Dru in London & New York

Resurrecting Me

2009-11-05T22:46:00.002-05:00

it was nearly 6 months ago that i last made an entry. and since then i can't even begin to tell you the amount of things i have accomplished. in short, i ended up quitting the job i last blogged about nearly 3 months after starting, traveled throughout Spain and Morocco for 2 weeks and landed a new (even better) job within the span of 4 days doing PR for Target.

i'm always amazed how quickly time seems to go by and 2009 will undoubtedly be one of those years that i look back on and really reflect on everything that i've gone through. starting with getting laid off, to the looney overnight news monitoring i was conducting, my brief stint as a social media pro and now working with a highly recognized retailer. i can't say enough about growing up in a short window of time. it's both rewarding and frightening.

the downside to it all is that i've been so busy working my way through everything--surviving that it leaves little room to actually acknowledge and enjoy the journey. there's really no time to stop and smell the roses, as they say. i've been too busy trying to figure out what is next and that is where i'm struggling to rationalize what it is i'm trying to accomplish with it all.

so much has been put into perspective and there's no question that i am finally seeing the repercussions of living in new york. it's a big city and when you're trying to make sense of it all it can be overwhelming to navigate. i've definitely noticed a change from the kid who should up with one bag in tow nearly 3 years ago. parts of me like the new guy and parts of me really can't decide whether he's someone i'd be proud of hanging out with.

you can age so quickly in this city. between working hard and just surviving the day-to-day rat race-- it's almost like 2 years somehow roll up into 1 and you're left to wonder where it all went. it's always different. you're always changing. there's really no routine, but that's the draw. but sometimes you need a moment to kind of let the world whirl without finding it necessary to make it stop-- you're just in it and it'll go on whether you want it to or not.

the question as of late is whether i can see myself being here for the long term. the truth is i'm realizing that maybe it's a nice place--- for now. i'm keeping living abroad in my sights and i've even begun wondering if maybe the west coast is somewhere i'd like to be -- San Fran, San Diego but never LA.

with my new job, i feel like i've finally found a career. it's the first time i can confident write that statement and not feel like its a chore to wake up every day. i've said that it feels like this is where i should have been right out of school, but needless to say it wouldn't be the same without the experiences that have led up to it. i'm working on creative, exciting and strategic projects for a client and brand that i can believe in, appreciate and genuinely liked even before i was working for them. all the components that i craved for and desired in a PR career are coming to life and it feels good to know that what i am a part of is now about building myself, my reputation and my credibility as a PR guy. no longer is it about how i can pad this for my resume because everything i do is worthwhile and it's something i can be proud of.

when i started this blog, i never intended it to be a live journal. i've said it many times before. now it feels good to open up on it and share with my closest friends what it is that goes on in this constant stream of thoughts i refer to as my head. i'm working through things now. i've seen friends come and go in new york, i've made close ties with those that i'm striving to keep around and building new bonds with those i've deemed worthy of my time, love and respect.

at the end of the day, it's about value. the question is just what and who you value most. once that component is left out of the equation--you wonder what it is you're doing here.

3 Months To The Day

2009-04-26T08:51:00.002-04:00

three months to the day i was offered an account executive position with a boutique fashion, entertainment, lifestyle and luxury public relations agency. i was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally be working again and ultimately thrilled that i was finally in the industry i had always seen myself in. i also really felt lucky to find out three months to the day that i got laid off from brainerd that i was now gainfully employed with benefits once again.

goldstein communications (www.goldsteincom.com) has hired me to co-manage the social media and consumer marketing group. the agency is a boutique firm with approximately six employees and it is currently being run out of the ceo's penthouse apartment in gramercy park. i heard about the job after a fellow gator friend whom i studied pr with knew the guy in charge of hiring the new account executive. she forwarded him my resume after i had let her know in january that i had been laid off. amazingly enough she kept me in mind when the opportunity arose and from there it was up to me to interview, follow up, interview again and cross my fingers.

my first week as a full time employee went quickly. i mean why shouldn't it when i spend nearly my entire day on twitter or facebook for my clients. i put together three new business proposals and pitched one publicity proposal to actor Elias Koteas. i found out friday morning we had landed Elias as a full-time client and that he would be my first official account. therefore it is up to me to make sure you guys grow to learn and love elias. it really is kind of a dream come true because when i first chose to enter the pr route i wanted to take the publicist route and i'm doing it.

in moving from a mid size agency to a boutique firm i have come to realize that the level of responsibility and the burden to succeed is increased. there is really no one to lean on when you are essentially running and managing the account by yourself. admittedly, the challenge scares me a bit, but i know that i can handle the pressure and the amount of exposure and experience i will gain from just jumping in with both feet will reap some serious benefits in the long run.

i don't think it has fully sunk in that i am finally spending my days at a job where i can be and do what i use to waste time at my previous job doing. it almost doesn't feel like work and the work day flies by. i won't lie though, by the end of the week, i was ready for my 2-4-1 happy hour. i guess if that's not any indication that i have officially re-entered the workforce, i don't know what is.

i feel fortunate, grateful and above all else happy about the path i'm taking. there's so much left to still see and do and there couldn't be anything greater.

road rash

2009-03-28T01:23:00.004-04:00

i wanted some adventure. i got some adventure. today, on what felt like the first day of spring, i rode a bike. m.m. decided to take the day off given the weather was so nice. we decided to take a bike ride through central park, however to get to central park you must ride the bike to the park first.

i've ridden bikes before. many. it was the first time i had rode a bike through the busy streets of manhattan, and i have to tell you, it was one of the most thrilling experiences i've had in a long time. the rush of the traffic, mixed with the danger, was exhilarating.

the type of bike i borrowed m.m. had the kind of pedals you have to wear special 'lock in' shoes, where your shoes are literally snapped into the pedals so as to facilitate pedaling. the true roadsters wear them and they take some getting use to. i learned the hard way.

snapped into place, the only way to get out is to maneuver your foot side ways and break free. easier said then done when you've never had to wear these particular sneakers or ride with these kind of pedals. so, picture your feet stuck to the pedals of a bike. now picture yourself approaching a red light and slowing down. you lose momentum and normally you'd put your foot down to keep you upright. now imagine that you can't get your foot unlatched from the pedals you're essentially locked into. you're. going. to. fall. over. it's like watching a tree fall in the woods. it's just going to fall over. there's no where for you to go, there's no bracing your fall, and when you feel your body tilting-- you pretty much just have to give into gravity and pray there is something to break your fall.

my experience was a bit more dangerous. and the more i think about it, the more i realize how severe the situation could have really been. we were riding our bikes up third avenue at approximately 11 a.m. the streets were busy and i was already a little uneasy with the amount of traffic. cycling on the left side of this four lane street, i begin to approach a delivery truck that is double parked. i glance behind to see if the car approaching in the right lane is going to allow me to go around and continue my pace. i hadn't unlocked my feet, so i was strapped in and going no where. the first car goes by not letting me go around the delivery truck. it's fine because i still hadn't slowed down. the second car approaches and it looks like he's not going to let me go around. i panic. i come to a complete stop and BOOM!

i fall on the side of the car. the car continues to move i scrape along the side of the car, hit the tire with my right arm and fall straight to the floor. now imagine if i had fallen two seconds earlier. i would have been on the floor and unaware if the car would have had enough time to stop. or if the car behind him had seen me hit the car and wouldn't have stopped. just typing this i realize how awfully dangerous the whole situation was.

of course, my first emotion was embarrassment, then it was fear, but in the middle of the street there's little time to let anything really sink in. i got back on the bike and kept riding. i laughed. assessed the road rash wounds i will undoubtedly have scars from (minor scars) and put aside any anxiety that may have surfaced having to continue my ride along that busy street. because what was I to do? if i wanted to go home, i would have to ride the bike back anyways, and just because you get knocked down doesn't mean you just turn around and give up.

gladly, i had a good attitude about it because the remainder of the ride, once in the park, was one of the most amazing days i've had in new york to date. the weather was perfect. i reached corners of central park i'd never been. i had a great tour guide in m.m. and i felt awesome coasting through the park, in the cool breeze and going with what came.

we rode north to the top of the park, over to the west side and down to 72nd street before picking up a hoagie, eating outside in the sun and of course stopping at our favorite bakery Levain for a delicious double chocolate chip cookie. the ride back i insisted we avoid the busy avenue and ride down the west side piers, which is meant for bikers and joggers. the ride was much simpler, however getting across columbus avenue and amsterdam i approached a light and fell again, but this time on a delivery boy. he simply looked at me and said "what the hell is wrong with you?"

from a far it must have looked like i had never rode a bike in my life. you wouldn't know i was locked into my pedals, you would simply think i was some idiot who'd never rode a bike in his life. you have to laugh because it's funny. and i felt for once that i wasn't taking life so seriously. that i was just letting it go, scratches, bumps, dry blood and all. it felt good. i felt human, no longer numb.

we rode 10 miles today, and it was perfect. trust me-- i have the scars to prove it.

find it.

2009-03-26T17:23:00.002-04:00

lately i have felt that maybe it's time for me to fuck up. hear me out. i have recently felt like my entire life, i've only done exactly what is expected, that i've simply flowed through the motions to end up just like everybody else-- indebted to a life filled with meaninglessness.

before we can even walk, we're put on this path with the expectations so clearly drawn in the sand for us. it's almost impossible for us to veer off course unless our adolescent hormones get the best of us from the onset and we take the path last traveled.

i have recently felt like i have been living so meticulously and methodically. everything so carefully planned out and purposefully pursued. like it's been about chasing a specific standard in my head and ignoring the process with which i am going through to get there.

i want to fuck up. it sounds much worse and perhaps chaotic than i really intend it to be, but the reality is i want to just do something without it being so damn organized and controlled.

my lease is up in june and i've been toying with the idea of just getting on a plane to madrid, spain. no real destination in mind, but simply figuring it all out when i got there. i mean it'd be the first time that i'd actually have to just figure shit out on the spot and cope with what may come my way. there's something so refreshing about that.

i have nothing tying me to new york. i'm single. no kids. no real job. no pets. it's almost like a green light to just get on a plane and get away.

so what do i do? and where is this coming from? maybe i'm just looking for some adventure, maybe i'm contracting a bad case of cabin fever and just need to get away for a while. leave the material world that has sucked me in and i'm finding hard to shake off. i always thought that my life could be fulfilled by luxuries, but its all so fleeting. everything is superficial. it's like a halogram, it's there, but it's not tangible and it's not something you (I) should hold on to.

sadly, i've been absorbed more and more into that world, and i'm realizing i don't like it. i want more experiences, more stories, anecdotes, memories, adventures, moments in life that i can look back on and appreciate, value and reflect upon. the easiest way to rationalize this thought is that, if there were a fire and all my things were burned and turned to ash, i wouldn't miss any of it. it wouldn't be an ideal situation, but it's all just STUFF. stuff that, when it's gone, i still have my friends, my family and everything that's made me-- dru up to this point. i think that's far more rewarding than any price tag.

i'm looking for something to stimulate me, inspire me and get me out of this corporate mundane life defined by material possessions. get me out and help me find it.

Change

2009-03-15T00:40:00.001-04:00

If you knew that you would die today,

Saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low you cannot fall
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?

If you knew that you would be alone,
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth
That brings up pain that can't be soothed
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?

Are you so upright you can't be bent?
If it comes to blows are you so sure you won't be crawling?
If not for the good, why risk falling?
Why risk falling?

If everything you think you know,
Makes your life unbearable,
Would you change?

If you'd broken every rule and vow,
And hard times come to bring you down,
Would you change?

If you knew that you would die today,
If you saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?

If you saw the face of God and love
If you saw the face of God and love
Would you change?

-Tracy Chapman

Skinner Box

2009-03-02T01:27:00.004-05:00

On my cab ride up to work today, as the impending snow storm began to fall outside, I began to think about how quickly my "Hell Week" flew by. It got me to think about how our predisposition of any event or moment can often be the worst part or most agonizing aspect -- even when you know what to expect.

In a New York Times article published December 6, 2008, Dr. Gregory Berns, a neuroeconomist who uses brain-scanning technologies to decode the decision-making systems of the human mind, conducted a study centered on the effects of fear, perpetuated by the current economic environment, on our decision-making. He writes, "...while fear is a deep-seated and adaptive evolutionary drive for self-preservation, it makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but saving our skin by getting out of the [Skinner] box intact."

Experimental psychologist B.F. Skinner developed the Skinner box in 1950 to test the operant conditioning learning behavior of laboratory animals through their association of flashing lights and levers with either rewards or punishments. At its simplest form, a green light would yield the rat a reward and a red light would yield an electroshock. The animal would quickly learn to associate the green light with good and the red with bad.

Dr. Berns conducted a similar study with human participants in an MRI. An excerpt from his article follows:

"We attached electrodes to the tops of [participants] feet. Although not unbearably painful, the shocks were designed to be unpleasant enough that the individual would prefer to avoid them altogether.

The kicker was that they had to wait for the shocks. Every trial began with a statement of how big the shock would be and how long they would have to wait for it: a range of one to almost 30 seconds. For many people, the wait was worse than the shock. Given a choice, almost everyone preferred to expedite the shock rather than wait for it. Nearly a third feared waiting so much that, when given the chance, they preferred getting a bigger shock right away to waiting for a smaller shock later. It sounds illogical, but fear -- whether of pain or losing a job -- does strange things to decision-making."

Which is a nice introduction to my inspiration for this entry. Haven't we all, at some point or another, sat with dreaded anticipation of an event or moment and in hindsight realized it was never as bad as we were dreading?

It is the anticipation of what's to come, you can include the fear of uncertainty in this, that causes us more misery, frustration and stress than the actual act/deed itself. At the onset of this week, I was miserable at the thought of having to work the entire week the 8 hour shifts until 11 p.m., culminating with three graveyard shifts this weekend. I sit here on Sunday night half way through my final shift and feel like it wasn't really all that bad.

Translate this to me losing my job and having to make sacrifices, like this graveyard shift, lack of weekends and sleep deprivation, and somewhere down the line I'll sit and feel "like it wasn't really all that bad." Perhaps anything in hindsight seems OK to us, but with foresight we would be less inclined to make those sacrifices and we'd miss out on some incredible learning experiences. Can we really come to appreciate the green lights/rewards without suffering through the red lights/punishments? What is winning without some sweat? What is triumph without some work?

I believe that success without adversity lacks challenge, perspective and appreciation.

Professionally Numb

2009-02-28T00:31:00.005-05:00

While I was sitting waiting for a friend at a local restaurant in Midtown, I overheard two older gentlemen discussing their jobs over lunch. They sat casually nibbling on the pre-made sweets and seemed to be venting to one another about their work environment. Both were unkempt fellows with a subtle scientist-aire to them-- Einstein had no time for vanity.

I overheard one of the gentleman say: "This has got to be one of the worst places I have ever worked." It was evident he had had a number of occupational transitions over the years and he knew what he was talking about. However, his adamant dismissal of his current professional make up mirrored almost verbatim what a colleague of mine who works full time at the agency I am freelancing with said. "This is probably the worst place ever."

So, it got me thinking about my current professional situation. I recently went on a second interview for a strategic communications firm and have been probed by my current strategic communications agency for a potential opportunity with the firm. I am thinking it is a full time position they have advertised on the career sites. Truth be told, both jobs have the very stale, dry and mundane "corporate" taste I was so passionately trying to rid myself of.

Given the current state of the environment, have we all been reduced to simply remaining content with what we've come to accept as the norm? Are people to remain confined to their cubicles and ride this wave until 2010; secretly praying they won't get laid off, but wishing they were somewhere, anywhere else other than there? Because disrupting the status quo is far too frightening when remaining what I am dubbing "professionally numb" keeps things on par.

The economy is messing with people's minds. I blame the media for perpetuating the situation and reporting only the stock markets continuous plummets. I'd imagine consumer confidence would see some rebound if the current state of affairs didn't plague our every move. Perhaps letting the dust settle, taking a page out of foreign countries' books (closing down the stock market for a week), would allow Americans some much needed rest from all of this dooms-day news.

Given that the fate of my career remains unwritten, I have to ask myself what is the most important thing for me moving forward right now. Chairman Bernanke seems to think the economy will rebound in 2010... wow, we're only 3 months into 2009 and we've already fast forwarded to 2010? Quite frankly, predicting an economic rebound is about as useful as predicting the weather two months from now... useless. So, is it wise for me to take a job that will leave me bored, unchallenged and quite frankly unhappy simply to rid myself of the burden of continuing to find something in this treacherous economy? Or, should I ride it out, continue my graveyard freelance gig and hope that when I fall, I fall where I truly want to land?

Sometimes it is difficult to make a decision without thinking about the fiscal aspects of the decision. I think it is this outlook that has brought America to where it is. So much is wrapped up in our wealth, money and financial success that without it, we're lost, crumbled and sadly desperate. Perhaps if we valued, as the Europeans do, more substantial things rather than material possession and worth based on 'stuff'.

It is not fair of me to generalize all Americans, as it would be hypocritical of me to point a finger when I am just as guilty as my neighbor. It is easy to blame others or find someone to take the fall, but when it really comes down to it...we're the one's who ultimately decide what is best for us. I'm still trying to figure it all out and I have found that my starting point has been with what I don't want-- to feel numb.

East Village Bath House

2009-02-16T01:45:00.005-05:00

nestled in the east village exists a landmark of relaxation proportions that serves as the perfect oasis. it was one of those experiences you find difficult to not enjoy for every ounce of sweat that beads off you in your choice of steam room, russian sauna or turkish sauna. surprisingly there is a difference, but neither will leave you high and dry.

it is a therapeutic detox rich with some cultural traditions and a new york establishment since 1892. the front desk men, who i could confidently speculate were aptly named boris and ludvig, were not the friendliest of men with their heavy russian laden english, but this is not your regular day at the spa.

it is your "diva-like" spa day stripped down to its barest of skivvies. it's simple. clean. and one could only imagine typical of bath houses. but you can only speculate. the place is filled with your regulars and novices. your pores have never felt so open (they will thank you) and apart from getting a 30 minute shiatsu massage-- you will probably never feel more relaxed from sweating out the toxins you absorb (read: stress, alcohol and tension).

come armed with your smart water bottles (shameless plug). bring your favorite pair of flip flops and hope you ascend those white concrete stairs on 10th street at a time it is a co-ed session (i am just saying is all). the aroma of the banyan leaves, of which you can choose (for an additional fee) to get literally whipped by as a form of massage, stings your nostrils in the purest of forms (channel the smell of mint leaves). it is both refreshing and relaxing all warped in the white tiled hall of the russian/turkish baths of the east village.

your senses will thank you and you'll leave feeling ten pounds lighter. most likely from all the sweating you'll do. no doubt you could use a little escape to regain some clarity.

