Two Years Down; A Lifetime to Go

Today marks my first two years living in New York City. But that anniversary is secondary. Five years ago today. And the 3rd has fallen on a Sunday again. At this exact moment five years ago, that darkness did not yet exist for me. In another 12-13 more hours, his father would be calling to tell me that he was dead.

I'm still creating coincidences and searching for that connection, which logic tells me does not exist. But as August 3, 2008, drew closer, I was helping plan a baby shower for Mayra, and Natasha invited me to attend a Yankees game - a first for both of us - made even more special by the location of our seats.

Natasha and I spent the three days before Friday's game, bouncing around our apartment, giddy about the idea of sitting in the first row behind home plate for our first-ever Yankees game - and one of the last to ever be played in The House that Ruth Built. We giggled continuously and said corny things sporadically, like "Home plate, baby!" while passing each other in the kitchen. One evening, I walked in the apartment and called out, "Is there a home plate ticket holder in the house?"

And as Mayra's baby shower approached, I became increasingly busier with last minute preparations and shopping for gifts on her registry. Ra and I met at the Toys "R" Us in Times Square after work one evening and wandered aimlessly in the babies section. Sifting through the endless options of bottles, diapers, teethers and care kits was overwhelming, to say the least. I highly recommend it as an effective form of birth control. As we were exiting the store with our purchases (including a large, boxed high chair), Ra - slightly frustrated by the complicated shopping spree - mentioned that we should probably catch a taxi to my apartment. I replied that we probably wouldn't be able to catch a cab in Midtown at that hour, to which she exclaimed in horror, "Oh no! What are we going to do?"

I looked back at the genuine expression of repulsion on her face, her body hunched by the weight of Toys "R" Us shopping bags, and we both died laughing. Unable to catch an available taxi from 44th and Broadway, we ended up taking our first pedicab ride.

Mayra and Melvin's baby shower was a traditional Dominican shower, which included a lot of friends, food, music, dancing and alcohol. I ran around Midtown on Saturday morning, trying to find some of the last things I had forgotten to purchase for her shower games. And then there was the commute from Midtown to 111th Street in Queens, the set-up for the party, and Melvin's reassurance that we had plenty of time because Dominicans are never punctual. But what about all of the invited Americans, Ecuadorians, Puerto Ricans, and those who bubble in "other", I wondered? So many things to keep my mind occupied. And of course, I found more moments to add to my memory montage when Mayra was in the middle of opening her gifts and suddenly began to cry. We all knew it was partially her eighth-month hormones, but we also knew how overpowering it can be to feel so incredibly loved. As Melvin laughed and began to console her, his own eyes welled up and a few tears spilled over.

And this evening, Natasha and I are painting our living room and kitchen. Spiced Butternut and Autumn Orange while we order Thai take-out and sip Pinot Noir. It's the combination of the big and little things, after all, that make life go on.

A Year Ago Today: One Year At A Time
Two Years Ago Today: Temperaturely Speaking ...

As Time Goes By

Tonight Natasha, Ra and I joined Mayra at her house in Queens for dinner a la Melvin, her successful chef boyfriend, who cooked up a feast and then left it on the stove for us while he went out with his boys. Mayra and Melvin have the best couch in the world. I have been looking for one just like it my whole life. I was sad to leave its lush cushions and comfy pillows, but Melvin was good enough to drive the girls back to our homes in Brooklyn and Manhattan since we had consumed several bottles of wine between the three of us by the time he returned. Mayra and her pregnant belly had sipped cranberry juice in envy as we downed glass after glass.

As we rode over the Queensboro Bridge, we happened to notice two pillars of light beaming from downtown and were reminded that 9/11 was again upon all of us. Seven years ... I can hardly believe it.

A Year Ago Today: No post
Two Years Ago Today: Beyonce Before Work

I Know How You Like [It]

Regarding a clean bathroom, that is the sweetest thing a man can say to a woman with undiagnosed mild OCD. I called Terrence this evening to let him know that I could not find the XXXXL items from Foot Locker that he wanted me to bring to England. I had been to two different Foot Lockers in the city and could only find up to XXXL on the days that I went.

“That’s because all the short dudes, who don’t really need them, want to wear big clothes,” he said. At 6’9” with a 7’1” wingspan, clothes shopping can often present a challenge. After some brief chitchat regarding my travel preparations, I said, “Let me call you later so I can enjoy this pedicure.”

