The Showdown

I had an extremely productive day. Went to the bagel place, finished a paper, toured a magazine production company in Times Square, and even met up with the Pub Club (girls from school) about an up-coming project. I felt good.

So I walked into the apartment around 11pm, and turned on the lights in my room.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.

What. The. Heck.

Michelangelo was at it again. He was up to his creepy trick of appearing in darkness and hiding when the light exposed his disgusting, little self. (If you are reading this and don’t know who in the world Michelangelo is, click here for a brief tale.)

Now, instead of blogging about a magazine production company or field trips to Times Square, I’m writing about an ugly bug who destroys my feelings of safety and security.

I know you think I’m crazy. But I’ve just got to tell you about “the showdown.”

Where it all happened...

The lights are already on. My main objective at the moment is to recharge my dying phone. So I edge toward the desk, only to the see the backend of my little brown friend crawl behind a book on my printer.

The antennae are sticking up, while the rest of Michelangelo is hidden. I begin to panic. He knows I’m watching him, and I KNOW he’s watching me. After two minutes of hardly breathing, I run and grab Tupperware from the kitchen.

“You will die,” I said, vehemently.

But I was so scared of this bug that my arms began to shake. Can I just say, this is the one time in my life I really wanted a boyfriend?! I know that’s all gender bias and what not (thank you college education) but it’s the truth! I thought to myself, “Now if only a boy were here, I would not still be looking at a book hiding a bug”… or even if an unafraid-of-bugs-kinda-girl could be summoned (Katelyn James I needed you!). Alas, that girl is not me. Newark, NJ feels homey, and NYC is like a safe haven compared to the thought of harboring a bug in my room while I sleep.

So I’m still staring at the antenna two minutes later thinking about possible boyfriends that could take care of this. Then the thought occurs to me: I’ll put plastic bags on my hands! Yes, plastic bags will give me the courage to finally use this Tupperware and capture Michelangelo.

Now I’ve got little plastic bags on both hands and I’m holding a little plastic bowl and lid. “One… two…three…” No! I can’t do it. Bungee jumping was easier than this. “One… two…three!” No, no, no. I start talking myself into it again, counting and counting but to no avail.

Then another thought strikes me: maybe Michelangelo is no longer there. I had made several kitchen runs, and now we were going on minute 10 of “the showdown.” So I whapped my printer twice.

SCUDDLE!

He appears on the binding of my book on the top of my printer. This is bad for two reasons: 1) I squealed really loudly 2) Because he’s on the binding of a book, he is in an awkward position and I can’t quite catch him. More staring ensues. Minutes 11 and 12 of “the showdown” were really rough.

“Okay Britney. Do you want to sleep tonight? It’s sleep… or the bug…” After several “oh my gosh‘s” and “I hate you’s” something finally made me move.

SLAM! I threw the Tupperware on the bug, while also pulling off two of his legs (unintentionally–though I wasn’t sorry).

No, my room did not look like this beforehand. I absolutely wrecked it trying to get rid of this creature.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Eeeeeeeeh! Ew. Stop! Stop moving. Oh my gosh I hate this.” You don’t have to tell me that I sounded like an idiot.

But now I had a whole new predicament. I couldn’t leave my post without Michelangelo escaping, so I squealed again, and stomped my foot like a two-year-old. “Anna!” I said it softly at first. Then after I heard her get out of bed, my voice rose to a normal tone. “Anna!!” She came rushing in and saved the day with a folder we were able to stick under the plastic bowl. Finally after flushing the bug down the toilet, I looked at Anna with remorse.

You see, I’m 90% positive that was not Michelangelo from last night. In fact I’m pretty sure that was Ricardo, who just so happens to be a whole different bug entirely.

This was taken right after the realization that there are probably multiple breeds of roaches in my apartment.

I can feel him sitting there,

Shifting beneath my stare.

I’m sure he’s watching me,

Being as creepy as he can possibly be.

I thought I heard him last night,

Moving near my trashcan, but out of sight.

Still, find him I did not

And then I heard him not a lot.

I can feel him sitting there,

Shifting beneath my stare.

I’m sure he’s in my jeans on the floor,

Or maybe hiding under my closet door.

But I’m too afraid to look and see,

Because what if he runs after me!

Or worse, what if there’s more than one?

I would simply come undone!

I can feel him sitting there,

Shifting beneath my stare.

I’m sure he’s going to crawl in my bed.

And at night he will scamper on my head!