"a day in the banya, is a day without aging." - russian proverb

judge not the dated (read: amateur) web site, but if you are interested in a peak click here

be forewarned... you will want to come back for more.

sidebar: i just realized banya is a derivative of "bathe" in spanish.

Confessions of a former Collar Popper

2009-02-15T03:05:00.007-05:00

i think it is about time i start having a little more fun with this blog. for starters, i will begin by no longer using capitalization as a form of defiance to the grammatical gods and an extended middle finger to the english teachers whose principle satisfaction comes from the power wielded in a red magic marker.

as a former collar popper and self proclaimed yuppy, i am happy to report it is much harder to shake the habit of keeping my beloved neck warm these cold winter months. plus, a blue peacoat just doesn't look as rad with the collar flat as it were meant to be. the popped collar adds a flare of bad ass to the get up and by "flare of bad ass" i mean air of douche bag (should this be a compound word?).

i have recently become enamored with the idea that i can find solace and temporary eclipses of absolute euphoria by either a) a small impulse purchase b) a simple act of kindness c) acknowledgement of my own unregarded stupidity.

scenario numero uno: water is no longer just water after drinking glaceau's smart water. call me a consumer. call me ridiculous. but the silky smoothness of the vapor distilled, electrolyte packed water is unlike any other refreshing source of known to me in my current state.

part deux: you know the feeling you get when you buy someone a gift you know they have a) wanted or b) would absolutely love? it almost beats actually being the recipient of a gift (depending on the gift--hence the almost). i am totally the person who gets so anxious to give the gift that i can hardly contain myself and have to give the gift far ahead of its anticipated date of delivery. seriously-- finding joy in someone else's happiness -- the moments can be few and far between so i try to revel in them.

mona je tua: no doubt a threesome would be fun, but that's not where i am going with this. can we just talk about spontaneity for a moment? does anything beat the unhinged and blatant disregard for time only to escape in a clouded moment of desperation for what seems like a change of scenery or exhilarating breath of air. are you following me here? you know the in the movies there is always that heroin who seems to embrace every facet of life as if it were the first time she were seeing it through her own eyes? you know-- the girl the guy falls head over heels over because she opens his eyes to the world he has somehow seemed to have written off so casually....... well, i feed off that spontaneity. bring on some of that disregard and sense of adventure. uncensored. unhinged. unplanned and for the love of everything that is good -- completely uncontrolled.

almost four: so i make lists. i know what i don't want. struggle to figure out what i do want. have begun to thrive off my uncertainty with a smile. i laugh at myself because sometimes i am just all kinds of stupid. a friend said today in response to my comment about once being 21 and stupid... 'now you're 24 and less stupid' (the comment in this frame of context sounds malicious, but i assure you it was not). truth be told, he is right. i am not talking about intellectually stupid, but the other kind of stupid. the kind of stupid you look back a few years down the line and say 'wow -- i was stupid for thinking that way, for saying that, for being afraid of doing that, for not going there, for holding back' -- that is the kind of stupid i am becoming less of or working on becoming less of.

so lets loosen up the skinny tie. unbutton the top button. it's time i have a little more fun with some of the adventures and lessons i come across in the busy streets of new york. just don't expect me to pop the collar of my lacoste polos any time soon. at least not while i am rocking my aviators. that would just make me... well, you already know.

Round 2

2009-02-14T02:07:00.002-05:00

Ding! Round 2.

Gotta keep your hands up. Be light on your feet. Protect the head. Nothing below the belt. I said, nothing below the belt. Well Hell...this graveyard b-lls*!t is like getting hit below the belt considering my sleeping patters are all kinds of sucker punched.

I am seeing stars people! The little birdies that use to circle above our beloved cartoon character's heads when they were about to go down for the count...are sh!tting on me. My days--are short because I am so K.O.-ed from the weekend shift that I can never seem to wake up before 1 p.m.

To add to the brutality, the days have been absolutely amazing in Manhattan lately. It's roughly 40-45 degrees and sunny. A welcome change from the stark cold winter we've been experiencing, thus adding to my already sucker-punched demoralization because I am too exhausted to even try and be productive on a gorgeous afternoon.

I remember learning in psychology that you can't ever really catch up on sleep. I am living proof that my former statement is in fact a scientific fact. No matter how long I sleep or for how many days...it's never enough. I fend off the impending illness by drinking water and Pom 100% Juice, oh yea and a sh!t ton of coffee...when I retreat to my corner for a pick me up.

In all honesty, it's my second week pulling the weekend graveyard shift and so far Friday night has not been the title championship round...I'm getting through it. No hard blows to the gut just yet, but then again it is still early. Gotta stay light on the feet. Keep the head up and keep moving, but don't close your eyes hoping for that bell to ring...I still have 6 hours to go.

Fight the Urge

2009-02-09T02:52:00.004-05:00

It's 3 a.m. on Monday and I am sitting in one of the world's largest financial institution's offices alone. I sit in a quiet conference room surrounded by televisions streaming Bloomberg News, CNBC, Fox Business Channel. There are white erase boards with grids outlining media opportunities, strategies and laptops scattered about the giant pinewood desk the sits in the middle of the room.

The office building itself spans the length of a New York Avenue (roughly 10 city blocks). It is stark like the inside of a dated hotel lobby. The cubicles are made of a pinewood that looks as though it was recently polished with Pledge. It is quiet and I sit alone.

I am exhausted. It is the third day of this graveyard shift and my eyelids have never felt heavier. Except for that one time I stayed up for roughly 32 hours for Children's Miracle Network in college. I think that had to be worse because I was on my feet the entire time, but this certainly doesn't feel any better. I'm fighting the urge to just lay on the floor and close my eyes contently. The problem being that I wouldn't be doing my job...that can't happen.

I don't have a remedy for staying awake. I've tried splashing cold water on my face, but that is only temporary relief. I've found myself chugging cups of water just to keep me occupied. I've become OCD with checking the news sources (as my job description entails) for any mention of said financial firm...there hasn't been a relevant news story in almost an hour.

I try not to look at the clock, but it's hard when you're counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until you can just collapse on your bed, under the soft down comforter and finally rest peacefully. I jacked myself up on caffeine before starting my "shift" at 11 p.m. I felt my eyelids jittering back and forth for a bit when I tried closing my eyes for a 15 minute power nap. Needless to say, I didn't get to nap.

I've paced the room a couple of times as I peer out the glass windows that make up 1/2 of the room and overlook Lexington Avenue. The occasional taxi will whiz by. I watched a homeless man make his bed for the night just beyond the scaffolding of a not-yet-constructed building. He made the bed so delicately on the concrete floor that I envied him for a split second at the thought of him actually getting to close his eyes.

I thought about doing cart wheels down the empty hallways, but I refrained out of fear the periodical floor sweeping by the rent-a-cops would catch me in the act. Plus, I'm a 24-year-old man, not a 7-year-old girl with a skip it.

I also thought about doing hand stands, but my head already feels a little light from the lack of sleep, slight hunger and over caffeination. Caffeination is underlined in red right now because the dictionary on my computer doesn't recognize it as a word. Lack of sleep causes you to make up words and evidently ramble on about your current induced insomniadic (another made up word apparently) state of mind.

I dread the fact that this is merely my first weekend of doing this shift. I have to do it next weekend, but the weekend after that (which seems like light years away) I get a break. Maybe I will learn some tricks of the trade and the second time around it won't be so God awful. My eyes feel really dry right now.

The only thing that will legitimately get me through this is the fact that I booked a plane ticket to Florida for the first weekend in March. I could not be more ecstatic at the thought of a beach, flip flops and escaping Manhattan.

I would love to run down the hall right now...sprint even, but it is just out of the question. My pants are too corporate. Yes, I am wearing pinstripe dress pants that I just referred to as corporate. Just look at this stream of conscious. This is what my thoughts have been reduced to at this hour. Short. Curt. Sentences... and Paid Programming on the plasma television.

I just caught my reflection in the window. All it says to me is "You look dreadfully tired" in a British accent. I can't even do a good British accent...

The Graveyard Shift

2009-02-07T03:36:00.003-05:00

Nearly two weeks to the day that I was laid off, I forwarded my resume to MA, an old high school friend who then forwarded it to a colleague of hers, who in turn forwarded it to his old strategic communications agency. As luck would have it, not one hour before receiving my resume, the CFO of said strategic communications agency was asked to find freelance workers for a major project. He immediately wanted to meet with me, and I could not be more ecstatic about a paying opportunity.

I met with the CFO and a few of the associates running the project. I then took a writing test and was offered a freelance position at $45/hour. I was asked to make a 6 week commitment with the understanding that I would be working the graveyard shift.

Lets evaluate what exactly is meant by the graveyard shift. The time now is 3:40 A.M. on Friday (or Saturday) depending on how you look at it. I am sitting in a large conference room in one of the most highly recognized financial firms in the world. For confidentiality purposes, I am not allowed to disclose who it is I am working for, but simply know that it certainly a financial institution you have heard of (without question).

My shift began at 11 p.m. and does not end until 7 a.m. on Saturday. It is an 8 hour shift tonight, a 9 hour shift tomorrow and another 9 hour shift Sunday that ends at 8 a.m. on Monday morning. I accepted the job knowing these stipulations becuase quite frankly my current economic and financial situation does not afford me the luxury of getting picky with what jobs I can and cannot do. To be frank, the money is not bad and besides the fact that my social life will suffer slightly for the next couple of weeks-- it is work and I cannot complain.

So what do I do for these graveyard shifts? Well, the financial institution has asked for 24/7 media monitoring of any and all mentions of the company. I spend my shifts pulling all references of the firm in major media outlets including television broadcasts. It is not a particularly grueling job, it requires me to remain on task as it is imperative that all news be sent in real time, so there is little room to slack off....which sort of makes time fly (sort of).

The good news is, I can afford my rent for another couple of months. I can afford to stay in NYC. I have ample during the week and the days to search for full time positions, and once again-- I am employeed in a time when unemployment rates in NYC are at an all time high of 10.5 percent (versus the U.S. at 7.5 percent). The situation (to say the least) is freightening. There remains an immense amount of uncertainty, but if I've learned anything it is to roll with the punches.

As much as we'd like to think we have some say in what direction we take-- we rarely do. Three weeks after getting laid off, I am remain surprised at how well I have managed to 'bounce back' from what I thought would certainly ruin me (or at the very least knock me down).

I've spent my days sending out the periodic resume to the monster postings, I continue to reach out to friends and explore new avenues (including possibly interning again) in order to steer my career down a more desired path. That said, and I am weary of saying too much, but I have secured an interview with a major PR firm this coming Monday and once again-- I am ecstatic at the possibilities that lie ahead.

Needless to say, for a young professional, I have managed to somehow take a series of unfortunate events and work them to my favor. I have firmly believed that the cards will fall as they are meant to and my experience as of late could not be a larger testament to that theory. I seldom believe in luck. It is all about timing because luck is simply when preparation meets opportunity.

(F)unEmployed

2009-01-25T22:42:00.005-05:00

When we were younger, our elders would ask us: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and we'd hopefully, naively and whimsically reply-- "A movie director," "A Doctor," "An Artist," "A lawyer" or some variation of a career that in our young, un-jaded minds seems well within our reach...

One week into my unemployment (to which my friend NS has kindly welcomed me into the (F)unemployment club), I ask myself when did I lose my hopeful, youthful spirit and desire for something that seems well within my reach? I gave up on my dream when I began worrying about controlling my life and attempting to build stability. Fear and uncertainty beat out passion and possibility. My apprehension of falling flat on my face diverted my willingness to even try. I am 24 years old, and I only wish I gave it a try. I think now is my chance to try.

At dinner the other night with DB, she said something that has stuck with me this past weekend. She believes this juncture riddled with challenges and uncertainty will teach me to stop trying to control my life. It was a revelation (and refreshing) to hear. It caused me to stop and think about how methodical and logical I have been about everything in my life. It made me realize that all of my actions have been sequential steps, well thought out and planned to get to..... what?

I have written before, that half of any adventure is the journey to which brings us to our destination. The past week has brought some clarity amidst all of the confusion. It is beginning to open my eyes more and more to the possibilities that were once so prevalently in front of me. I suppose I can stop trying to control every situation and see where I land. In theory, it is unraveling years of avoiding perhaps my greatest fear... failing.

I'm not quite sure when we (err I) adopt(ed) this obstructed and constricting mentality. The obvious scapegoat would be to blame society for its perpetual reminder that success comes in material possessions, financial stability, luxury and ultimately the "American dream" of a nuclear family, car and home. I could blame my overachieving peers and their traditionally structured families who are simply following their lineage, adopting the family mantra and doing as their fathers did (maybe I wanted a piece of that...). I could blame my own family for burdening me with the pressure to always be their golden child. The pressure to be the first generation to be stabilized in America and not labor day in and day out for someone else my entire life. I could find a scapegoat, but the reality is... it has always been within my capacity.

I have realized this past week that when you strip away everything that once seemed so concrete and predictable, and you're left with your hands in the air and the uncertainty of tomorrow, not only do you lose track of what day of the week it is, but you regain your ability to dream of possibility. To many of you this may sound romanticized and impractical, but I have really begun to re-evaluate the importance of living a life that I can really be proud of, a life that is fulfilling and a life that reflects everything I once envisioned for myself. There are many things I feel I should have done differently, but it is not regret. On the contrary, it is serving as inspiration for where I want to go, where I should have gone and where I may end up.

In just one week, I have learned that my happiness never resided in the abundance and exaggerated "THINGS" my cushy job nourished me with. It doesn't stem from where I can afford to eat, what I can buy, how frequently I can travel or what my rent can be. I believe I will learn that my happiness resides in the nourishment and ultimate fulfillment of my inner most desires. It is about passion and my desire to never grow old and wonder what it "could" have been like, where I "may" have ended up or wishing it had been differently.

I know that I will look back and be grateful for this experience. I say that and I really believe it. I've said it before, but I'm not sure I ever meant it. JH says these roadblocks are character builders and they have certainly begun to build me in a new way that is affecting me profoundly.

Tomorrow remains unwritten for me and I have become surprisingly accepting of that uncertainty. I have not forgotten that all that once seemed definitive in my is no longer, but I have somehow grown content with a new found freedom.

A Movie Script Ending

2009-01-19T14:54:00.005-05:00

Act 1: Scene 1: The Prologue

It was a regular Thursday morning when I awoke to get ready for work. The night before had been a culmination of past company employees congregating with current company employees to commemorate the times shared whilst sitting contently in our 4x4 cubicles. There were shots to be had, laughs shared and of course the rumor mill was whirling with speculation that the company was planning not one, not two, but possibly three more lay offs by the end of the week. As the day progressed, I did what I could to make the best of my time at work. I reached out to analysts and clients, stayed productive and made sure my supervisors knew I was working even though things seemed to have slowed down. I sat confidently in my cubicle that if there were any lay offs, I would not be one of the unfortunate victims of this illustrious economy.

Act 1: Scene 2: The Elimination

My office phone rings at 4:10 p.m. on Thursday January 15, 2009. I see that it is the CFO calling from his office. I pick up the receiver... "Hey Sonny." He replies..."Can I see you for a minute?" and I hang up, head down to the office weary of what seems to lie ahead. It's like being called down to the principal's office in school, or having your parents scream the entirety of your name from downstairs. You know that something grave is about to happen and you walk down the corridor to your impending doom.

I sit down in his office and my managing director Mike is sitting beside him. Both men seem filled with regret and sorrowful. Sonny asks me, "how are you?" to which I reply "A little worried," grinning nervously. He asks me "why?" and I matter-of-factly reply "because I'm sitting here in front of you."

No amount of preparation could have soften the blow that I was about to receive at the tender age of 24. Just as my life seemed to finally gain some composure, the express trains come trekking down the tunnel and side swipes me. Sonny says "I am sorry to tell you, but with everything going with the economy 2009 is going to be a rough year and we have decided to..." WAIT FOR IT ... "eliminate your position."

I was beside myself. I looked at him and Mike and could not even muster up enough anger, frustration, hate, pity or resentment to bring myself to cry in front of them. To perhaps show them how badly they were fucking me over. To let them know that I'm just a 24-year-old kid paying $1,400 in rent to live alone and now.....I'm jobless. But nothing came. I sat there as he explained to me some of the paperwork I could fill out. Beyond that it is all a blur.

Act 1: Scene 3: A Shallow Goodbye

I stood in my cubicle as Mike supervised me. He instructed me to gather my personal belongings and the rest of my stuff would be shipped to me at later date. He felt so badly that he could not bring himself to look at me in the eyes when I went to shake his limp hand. I couldn't even get a firm handshake from the man after working beside him for nearly two years. I looked at him, managed a half sideways smile and the tears finally began to welt in my eyes. I made my way down the long corridor, passing a few managing directors on my way out and it was like every part of me just erupted me as I made my way out the glass doors that had once welcomed me to New York. I couldn't look back.

Act 2: Scene 1 : No Prep Time Required

There isn't much in the way of preparing to get laid off in one of the worst economies of our generation. Had you told me that I would be one of the five people Brainerd elected to "eliminate" from their already dwindling roster of peons, I would have never believed it. I honestly believed that I was one of the employees they were breeding for long-standing commitment to the company. All my supervisors praised me for my work ethic and level of interest. Everything seemed like it was working out perfectly, despite the fact that I wasn't in love with my job. I know now that the decision was not a result of any performance metric, but rather a tactical business strategy for the agency. However, it is hard to justify my departure when those who remain, I know from experience, cannot and will not provide the same quality of work. I truly believe this will become apparent to them and they'll realize quickly the mistake they have made "eliminating" my position.