A few minutes later, he called me back, “Are you ok?”

It is generally easy to gauge my moods, but I was reminded of how he can read me like no one else can – even from across the Atlantic Ocean, “Just a little stressed.”

“Why?” he asked. I replied that I was just trying to wrap up everything at work, run my own errands and get the list of United States items he had requested [e.g. Texas Pete hot sauce, a framed photo collage of me (a belated-Christmas/birthday present per his specific request, which I have felt like a total narcissist creating), Lupe Fiasco and Cassidy’s newly-released CDs, in addition to the long-sleeve thermals].

“Let those be the last of your worries,” he said, “If you can’t get it all, don’t worry about it. Enjoy your pedicure and relax. I’m going to go clean this bathroom (he shares a 4-bedroom house with three of his BBL teammates).”

“Don’t forget to scrub under the toilet seat,” I laughed.

“I’ve got this,” he replied. “I know how you like the bathroom to be. I’ll call you later.”

I spent the rest of this evening at my apartment with Ra (a shoe designer from Orlando) and Mayra (an international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor from Ecuador by way of NC – yet another Carolinian up here), who came up to Harlem to enjoy cheap manicures and pedicures, a large bottle of Trader Joe’s wine and take-out while I packed for my trip. At some point during the random girl talk, Mayra said in her gorgeous South American accent, “I am so glad I found good friends in New York. I was so afraid I wouldn’t.”

I thought of my blog and all the young, unmarried women like us, striving to make it in New York City because we couldn’t find the life we wanted anywhere else. Queue cliché quote from my favorite episode of “Sex and the City”:

"It would be childish of us to deny that our lives weren't changing. But for this night, none of us were going anywhere. That's the thing about really good friends and a really great Manhattan."
~ Carrie Bradshaw

New York knows how I like it.

Pajamas & Couch Night

Ra and I went to a lounge in Chelsea for Happy Hour on Thursday night, where our good friend was DJing. After turning down a promoter's complimentary dinner starting at 10pm on Little West 12th Street followed by drinks and dancing at a nearby club, we were both back in Brooklyn and Harlem respectively before nine o'clock and asleep by ten.

We had ambitious hopes for a Friday night out, but you know it's been a long, hard week when two 20-something New Yorkers pass up another promoter's complimentary dinner in the Meatpacking District and a table at Tenjune. Or maybe we're getting over the clubs, restaurant openings and velvet rope parties that are so exciting when you're new to the city. Or maybe we are unwilling to admit that we can't party in our late-20s like we did in college.

Friday afternoon we were comparing text messages we had received from promoters inviting us to various clubs in attempt to lock down a plan that we both knew we would likely bail on later. By the time I left the office, we were texting each other and relieved that we both felt the same way. All for pajamas and couch night? Say, "Aaaaaaaah."

Besides, Iris had to attend a Fashion Show in Brooklyn, Tasha is out of town for a wedding, and Mayra - though she vowed to continue with an active night life as long she can still fit in her club clothes - is in the uncomfortable phase of the first trimester of her pregnancy. Tonight, however, we're gathering at Ra's apartment in Brooklyn for a house party. Wine and hard liquor for all and Virgin Bloody Marys for Mayra. Full report tomorrow.

Almost 30, Flirty and Thriving

I am all packed. Just passing time while I finish the last load of laundry in my old apartment building in Harlem before I move into my new apartment in Hell's Kitchen. In about an hour, I will pick up my keys to a vacant Midtown residence that I will soon be calling home.

Mayra came by my office yesterday to help me carry recycled, flattened boxes from our mailroom. We ordered my last delivery from our favorite Mexican restaurant Picante and she helped me pack and tape boxes until almost midnight.

Earlier yesterday evening, she stood outside of my white cubicle and peered into the glass office behind me, where my boss sat in her ergonomic chair looking out at an unobstructed view of the Empire State Building while hosting a conference call.

"Boy," Mayra said. "Your office is so 13 Going on 30."

And I'm almost there.

My First Yankees Game

The Former SNL Actor got Natasha four tickets to the Yankees game versus the Los Angeles Angels on Friday night and told her to invite two girlfriends. So she brought me and Iris.

The Yankees didn't win, but I had my first MBL hot dog. I couldn't help but wonder if the secret was in the sauce or in the stadium. And beer had never tasted so refreshing.

"Katie," the former SNL actor said, leaning across Natasha after the fifth inning, "You're going to love this."