Oh but if this nightmare actually came true,

I would scream and not know what to do.

These things don’t usually bother me,

But this grossness in my room really must die, you see?

Because I know when I turn off the light…

THE ROACH IN MY ROOM WILL COME OUT AND BITE.

I call it "Insomnia a la Cucaracha"

Ah…..!!! Note time of post: 1:37AM. I sit in my living room. Scared. Alone. Terrified. I HATE YOU BUG. Goodnight New York. Goodnight people of the world. And you... Goodnight Michelangelo. Yes. That’s your name. I like you more when you have a name – similar to a pet. Right..?

Thursday's Things New Yorkers Say

It’s that time of the week again: Here’s a little tidbit for TTNYS:

Getting off the N Train in Astoria, two twenty-something guys talk:

“I can’t believe the one time I’m in New York, I don’t see the train,” Drunk #1 says. “Dude… we just got off the train,” replied Half Drunk #2. “What? No we didn’t,” Drunk #1 smiles sleepy and leans on Half Drunk #2… who is looking more like Slightly Buzzed and Really Confused. “Yes we did,” he says, almost worried. Drunk #1 wakes up slightly and looks around as the train pulls away. “Oh. I didn’t see it.” Half Drunk #2 looks at me, then looks at his friend, and shakes his head.

I feel like there should have been a camera, like there is in “The Office.” If there had been, he would have looked at that too (insert blank Jim-Halpert-look here).

Walking to Pace University classes on 5^th Avenue and 45^th Street:

“Excuse me miss, where do you get you’re hair done? I’ve got a great deal for you,” the walking salesman says. “Virginia,” I say, expecting him to leave me alone. “Virginia Salon?” he questions, following me. I stop and look at him like he’s a little dumb because I’m about to be a little late. “No. Richmond, Virginia. The state,” I reply. He contemplates the answer and shakes his head. “Oh. Well. We can’t compete with that.”

That’s right buddy. Back away slowly. Don’t mess with my Miss Yu Salon back in Richmond. I haven’t gone to another place since second grade!

Sitting at a Starbucks in Midtown, a middle-aged Asian man sits next to me. Some middle-aged New Yorker, with a slight northern accent, joins him.

“The LION has come OUT of his CAGE!!!” Wall Street #1 practically screams to Wall Street #2. He has just signed his divorce papers.

Warning: This week and next week are going to be crazy. Midterms, Broadway plays, apartment-warming parties, pancake breakfasts, work, and class all need to be squeezed into the next 5 days. Updates on the city when possible!

And Your Thoughts?

I am procrastinating. There’s a paper for one class, a website for another, a presentation, and hundreds of pages of readings. Alas, I had a glass of wine with dinner and now I feel like doing none of these things.

Whoops.

Or maybe my lack of enthusiasm stems from another factor entirely. Yes, it’s already that time of year: classes-picking and internships-hunting for the next semester has begun. I smell the future in the air and have completely lost my attachment to the present. Darn my perpetual need to go, go, go.

It’s gotten me this far, right?

So go I shall. But I need some help. I am applying for internships next semester, and I’m not sure what track to follow. Magazines? Book publishing? Literary agency? I don’t know!

Here are the choices:

1) I could work at a literary agency, where I would be assisting agents with manuscripts and representing writers to publishing companies. I have 2 or 3 good leads from medium to large agencies. It would be an interesting experience, seeing both the writer and the publishers point’s of view, and working with some possible celebrity clientele. Some seem very hands-on.

2) I could work at a publishing company, where I would be going through writings, assisting editors, and attending editorial meetings at companies like Simon and Schuster or W. W. Norton. I have 3 or 4 good leads from independent to corporate companies. It would be crazy to see what happens behind closed doors. Most seem very hands on.

3) I would work for a magazine, where I would be helping with editorial content and administrative work. I only have 1 or 2 good leads (one possibly at Martha Stewart Living). I’ve always wanted to see what working on a magazine is like, but the industry is tough and competitive. I don’t know how hands on these publications would be.

Any thoughts?

*Editor's Note: I could see myself working at all of these positions but don't know if I will get any of them. Actual internship is subject to availability, and may not be the winner of the survey. But you can vote anyways ;)

Whirlwind Weekend

“Riiiing!”

I woke up to the squeal of unidentifiable females.

Where was I?

More squeals, faint laughter. I rolled over and went into “snooze mood” for another twenty minutes or so, with my phone alarm armed and ready.

“Riiiiing! Riiiiing!”