Act 2: Scene 2: Picking Up Pieces

When you're world seems to be crashing down before your very eyes. When you realize that everything that once felt so concrete has merely turned to rubble-- you have no choice but to pick up the fragments and rebuild your foundation. I immediately came home and reached out to my friends working at other PR firms letting them know the unfortunate news. Luckily, I had prepared my resume in December when I began looking for new opportunities, so I had something to send around. The only thing I knew for certain was that I could not waste any time wallowing in my own self pity. I could not sit back and let the reality of my situation sink in and bring me down. I needed to move forward and figure out what my next step was going to be.

Act 2: Scene 3: Falling Up

I have always believe that the cards in your deck fall as they are meant to fall. That the river will line up in just the right way to give you the upper hand. I am looking at this hurdle as blessing in disguise. Perhaps it is an opportunity for me to pursue the dreams and career that once filled my heart. For so long, I have had the good fortune of having everything in New York be.... comfortable. I secured my job 2 months before graduating undergraduate, I had secured an apartment with Dara before ever having to look for a place, I had my salary increase substantially over the course of my 18 months, I had managed to live alone in one of the best neighborhoods in New York, I was eating at fantastic restaurants, shopping for anything and everything I desired, contributing to my 401(k), establishing a savings account, drinking whenever there was an opportunity to celebrate with friends.... in essence, I was being young and in love with Manhattan.

Act 3: Scene 1: Moving Forward

I have taken the last three days since that fateful afternoon as a vacation of sorts. I have kept my mind busy and avoided the plague that is letting my situation scare me out of possibility. I sometimes like to think of my life as a movie. A movie with a complex, dynamic and flawed character that triumphantly overcomes adversity. It's a coming-of-age story set in Manhattan just when everything in the protagonist's life seems unbreakable. I'm excited, nervous, scared and to some degree still numb to the idea that I do not know where my life will end up. At the same time the uncertainty is serving as motivation toward the pursuit of a more fulfilling career path.

I have become humbled by my current situation. Just like millions of other Americans, and to a greater degree America, I have been forced to reevaluate what is and is not important. Perhaps I have been living outside of my means, perhaps I got so greedy, selfish and wrapped up in the notion that I was entitled to so many things and everything I had was always going to be guaranteed that it was time for the alarm to go off and for me to wake up and come to my senses.

I need to believe that something better lies ahead. I need to know that whatever is in store for me will be worth the sacrifice, intimidation and uncertainty that lies ahead for me. Sure there is no way of knowing this until I have come out on the other side of it all better off than I was before, but I need to believe in my heart that what I am about to embark on is going to be a journey I will only look back upon and be grateful for... no matter where I land.

I am fortunate to have surrounded myself with friends both here in New York and as far as Sydney that support me, care about me and have been there for me. I am lucky to have a family that has assured me that everything will be OK, that I should not worry and that no matter what I am not alone. I have not felt alone.

This is going to be a ride and a part of me is anxious to figure out where it is going to take me. I'll keep you posted, but in interim I am keeping my head up and powering through it. Ultimately, I am the one who decides how my movie ends and we've only just reached the climactic event of this particular scene.

D. It was written

2008-12-31T18:44:00.009-05:00

It is time to bid farewell to 2008. A year filled with so many remarkable milestones and certainly a year I will look back upon and smile. To briefly recount my achievements in no particular order. I was promoted to Account Executive at work. I moved into a one bedroom studio apartment in Manhattan. I entered a new salary bracket. I inched one year closer to 25. I enlarged my core circle of friends to include JH, MM, AB, MH, CA, and AM. I paid off my credit cards. I maintained significant headway in my personal life. I began steering my career in a more desirable direction. I've maintained those friendships most important to me. I have kept my family close despite the long distance. I have began building my home piece by piece. I have been consistently happy, albeit reflective throughout the year. I have remained optimistic in the face of "adversity." I have become smitten with few individuals, while only feeling the burn of one or two. I have proven that you can work hard and play just as hard. I have managed to save and build my 401(k).

When I look back at 2008 it will always be a year of transition. It will be the year that I moved to Manhattan, really began to understand the affects city life has on me personally, psychologically and emotionally, and started to piece together the adult I am becoming. At this juncture in my life I am happy and never sad. I have come to accept the reality of many situations, embrace uncertainty and continue to accept change. I maintain a positive outlook on possibilities and opportunities, and I have come to appreciate the moments in my life that make you feel most alive.

For 2009...I will not commit to resolve any detail of my daily life by making empty promises to myself. Rather, I will focus on enhancing the core values I have begun to nourish through my relationships with friends, family and acquaintances. I will work a little harder to further my career. I will open myself up to the possibilities of new relationships. I will work to maintain a healthy balance in all quadrants of my life. I would like to shake uncertainty, insecurity and indecisiveness. More than anything, my wish for 2009 is to continue to learn about the complexity that is me. There is still so much left to unravel and with every layer (so to speak), I find it gets more and more interesting to learn the make up of one's inner self.

I'm throwing caution to the wind this year, and I could not be more excited to see what lies ahead. It was written.

I Am The Decisive Element

2008-12-29T12:56:00.008-05:00

The last couple of weeks have been a philosophical trial challenging my habitual desire to control everything. As I have begun to let the pieces fall where they may, I am learning that my happiness lies not in what is to come, but what is currently in front of me. I have alleviated myself of the burden of expectation and replaced it with a willingness to just be and go.

And now a quote that sums it up best:

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration, I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming."

-Goethe

The Philosophy that is Dru

2008-12-19T09:48:00.015-05:00

I was born in Colombia. I am stubborn. I can be pretentious with my music. I have expensive taste. I am an evolving foodie. I am stronger than I look. I am a very amateur photographer. I enjoy movies I can watch more than once. I write to keep me sane. I am a cook when the mood strikes me. I will travel several blocks for a tastey cup of coffee. I am not afraid of living alone. I am Jewish by association. I dance when the right song is playing.

I believe clothes make the man. I have been bitten by the travel bug. I have some OCD-like qualities people may find bizarre. I am sarcastic. I like to think about life. I wish I was a little bit taller, but I don't wish I was a baller. I am a pop culture junky. I sometimes wonder if I am doing all I can. I pick my friends carefully. I don't believe that my occupation defines me. I am a morning person. I like interpreting art. I think Dante's Inferno is fantastic. I sometimes double book myself.

I enjoy outdoor activities. I am ambitious. I love using my creativity. I am tougher than most. I have learned to embrace change. I enjoy a good bottle of Spanish red wine. I walk aimlessly when I am bored. I am comfortable in silence. I like meeting new people. I have never been to a movie alone. I wear my shoes with no socks. I think playing "Taboo" with close friends can be a raucous. I like the colors blue, charcoal and brown. I will retire in Cape Cod. I aspire to be in the Entertainment industry. I get heart burn from soda and pizza. I wear glasses only to read. I can eat anything made of chocolate. I rock a faux hawk. I always try to keep it classy.

I have been told that I am wise beyond my years. I love brunch on the weekends. I wish I could shower with my iPod. I can't vote. I can only read when I am motivated. I like cold weather. I plan to live abroad before I am 30. I can be a great friend. I have learned to pick my battles. I am my family's golden child. I prefer creamy peanut butter over crunchy. I have only completed one power hour in my life. I shower up to two times a day. I think spelling drunk, DRUnk is witty. I think tie clips are daper. I am not a fan of sloppy P.D.A. I can be rambunctious. I like magazines. I love living in the Lower East Side. I have never been to the top of a mountain. I am not afraid of confrontation, but I am not violent. I have a problem being micro-managed.

I was a child actor. I am teaching myself to save. I am observant. I enjoy speaking Spanish. I want a tattoo of the word S.E.R.A. I like movies told out of sequence. I enjoy camping. I unplug all my appliances before leaving my apartment. I believe you can succeed without being malicious. I have never met my biological mother. I jog to clear my head. I have never played in the snow. I became a football fan solely because of the Florida Gators. I drink water only because it is recommended. I have a lot of endurance. I am an early adopter techie. I am afraid my teeth will turn yellow from all the coffee I drink. I value people who can be forward with me. I have a fast metabolism. I pay attention to the details. I want to open a coffee shop someday. I've gotten stitches once. I think I stunted my growth by drinking coffee at an early age. I am a leader, not a follower.

I consider myself a liberal. I think anything with bacon tastes amazing. I would love to scuba dive off the Great Barrier Reef. I like drinking games traditionally reserved for college kids. I secretly hate facebook. I have not lost a close relative, thankfully. I believe spooning should be reserved for the cold winter months. I am a fan of seersucker, argyle and "Mr. Roger" sweaters. I dream of owning an Aston Martin. I believe the Blackberry and iPhone have corrupted social interaction. I own an iPhone. I like the taste of Red Bull.

I am ecclectic. I would get plastic surgery to pin my ears back a bit. I can never say no to a happy hour. I am a bit of a procrastinator. I like driving with the windows down. I do yoga on Tuesdays. I like that my birthday is in December. I think everything sounds better when you have an accent. I have a lot of self control. I have a dry sense of humor. I played tennis, soccer and roller hockey growing up. I am short tempered. I believe that love finds you. I don't like when people mispronounce my real name. I can be frugal.

I nap even when I wake up at noon. I have never been to the West coast. I am fearful of the "reply all" button on my work E-mail. I never presume anything. I rarely carry cash. I want to bunge jump off a bridge. I dreamt of becoming a movie director. I give a lot, but expect a lot in return. I can be over analytical. I avoid thinking about tomorrow to the best of my ability. I think London's Tube beats New York's Subway. I am not hypocritical, but I will call you out. I am oddly methodical when I brush my teeth. I do not have a strong position on Evolution.

I don't believe in putting all of my eggs in one basket. I have a fear of heights, but would love to sky dive. I believe in mind of matter. I was voted "best dressed" in high school. I want to open my own PR agency one day. I am not friendly with any of my ex-girlfriends. I could eat breakfast any time of day. I don't understand people with foot phobias. I've only been in love once. I often ponder the existential. I like going out on Thursday nights. I am a rollercoaster enthusiast.

I had a gym membership, but hardly went and when I don't have a gym membership, I crave the gym. I want to expand my vocabulary. I hate when I lose my chapstick in the winter. I believe ambience is very important. I don't believe that mixing beer and liquor makes you sicker. I have had my heart broken once. I don't believe in the after life. I like the sound of horse hooves on cobble stone streets. I never went to sleep away camp. I eat very slowly. I sometimes forget to filter my thoughts before I speak. I like watching reality shows. I like the numbers 2 and 6, but I couldn't give you a reason why. I could never date a smoker, and I hate the smell of cigarettes. I want a Pug. I find "first-kiss" tension thrilling. I can sometimes come on a little strong. I think I would be good at skiing despite never trying.

I have never had braces. I was the only child for 13 years. I could never live in middle America. I take pride in the work that I do. I like red velvet cupcakes with chocolate frosting. I am working to eliminate all negativity from my life. I don't believe in waking up on the wrong side of the bed. I believe religion is something you find for yourself and not inherited. I listen to my music loudly. I don't gamble. I prefer brunettes over blondes. I don't like people with a false sense of entitlement. I act spontaneously. I have only dated Jewish women, coincidentally.

I am sometimes cliche. I am not ambidextrous, but I can turn left. I try to avoid restaurants with more than 3 locations in Manhattan. I want to learn to play the guitar. I have never understood writing people completely out of your life after dating. I am not superstitious. I sometimes feel like I have A.D.H.D. I prefer bars over clubs. I look up to my grandfather. I want to learn to sail. I will not order the same thing as someone at the table. I have been known to dance on chairs when "Summer of '69" comes on. I worked at Banana Republic in high school.

I am an open book. I don't mind sharing. I am inspired by people with interesting perspectives and opinions. I don't do well with flakiness or hesitation. I believe in going after something you want, respectfully. I never want to regret. I don't really believe in medicine. I will always feel younger than my age. I believe you have to adjust for the curves in the road. I believe beauty fades without some substance behind it.

I have never been of the mindset to deny myself of an experience out of the fear of uncertainty. I will try anything once before deciding it is not for me. I am generally always happy, but I have my days.

The First Snow Fall

2008-12-16T21:35:00.004-05:00

In my second winter in New York, I remain hopeful to the possibility of a blizzardous snowfall over Manhattan. I've been told it could happen, but I have yet to experience it for myself. Tonight the blankets of white snowy powder have begun to mask the otherwise defiled city streets. No matter how old you get, I believe the first snow fall of the season will always be something mystic.

The city gets quiet. The air fills with white snow flakes and it is as though for almost a second everything around you is wholesome. All the cars look like miniaturized snow hills when lined up along the sidewalks. The side walks shimmer with the gleam of the melted snow flakes and the hardened icy spots. Even the sterile black bags of garbage that line the streets for tomorrow's pick up take adopt this delicate role as the snow piles atop and in between its every wrinkle. They almost look like cupcakes. The bench outside of Tiny's Giant Sandwich shop that goes unnoticed as you pass it every day to and from the train suddenly catches your eye.

From way up high it's like New Year's confetti falling from the highest skyscraper. The cold, wet snow stings your cold skin. The snowflakes cling to your wool coat like little soap suds. With every step the snow flakes that fall-- dissolve on the ground beneath you. Peering down there remains not a trace of the snow that makes every object around you look pure, untouched and beautiful.

I am still patiently waiting for my chance to build my Frosty. Throw my first snow ball. Make a snow angel and slide down Central Parks highest hill. I think what keeps the excitement of the first snow fall, and this merely speculation on my part, is its capacity to revert so many jaded (see: unimpressed) adults to a time when everything seemed easy. I think I can hold on to my excitement because after 24 years, I have yet to play (yes, play) in it.

I remember the first time I saw it flurry. I was walking home from Sansbury in London. It never fell as much as I had wished (or nearly as much as it is falling now), but I can still picture it falling throwing the twiggy branches of the trees that lined Byng Place. I equated the very moment to the cover of an old record you'd find in a vintage record shop long forgotten.

Even after a 12 hour work day (today). It's hard to walk out at 8:45 p.m. in Midtown and not be anything but happy.

It's snowing...

To 24

2008-12-12T09:44:00.005-05:00

Another year older. Another year --- wiser? Maybe not wiser, but certainly more reflective. As if I haven't delved into my inner self enough these last couple of posts and turned my (mis)adventures and journeys in New York and London into a LiveJournal.

The 24th Birthday certainly felt different. At least I had hoped it would be different. I was looking forward to celebrating in a truly classy fashion. To some extent I did, but naturally the pre-party killed it for me. On Dec. 10th, a co-worker won a free open bar from 6-7 p.m. which to me translated into drink as many jack and cokes as humanely possible within that hour because they are free. Oh and don't have dinner because that would just kill your buzz. Five hours later and still 23 years old, I find myself in a position that equate too well with all birthdays past--- hovering over the toilet bowl and tasting the jack and cokes for the second time.

That set the tone for the rest of my birthday. I couldn't make it to work. I couldn't eat all day. I sat on my couch and watched movies all day. Luckily, the day was gloomy and rainy so I wasn't missing out on much, but the sheer fact that I felt bedridden killed it for me. Not to mention that I thought I'd be a bit more of an adult at 24 that I wouldn't drive myself to that point. In all fairness, I was still 23 and stupid when it happened-- so I can't really beat myself up too badly.

Conversely, I had made dinner reservations at Lavagna for 8 p.m. The place is known for its homestyle Italian cuisine. It's a quaint little place lit by candles and garnished with the subtleties that make an establishment feel warm and intimate. We sat at the only round table in the restaurant. There were six of us. This year I had decided to keep the number way down from the 18 or so I had attend last year. I wanted to keep it close with good friends.

In attendance were my oldest friend of the bunch MS, my old London bloke CM and gf MH, my confidant JH and newest rock climbing partner MM. A solid group of folk who made the conversation easy, appreciated the food and made 24 exactly what I wanted it to be complete with an assortment of Crumbs cupcakes for our eating pleasure thanks to MM.

There's no question that tacking on another year to one's life is a cause for re-evaluating your current state. At least in my eyes it means taking a step back and visualizing where it was I thought I'd be at this age and how drastically different my life has really turned out to be. Looking around the table last night, I realized that I've had an incredible journey the last two years living in New York. Mainly because I was surrounded by friends both new and old. To me the greatest testament to any journey is looking at the people you've picked up along the way. I've kept true to my goal of only surround myself with positive people who fulfill my life.

I have high hopes for 24. I think it'll be a successful year for me not unlike 23 was. For my sake, I hope it brings me more clarity and perspective into the direction I continue in. Perhaps the greatest thing of all though is that no matter how fast the years have gone by since 18 (really I can't even believe its been 6 years already) I still feel very young.

I know there is so much left for me to learn. Here's to hoping that 24 continues to teach me about love, life and that relentless quest for happiness. Here's to 24.

Belay On

2008-11-24T10:52:00.002-05:00

Having high expectations for anything can result in bitter disappointment. Think Prom Night or New Year's Eve. It's all the anticipation, hype and quite frankly pressure to make it such a stellar night or event that it turns out being really -- well -- lame.

I've found that the best nights out in New York have truly been the ones that are unplanned, unhinged and done with the greatest degree of spontaneity. The tiny dive bar that screams health code violations and usual patrons that reek of every possible human excretion, fast becomes your cheapest night out in Manhattan and perhaps the most memorable simply because it was unexpected and you let your guard down for the possibility.

I'd say on par with that experience was this past weekend. I got back into an activity I enjoyed so much back in college -- indoor rock climbing -- and left the rest of my weekend up to its own devices. There was nothing to be gained, had or lost when there was nothing to check off a list or accomplish. Time, for the first time in Manhattan, seemed to slow down, progress slowly and at moments dragged on (but in the most enjoyable of ways).

For no other reasons but the fact that I had nothing set in stone, no To-Do list and I let go of any expectations, was this weekend one of my highest ranking weekends on my non-existent list of "BEST WEEKENDS EVER."

stay present and go with the flow...the rest will just come naturally. climb on.

The Dilemma

2008-11-20T16:27:00.000-05:00

To laugh is to risk appearing a fool.

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.

To reach out for another is to risk involvement.

To expose feelings is to risk rejection.