The Yankees grounds crew came out to rake the infield mid-game and performed their traditional YMCA routine as they worked. I had to take a second and appreciate the moment. We were sitting in seats that the three of us would never have even dared to search for on Ticketmaster. The crowd was singing along, my friends were laughing, my beer was ice cold.

I added the moment to the montage of memories that I plan to play in my mind the moment before I die, right after me and Ra struggling to shop in Toys "R" Us for Mayra's baby shower, and right before Tasha screaming at Natasha and me to "work those thighs" as we ran up the stairs to catch a Manhattan-bound A train on the elevated platform at 111th Street in Queens.

Below: Waiting for the game to start ... and glad that the three of us stopped waiting for our lives to start (in Idaho, North Carolina and Arizona respectfully) and found each other.









The highlight of the game: Iris throwing the ball back to A. Rod.

A Year Ago Today: Uppity Executives
Two Years Ago Today: No post

Letters to Our Younger Selves

From (my other blog) Blog-By-Bike:

Ellyn Spragins and I first connected when she commented on a blog post in which I had included a copy of a letter to my younger self that I had written in 2008. It was inspired by a contest in Marie Claire magazine that was based on Ellyn's books. I never actually entered the contest, but two years later, my letter led to a personal invitation from Ellyn to host one of the inaugural "Letters to My Younger Self" Parties. After I agreed, she sent the invitations, party kit, a free copy of her latest book to reference at the party, which had a personalized inscription from Ellyn to me, and swag for the gift bags (which included products from Neutrogena, Trish McEvoy and Suze Orman). Virtually all I had to do was be a host. And since I organized a potluck picnic, I spent less than $100 on pens, gift bags, champagne, orange juice and disposable cups, plates and eating utensils).

In a note to the party hosts on March 6, 2010, Ellyn mentioned that there would be nearly 50 LTMYS Parties taking place across the United States during the week of April 30-May 2 - an initiative that she is developing into a product associated with her books. Among us, she noted, were dear family members, treasured friends, neighbors, readers, attendees and organizers of her speeches and Letters to My Younger Self Seminars - women spanning age ranges from their twenties to their sixties.

And so it came to be that seven of my 20- and 30-something girlfriends gathered in Central Park on Sunday, May 2, for our own LTMYS Party - a picnic brunch with discreetly-contained mimosas (hey, Mayor Bloomberg said it was ok) and delicious snacks (most notably, lemon-artichoke pesto and sliced baguettes from Zabars). We shared our potluck snacks, drank premium orange juice spiked with cheap champagne (except me since my bicycle training rides are getting longer), enjoyed small talk and laughter, and then listened while three friends read aloud from Ellyn's book - letters by Diane Von Furstenberg, Bobbie Brown and Barbara Walters. Finally, under the cool shade of a large tree at the north end of Sheep Meadow, we began our own letters. Except me again. I just continued eating since I had already written a letter to my younger self and posted it on my blog ... hence the reason I am holding a laptop in our group photo.

 

Adrienne

Bianca

Casandra

Keisha

Kelly

Liz

Mayra

And me ...

 Dear Younger Self,

You won’t have what you thought you'd have by your late-20s. But you’ll be happy. You’ll have a 350-square foot apartment in Manhattan. A MetroCard. A job as an executive assistant surrounded by amazing women. You’ll have great friends, New York, phone calls from mom, dirty martinis, Lox cream cheese and bagels.

You’ll realize something new about yourself often. You won't seek to constantly reinvent yourself, yet you might not ever really know everything about you because different parts of you will change – sometimes frequently. This should probably bother you, but it won’t.

You’ll wish you were wittier, and you’ll be a sucker for a sense of humor. You won’t fall in love easily, you won’t get attached easily, and you’ll have to be both of those things if you’re going to get jealous easily; you’ll be able to thank a military-brat upbringing for that. You will be nominated for the "Most Friendly" Senior Superlative at your second high school, and you’ll be a "relatively nice" New Yorker 10 years later. But you’ll have a dark side, and you generally won’t trust those who don't. You’ll like to step back and absorb certain moments so that you can remember the details; you’ll do that most often when your friends are laughing.