Oh. There is went again. That ever-present reminder that I’m supposed to be awake and doing something important… what was I supposed to be doing? And where the HECK was I? All I knew is that it was 7:00am.

A few seconds passed while I gathered my thoughts. Oh my gosh. Was that movement? There was someone in the bed with me. No, that couldn’t be… but yes. Someone was most definitely rolling around in my bed. Not good.

“Riiiiing!” I grabbed my phone and sat straight up, my hair piled on top of head and sticky out of a bun in an unsightly fashion. Suddenly I remembered everything and smiled. Thoughts rushed back to me at a horrifyingly fast speed for 7:00am.

It was 10-10-10 and one of my best friend’s was about to marry her boyfriend of eight years. That’s right! Katelyn James and Michael Alsop were finally tying the knot in good ol’ Sparta, Virginia.

I had been to three weddings already this summer (all fabulous in there own ways) with today being the culmination of the wedding season - the final “I do” of the year. This was also the first time I would see several college friends since graduation, and my first trip home since the move to New York.

Big day. Bigger for Katelyn and Michael of course, but never the less, a big day. And because of the hype and eight-year anticipation, it was an exciting Sunday for everyone involved or invited. The whole town (though small) was thrilled.

10 Things about Virginia I loved:

1) The wedding of two close friends – duh.

2) Local food. Pierce’s Barbeque from Williamsburg, Carl’s ice cream from Fredericksburg, and Virginia Roasted Peanuts were all part of the rehearsal dinner. Also Mosaic Café, one of my Richmond favorites, catered the wedding. Yum.

3) Visiting Christopher Newport University, seeing all the people, and going to a late-night hockey game.

4) Walking around barefoot in green grass. I did not realize how much I would miss this late-summer sensation.

5) The smell of home. When I was driving back from CNU I literally stuck my head out the window and smiled. Yeah, yeah I was watching the road. But I already knew where I was going.

6) And that reminds me; I missed DRIVING.

7) Being surrounded by people I know and love. Another duh.

8) Pugs. I missed those puppies.

9) Jasmine Star shooting the wedding! Okay it’s not something I “missed” because it’s never happened before, but it was still uber-exciting.

10) Seeing leaves change color until all the tree-lined roads are a seasonal bouquet of reds, yellows, and oranges.

But going back to New York was certainly no bummer. Work and school are going well, I have tickets for a Broadway show in a few weeks, pancake breakfast in Newark are continuing, and Kathryn and Dad are visiting this weekend. Good month!

So after this whirlwind of a weekend, I sat down on my couch in NYC and ate an avocado while doing some homework on publishing companies. It was sunny, and one of those perfect days when the temperature is the same both indoors and out. I smiled, quite content.

Oh and PS: The person in bed with me was my high school/college/friend for life, Kelley. She steals the blankets so watch out ;)

Some wedding pictures:

Thursday's Things New Yorkers Say

Okay first thing’s first. Here is a little something for “Thursday’s Things New Yorkers Say:”

On the train in the upper-east side, two teenagers chat:

“So she said that she thinks that we said that there was something going on tonight, but I don’t remember what we said, and maybe she just said it wrong… ya know?” “Totally.”

Like ohmigod. I’m so pissed I followed that.

A group of twenty-something’s run into each other while shopping in Nanette Lepore, and make plans to hang out.

“Well, today I’m lunching at the Plaza, and grabbing drinks this evening, but what about tomorrow?” Girl #2 and #3 check Blackberries. “We’ll the trainer comes tomorrow morning and then we’re doing tea at the Waldorf, but I think the night is free.” Girl #1 has an idea. “We should meet up for cocktails…” Girl #2 flips her hair behind her head. “Def. I’ll BBM you.” Smiles all around for their brilliant planning. “Awesome. Chow.”

I think I just saw an episode of Gossip Girls being taped, right in front of my eyes. And those two days they have planned would cost my entire paycheck. Whomp Whomp…

Second, in an interesting turn of events, a friend of mine from work and I were able to see Lauren Conrad at a Barns and Noble book signing. She was very pretty, very sweet, and very rushed to accommodate the 200 plus people in line to see her.

Third, I’m coming home this weekend, so get ready Virginia! Can’t wait to see Katelyn James and Michael Alsop finally married after eight years.

Line to see the "The Hills" star, Lauren Conrad.

There she is - couldn't take pictures with her, but we could of her.