To place your dreams before the crowd is to risk ridicule.

To love is to risk not being loved in return.

To go forward in the face of overwhelming odds is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.

The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.

He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or love.

Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave.

He has forfeited his freedom.

Only a person who takes risks is free.

~ anonymous

le mot juste (the right word).

2008-11-14T16:25:00.006-05:00

To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost. - Gustave Flaubert

There is no question that each of us has our own qualifiers for our happiness. However, on this endless quest to achieve happiness there is little doubt in mind that, and Flaubert says it best, without stupidity -- all is lost.

As I've come to learn (err accept) from my own shortcomings is that without those blurred moments of impaired judgement, otherwise referred to as "stupidity," I'd seldom realize the reality and truth behind any of my characteristically over-analyzed actions. It's the "a-ha" moments or Homer Simpson-esque "Duh-o!" revelations that have come to be my greatest purveyors of life's little wisdoms.

As people we lack the ability to avoid misfortunes, mistakes and temporary lapses of character-- as much as we'd like to perceive ourselves as the Captain's of our own ship-- we all fall sometimes and we're better for it. Over the last year (more so now than before) , I've garnered my fair share of unabashed battle scars from the metaphorical trips I've ruthlessly agonized over. Stupidity, in its most sincerest and jovial of forms, is teaching me that enjoying the ride far outweighs your final destination.

Flaubert, always seeking le mot juste, has in, in my opinion, found it in qualifying happiness as a balance of stupidity, selfishness and good health. Stupidity in learning from the errors of our ways, selfishness in the constant self-reflection for betterment and good health in mind, body and spirit.

Well, two out of three ain't bad.

iRecession

2008-11-11T15:15:00.009-05:00

Unless you've been living in a dark confine off the coast of the United States with no access to a newspaper or television, you should be well aware that we are in the severest of economic crisis witnessed by our generation (excluding 2001). Financial institutions are buckling left and right, the Federal Government is intervening to keep markets from further plummeting, our parents homes have witnessed substantial decreases in value, unemployment is at its highest, the once thriving automobile industry (the life and blood of ad-based business and thus most of my clients) is fast following its financial bretheren and a looming cloud of job (in)security grays the skies of every young professional.....including this one.

Lets be real about the current state of our economy for a moment and acknowledge that things appear to only get worse as the days get shorter. The Dow plunges at every news briefing, Presidential address and Wall Street downgrade. Having been 16 during the 2001 recession, I hardly comprehended the severity of the situation until I've been bitch slapped by the reality that I am now a working professional with rent and utility bills in my name.

So as these major corporations continue to reduce their costs to offset weak revenue figures and slash headcounts, it is only natural for the younger wrung employees to contemplate their ROI (return-on-investment) for their employers. Could they really do without me? Would I be the first to get cut should the economy continue its deep-sea dive? Your survival instincts begin to kick-in as you evaluate your worth versus those equivalent to you...you're far more detail oriented, you've been with the firm much longer, you're reliable, trustworthy and you're an Account Executive. All seem positive, but when push comes to shove can someone else do my job for less money? ... I won't answer that.

Financial advisors and money gurus suggest I save three to six months of expenses in a high-yield savings account for emergency purposes. Well, saving anything in New York is about as easy as finding a descent sized apartment in lower Manhattan at a reasonable price -- It's. Just. Not. Possible. Granted there are certainly some cost cutting initiatives that could be made on my part, but that would mean sacrificing personal gratification and I am all about instant gratification. Plus I need to go out to eat on occassion, happy hours and impulse purchases to counterbalance the stress imposed by particularly busy work weeks and demanding bosses.

The current climate is freightening. You can't help but hear about how there is "no bottom in sight" with every news brief and the uncertainty that remains as we enter a new year and new administration (Come on Obama!). So, I remain grateful for my steady paychecks and keep my fingers crossed that my spending habits will subside so as to not tap into my 401(k). As for saving three to six months of expenses, its comical to even suggest that, that is plausible at the moment...

As I say in happier times with my friends Jack, Jose and Johnny...bottoms up!

Losing My Grip

2008-11-03T10:39:00.003-05:00

I feel like I am losing my grip. Like I've lost sight of something that was right in front of me.
The last few weeks, it is like the city has consumed me. I've given into the temptations and chaos that encapsulates New York.

I came here driven and eager to succeed, but it is like I've lost sight of that. I have to step back from the situation. Work on the things that I once found solace in and perhaps just build up the person that I seem to be becoming.

I never wanted New York to change me, but living here the past year and half has most certainly begun molding me differently. Right now it's a toss up as to whether I like it or not and perhaps that's where my discomfort lies. Where I once knew what I wanted so definitively, such as life goes, things have taken their own course. As much as you'd like to think you have control of the reigns, you can only hold on tightly and wade out the course. It's trite, yes, but its perhaps the best characterization of where I stand right now.

Is it the City? Or is it that I'm growing up? Sure, I've been an "adult" since 18, but what if I'm slowly transitioning into how we once looked at our parents? The spitting image of their sacrifice, hard work and endless desire to provide something better. What are we all working toward? It's as though with all the responsibility I've begun taking on as a 23-year-old soon to be 24, I've given up on living now and adopted thinking about surviving later. Retirement? 401K's? Health insurance? High-yield savings accounts? Roth IRAs?

Interestingly enough I revel in my own self-reflecting moments of uncertainty, confusion, anxiety and insecurity. I know I always come out on the other end understanding better what it is that I am after. I know I need those moments to evaluate how far I've steer off course and what it is going to take to get me back. In the process there's always something new to be had...

For now, I seek comfort in iced coffee and good music...

As the summer ends

2008-09-02T13:14:00.003-04:00

As my second summer in New York came to an official end this morning on my commute to work, I realized that I hardly felt summer begin. In comparison to a year ago, I was the big-eyed college grad eager to see every corner of Manhattan as if it were all going to get whisked away when the hot air cooled. This summer, things were different. I knew what to expect, but here are just a few of my favorite things about summer before its time to bid it farewell.

Nothing Beats:
-- Summer Fridays and getting out of work at 1 p.m. allowing you to start your weekend off early (and quite possibly with a bang).
-- Which is a nice segway to rooftop bars being opened in the summer. There's this endless hunt that comes with finding just the right atmosphere to sip a nice cold brew, while taking in the mid-afternoon rays.
-- Wearing shorts and sandals to work in Midtown makes you really feel for the men all tied up in their dark suits and neck ties.
-- Spreading out in Sheeps Meadow in Central Park is the New York equivalent to the sandy beaches of Florida minus the cool tide and option to refresh yourself with a dip in the ocean. Nevertheless, sprawling out on a blanket and enjoying wine from a dixie cup makes for an enjoyable afternoon.
-- Bikers leisurely cruising down the streets.
-- Iced coffees for the extra pick-me-up and refreshing cool down of the taste buds.
-- Straw fedoras will always beat ear muffs and beanies.
-- Extended days and the occassional breeze.
-- Classic movies in Bryant Park with friends, food and again wine in dixie cups as the bustle of midtown drowns out Carey Grants distinct voice.
-- The crowds at Central Park Summerstage and Coney Island Siren Festival.
-- Weekends when a hush falls over Manhattan as natives escape to the Hamptons.
-- Double decker buses crowded with tourists overlooking the busy sidewalks of SoHo.
-- Slower work days, long lunches and getting out at a reasonable hour.
-- Old friends visiting town for the weekend.
-- The return of the deep 'v' t-shirts
-- Fighting the urge to stay out late on a weeknight. This diminishes as the weather gets colder and all you want to do is bum around on the couch.
-- Aimless strolls down your favorite neighborhoods.
-- Finding the right spot to relax with a magazine.

But perhaps my favorite thing about summer is the realization that just around the bend is Autumn and there is nothing like the cool temperatures, foliage and approaching holidays in Manhattan. It's like having all the good bits of summer and winter mixed into 3 months. I can't wait.

Defining Success

2008-08-18T12:22:00.002-04:00

There's no question that we all have our own distinct definition of what it means to be successful. For many, success corresponds with wealth. For few, sad as it is, success is defined by the level of sheer happiness. How can the majority join the minority? It was easy when you were young and asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" to answer "An astronaut" or "A movie director" and not understand the commitment and uncertainty that come with such career paths. It's attributable to the fearlessness we are endowed with at our youth and unfortunately lose as we progress through life hurdled by failures and triumphs. We learn quickly what it means to be fearful of the unknown, think: sleeping without the lights on.

As we progress through life, our career paths inevitably change with our interests and social norms. Some would say we begin to think more practically, strategically and concrete. You begin to contemplate the stability in a certain career and weigh the things that are most important to you. Could you really see yourself fighting to pay your rent? Is a life filled w/ Ramen noodles post college really something you're OK with? For some-- yes, struggling to achieve their level of success means sacrifice, hardwork, perseverance and faith.

So how do you know when you've reached your finish line? Is there a scoreboard? Award ceremony? Medal or sash given out? Naturally, I pose these questions comically because I'm wondering if I'll ever be able to define success in my own terms. There's no question I am grateful for how far I have come and how much I have achieved. Yet, with every new obstacle overcome or threshold surpassed, its inevitable that I'll want more. That I will always be looking for something better. Isn't that what America is all about? Propelling ourselves to the next level? Giving ourselves the opportunity to live more fulfillingly?

But maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe it's just my undying desire to be the best and maintain my high expectations for myself. The downfall of course, as with any endeavor, is the possibility of falling hopelessly short. Then you're left disappointed. I guess, as many who venture off pursuing their dreams realize, that the only risk you run is not trying at all. Selling yourself short before even trying is quite possibly one our biggest pitfalls and our insecurities are to blame.

So when a new acquaintance who is your age asks you what you do, you oblige by saying you're an "Account Executive." They nod politely and you attempt to jump back from the depths of utter confusion by saying "In investor relations." Now you've really lost them. But just when you've given up the slightest glimmer of hope in explaining what it is that brings you to New York, they say "Sounds expensive." You're taken a back. Not quite sure what to respond, but it's OK because they quip almost instanteously "So where do you live?" You politely and without a hint of arrogance respond "In a studio on the Lower East Side." And here's where the conversation left me wondering at the ripe old age of 23. My new friend says, partly to himself and partly to me, "I can't wait to have a real job and be successful."

Not quite sure which part to him made me successful, but it would seem by the way the conversation was steered it was the living alone in the L.E.S. that closed the deal. So you take a step back, survey the situation, and wonder if perhaps he's on to something. On the surface, success can be ridden with materialism, but deeper than that lies the ideals of hardwork, drive and stability.

Ultimately, you're responsible for your own success. You decide whether you're willing to venture into the dark (unknown) or cruise along comfortably hoping something steers you in the right direction. When my cousins, who are roughly the same age as me, look at my current state, it's hard for them to not reply to me by saying "You made it." Well sure, but it's because I wanted it and worked for it.

In a city laden with the desire to make something of yourself and play on par with the best of them, it is sometimes easy to selfishly want more and overlook how far you've come. But every now and then, when you're confronted with reality or that youthful hopefulness, perhaps you'd be better suited to stop chasing your ever evolving, idealized podium of success and just acknowledge the significant strides you make.

Fool Me Once

2008-07-28T11:50:00.005-04:00

It can never feel good to be cheated. Whether it be out of money, opportunity or a relationship. Its the nagging feeling of knowing that you never really had the chance to show your side of the story, give it your best shot or at least stand up and defend yourself. Its the feeling of disallusion, lack of consideration and selfish defiance that leaves you feeling like maybe you brought it on yourself. Maybe you were too naive to think it could never happen to you or perhaps you instigated the situation, but the reality is it doesn't feel good.

Attempting to explain a persons propensity to jip, deceive and undoubtedly disappoint another would be like trying to explain the complexities of life to the impressionable minds of kindergarteners...there's. just. no. easy. way. to. put. it.

In some regard, there is little doubt that we will all feel the uncomfortableness that feeling cheated brings with it. It could be the job promotion you weren't considered for merely because you may have flubbed once or you're still the rookie. There's no question in your mind that you're fully capable of undertaking the day-to-day activities of the position and with a little training a monkey could perform the tasks, but you're overlooked because you're new, young or inexperienced. Somehow in this predicament one's primitiveness leaves you missing out on an opportunity you know you can handle, but won't get a chance.

Then there's the getting cheated out of money scenario, perhaps reflecting society's most unfortunate flaws whereby people take advantage of another's innocence. The spectrum spans from not getting the correct change to dishing out money and not receiving what you had hoped. As is the case with many eBay and Craigslist transactions. Whereby, you're paying for one thing only to come up short or worse. It's happened to a couple of my friends and you hear it on the news all the time. "Man gets camera equipment stolen after answering ad on Craigslist for production services." Or, as was the case with a friend of mine, you purchase a seemingly authentic Tiffany's ring, trusting that the description, packaging, seller rating/reputation and faith in another person won't leave you with a ring that turns lime green and leaves your finger looking like it's in need of amputation. A slight exaggeration, but nevertheless the deception would leave anyone feeling broken, cheated and above all else-- foolish.

Then of course there is the literal interpretation of the word cheated. The one most of us has been familiar with since we began dating in middle school or propped our leg up on the cafeteria table to save a seat for the girl we had a crush on in kindergarten. Its the investment of yourself and quite often your feelings into someone and something. It's the trust you build with a person, be it a friend or partner. It's your history and the future. It's once again putting your faith in the hands of another individual only to have them crumble it up and throw it in your face. My theory is that you don't have to be in an exclusive relationship with an official title (or sadly facebook status) to feel cheated on. My past has certainly proven this to be true. I believe that any investment, commitment, respect, admiration or hint of loyalty you may have with your significant other, friend or relative lends itself to the possibility of having someone feel cheated.

As is the case in any one of these scenarios, the underlying thread is having your confidence and trust in a person being toiled with to only leave you feeling foolish in the end. So, the logical question is how much of this do we bring on ourselves? How much of this frustration and perhaps heartache are we responsible for? Some would argue that you really only bring it on yourself either out of gullibility or oblivion. I say that's just selfish and ignorant. As a person who values his friendships, especially as I've come to grow up more and more, there is no part of me that wants to keep my friends at a comfortable distance out of uncertaintly. Certainly, you'd think that a past riddled with deceit and selfishness would warrant a more cautious approach of maintaining friendships, but in most cases the good has always outweighed the unfortunate. I don't believe you ever really bring it on yourself, however that's not to say one should remain aloof. My belief is that if you draw the lines of distinction, apply the Golden Rule and surround yourself with good people, you can hopefully avert feeling cheated.

So what's one to do when you've let down your guard and you know you've been a good person and friend, only to have people close to you take advantage of that and completely disregard your feelings. Shame on me? or Shame on you? My hope would be that I'd demonstrated my loyalty and respect for them enough that they'd find the same level of respect or more for me. Apparently, my faith in humanity far exceeds those of a few select friends.

Its disheartening, frustrating, disappointing and of course one can't help feel foolish for letting down one's guard and getting sucker punched. Sometimes you have to stick with the morals and paradigm you've worked so hard to create. This may mean being too prideful to hear an explanation or being too stubborn to acknowledge that there are always two sides to a story. But you know, because you've been there before, that you can't go down the same path. You can't afford to miss out another job promotion, get short changed or feel foolish. You learned your lesson, picked up the scraps, rebuilt the foundation and vowed to never let it happen again.

So what do you do when you're faced with a predicament in which you have to put aside your pride and realize that losing a friend could be a whole lot worse than feeling foolish? I wish I had an answer. From the outside looking in, it is easy to dish advice. It seems logical and almost silly to give up on a friendship out of pride, but it never feels good to be cheated.

I think the only thing you can do is hope that those people you call your friends or the person you call your partner, has the same level of respect, dignity and cojones (balls) to be straightforward, honest and above all else sincere with you. Because you know what it's like to feel cheated and you'd never wish it on any one-- certainly not a friend.

captured.

Check your Status

2008-07-24T23:07:00.003-04:00

So apparently you reach this age when not only is your family, but your friends begin to press you for the details of your romantic life. Quite frankly I'm a little confused by everyone's rush to have me dating someone as if I'm running out of time. It's as though there's this clock counting down that requires everyones first inquiry to be "So--- are you seeing anyone?" or "How the girls treating ya?"

I think what makes the situation all the more humorous, to me at least, is that I don't seem to be in any kind of rush. I've never been concerned. I've always had great luck dating, beautiful, smart, creative and wonderful girls. It's never been forced and they've become big parts of my life. Granted I don't speak to any of them anymore, but that's not to say they haven't impacted me. I'm in no rush and I don't have this apparent anxiety that my family and friends seem to have for me to be in a committed relationship.

It's like everyone seems to think I'm incomplete without a significant other. As if I'm missing my other half. To be honest, I've always been OK with being by myself. I've never felt this urge or necessity to have a girl there to fulfill a void that may otherwise feel empty. I suppose its my independent nature in so much that I'm comfortable being alone. I don't get lonely and I enjoy my privacy. That's not to say I don't enjoy the company of a girlfriend, but I value the time I have to myself and appreciate the serenity I seem to gain from just being able to think and be present.

Lately, I've felt this pressure to check off some status box that I'm just not ready to check. I know that I haven't met the right person yet, that the timing isn't right and I can't force it. I've never had to force it and I don't feel like I should be forcing it now. What most people don't understand is that I'm OK with myself. I know the kind of guy that I am, and the kind of spouse I'll make. I know the qualities and characteristics that I possess, and I'm not concerned of what I am capable of offering the right girl when she comes along. So why is everyone so keen on getting me linked to someone?

It's hard not to feel like maybe I'm missing out on my youth, but just even typing and mumbling that makes me feel foolish. What exactly is taking advantage of one's youth? To me, it certainly is not the promiscuous, uninhibited sex my peers seem to be having with people they hardly know. It's not racking up the number of women I sleep with, crossing certain "types" from my list or hooking up with anything that comes along. To some-- that's a life that may very well be fulfilling. It provides them with a relief that they can't find in themselves. They feel this "dry spell" or this "drought" within them that craves anything with a warm body or pulse to fulfill that void that seems to nag at them. To some -- its living carefree. It's taking advantage of their youth and spreading their "love." It's experimenting, it's taking what they can get it and taking one for the team.