You’ll crave cliché “Sex and the City” moments because it’s how you once pictured your life – minus, of course, the Manolo Blahniks, Upper East Side brownstones, and voluminous consumption of Magnolia Bakery cupcakes without gaining a pound. Your narrative thoughts and meaningful conversations won’t be set to background music, but you’ll have the fantasy in syndication and the real thing right outside your window. You won’t worry that your life is becoming a cliché because there will be a reason that you are not the first to live life the way you’ll choose to live it. And you’ll want to be Melanie Griffith at the end of Working Girl when she calls her best friend and says, "Guess where I am right now."

Good and bad things will happen. And you'll have regrets. A few will stay with you always. So embrace varying levels of disappointment so that you’ll recognize rapturous joy. Floss your teeth regularly. Take chances. Don't settle for what’s easy; seek what’s worth it. Take random walks in this city. Look for sights you can't believe, listen for sounds that tug at your heart strings, savor the feelings that take your breath away. Eat more fruits and vegetables; drink more water. Allow yourself to be swept off your feet regularly. Save money and spend wisely. Live like Anthony Hopkins in Meet Joe Black so that you can wake up one morning and say, "I don't want anything more."

When you write this letter, you still won’t know who you are exactly, but you’ll realize it and be ok with it. And you’ll see that the only thing that matters for any of us in the end is that we once existed. So laugh more, love more, live more. Because you can.

Love Always,
Your 28-Year Old Self 

P.S. And when you're 30, you'll cycle across North America [2010 revision].

UPDATES:

• Tory Johnson's May 5th interview with Ellyn Spragins on ABC (You might see someone else you know - albeit briefly!)
• Ellyn's blog post: Letters To My Younger Self Parties!
• More photos from the other inaugural LTMYS Parties are available on Ellyn's website.

My Main Cast

It took me almost a year to find the close circle of friends that I now have in the city. Last July-September, I began hanging out regularly with a few woman in Manhattan. Because of our diverse ethnic backgrounds, we once jokingly called ourselves "The United Colors of Benetton" and personalized a Disney fairies image that now hangs in some of our offices. The name for our clique never really stuck - not that we've ever tried to label ourselves as if we were some sort of girl band - but the group has gradually updated itself since the initial Cast of Characters post to encompass a beautiful group of women that I am proud to call friends.

Hallmark should make a card that reads, There are 8 million people in New York City, and we found each other. I'd buy one for all of them.

In alphabetical order:
Debasha - the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Iris - the fashion designer / personal shopper extraordinare
Jackie - the cocktail waitress who receives $100 tips from Jay-Z for counting his cash
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor
Natasha M. (Tasha or T) - the film and TV voiceover/actress and the best "Sex and the City" Tour Guide ever
Natasha S. (Natasha) - the finance executive and fabulous roommate dubbed by the Former SNL Actor: "A White Girl Who Swallowed a Black Girl" (check her out from behind and you'll see what he meant)
Ra - the shoe designer and footwear guru

Other main characters (around and about NYC):
Bobbi (Tokii) - the best friend from college, whose acting career takes her in and out of the city
Annisha - the publishing marketer
Candice - the flight attendant
Cassie - the Connecticut-based nanny, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker
Gina - the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA

A Year Ago Today: September Sunrise
No Title for Last Night
August's Sunset
Two Years Ago Today: VMAs, Mass Celebrity Sighting and Almost TGIF

Phone Photo Op - The First Supper

From last night:
Our first meal in our new apartment a la Mayra, who went grocery shopping, ascended four flights of stairs and christened our stove ... at almost seven months pregnant.


Followed by my first Margarita at Blockheads, featuring $3 Margarita specials and free chips and salsa, a block from our new apartment.

Phone Photo Op - Living Room Picnic

You know you have great friends when your girls' night sleepover in Queens (hence the spacious living room pictured below) opens with a carpet picnic on Mayra's baby blanket with wine, cheese and chocolate.


A Year Ago Today: "Things I Love" Thursdays - Fall Foliage
Two Years Ago Today:
Swirling Diamonds
5pm Pic

Brunching and Walking on a Sunday Afternoon

Brunching at Roberto Passon with friends, a new boyfriend in the crew and the french toast with the just-right wheaty texture and sugary consistency and the perfect ratio of syrup to eggs and butter ... and the $8 all-you-can-drink bellinis, bloody marys, mimosas and screwdrivers from noon to 3:30pm.


Proof that Mayra is pregnant
... other than the ultrasound photos

Cookies-n-Cream Hersey's bar in a croissant

Walking from 50th and Ninth to the start of today's
city walk at 110th Street and Broadway


Upper West Side cafés






Bars


Street fairs


Benches and tree-lined streets

United Colors of Benetton

Tonight is Girls' Night.
Meet the cast of characters from my nightlife in New York City.
We're like the United Nations or a gang of Disney Fairies.



