should be prepared to do so. I have a whole folder full of networking resources, if anyone (aka a nerd like me) is interested, ha.
I'm writing about networking again because I didn't realize how much I do it until today. You don't always even have to network with people that are in the same industry as you because in New York (and most other cities too) everybody knows somebody. That means a real estate agent knows the president of a company you want to work for (also known as, how I got my first internship). Or, the chef you know has a cousin who is an A&R at the record label you've got your eye on. It never ceases to amaze me. When I go to clubs these days, I don't go to find a potential date, I go to network. That means as soon as I get the chance, I ask the person, so, what do you do? Which, in turn, forces them to ask me what I do and more often than not, this person either IS somebody that can help me or knows somebody. Thats when you raise your eyebrows like its the most interesting thing you've ever heard and give them a brief (remember, they are at this club/bar to have fun, not talk business with you, and they're probably a little tipsy) breakdown of what you're trying to do and take it from there. Be advised of the impression you give off though because this person could potentially be your key to something better.
Over a month ago I met another real estate guy (these are the BEST people to meet because they deal with all kinds of people) at a bar and he gave me his card. I wrote him the obligatory, nice to meet you, e-mail and all of a sudden, he was my new BFF. He's introduced me to quite a few of his friends, i.e., a DJ from Music Choice, an executive at a major label, and an A&R/owner of another music company. My favorite is the last one he introduced me to. I messaged this person on Facebook just to say hello and nice to meet you, and now he has offered plenty of advice to me on how to reach my dream job. I e-mailed him back and forth today, and I figured while I was at it, I'd e-mail just about everyone else I've met while in NY just to say hello and keep me in the back of their minds.
It doesn't take a lot, and you don't necessarily have to outright ASK for them to do something for you. People can pick up on ingenuity faster than you think. The easiest way to network is let people know what it is that you do and then be yourself.
Start networking! :-)
This weekend I went out to celebrate one of my old roommate's birthday (I think I have the record for the most amount of past roommates, but that's for another blog). We went to a club downtown and I was the 2nd person to show up on her guest list. Lame. It was pretty awkward, just sitting there with my $10 drink, looking at my phone every 5 minutes (okay, 5 seconds), and waiting for everyone else to show up. The DJ played some pretty good songs, usually when you show up that early the songs suck and you wonder how this guy even got a job in the first place, then you hope no one is paying this loser to spin such crap.
Finally everyone else coming for her party showed up but no one was really dancing yet. And then the same thing happened that happens every time you go to any club that plays Hip-Hop. The DJ played a set of songs from when one of the labels I work at was in its hey day and the club went nuts, like it always does. I've been hearing variations on this set since I was 12 years old sneaking into clubs I had no business being in (sorry, Mom!). And if you thought about it for a minute, you probably just figured out where I work. But this time it was different.
Those songs came on and everyone put their game face on and started dancing. That's how you get the party started, every DJ knows that (and if you don't, then don't quit your day job).
Anyway, I started dancing and was just as ecstatic as everyone else to hear these songs. But then I remembered I WORK at the place that put these hits out. I was overcome with a huge sense of pride because I remembered this is why I want to work in the music industry. I want to help make the hits that people go crazy for and make them forget that anything else in the world exists except this one song.
So at the end of the day, yeah, its worth it.
My mom and my sister came to visit New York today so we could visit a cousin of ours at "the home." Its been quite some time since we've seen her so we sat around a table and looked at old family pictures and I got to hear some stories I've never heard before about my family. I sat there and stared at this old, second cousin of mine who I never knew much about. Of course I'd heard stories...she worked for the UN for over 30 years and traveled the world; I heard about the beehive hairdo she sported, her fabulous life as a bachelorette in her cozy Manhattan apartment. My mother told me about the chic parties she'd hosted in that apartment of hers years ago and always mentioned her extensive record collection. I remember hearing the story about the gold sequin gown she'd had handmade somewhere in Asia during her travels; it proudly hangs in the hall closet at the house I grew up in and if I ever have an event that is good enough for such a dress, I intend to wear it proudly. Maybe even with a beehive!
This weekend my first visitor came, and it was my obligation to show him around and make the 4+ hour bus ride worth while (I won't mention here the run-around I was given by the hotel and EHS after they lost the paperwork I filled out for my guest to stay here). I've only been here about three weeks, and although I did live here last year, the friends I made then aren't people I see very often, and I wasn't 21 last year, so I don't exactly know the hot spots that New York has to offer. And herein lies my dilemma, I'm not quite a real New Yorker, but I'm definitely not a tourist. So I had to get a little creative. On Friday night we went to the Mets game against the Braves. I got us great seats the morning of the game and was really proud of myself that I thought of such a cool, "New York" thing to do on such short notice. But then the skies opened up and it poured for hours on end. We went to the game anyway, and luckily enough, our seats were not out in the open so we managed to stay dry, but after sitting there for 2 hours, the game was cancelled. It takes about an hour each way on the 7 train...so Friday night ended up being what I like to call "a tour of the 7 line through Queens and back again."
This place is a dump. The hallways are painted yellow with brown carpet, and it reeks of stale soup. When I got to my room, there were scuff marks all over the floor, the stink had rust stains in it, you could see the soap scum in the bathroom, the blinds were broken, and the door to the bathroom doesn't even close all the way. I call this place a prison cell. After decorating the room all weekend, it does look more homey, but then I remember where I am when I have to go to the bathroom with the door open. If I could just stay in my room and not have to get out of this place every morning by walking down these disgusting hallways, I'd be happy. Some of you thinking about interning in New York have probably read something about Educational Housing Services, Inc. I want to keep my anonymity on this blog, but I have to put this place on blast. If you can help it...don't move here. Its overpriced for what you get, and I won't even mention their absurd guest policy. An example: when they say all rooms are air conditioned, they forget to mention that its a window unit circa 1975.