I've never felt as though I've needed to fill that void. To lower my standards, to disregard my morals and become a selfish guy with no regard for how my actions will affect another person. Again, it stems from the confidence in the fact that the right girl will come along. That when the timing is right, and I am ready it will all just come together. Some may call this a hopeless romantic, but I like to think of it as being realistic. If things were meant to be... they will be, and I feel as though no one knows that better than me. The cards will relentlessly fall where they fall and there's no sorting the deck before hand.

A part of me wants to scream at every person who asks me where I am in my romantic life...WHY DO YOU CARE?! I suppose its because we've come to accept this natural progression of life whereby we establish our lives, gain a career, fall in love, get married, move to the suburbs and start a family. Well to me "natural" means innate, organic and spontaneous. One could argue that you "have to put yourself out there" or "You have to make an effort" in order for something to come out of it. My questions is... why? Why not let it just happen. Why not let it happen "naturally" where a friendship or some chance encounter flourishes into something spectacular. Why do we fish for this "natural progression" when more often than not we come up short. To me seeking something doesn't feel natural.

Today, one of my good friends from college and old roommate got engaged to his long time girlfriend. I remember when we first moved in together freshman summer and I never quite understood how he knew she was the one. At the time I felt as though he was wasting his time, wasting his youth being with one girl. If he never experienced anyone else, how did he know that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? His answer, as cliche as it is, was that he just knew. He didn't need to go out and find out whether or not she was what he wanted. He knew. It felt "natural."

To some extent we're all looking for that. Maybe it's not to fulfill our other halves, but rather to enhance the half we're already in possession of. Maybe that's why we retain this list of qualities we're looking for in someone. Whatever the reason, there is no doubt that we're all putting ourselves out there to some extent. Afraid of rejection-- yes. Afraid of ending up alone-- perhaps. Afraid that the right person just doesn't exist-- never.

More than anything, I continue to reassure myself that whatever the "natural progression" of all things involving my romantic life is or will be... it'll happen when the timing is right. Until then it'll just be a world of dodging those dreaded questions about any woman that makes the slightest cameo in my life.

Catch me on Pitt St.

2008-06-19T17:02:00.006-04:00

There have been so many changes the last month and half its hard to really know where to begin. Actually, its really quite easy given that one is a direct result of another, and I'm really only talking about two major changes in my life. I've recently began reading Here is New York by E.B. White who talks about the old New York. The romanticized New York through the eyes of a man who lived, loved it and grew to appreciate it. Amazingly enough, he manages to captures some of the very nostalgia and excitement that people, myself included, still feel for the city today.

He talks about the three types of New York that exist. The natives, the commuters and those who were born somewhere else and come to New York in search of something. He says it is the "settlers that give the city its passion." For the past year, I suppose you can consider me a settler of New York. I've come to gain my bearings in the city and acquire a massive appreciation for everything it offers. Interestingly enough White says New York has this magnificent ability to give you both privacy and lonliness simultaneously. Its the same 18 inches the separates you from someone that also connects you to that person. It's so brilliantly apparent and relevant its hard not to agree with him decades later.

So what's changed? Well a few days following my one year anniversary living in New York, I as promoted at work to Account Executive. With the wonderful promotion came a very generous salary boost that bumped me into an entirely new tax bracket and mindset. Its amazing how the removal the word "assistant" can change your entire outlook on your job and responsibilites. Although, to be fair, it could have been the extra income that makes your daily routine seem "not so bad." I really can't complain given what my job is and what I'm earning. While often times tedious, it has afforded me a comfortable life in New York this far that to complain seems ungrateful and selfish. I've also noticed that I've begun taking much more pride in the work that I submit, I'm more confident in my responses and I've just become an all around better employee because of the change. Its a morale boost that really goes a long way.

With the new job title and the new salary, I began thinking about my living situation. I did not think that my rent was justified by the area I lived in. I felt that it was borderline expensive to be in the neighborhood and building I was living in. Granted, the amount of space was enormous, but when I avoided as much time as possible being home what's a few extra square feet anyways? I began searching for apartments in Manhattan knowing full well that, that was my next logical step. I needed to experience living in Manhattan. I wanted to experience living in Manhattan. I'm young, reasonablly successful and self sufficient.

I was anxious in my apartment hunt. I wasn't picky and I just knew I had some requirements. I wanted to be closer to work, in a good neighborhood and if I could find something within my budget, I'd love to live alone. I came up short many times on Craigslist. Hitting roadblocks and scams one after another -- it was probably the most frustrating thing coming across all these seemingly fantastic apartments that turn out to be scum bags trying to swindle money out of innocent people.

As time progressed and days passed, I realized that I probably wasn't going to get anywhere without the help of -- cue dramatic music -- a broker. Now, to be fair my friends all said that there were ways around it. I then began thinking about getting a 2 bedroom with KM because chances are I'd pay a bit less and still live in a nice neighborhood (wherever that would be). KM and I went to two places in Brooklyn before it happened. At 10:30 P.M. last week I came across a Craigslist add with a Broker's name and phone number on it. The add talked about a 1 bedroom apartment on the Lower East Side (L.E.S.) near the "F" Train. I called the number immediately figuring there had to be some kind of catch to it. It seemed to good to be true because it was well within my budget and it would mean I could live alone.

I arranged a time to meet with the broker after work. We headed down the apartment on the L.E.S. When we arrived, I caught on immediately to the broker's antics. He had no idea where he was walking when we stepped off the train, he was introducing himself for the first time to the super and was asking to take pictures. I wasn't sure how or why I would ever agree to pay this guy 15% of my yearly rent when he wasn't really doing anything.

Now, I'd never had to do the apartment hunt in New York, so I really didn't know what to expect. I knew it'd be small and expensive, but I think I had to witness a few terribly small apartments that cost more than my parents' mortgage in Florida to rent a month. When I stepped into the one bedroom there were two female graduate students who were also looking at the space. There was no way they could share the space and live comfortably without sacrificing privacy. The 1 bedroom was a reasonable size, but it didn't leave a particularly good impression. Again, I had nothing to compare it to really.

I started talking to the super about the apartment and how long she'd been working and living there. I guess her and I got along well enough for her to be honest with me and tell me that I shouldn't waste my time with a broker because she had posted the apartment on Craigslist herself. She was nice enough to give me the management's direct number in case I was interested. I took some photos of the apartment and brought them to work to show some co-workers. Turns out that this was an opportunity I could not pass up.

The apartment is a "one bedroom" on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. I say one bedroom because it's really just a wall that separates it from being a studio, but having that division from the living room makes it feel more like a home. So, I had a dilemma -- my lease wasn't up until September and I knew I had to jump on this apartment otherwise someone else would get it. I loved the area because of the great bars, restaurants, proximity to work and friends and it was in Manhattan. It was small, yes but its just the right size for me to live alone. The negative was that I was still in a lease, my roommate was away on a road trip and it was on the first floor of the building. It made me a little uneasy.

I slept on it for a day before making the decision to jump on the apartment. I agreed to take the space and had to supply 3 months rent in order to secure it for myself. Luckily, I saved myself the brokers fee by dealing directly with managament. I also had a friend who was in need of an apartment, so having her sublease my room worked out really well. Naturally, my roommate wasn't happy, but I wasn't leaving her high and dry. I wasn't letting a complete stranger live in my room and it was only for two months until the lease was up. I was going to move out anyways, so I really didn't see the big deal.

I signed the lease on Tuesday, so the apartment is officially mine. I plan on moving all my things Saturday, so if all goes well I'll spend my first night in the apartment Saturday night. I couldn't be more excited and happy for this natural progression. Looking at where I stand now, it's incredible to think of the strides I've made. Sometimes, its hard not to feel a bit selfish and opportunistic, but its New York and opportunities present themselves -- sometimes you have to leap with both eyes closed.

I know this is going to work out really well for me. I am really looking forward to establishing my home and settling in for the long term-- there's really nothing to complain about! It's really rewarding to know that I've achieved a personal goal of mine so quickly.

So much can be said about my behavioral patterns since I moved here. One could say that I'm unable to committ to something given that I've moved four times in one year. You could argue that I'm only looking out for my best interest because I'm peaced out on two roommates on short notice. You could even say I'm hypocritical for once not being able to comprehend how someone could pay so much for an apartment that was miniature. I realize how my actions can be perceived, but (and I mean this in the nicest possible way)... I really do not care. I've moved because I haven't been comfortable, so why would I stay in a situation that is unpleasant, unjustified, overpriced and unreasonable. Of course I'm looking out for my best interest because in the bigger scheme of things, the only person you can rely on is yourself. Friends come and go, while my family is not close at all. Should I really be sacrificing how I feel for the benefit of those around me? No, because I'm the one who has to live with those feelings. As for being hypocritical, well I never lived in Manhattan and I want to do it while I'm young, can enjoy the neighborhood and don't need the extra room. Not to mention, if its an apartment in an area that I like, I'm going to want to spend time at home in my apartment. I think that trumps space and justifies price.

Check out some preliminary photos below, but you'll find it's quite sizeable for one person. I'm really excited and my family is all extremely happy for me. So...meet me at Pitt St. & Rivington.

Bathroom just off the kitchen.

Front Door & Kitchen/Foyer.

Kitchen and view of bathroom.

Other side of kitchen/foyer. Front door is to the right.

My bedroom.

Other side of bedroom.

A Feat Unlike Any Other

2008-05-09T13:17:00.003-04:00

A milestone, I suppose, in one's life is achieving success where it once felt like only the remnants of last night's dream. For me, my milestone came in the form of a 13 hour work day, an exhiliarting sprint on the treadmill overlooking taxis whizzing by Park Avenue and dinner on my couch at 10 p.m. captivated by Lost... I have sucessfully called New York home for the past year.

One year ago, yesterday, I stepped off the plane, somewhat timidly instructed a cabbie to Brooklyn and stepped out of the cab with luggage in tow nearly two blocks away from my first apartment -- apprehension and excitement reverberating through all my thoughts.

I was naive about New York, nervous about the prospects, scared of the streets, excited about my job and eager to make everything I had hoped to be real --- feel real. I can successfully say, one year later, looking back-- I've managed to subside the fear of the streets and resent my job title. Yet, my ambition, my endless hope for something better and optimism have not escaped me. If anything, I've solidified the path I desire to travel and perhaps the best advice I can offer anyone is -- it's not until you've left the nurturing womb of academia and entered the realms of the free world that you truly realize what your heart and mind are made of.

I am learning that, as quickly as this year went by, so to will my life. The freightening thing about it all is if I refuse to do something about the situations I deem unsatisfactory, life will forever remain remnants of the possibilites that are presently at my feet. It's been an incredible experience growing up with my friends here in New York. Learning to deal with the corporate world and the engine that provides the funds with which I squander throughout this miraculous city every day.

I've struggled monetarily this year, but I've managed to finally find some solid ground. And by struggle I mean, I blissfully eat out, socialize and spend frivolously only to remorsefully check my bank balance Monday morning and wonder where it all was spent. This is not to say I've overcome the simple luxurious, but I've managed to begin creating a comfortable padding for me to land on.... baby steps. The best part of it all is relying only on myself for everything that surrounds me. There's no feeling more fantastic than knowing that what you've earned and/or sacrificed is all yours, no thanks but to you and you alone.

I've moved into three apartments this past year. I once read moving ranks top 3 as one of people's most dreaded tasks behind public speaking or something. I'm anxiously awaiting the completion of my lease in September to hopefully make the leap into a studio apartment, on my lonesome, in Manhattan. This, my hope is, will remain my home for some time.

I've rekindled old friendships and made new friends. I've met young professionals in the same boat as myself, and I believe I've stayed true to surrounding myself with only positive folk that evoke the best in me and what I have to offer.

I've garnered a slew of favorite restaurants, shops, cafes, bars and clubs. Many of which I owe to the impeccable taste of my fellow weekenders and closest akin DB and DP.

I've come to appreciate the chaotic sounds, city hustle and unpredictable weather patterns spanning the isle of Manhattan.

I've mastered the transit system, traversed the island from East to West and probably walked more blocks than necessary looking for a location.

I'mve more independent than ever and you sort of have to be in New York. You have to acclamate to the culture of everyone having their own itinerary and busy lives there's not always time to eat out with friends or have accompaniment. You get over it when you realize there's too much to be missing out on out of insecurities.

The view from my subway of Lower Manhattan has not gotten old and some mornings it still surreal to see the sun gleaming off the buildings.

Yet, with everything that I've come to love, appreciate and accept about the City -- there remains a lot left for me to even begin to touch upon. New York has been home for a year now and the strange part is, it's felt like home since day one. So much so, that when I leave, you almost feel like you're missing out on something special. Truth is...you are.

I'm grateful for this year and all the incredible experiences I've had the fortune (because I can gladly say I haven't felt misfortune) to have been a part of my blog-tastic journey.

.... one year ... perfect.

Studio B

2008-04-13T21:07:00.004-04:00

There's always this underlying pressure when there's a looming anticipation for how an evening or event will turn out. You're hopeful that all your expectations, which you try to convince yourself you don't have, will be fulfilled. That the evening will be eventful, exciting, memorable and above all else not a waste of time. I'm sure we all can relate to this as many of us have experienced such bummers once in our lives -- maybe a new year's eve party, a terrible date or the real winner- prom. There's this over hype that comes with certain situations that try as you may, cannot be shaken to avoid disappointment. So there is my roundabout way of saying that the events of yesterday night concluding around 4 a.m. were anything but mundane, uneventful, over hyped or by any sense of the words-- a let down.

As I get older, I'm starting to realize that its not so much the event in which we are partaking in that makes us express our gratitude for the experience or utter contempt for having even wasted our time. Rather, it's the people in which you find yourself with that makes the situation stellar. It's funny that with time, you begin to grow into this skin that you know you've always been in, but finally getting use to wearing. It's like as the days go on, the years pass by, you're comfortable and all the discomfort and perhaps uncertainty that once existed is almost facetious to you. Having never really thought too much into this notion -- last night I felt this comfort and it was fantastic.

I've made this core group of friends that, as any true friend should, accept what it is that I have to offer. There's no sacrificing thoughts or feelings or view points with them. There's not conceding to any idea, suggestion or notion. It's merely compromise, support, concern and appreciation for the friendship. Last night, four of us finally went dancing after speaking of it for nearly a year and many half-hearted attempts. The dynamic of the group makes our outings -- memorable. It's difficult to be with these three other individuals and not always find ourselves in a constant state of laughter. You know the side splitting, catch your breath, make people turn and wonder what the fuck we are all on kind of laughter. Among us, there's an understanding. It's almost like everything just gets thrown out the window when the four of us hang out. We just get it. We take it and go with it with no inhibitions. We just dance, drink and laugh. A lot. There may also be some high 40 attempts sprinkled in among all that.

For me, last night was and remains one of those evenings that I'll look back on and be immediately transplanted at the thought of losing myself in this desolate part of Brooklyn amidst a crowd of young folk just letting loose and vibing with the energy of the club's music. I've found that many times, myself included, people will equate a certain situation or event to something else as a means of understanding and perhaps justifying that moment. They'll say "oh this is like..." or "this reminds of..." rather than "This just is." Last night, was just awesome. Sure it reminded me of this insane club in Barcelona with the loud, bass pumping music and high energy crowd dancing without concern, but that memory was an after thought. Never did it surface whilst in the moment. It was about being present and enjoying being able to just be among friends. You know those moments that people have where its, I suppose, an enlightenment or clarity rather. Where all of a sudden your world seems to stop or slow down just enough for you to realize that in that moment you're living. That all your worries, fears, uncertainties. inhibitions, regrets just vanish and you're free. I wish I could say that I could live a carefree life all the time and live in this kind of euphoric state, but the truth is could a constant state of "euphoria" really ever be considered euphoric if it in deed is constant? I mean, isn't it the idea that the struggles and those hinderances make revelations, enlightenments and the idea of reaching nirvana all the more worthwhile? I guess what I'm saying is our apprehensions make us appreciate moments like last night more. I suppose the argument there is a constant state of awareness and euphoria will make you appreciate every moment just the same.

So immersed in the blue and red strobe lights, surrounded by 3.5 foot speakers expelling these addictive beats that'd make even the most unlikely of dancers casually nudge their shoulders -- the four of us danced until the early hours of the morning. Lets face it, the reality of capturing last night in a blog entry would never convey it as anything more than just a regular 20-something year old's night out in what appeared to be a warehouse on the edge of Brooklyn. To that I say ... it's a shame you weren't there.

Ex-censorship

2008-04-08T11:35:00.003-04:00

My foresight into how people would react to my previous blog entry titled "The One That Got Away" dated March 1, 2008 is head-on. A recent, what seems to be drunken, facebook message from said "The First Real One" requesting me to take into account how the post exploits her personal life for "the whole world to see" is "rude." Her words, not mine.

What I find particularly interesting is a few things:
1) The fact that people are actually reading my blog.
2) That said people are relaying what I'm posting to those they believe are involved (Exhibit A: The Ex-Girlfriend)
3) Her ludicrous request to censor my blog -- did she not read the final paragraph of the entry about me being tired of taking into account how others felt over my own feelings?
4) The minor detail that I never, not once mentioned her name, which unless you knew both of us in highschool, or even just one half of us, you would not be able to put two & two together and single her out as "that girl."
5) To point No. 4 -- only someone who went to high school with us could have been the source of this leakage ... that said it's almost flattering to think someone is taking it and throwing it around.
6) Her overlooking the complimentary remarks about I made about our relationship. Not to toot my own horn, but I'd think it almost flattering if an ex were to write about how meaningful/memorable our relationship was...
7) She wouldn't think it "rude" if it weren't the truth. Her rant in the facebook message can only lead me to believe she's a) ashamed b) embarrassed c) regretful d) all of the above
8) It took her a drunken night out on the town to muster up enough courage to actually write me. Gotta love the booze lowering your inhibitions (thanks Jack, Johnny and Jose).

Listen-- I've had a number of requests from people I've mentioned to censor, edit or (gasp!) delete portions of my entries. The truth is -- I already censor a good portion of myself out of respect. I'm also careful to cover my tracks by not flat out saying peoples' names and using simply their initials (of which I did not even use in her case).