Clockwise from top (with fairy correlation):
Natasha M., (Tasha) the film and TV voice over/actress (the adorable blonde)
Ra, the shoe designer (the token Black hottie*)
Iris, the handbag designer (the gorgeous White girl with an ass)
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor (the Equedorian with the entire exotic package, including the sexy accent)
Me, executive assistant, blog author (the half Filipina/half White girl with long hair)

*Featured as the Token Black Fairy in our Disney remake and representing for:
Gina, the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
Debasha, the fashion corporate merchandise planner

Other main characters:
Tokii, the best friend, whose acting career takes her away from the city more and more and takes my heart with her wherever she goes (the next Tia & Tamara Mowry by appearance; next Angela Bassett by trade)
Annisha, the publishing marketer (the Caribbean beauty)
Candice, the sexy flight attendant (the Black Southern belle)
Cassie, the Connecticut-based, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker, hot nanny that I would never hire to be eye candy for my husband in my home, and one of the top five prettiest people I've ever seen in real life (Puerto Rican with a Southern accent - does it get any hotter than that?)

The most interesting part of the above list is that all of us, with the exception of Annisha (from Trinidad & Tobago), are from or have lived in North Carolina.

There aren't too many Disney references that can be applied to our unmarried-gals-in-the-city lives, but this blog is full of cliché Sex and the City quotes. Many of my cliché moments are inspired by the most important women in my life within the five boroughs ... although that area is quickly expanding to encompass the world.

NYC Airports + Bad Weather = Equation for Chaos

Flying out of JFK on time is ranked in my Top 10 List of Impossible Things to Do, just below finding a rent-stabilized apartment in New York City and right above solving the general quintic equation in radicals.

My original flight to Asheville, connecting through Cincinnati on Wednesday evening was cancelled due to bad weather, and every subsequent flight through which I attempted to rebook was cancelled one at a time throughout the evening until no options to Asheville were left. JFK to Atlanta. Cancelled. JFK to Charlotte. Cancelled. La Guardia to Charlotte. Cancelled.

I preferred to remain at JFK for seven hours trying every rebooking equation possible rather than lug my bags around the circumference of the airport on the AirTrain for 20 minutes ($5 each way) to the E ($2 per MetroCard swipe) and ride for another 40 minutes back to Midtown. Only to have to return the following day for a 6am flight. I even considered hopping an express bus to La Guardia - until all their flights were cancelled, too.

To those foreign to middle-class Manhattan dwelling, problem solving in JFK for what was roughly equivalent to a workday may have seemed a fatuous alternative to a 3-hour round-trip commute. But when a 15-mile trip to the airport, dragging your luggage on public transportation, can take an hour and a half door-to-door, you'd almost prefer to sleep at the airport.

Luckily, Mayra and her boyfriend recently moved into a house in Queens, a few stops on the A from JFK. And luckier still, her boyfriend has a brother, who was willing to sleep over and drive me to La Guardia at 5:30am. The ultimate resolution to the quadratic JFK squared equation was to reroute me out of La Guardia and through Atlanta with a final destination of Asheville, North Carolina, at 11am on Thursday.

But the puzzle continued to become more complicated. The following denominators were factored into the following morning.

1) Torrential rain and slow traffic
2) Blown transmission at the exit to the airport
3) Cabs unwilling to stop on the expressway
4) Dodging highway traffic with my small carry-on suitcase to get to a willing cab waiting on the shoulder (still pouring rain)
4) Longest check-in and security lines I've ever seen at LGA
5) First-class security line comes to a halt over a suspicious item when an airport official moves me and another 6:50am passenger to the shorter line
6) The security attendant suddenly decides to go on break and won't let me through the metal detector until someone "tags her out" when the same airport official cuts us back into our previous line
7) The woman sitting next to me in the exit row was unable to assist in the event of an emergency and there was confusion in switching seats with a man who "was promised a window seat for switching"
8) Our plane arrived at a gate at the far end of Terminal A at ATL; my connection was at the far end of Terminal D (click here to see why that sucks)

This blog was posted from Asheville, NC.

A Year Ago Today: Phone Photo Ops - 40/40 Club
My Blog Blows, But It's My Life
Two Years Ago Today: Top Ten Favorite Cullowhee Memories