Woohoo! Love NYC. But I'll see you Virginia peeps tomorrow :)

For The Love of Letters

In today’s world of technology, digital messaging, and video chat, I still find myself fascinated by the beautiful simplicity of a personal letter. There is no comparison between opening my email inbox of 14 messages to that of opening my mailbox to one, handwritten envelope.

Don’t get me wrong. I greatly appreciate Twitter, Facebook, and Skype just as much as the next Generation Y computer wiz. In fact that may, indeed, be why I find this older method of communication more idealized and romantic, even in it’s antiquated style.

For this reason, I greatly appreciate the yellow legal pad clippings sent to me every so often by my grandmother. Sometimes she has news to report; sometimes she pens that there is “nothing of interest” to discuss but that she was simply “thinking about me.”

Maybe it’s the writer from within, but each time a personal letter comes my way I can’t help but excitedly rip open the message almost immediately, as if it were a toy a child received on Christmas day. My only regret is that I rarely respond in the same manner, hence my persistent phone calls to those who send cards (although I am trying to improve!). I simply wasn’t trained to respond by snail mail, though I adore the personal implications.

So this post is in tribute to my Grandma Barbara, who sent me a letter nearly every two weeks throughout my four-year college experience, and who from time-to-time still sends a note my way.

Thank you.

Maybe I’ll write you a copy of this blog post so you can understand my immense gratitude. Practice makes perfect, right?

On another note (no pun intended), I am also extremely proud of my Grandma Helen who just used Skype for the first time. How’s that for a technologically-savvy grandparent?

Bulletin board in my room with notes from many, including my grandma.

"Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." - Mark Twain

Thursday's Things New Yorkers Say... To Themselves

“Getting myself lost…”

“She freaking… then she freaking….”

“Get out of my face motherfu…”

“Where the hell is this…”

“Halleluiah sweet God almighty.”

I don’t know what it is about New York. Or maybe it’s every city? But something about the “concrete jungle where dreams are made” promotes constant muttering or flat out conversations – with yourself.

All the above quotes are an ever-present reminder that people from all different backgrounds and socioeconomic standings are, in fact, crazy.

Take for example the typical “I’m-at-the-wrong-side-of-the-platform-for-the-subway” conversation between one’s self:

“Oh (insert any explicative here).” “I think this is wrong.” “I wonder where I am going…” "Am I in Brooklyn?"

Or how about the “mid-town-stressed-out-walker:”

“This is ridiculous.” “So many people… so many” “I hate mid-town at rush hour.” “(Insert multiple explicative’s here).”

And then there is the actor. He sits on a subway, fully engrossed in a manuscript or play. Suddenly his head pops up and he looks to the sky. Silently he mouths word you can’t hear and changes his expressions into obscure emotions you can’t understand.

You wonder to yourself, “Why is that man noiselessly screaming to the ceiling of the subway and then looking back at a sheet of paper?” It took me several of these instances before I realized they were actors, cramming lines into their skulls.

Finally, there’s people that are truly crazy and have conversations with the wall. I won’t go into these poor souls because it’s kinda sad. And they actually freak me out. Particularly when I happen to be sitting by that wall they are talking to – I just get very confused.

I’m not even mentioning all the iPod sing-alongs and incoherent numberings I have encountered! And I was thinking all of this one day in the subway – when everyone seemed to be talking to himself or herself! Why was that man speaking Chinese to no one? Who said it was okay for you to give me a free concert of the latest rap crap streaming from you headphones? Why, old woman do you randomly nod your head up and down, saying “uh huh?” And you! Yes you, you crazy actor! Don’t you realize you look ridiculous!?

And then it happened.

I let out a quiet, but ever so audible “Oh my gosh.”

Just like that I joined the ranks with the rest of them. By breathing out this simple, unobtrusive phrase, I destroyed my reputation of sanity and stability. The pressures of the city had induced a haze of chaos and infiltrated my traditional “filter.”

Was it excusable? Hadn’t frustration just gotten the best of me?

Maybe in most cases. But I looked around my surroundings. There was a younger girl sitting directly across from me, starring into my horribly embarrassed soul. She was my witness, observing my drop into craziness.

She heard that phrase. She knew “oh my gosh” was said to myself. I swear I saw her cruelly smile as she sat silently content in this loony asylum better known as the R train.

I talked to myself, and the world knew it. I am crazy.

Or…

Maybe I’m just well-adjusted ;)

Eric's birthday was this week!

Beautiful New York... even if everyone's crazy.