The reality is I blog when I'm inspired by an emotion be it anger, frustration, happiness, fear, love or simply when I'm being pensive. Yes, many would call that a journal and few would ever expose themselves to the harsh reality of letting their friends, peers, co-workers or Heaven forbid Ex's see how they really feel. Out of respect for, because I'm really not a malicious person, I am not posting her drunken request sent via facebook as I had originally intended to do.

I'll give her this, it was nice hearing from her even if it was through a 3 a.m. facebook message with a number of spelling errors.

The One That Got Away

2008-03-01T22:48:00.007-05:00

I've regretted very little in my life. In fact, I can't remember a single part of my past that I've regret. Well, there is one thing and after I'm done writing this entry...there may be two. Over the years, there have been people in my life that without question have shaped me one way or another. None like these three relationships, the very ones that to this day affect me in some profound way. Perhaps its because from each I've learned so much about myself and the reality that comes with sharing yourself when you're in a relationship. It's a fine line one must walk because in the end you could end up screwed:

The Best Friend

The friendship started in our junior year English class. We hadn't been friends prior, but for some reason we started getting along great and quickly became "the best of friends." Looking back, it seemed like it happened too fast, but I hadn't been at the school for more than a year and perhaps I was looking for a good friend. The funny thing is, we had a lot of the same ambitions and a lot in common, but when it came down to it -- this was the cause for our falling out. We began hanging out and quickly began dating two girl best friends. It seemed like the ideal situation - two guy best friends dating two girl best friends. Could we have been any more Dawson's Creek? Yet, what once seemed like the perfect situation rapidly turned into a whirlwind of backstabbing and gossiping. Nothing ever remained a secret between the four of us because we were all so close. We knew about eachother's sexual experiences, the shit we talked about our best friends and there was just no trust there. Looking back now, I had some of the best times in high school hanging out with this kid. I remember pushing his car out of his garage one night so as to not wake his family up and driving out to his soon-to-be girlfriend's friend's house. We ended up doing summersaults in the girl's front yard and goofing off in front of the girl he was trying to whoo.

As time went on, our stubborn-ness seemed to have got the best of us. Neither of us would ever admit each other was wrong, we'd bicker about the most ridiculous things as if we were some old couple and ultimately (as if we were in a relationship) we called it quits. That's when things got nasty. It turned into an all out "bitch" fest where he tried turning people against me by talking the biggest shit and spreading rumors that I was gay. Neither of us was ever really "man enough" to confront eachother mano-y-mano and resulted solely to words and insults. I told you it was a bitch fest. It was catty and immature. I was grateful to be leaving for college, until of course I found out he'd be attending UF as well.

So why bring up this kid now? Nearly 5 years after the fact? Well, as if it weren't apparent enough our friendship had some kind of impact on me. It could have been that he slept with my on again, off again girlfriend at a party one night (both losing their virginity to eachother). It could be that the short stint in which we were friends was the closest I've allowed myself to be friends with anywone. It could be that in some capacity I admired his ability to always charm the shit out of anyone he came in contact with. I liked being friends with him and the fact that we were such girls about the whole situation makes me feel like maybe I was missing out on having a great friendship (kind of like having a great relationship) -- out of sheer pride.

Through college, we'd bump into eachother on occasion and it was as though all that desire to be friends again came rushing back. Again, like a relationship, you feel like once you've been friends with someone and you gone through experiences with them... how is it so easy to just move on and pretend like none of it happened? At graduation, perhaps the last encounter with him, was like coming full circle. I bumped into him as I walked into the stadium and a part of me wished we were still friends, simply because I knew we could have been great friends . Just as we had been in the beginning.

The First Real One

My first real relationship, looking beyond the girlfriends I had in middle school and my freshman year in high school, was with this quiet, cute and naive Jewish girl with braces. She was a tough cookie to crack, but ultimately it seemed like she had given me a chance. Our best friends were beginning to kindle a relationship, and I was eager to show her that she was worth of being in one too. She was often bashful, laughing when she got nervous, rolling those blue/green eyes and shifting her weight from leg to leg the way someone who is uncomfortable giving a speech does. I remember bringing her a can of soup to school one day before we begun dating because she had mentioned she felt sick. I really liked this girl and it was great that our friends were dating -- it only seemed natural to be together.

At first, she just wasn't that into me. As time went on, I suppose I showed her a side that impressed her because we quickly began dating. I remember the first move I ever made on her was as we sat on her couch in the living room of her house. We were watching TV and her younger brother was in his room. We sat quietly in the dark staring at the screen. My heart was racing and I could tell she was a bit nervous herself. I always felt awkward making the first move out of fear that maybe she just wasn't into me that way. I attempted to adjust myself as her hand rested calmly on the seat cushion next to my leg. I did one of those half get up, half sit down moves and placed my hand on hers as I sat back down. I can't remember what happened after that, but we dated for a while on again, off again. It was always my decision to break up with her (partly influenced by my "best friend" mentioned above as he'd convince me that it'd be so much cooler to go out as single guys to these parties) and like ass I listened to him once. He'd also try to convince me that she wasn't worth it sometimes or that she wasn't really my type. Clearly, I was an idiot to be so easily manipulated. Turns out he must have just wanted her for himself because he ended up sleeping with her for some years down the road. Except, he always treated her like shit and she always ran back for more. Again, it's his relentless ability to make you feel like you're the only in a room.

Anyways, back to this girl. Like no other girl I'd been with, I was in awe of this girl. I could talk to her unlike any other girl I could talk to. We'd spend some nights sitting in my VW Golf just staring out of my sun roof looking at the stars listening to John Mayer. One night that my power went out in my house, she came over with chocolate cake and we popped the trunk of my car. Folded down the seats and just sat listening to music. She'd stop by my work at Banana Republic and we'd talk for hours about life and our future as I folded t-shirts in the back. She seemed like the perfect girl, but we ended up wanting two different things at 17. Her friends were fast becoming sexually active, and its not that we weren't, but I was paranoid about the whole situation because my parents were 16 and 17 when they had me. Looking back, I realize how foolish my logic was, but it felt right at the time. For awhile after we had broken up, I could tell she still really liked (maybe loved me), but I wanted to move on. The final time we got together, just as I began to realize how much I really loved her and appreciated her. She called it quits. This was Senior year of high school. We had spoken about going to Prom together and even talked one night about how everytime I'd look back at my high school experience -- she'd always be the girl I remember. She was my high school sweetheart. Until that is -- I found out she slept with my best friend.

Freshman year of college, she'd come by the fraternity house and do (what seemed like) taunt me. She'd get drunk and talk about how she was still fucking him (my friend) but how he treated her like shit. A part of me felt bad for her because she began letting herself go, she was giving herself up to any and every guy. She became sleazy, obsessive and needy. Yet, one drunken night I asked her if she remember what the last thing I ever said to her before we decided to call it quits for the final time. And, wouldn't you know... she remembered: I said, "Don't ever lose yourself." And she repeated it to me that fateful night verbatim.

She changed my world. She made me realize what type of girl I wanted to end up with. She was great and there have been times when I wonder if she ever regrets having dated me. If she could ever do it again, would she? Or would she opt for another choice? The truth is, while her and I were great. She has simply become just a girl I dated. A girl who is stunning, but different from the quiet, shy and brace-wearing girl. There's nothing to regret there and it seems now that I've finally manage to escape both him and her after 7 years of constant reminders of the betrayal, bitterness and resentment I had.

The One That Got Away

They say that we all have one. You know, that one special person that just slipped through our fingers for some reason. At 23, is it possible that I've already had my one? It's been a year or so since LH and I broke up. Or more like she broke up with me when again it seemed like I was just beginning to realize how special she really was. We dated consistently for two years and in those two years I had some of the most amazing moments in my life. Looking back now, I realize more and more everytime I think about her how in love I was. At the time, I thought I was in love, but I never really know what it meant.

Like my previous girlfriend, LH was a tough one to catch. She too was quiet, reserved but had an incredible sense of independence. I pursued her and I pursued her hard. I found out her screen name from a friend of her's that I'd been hooking up with at the time, and began asking her out to breakfast. She turned me down 3 times before she finally said yes to coffee. We sat outside of starbucks that night for about an hour before she escaped for ice cream with friends. That hour or so felt like an interrogation. I simply kept asking her questions to strike up a conversation, but she wasn't having any of it. She left for ice cream with her friends, and I assumed that she just wasn't that into me. I was determine though. This girl, I knew, had something that I really wanted to discover more about.

Speaking to her online that night, she mentioned her stomach was hurting from the pumpkin ice cream she had eaten. I offered her a walk around campus to ease the pain. We ended up sitting on a bench in front of a water fountain talking in the cold for hours. We talked about everything, and according to her that was enough to seal the deal with me. We drove down together for Thanksgiving, and the first time we hung out together I ended up meeting her entire family for dinner.

Up until the last 3 months of our relationship, it was perfect. I mean we understood eachother the way only people in love understand eachother. I could read her so well. I could tell her what she was thinking. I knew when she was happy, sad, anxious, nervous, horny-- anything! Yet, it was never predictable in a tedious manner. It was always endearing, real and raw. I loved the way she'd sit across the table from me and stare with her soft brown eyes. She'd tuck her chin under and cock her head to the side, sometimes puckering her lips before letting out a big smile. She always straighten her hair for me because I once told her I prefer straight her on girls than curly (she had curly hair). She sacrificed wearing heals because they'd make her taller than me (we were the same height). She was smart, driven and gorgeous. The most beautiful girl I'd ever dated (probably will date) but she never really understood that about herself. She was creative and pensive. She was incredibly complex, analytical and a bit on the neurotic side sometimes.

From the beginning of our relationship, we had said that "once it stopped being fun, we'd call it quits." The fact that I was one year older than her, the future was always in the back of our minds, but we decided early on to "cross that bridge when we got there." For the longest time, we enjoyed eachother's presence and company. The first time we kissed was in my room at the fraternity house. We sat sharing a tiny desk chair under my lofted bed. She had this nervous habit of her teeth chattering together as if she were cold. Her lips would sometimes turn a purple tint and she'd run her fingers through her hair as if something were caught in it. Again, nervous to make the first move: I asked her "Can I kiss you?" and she rolled her eyes, smiled and for a moment probably thought I was the biggest tool in the world for asking, but said "You don't have to ask." And we did... I ended up giving her rug burns that night when we moved from the chair to the rough carpet floor of the room. It stayed innocent for the longest time until we lost our virginity to eachother at my fraternity formal one year. For the longest time, I was ashamed that I was still a virgin at 20 and people had always assumed that SP (the girlfriend in highschool) and I had lost it to eachother, but the truth is I would never do it differently. It felt right with LH and I'm truly thankful that it happened when and how it did.

As the relationship went on, we only grew to know eachother more and more. She flew across the Atlantic to visit me while I studied abroad, she endured the heartache of being away from me for 5 months. And, the truth is...my leaving may have been the beginning of our end. When I got back it seemed like things were different between us. There were times yes when we got right back on the track we were on before I left, but then there were nights when it felt like we were off the path. I always loved her. And, I tried my best to always show her how much she meant to me, but sometimes I did feel like I failed. She was incredible to me, always worried that she wasn't bringing anything to our relationship. She felt like I taught her so much about patience and attitude, but in reality she was teaching me about love and life. She had the most caring heart and loved her family more than anything. She wasn't materialistc and hated that I was a sucker for J.A.P.py girls. We would eat sushi together at least 2 times a week, drive 2 hours to Orlando or Jacksonville for the day and buy the same greeting cards on occasions. We always tried to out do eachother on the creativity. One Valentine's day she woke me up with two tubberwares filled with poundcake and strawberries cut in the shapes of hearts. She'd put up with the fact that I would never buy her flowers because I thought they were a waste of money and endured my Spanish temper tantrums. When she broke up with me two weeks before my 22nd birthday, at the time, I too felt like it was the right decision. We were arguing often and it just stopped being fun. I was going to graduate the following semester and I had no idea where my life was going to take me (I considered Law school for some time).

LH was the one that got away. Towards the end, I began to realize that she's exactly the type of woman I want to be with. I even considered changing my career path because I knew that her family just wasn't going to let her marry a guy in public relations. No one knows that, but I only considered law school for her. In the beginning of our relationship, I told her I'd consider converting for marriage, but the harder she pressed me and the more she told me her family only wanted her to marry a Jewish guy, the less I wanted to. Especially given that her Mother wasn't Jewish to begin with and converted, and the fact that I was willing to raise my kids Jewish without having me convert (Yes, we got serious enough to talk about things like this).

So, nearly one year later. I'm sitting in my apartment in New York writing a blog entry at Midnight on a Saturday about the one that got away. Why? Because for the last year that I've been away from her, I've begun to realize that I was more in love with her that I had ever imagined. I think about her at least once a day. I secretly hope that she's doing OK and that she remains the girl that I fell so madly for. She jumped into a relationship nearly 3 months after we broke up and she's still with the guy, which begs the question if she ever felt the same way about me as I did about her. Could she ever forget what we had?

We don't talk now, not as much as I like because she's afraid of the repercussions with her boyfriend. I don't blame her because if we were still dating, I wouldn't her talking to one of her ex boyfriends all the time. But, ultimately, it's all my fault. Following the break up, I was too prideful to be friends with her. I didn't want any part of it and I was an immature moron. I screwed up any chance of reconciling with her, and now it feels like I'm paying for it. The longer I think about it, the more I realize that she has permanently carved her name into my life. I'm OK with that.

If I could go back to that night when I was so indifferent about us breaking up, I would. This has been my sole regret in these past couple of years. I hate regret, but the truth is... I should have fought for her. I should have fought for her the way I fought for her in the beginning. I should have pursued her and never let her go, but then again who's to say that she would have had me back anyways? She's moved on and she seems like she's happy. I can only hope that she is genuinely happy. I think the sad part of this whole situation is that if she would have me back, I'd do it. It's sad because I hate letting someone else have control of me, my feelings, my actions. But, I learned my lesson with LH. You just don't give up when it gets tough and I gave up too easily.

We had spoken on the phone a couple of times this summer when I would get drunk and think about her. Ultimately, she decided to end our phone conversations when she kept this fact away from her boyfriend. She even gave me an ultimatum at one point that the only way we could talk is if I genuinely didn't have feelings for her...she asked me...and I said no because I thought I didn't. I'm sensing a theme here. Clearly, I suppress my feelings for this girl because I'm afraid to be that guy who's still in love with his ex girlfriend. The token love-struck guy who's the lead singer of every pop-punk band on MTV's airwaves.

I came across a blog entry I had written about LH when I was abroad. It pretty much details how wonderful I thought (still think) she is.

So what's the point of all of this? Truthfully, I've probably shared more about my relationships in this entry than I ever should have. I'll regret it for sometime and then forget it was written as I post new entries. I'm sharing because I'm tired of being a closed book. I'm sick of being guarded with what I really mean to say or want to say out of fear. I really just want to be OK with being myself and having the people who care take it for what it is. It's almost as though only then will I truly feel comfortable around people. When I know that I don't have anything to hide, or fear of saying what I really mean. If only everyone could as uninhibited.

Thoughts from a long train ride home...

2008-02-22T23:48:00.003-05:00

So while I have completely neglected what I once found therapeutic and to a certain extent an extension of my often chaotic thoughts projected onto this blog... I haven't stop pondering about this chaotic city I now call home.

I have celebrated close to 9 months living in New York, and when I talk to friends and family still living in Florida, they never fail to mention how "cool it is to know someone who is actually making it in New York City." And the truth is, I've been thinking alot about my life, about being 23 and living in New York, about being a young professional and undoubtedly what lies ahead. It's like I have this checklist in the back of my head that I'm constantly skimming down making sure that everything I need to get done, gets done before its too late. Now, this may either be a genius tactic for living an enriching life, or the onset of a slow demise when one of those items inevitably goes unchecked. One particular thought has plagued me for sometime and more often then not it is while I'm riding the subway to and from work. It's a 30 minute subway ride with the iPod jamming and a lot of thinking gets done. I'll often notice an older gentleman or an elderly couple sitting contently side-by-side on the train, and I can't help but wonder what I'll be like at 60 or 70 and if I'll look back at 23 and wish that I hadn't been so foolish with my time.

I've spent a lot of energy trying to map out my next move, take the next logical step in what seems like a well thought-out journey that we somehow believe we're in charge of. The truth is, God laughs when you make plans. So...I start thinking about how I couldn't possibly let 23 fly by as quickly as 18 or 21 did. Both are mere blurs and I'm immediately transcended that time when a song pops up on my iPod. How could I not take a second and realize that holy shit...my college years have gone by. That's one phase of my life that I will never get back. It's done and over with. From here on out, I will always refer to those years as "the days when I was in college." To my dismay, I've found myself already beginning stories with a similar sentence structure. I'll see a high school student on the train staring blankly at a trig book, puzzled as all hell about what a hyperbola really means and the anxiety of just having the homework done for the sake of getting by. Did I really sit through that? Did I really suffer through 1st period trig with Mrs. Simmons my senior year of high school nearly 5 years ago? As far as I'm concerned it was barely 3 weeks ago that I pulled into the parking lot as a privileged senior with a parking spot.

I've also been thinking that perhaps all the agonizing that gets done in my head, the second thoughts, the withholding, my reservations about things, the slight insecurities I've somehow haven't overcome.... are all really just a waste of time. A waste of a precious moment of my life that I don't want to look back on at 70 and wish I could do it all over again. One would think this rationale would be enough to jump start you an invigorating journey to self-fulfillment. Engage in things that stimulate your mind, body and soul. Live in the moment, be present and lay it all on the line. Yet, as I've come to learn, self restraint and the feeling of vulnerability are perhaps as big a part of being 23 as the desire to be carefree. Maybe it keeps us balanced. It's the ying to our yang. The devil to our guardian angel.

If you ask me, living in New York is something that I've always wanted to do. Since I was young I could remember always wanting to live here. Well, I'm here. I've been fortunate in the sense that I have accomplished an immense amount of things on that checklist, yet somehow I still feel like I haven't really done much at all relative to the people around me. Again, it comes down to this path that has been so intricately carved out in front of us where we go to school, graduate college, find a job, get in a relationship, get married, have kids....I don't really have to go on because chances are you know what comes next. Its hard to see the value in something when it seems like everyone around you has already done the same or is in the process of achieving the same. That's not to say that I am not grateful for my current state, but sometimes I feel like there has to be something else. Something slowly creeping on my checklist that hasn't been fully inked.

Its funny because as I spend more time working (believe me, my schedule has become brutal) I begin to think more like an adult, or at least I start feeling more like an adult. Its like I'm slowly shaking off this exterior shell of aloof college student and finally accepting that binge drinking on a Tuesday won't really make my work week go by any faster if I did it every week. I'm learning the value of patience, diligence in my work, building meaningful relationships and above all my family. While the all sound obvious when written and even spoken about, I've slowly begun to realize that all these years its always been about me. I've been a rather selfish soul (as a few paragraphs prior clearly depicts) that has really only been focused on where I'M going to land next. More and more, I'm beginning to realize that the only tangible (and not even that much so) thing we have in this world, the only thing that no matter the circumstances we have to truly call ours is our family. The people we use to be ashamed of, embarrassed about and quite frankly shut out of our adolescent/young adult life. How is it that I'm only now having this epiphany?

When I look back at high school and parts of college, its hard not to think about how ridiculous I may have been at certain points. Who wasn't to be honest? And, where have those moments got me today? How did the play into the bigger picture? Was any of it really worth a second though? No. But maybe that's something we generally don't realize until we've experienced it, moved passed it and can truly reflect on it somewhere down the line. I think its what we call maturity. Yet, I can't help but feel that maybe it was just precious time lost.

To end this post on a good note, I want to say that at this very stage of my life. This struggle (journey rather) that I'm seemingly going through-- whether it be financially, emotionally, psychologically, physically-- it's certainly an experience that I am enjoying. I'm taking it stride and perhaps my thoughts are the only things keeping me grounded.

-dru said.

Happy New Year- It's 2008

2008-01-01T02:54:00.000-05:00

Moment: 2008- A New Year, A Fresh Start

So with a new year, comes a new start!

"You only grow by coming to the end of something and by beginning something else." - T.S. Garp, the world according to Garp

So with that new beginning comes a world of gratitude for the year that has come and gone. A year that has undoubtedly been filled with many firsts, many highs and fortunately no lows. My life has been on the up and up this past year. With the start of my career, living out my dreams in New York City, piecing together my apartment and just starting my life. Really giving it a kick in the rear and jumping in (to whatever it is you jump into) with both feet, eyes open and arms outstretched. The best and only way to experience the things that lie ahead.

Looking at 2007, there's so many milestones that have made it truly a year to remember! Hardly one to forget and will forever be one for my personal books. As much as I wanted to celebrate my first new year's in a fancy loft with good friends, getting unnecessarily belligerent, toasting strangers and celebrating my youth, I can't say that ringing in the new year with my family wasn't special. It was really fantastic to have them come celebrate in new york with me in my apartment, being the host and treating each one after so many years of them treating me. There's no question that having the ability to give back to those that have been there feels awesome, and more than ever I've come to realize (whether it be the distance from them or something else) that in the end the only thing we all really have is our family. The material things will disappear, money will only get us so far, but if tomorrow it all were to fade away-- hopefully you know that your family is there to stand by you. It's almost silly to think how when we were younger (because we're still young) we were embarrassed and even at times ashamed of where we come from. Now, it's as if every moment with my grandparents and relatives is something to be cherished and held onto. Not to be taken for granted...they are far too special to me to let it just be another moment in time. So, I hug a little tighter, smile a little harder and laugh a little louder while I have them around these few days.

So for 2008-- what can I wish for myself? In Colombia we have this tradition that at midnight we serve the champagne into a glass filled with 12 grapes. When the clock strikes 12 you cheers, drink up and eat each grape one-at-a-time making a wish for each one. Of course, I wished for continued success, love, happiness, fortune, good health, my family etc. etc. etc. But I think more than anything, and I suppose this could be a resolution, I simply want to live a fulfilling life. One that I can be proud of when I'm 75 years old. Doesn't everyone? I'd like to lively happily-- let the little things bead off me like rain drops that aren't absorbed into your winter coat (weird analogy-haha). I want to continue to be genuine and embrace it more with those people I value. I want to be strong, not in the physical sense, but strong in the sense of standing up for my opinions with courage and not letting people walk all over me-- all in a respectful matter of course. I'd like to remain driven and more than anything focused-- that means shaking off the laziness, accepting situations and staying on task. As much as I hate routine, I think at this stage in my life and career, I need a routine to keep me on track for my ultimate goals. All things considered, these are achievable and very much attainable by reasonable means. So where do I stray throughout the year? Where can I possibly go wrong? One word: Temptation. Maybe that would be a good new year's resolution....not succumbing to temptation. The temptation to skip the gym, the temptation to call in sick, or stay up later than usual, the temptation to purchase outside my means for the month when I know there are far bigger things I want. But in New York City...ignoring temptation is like hailing a taxi on a rainy afternoon in Midtown-- impossible. This city thrives on temptation. It's the magnetic force pulling millions of people onto the tiny island every day. But I refuse to let this city change me-- it should only enhance me. That's my goal for 2008...expand on my strengths and work on my weaknesses. Become a better, more well-rounded individual that's cultured, knowledgeable and most of all sincere.

So here's to a new year. A new beginning. A fresh start. To ultimate success, love, happiness, good health and a fulfilling year.

I wish you all the best in the New Year. Here's to 2008. Lets make it another one for the books. Just remember to embrace it.

-dru captured

Slow things Down, Or Speed Them Up

2007-12-27T09:31:00.000-05:00

Alright, so I'll admit that I've been a bit of a slacker these past few weeks with my blog. Any really the only person that is affected by it all is myself because when I'll look back and wonder where all my time went...I won't have a resource to jog my memory. In a nut shell, my life these past few weeks since it first snowed have been pretty amazing. A lot has gone on...naturally.

I turned 23 and celebrated my first birthday in New York City with some of my closests friends from every corner of my life. We went out to eat at Village Yokocho where my college friends RN and TT came up from Florida to visit, my high school friends KM, MS, & DB put their lives on pause, my London friends JL, AT, PD & CD help me celebrate and my New York friends DP, ML & JH where all there too. Of course those initials may mean nothing to some of you, but having everyone around that giant table eating dinner, conversing and having a good time meant so much to me. It was really fantastic to know have that many people out just for my birthday. I was worried that I'd end up celebrating alone, but how could you not feel so special and loved when that many people from all over show up just for you? As DB said "It says something about you." Well-- I certainly felt it and I was very grateful for every one of them! It was also very cool to have everyone meet considering they've all known me from very different phases in my life. I mean we change a lot from high school, to college, to the real world-- but more interestingly was that they all got along when the common denominator was me.

Along with RN & TT's visit to NYC, I showed them my favorite spots, so it was a weekend full of amazing food and good entertainment. Of course I took them to PDT where our fun was cut short by a police raid on the place. Nothing serious, but it felt like a scene from Law & Order the way the cops were picking up each individual bottle, holidng a flash light to it, whirling it around, checking out the menu, you'd think they were looking for traces of X or something in the bottles or some underground drug haven. We also caught the final show with all the original cast members of Spring Awakening. That was pretty exciting. It's funny because little did we realize that it was one of the main character's last performances and the audience would erupt into applause or tears at various instances, but we had no idea why! Then of course at the end as he said goodbye...we put the pieces together. It's probably one of the better plays I've seen with excellent music and a surprisingly modern storyline despite the fact that its set back in the 40s.

Not long after RB & TT's departure my family arrived. A week from today actually for the holidays. Every one I told they were staying with me in my apartment always asked me how the hell we were all going to live together for 2 weeks? Well, as luck would have it, my roommate would be gone for the entire duration of my family's stay, so we could use her room as well and the apartment is actually rather large. It hasn't been much of a hassle at all, I still work during the week, so it's not like we're forced to sit in the apartment together all the time and I've been enjoying their company. They've added a new air to my apartment that wasn't there before. It feels homey and comfortable. I'm definitely going to miss them when they go back to Florida. It's nice to have the home cooked meals and taking them around the city I've come to know and appreciate. On Christmas night we went ice skating in Central Park. Wow! Was that an experience. It felt so great to just be out there together, taking my little 2 year old cousin out on his first ice skating trip, laughing and just enjoying eachother's company. I think you don't really get that when you spend every minute together on a day-to-day basis. You start taking things like that for granted.

My job has also begun to pick up a lot, which is ironic considering it's probably one of the slowest times of the year. I've gotten more and more responsibility and the managing directors are really beginning to value my input and work. Keep in mind that for a person at the bottom of the totem pole and with me just starting my career...that's huge. I've gotten the opportunity to participate in a new business pitch for an account we ended up landing-- something I was told no other Assistant Account Executive has ever gotten to participate in before. I've also managed to get a spike in my salary... a really generous spike....which coincided with a christmas bonus-- so this really is a "wonderful time of the year." Of course, I'd spent most of the bonus before I even received it, but the temptation is just to high when its Christmas time in New York. I also managed to win a $500 gift card for Jet Blue at my company's raffle during the Christmas party... I really can't complain!

Now things are slowly winding down as the year comes to an end. I've really just been spending a lot of time just enjoying what's going on around me and soaking it all up. It seems like there just hasn't been enough time or rather that time is flying by, but for some reason I don't see that as a negative. I can't really explain it, but it's a really great feeling. I haven't been fighting to hold onto something out of fear of forgetting, but just enjoying things as the happen out of pleasure that they are actually occurring right there and then. I think that's where the loss of time happens...when the your worrying subsides and the living kicks in.

I Look To My Eskimo Friend

2007-12-02T09:10:00.000-05:00

Let me paint a picture for you. I beautiful white picture that'll make even the ugliest of nature's creations seem flawless. I sit bundled up in my puffy, marshmellow north face jacket waiting for the hot chocolate sitting on my coffee table to cool down. The party shuffle on my iTunes appropriately plays Damien Rice's "Eskimo" (honestly) and the photos of the snow covered trees continue to import into my computer. I'm staring out my windows that overlook the backyard of my apartment building and the once sprawling tree now sits, for the most part, sporadically covered in yellowish leaves of which snow rests comfortably on top. The widget on my computer's dashboard says its 20 degrees in Brooklyn, 21 in New York City and displays a nice pile up of snow on top of the numbers for illustration.

Today is like no other day in my 22 years of existence, mainly because it is the first time in my life that I've ever stood in snow, touched snow or even saw snow. I think a part of me still doesn't believe that the white piles resting atop the roofs, covering the streets and frosting my fire escape is real. But here's what makes me the happiest of all... that even after 22 years of life, I can still find something so captivating. This only leads me to believe that I haven't become jaded by the world or life, that there are still a million of life's little nooks and crannies I've left to experience...it's almost child-like in that when we're 2 everything is so new. We're mystified by the possibilities and the world, for a single moment, is whatever you're standing, touching or seeing-- today it was my first snow day! When I think about it, it really is one of God's most unbelievable gifts-- and I've never been religious, but how could you not look out your window and see you yard look like a bed of cotton balls or the top of a delicious vanilla-frosted cake. Your street looks like that of a postcard and even your neighbor, who you're hardly even acquainted with, seems that much more familiar. Why can't I think of rainy and sunny days the same?

The weather reports had been talking about the possibility of snow today for the past couple of days. There was little hope for it on my part, knowing that my time would come soon enough. I went to bed half expecting to wake up to see snow, but thankfully a co-worker texted me at 8 a.m. with "You gotta love this..." and I knew immediately without even drawing my shades that there was snow outside! There was no processing time for me. I jumped out of bed, pulled the curtains aside and if I remember my reaction correctly I somehow muttered "ohh myGodd (pause- cue high pitch voice) its snowing!" it was kind of a slurring of the words mainly because the abrupt jump out of bed left me a little off for a minute. After gaining composure, I wasn't sure what to do next. Did I go outside? Was it ok to go outside? Was it like rain, where I'd rather be in bed sleeping? I grabbed my camera and opened my window and started snapping pictures, but I knew that I wouldn't want to remember my first experience with snow from atop 3 stories from a window, so I ran to my fire escape and snapped some more. Until I finally said screw it, slipped on my birkenstocks (I probably would have grabbed the flipflops), a hat and rushed outside where I was one of the few people on the street. The timing was just right! The snow on my front step and yard were untouched. Still neatly and perfectly white making what was once a gravel pit look like a picturesque pile of white, sugar coated cubes. I realized that I was by no means dressed for the weather, apart from my jacket which to my surprise even wearing just a t-shirt underneath was incredibly warm, but the birks and sweat pants were no match for the wet, slippery snow.

I live two blocks from Prospect Park, so I'd been told that the most beautiful part of snow is really early in the morning when it was untouched by the tread marks of people and cars, which even at a 8 A.M. there was some activity and the snow that once painted the streets white was a mucky brown.

I cautiously walked down the street as soon as I realized that my shoes provided no traction or grip in the slushy-like snow... this is after almost busting my ass 2 or 3 times walking on a flat surface. Imagine my cautionary steps on the slopes of the sidewalks as I approached the street! Once in the park, everything around me looked unreal. It was perfect. Just as I had seen in movies and imagined in my head. The trees hardly bared leaves and those that did resembled christmas trees or flaunted their red/orange leaves. Abandoned logs were deceptively nestled in the snow. I say deceptively because as I approached one and took my first step toward it...my foot sank into the snow, filling my shoes with the icy snow. There was no back to my shoes, so my heels were numb and my hands felt like a million tiny needles were prickling me, but I couldn't stop taking pictures and I was having a ball with it. There was nothing that was going to ruin this for me!

I stopped a lady walking her dog and explained to her my circumstance. She graciously snapped a photo of me and continued on her way. I stood there with what I think were snow flakes falling for minutes! It felt like rain on my face. I touched the snow and it felt like a finely ground slushy, but much colder than I would have expected.

So I sit now, contently on my couch, blogging about my first exposure to snow and I have to say that it is better than I could have imagined. Again, it's so awesome to me that I can be so WoWed by something like this and there's no doubt that everything looks that much more beautiful frosted in snow. Now, I just can't wait for the snow to be fluffy enough to build a snow man, roll around in and of course go sledding in Ft. Greene Park!! Call me a little kid, but how could you not think this is exciting!?

I'm looking back at the pictures I took this morning and I still can't believe that, that's me standing in the white snow! Oh man I love New York! It just started to snow-- as in actual flakes falling from the sky! that's even more beautiful than seeing already on the ground!

The Suite life of New York

2007-11-06T14:56:00.000-05:00

It's not often that one gets the chance to sit on luxury's lap when in New York. To tell you the truth, only the lucky and insanely rich get to sit on that lap-- unless one of your clients happen to be a major broadcasting company looking to do an investor day in New York City next year. Cue event planner Dru Ortega. So where do you go in New York City when the client wants the best? A place to rival Bucharest's Palace and National Museum, a place that "Wow"'s attendees and really gives the investor days held abroad a run for their euros. The past two weeks I've been coordinating with some of New York's finest hotels and spaces to find the right venue for this investor day-- the company wants the best--I have expensive taste-- chances are it'll all turn out pretty good.

First stop: The Mandarin Oriental Hotel. For those unfamiliar--it's the quintessential hotel that overlooks Central Park, provides sprawling views of the Manhattan skyline and East River all for one of the city's heftiest price tags. It's no Hilton. The view from the 35th floor is surreal. It's like peering into a diorama of New York or an exhibit of a museum. High above all the hustle of Columbus Circle you stand looking out of enormous wall to wall windows in a 6,000 sq. ft. room. The staff caters to your every desire--- and for a second you feel like a millionaire-- you're planning a excessively opulent investor day, and its a no-holds-bar budget, but lets not get ahead of ourselves...New York has many other beautiful and equally lavish places to make an impression.

Next stop: The Palace Hotel. To put this hotel into context, the day we decided to tour the space they were filmming Gossip Girl out front. Turns out, when I got home that night the show was on and one of the main characters is staying at the hotel. The main entrance was decorated in a Christmas theme with fake snow and all for the show, but the extravagance didn't end there. I'm not entirely sure what these Cater Directors and Event Coordinators expect when they first see me arrive at the hotel after speaking briefly on the phone, but chances are they dont' imagine a 5'4 22-year-old showing up to make arrangements. I'm always keeping an eye out for their reaction when I'm introducing myself-- partly because I find it entertaining and partly because I'm curious if I'm living up to what they pictured. The Palace is quite literally a palace decked out in chandeliers, crown molding, murals, gold accents, fire places, leather club chairs, white gloved bell hops--- basically, picture a palace and that's the hotel. While the ballrooms where I'm looking to hold the events are more or less your typical ballrooms reminiscent of the ones where Homecomings and Proms are held....these offer a much more refined and detailed venue...you know for those who can afford to throw money away on it. I figured while visiting The Palace, how could I pass up checking out the rooms...its not like I'd ever get to see them any other way... so, I got a tour of every sized room in nearly every price range the hotel offers. From "Junior Executive" to "VIP" the rooms were impressive, but hotel rooms none-the-less. Perhaps the most noteable of the rooms is the Triple-plex one situated on each of the four corners of the structure. It's a three story apartment that's a "hotel room" for the VIPs to house their families, hold their private meetings and basically spend absorbent amounts of money on. Of particular interest to me, was the unbelieveable patio area that offered the most incredible view of Manhattan. It was like the Empire State Building and Chrysler Building were an arm stretch away. Again, one of those surreal moments that you kind of stand and look around and realize that you're actually in New York and this is your job...and maybe hoping that one day you can actually spend the night there.

Next Stop: The Lincoln Center situated overlooking Columbus Circle. Here's the best way to put this one into context. If you've ever seen the Ellen DeGeneres show when she comes to New York City...it's the room where they tape the show. It's got that enormous floor to ceiling window that overlooks Central Park and Columbus Circle with upper Manhattan in the background. The window is overwhemling in a good way. You feel like you're looking into a giant fish bowl and Manhattan is the tiny castles the fish swim in and out of...the window is huge! As for the rest of the space, it's your regular auditorium, so really of noting about the space is the massive window...that's it. That's all I've got. Although, depending on who you are...on my way back from the Lincoln Center I happened upon the filmming of the Sex and the City movie in Bryant Park. They had recreated the Fashion Week tent's facade for the characters to pretend they were attending. I didn't stick around to catch a glimpse of any of the actors, but I passed the information along to some co-workers who ran out to snap some photos. It's still pretty cool to see movies being filmmed in areas that I just walk through and have lunch in (for example I was actually sitting where they were filmming the movie yesterday for lunch with a friend...a bit weird).

Along the New York kind of life...Friday night I went out to some uber posh restaurant in Chelsea for KM's birthday. While the atmosphere and crowd was generally you're young, trendy and super image conscious...the restaurant was nothing to write home about --- except of course the ridiculous prices for a not so impressive meal (or should I say dish). The restaurant was SAPA which has been featured in movies and young celebrities are sometimes spotted dining there-- but $60 for a Red Snapper, one cocktail and an appetizer that was split amongst 4 is not cheap. I've had better meals for 15 bucks! Of course, we followed that up with expensive cocktails at my favorite spot PDT, which I hadn't been to in a while and never fails to impress visitors who are in town for the weekend. It's my go-to spot--- when I feel like spending more than I can actually afford.

Also, I'm happy to report that after 6 months of living like -- what I characterize as a hobo with a home -- I've finally coughed up some G's for furniture. Come to think of it-- I'm growing up...I've bought my first bedroom set and couch for my apartment. Wow. That just hit me. It's strange how we all seem to have different definitive lines of "growing up" and mine was that I bought a couch.

Losing Touch

2007-10-24T13:14:00.000-04:00

It seems that my most recent posts have all been drastic attempts to "catch up" with the happenings of my life. Turns out that as I laid wide awake in bed til 4:30 A.M. on Sunday-- I felt like I've been slowly losing touch of so many things that made my life so fulfilling and balanced. I've been sick this past week and while purging my body of viruses and bacteria-- I've also managed to gain clarity in that I've realized that I no longer maintain my blog as current as I use to, I've neglected going to the gym, completely stopped going to yoga, going to bed early, finding cooking relaxing and finding a happy medium between work and life. Could it be that my lack of attention and discipline that I was so proud of just a few months ago was the leading cause of me falling sick this past week? It's hard to say, but the truth is that I've missed coming to my blog for peace of mind, I've missed the calming of working out and yoga and the total body/mind transformation that comes with it. I really feel like I've lost touch with my body and mind...all I seem to want to do is sleep. I've felt mindless, bored and quite frankly cashed out these past few weeks. A lot has picked up with work, but my personal life seems to have remained the same. I've enjoyed some outings with my good friends DB and DP, caught up with old friends KM and MS, and I've even somehow managed to rekindle a friendship (emphasis on friendship) with my ex-gf LH.

I don't know where my mind has been, but I want to get back to the focus and discipline I once had. I'd managed to make a regimen for myself with work, gym and life that was rewardings on so many levels. Could it be that the purchase of my television has been the cause of all this destruction? Could it be that I've reverted to my old lazy and comfortable self and fallen victim to the spell of having the tube in my bedroom? I'd like to think not, but it seems that way as ridiculous as that may seem. I use to be so productive and spent a lot of time focused on myself and improving both body and mind....as mentioned above...where has all that gone?

So where to stand now? Well, as busy as my work schedule has been these last few weeks, I've begun reclaiming my full hour of lunch-- allotting my time to blog. I'm also still recovering from this nasty bug that has kept me in and out of work since last thursday. It was strange in that I felt terrible one day, fine the next, fell ill again and wake up fine the next...a rollercoaster of fever and cold. I'm giving my body time to regain some energy before hitting the gym again, but I can't tell you how much I'm actually craving a yoga session. There's still a lot that needs to be done to my apartment before it is in any condition to host the slew of friends and family I have coming to visit the next two months, but I'm making steps to getting it to a comfortable/affordable level. My apartment is slowly starting to feel like home despite having lived there for 2 months. My work has been chaotic. I find myself getting there early, leaving late and having no time to actually think through some of my projects. I've realized that while I know what I'm doing on some of my tasks....I don't really understand anything that I'm doing, which worries me a bit, but it really comes down to taking the time to think through it. I don't have the time for that---haha.

Last weekend I enjoyed a fantastic New York night out with DB and DP. After a hectic journey through Manhattan that began with brunch in the E. Village, a pit stop at consignment shop Tokyo 7, a lunatic cabbie that purposefully backed into another cab that had re-ended us in the middle of SoHo and an unimaginably long car ride over the Brooklyn Bridge through Times Square....we finally arrived at the "Of Montreal" concert to catch the last pieces of their opening act. The concert was an excitingly thrillful spectacle. The band was energetic and gave a performance unlike anything I'd ever seen...afterwhich we headed to the W. Village for a few pies of pizza. All in all, the night was, for lack of a better word, awesome. Good music, good food, good people....its exactly what I want to constantly surround myself with. My mantra if you will.

It's good to be back.

Baby, I'm crazzzzy.

2007-10-11T16:58:00.000-04:00

I couldn't think of a more catchy title than the above, but it's been so long since I was able to finally sit down at work and update my blog. I've felt so disconnected from it and life that it's just been a slew of events- one after another - coming at me that I barely have time to catch some shut eye. And that's not me complaining.

Over the last two weekends I've managed to score some concert tickets for one of my favorite new artists-- Mark Ronson at a Bacardi sponsored event in Brooklyn. It was an intense night that began with a swarming of the gates of a studio lot in the upper north west corner of Brooklyn. Lucky for us, we arrived early and scored some pretty good seats in the bleechers. Other performers of the night (amidst Bacardi practically cramming their new Mojito flavored rum down our throats by offering it with nearly any combo you'd like) included Sean Paul (not that impressed by his Jamaicaness), Calle 13 (rap/hip hop/reggaeton group singing in Spanish with some pretty catchy beats) and Talib Kweli (a poet lyrcist spitting social and political commentary guised as hip hop and R&B flavor). It was fun-- but not my scene -- while impressed by the abundance of Bacardi branded paraphanelia that included giant television screens, an impressive stage, a fancy VIP area lit with tiny bulb lights from above, crane operated cameras, a massive overhang with featured bar, bartenders that were clearly cast to play bartenders as they were all good looking twenty somethings and lots & lots of people-- EVERYWHERE! Perhaps the best part of it all was the beautiful scenery on which the lots rested.....in the distance you could see the New York City sky line as the looming clouds and magenta color sky gave off just enough light to make it a perfectly calm night despite the bass thumping.

Then-- this past weekend I coughed up a pretty penny to see my family in Florida. Its funny because I kept referring to my trip to Florida as "going home" and kept correcting myself by saying that "New York is my home." I'd been missing my family for sometime, which was new for me considering that I'd lived in Gainesville for nearly 4 years and hardly ever went home or became homesick. I suppose it was the proximity and the possibility of easily driving home that made them that much less likely to be missed--- that sounds more awful than I mean it. Having been in New York now for 5 months (Monday-- but who's keeping track?) you really start to value the one thing that is constant, concrete and reliable in everyone's life--- your family. If you're lucky enough to have an incredible support group (despite the occassional misunderstandings and bitchfests) there is something to say about being close with your family. It's easy to take them for granted when you see them everyday-- there's nothing new being said there -- but being home for just the weekend felt amazing. I got a chance to say goodbye to my grandfather (my biggest fan and my biggest inspiration for life) before he took his voyage to Colombia to fulfill himself. It was also a great opportunity to finally meet my Goddaughter Nathaly and cousin Santiago (Santy)-- cute little buggers that make even the dullest of days seem more exciting once you get past the smelly diapers and constant chasing around the house. I also had the chance to visit my old college friends (can I really say "old" even though I've only been out of school for 5 months?)-- who now live in Miami (RN and MC). While it was great to see them, and they showed me a great time around their area-- I couldn't help but feel like no matter how long you're gone from "home"-- once you go back its like nothing ever changed. It's like you've never left to pursue your dreams or that you've been gone living a life filled with adventures you blog about. Haha. Everything in Florida seemed very stagnant (and I mean that in that nicest way possible). There wasn't much excitement there to report on, nothing new to the story and if you really wanted to, you could pick right back up where you left off and look back at your life and feel as though it was only but a dream. NO THANKS! I did get a chance to drive my graduation present for a few more days, which I missed more than I thought. The driving, not the actually gift considering you can't miss something you haven't really grown attached too.

My professional life has also seen a huge surge. The past two weeks at work can only be characterized as hectic beyond belief. All those periods that I complained of having nothing to do and work not being challenging enough? Well-- they are long gone. I've found myself bringing work home with me, coming in before the sun is even up in the City, and leaving long after the night as come. I've also become a pretty intense coffee drinker (much to my dismay), however with the whether in New York beginning to get a bit chillier (I've even bought my first trench coat) its kind of nice to have a hot cup of joe in the mornings to give you that kick in the gut.

Another significant advancement in my life (I suppose you can say its significant-- depends on who you ask or who's reading this blog)-- I splurged on a flat panel Samsung HDTV and DVD player!! I sucked it up and put it on my credit card hoping to pay it off-- and this is exactly how people get themselves in trouble. However, my apartment (more specifically my room) is beginning to feel more and more like a home--- comfortable, safe and with all the luxuries a guy could want (i.e. technology). I also found out I get basic cable for free! Talk about a win/win situation for me-- I shall never miss out on another epsiode of 30 Rock again! What does that mean for my gym membership? It's hard to say considering I've had the t.v. two days and I have gotten home at 9:30 and passed out by 10:30 every night this week-- there's just not enough time! There's never enough time! I'm so excited...and I just can't hide it!!!! (Alright that last sentence was direct rip off a SAVED BY THE BELL episode in which Jessie (the Showgirls girl) takes caffeine pills to stay awake and cram for her tests and has a nervous breakdown in the end only to have her friends (ZACK and the GANG) reassure her that she's got a solid support group PLUS a giant neon sign that screams MORAL, MORAL, MORAL!!

While this has been a rampant attempt to summarize my life over the span of these two weeks into a nice blog entry--- it is nowhere near my normally descriptive entries that I rather enjoy writing about. I did however feel like I owed to myself (and some readers) a new entry. Plus...I've finally found some downtime at work. But we won't tell the boss that.

Work Rage

2007-09-27T16:28:00.001-04:00

At this current moment I am furious. I'm so disgusted, enraged, disappointed, angry, bitter and utterly pissed off. I have just been pulled off one of my biggest client accounts from two managing directors following the mishaps that occurred. I don't even know what to think. I don't even know what to do or say. I fought back tears because I felt like such a failure. Like I've somehow fucked up any chances I've had. The prefaced the conversation by saying that while I"m being removed from this one account, I'll be added to 3 other "smaller" accounts. I'll be finishing off a project for the client and then being removed from the account. What the fuck!!! I don't even know--- I really do feel like I messed this one up. I know one of the mistakes were mine, but the 2nd one wasn't! I was just following procedure and I end up having to take the fall. I think what really makes me upset is that my superiors actually had to sit around and talk about whether or not I should be removed and then have them come to the conclusion that yes it would be best if I didn't touch the account anymore. Its so easy to have everyone say- not to worry about it-- it happens-- its OK-- but really is it? This obviously doesn't fair well with my boss, if I've only been on the job for 5 months and I'm already being removed from accounts. Clearly that doesn't reflect well on me. I mean there really isn't anyone I can blame for this except myself, so it really comes down to me getting over it. AHAHAHASDFijasldfjalksdjflasjdf. I want to leave. I want to scream. I want to know why! There's just all this shit that's going on in my head right now and I'm especially bitter with the client's IR person. It's because she misses a co-worker that no longer works at the agency too much that she needs to have me off because she's worried. What the hell does that say about my capabilities! You know I ran to this blog to get my thoughts out and really it seems to have worked. I'm sure reading this makes absolutely no sense and somewhere down the line when I look back I'll realize how much I've over reacted and in the bigger scheme of things its probably all for the best. Maybe its better that I'm removed now before I really fuck things up and cost the agency a client or perhaps the company a real issue. This blows and such a big part of me wants to march into my directors office and say how disappointed I am and how it sucks that I've had to be removed and prove to them that those were minor mistakes (one of which wasn't even my fault!). AHAHASDHAHAHAHAH really there's no where to run in these damn cubicles. screw it. What a difference from my previous post this morning.

PEACE

There Are No Ordinary Moments

2007-09-27T10:34:00.000-04:00

Once in a while I'll get into this philosophical mood where the idea of understanding one's existence and purpose in this world is fascinating to me. This week, I was in one of those moods and netflixed a movie called Peaceful Warrior based on a book by the same name by a former Berkeley gymnast named Dan Millman. Essentially, the movie is your typical athlete movie ala Rocky or Mighty Ducks but with an underlying philosophical theme with Nick Nolte (remember Rookie of the Year?) playing a "Socrates" character spewing philosophical wisdom at a young, athletic, hard-headed college gymnast. It was something that stuck with me though in the countless, I suppose cliche, moments in the movie in which Dan (the protagonist) comes to the realization that in life there are "no ordinary moments" and "there is always something going on." Sometimes, I can imagine, we're so wrapped in ourselves and the things we have to do, want to do, did and should have done that we fail to see what's right in front of us. Pivotal to the plot, is getting Dan to live in the present, forget about the past and worry less about the future. It's the here and now that makes life...interesting. On the same note, the young protagonist finds out on a 3 hour hiking trip up a mountain only to find "nothing" there except a rock, but learns that it's not the destination that makes us happy-- its the journey. I mean really think about that...is it applicable? Can that be true? That after going through the motions, whether up or down, its really about those motions that makes us? Not the finish line?

I guess a good example would be my transition to New York. I think back and can I assume that my journey to getting to my destination of choice, New York, was really the part that made me happy? Made me learn? Well, yes to an extent I guess its applicable, but then I think about being here and moving forward with my career. It's an entirely new journey and my job now is perhaps just one leg of that journey to a destination that I dream of, but somehow the idea of "the journey being the part that makes us happiest" seems lost when all you can help but feel is as though if you could only get to where you want to go you'll really be happy. I think the real idea behind that philosophy is that no matter how far you come, we're always looking to get somewhere else. You're always looking for the next level, the next milestone, the next-best-thing, you're looking to improve, enhance and advance yourself. There is where you lose sight of the present, of how far you've really come and where you're standing. Yea, I could see that. Especially with my life now. My goal was to get to an agency in New York. Mission accommplished. Now that I'm here, rather than really be here. I'm already thinking about how I can get a raise, how I can get to an Account Executive position, how long I should put in before I move on to my next job, where my next job should be, how I can afford to someday live in Manhattan....when all I really should be doing is looking around at the progress I've made. I'm living in New York, I have a fantastic apartment in Brooklyn, a job that pays more than some of my peers in the same industry are earning, my health, a few unnecessary luxurious etc. etc. etc. So why can't I be content, scratch that--- GRATEFUL, for how far I've come? Why are we constantly chasing the rabbit? Maybe we're afraid of staying stagnant? Maybe we're just not comfortable staying put in a comfort zone where it all seems to easy, mundane and trite. Maybe it is the journey that's exciting. The prospect of success and the dread of failure. Maybe its not that we're not happy, its that we've come to expect more of ourselves. Or maybe we're just afraid of being ordinary.

Today at work we had a potential new client coming into the office to meet with the President of my agency and a few managing directors. I had worked on the company's account once by disseminating a press release for them and now it seemed as though they'd want some more from the agency. This was my shot, I thought. I could finally prove to my superiors that I'm anxious, willing and motivated. I asked one of the managing directors if I could possibly sit in on the pitch. I had wrote the press release, set up the power point presentation and bound the presentations for the meeting. The managing directors response was that "we normally don't have assistant account executives sit in on new pitches." I was confused, offended and relieved all at once. It took a lot for me to even muster up enough courage to ask him to sit in on the pitch with the company's CEO and President, in addition to our agency's President despite knowing that people in my position don't sit in on those kinds of meetings. The managing director finally came around and said it would be OK for me to sit in on the pitch-- and I got excited (internally of course) and was ready for my first shot at sitting with the big players at the large round table in the big conference room. My first glimpse at where the money comes from...my shot to prove myself as a player in the world of investor relations/ public relations. I was ready! I got worked up, nervous and my hands wouldn't stop sweating (to which I tried airing them over a fan to keep from seeming all clammy when I shake the CEOs hand). Well, the meeting started at 10 A.M. today and I am sitting in my cube writing this blog entry. Needless to say, I didn't get a shot to sit in on the meeting. I was never summoned or notified the client was here or that they were ready to start. I'm hurt...was hurt. Is that my worth? I mean, I was willing and ready, and a simple shout would have sufficed! I don't get it. So, maybe he forgot-- big deal right? But--c'mon! I've always said that when I become a big shot in the industry, I'll always remember the struggle (journey?) it took me to actually get my foot in the door and reciprocate. I wonder how many big shots today said the same thing? But I really mean it-- I want to mean it. It's no fun.

So it comes full circle. Forget it. Move on and its really about right now. Me sitting in front of the computer venting to my blog (an electric diary). Haha. (sigh). Nice. That's all I can think of right now to write-- is Nice and with that-- I end this entry.

T.G.I.F.

2007-09-21T09:23:00.001-04:00

I suppose it says alot when the first chance I've got to write this week's post comes on a Friday morning. It's also unwise to postpone my morning duties as a working professional for a post on my blog, but I just felt compelled to keep my loyal readers up-to-date with my life this past week. I know some of you have grown to appreciate (and love) my posts, which makes writing them that much more exciting for me. So thank you again.

This week has been uncharacteristically busy for me at work. Talk about getting the ball rolling and diving right in and out of summer splendor. It's finally beginning to feel like fall in New York-- just the way I like to picture New York. The weather has been more than pleasant this week with mornings that feel about as cold as Florida's coldest winter night and sunny afternoons that make eating lunch in Bryant Park nice enough to enjoy without dripping sweat on your meal.

Yes, this is the New York I love and I'm more than stolked for the fall to come. Except maybe not as excited for the immense blow to the wallet I will undeniably have to suffer from the purchase of winter gear so as to survive the bitter cold. So, this week since I had little to nothing to report I figured I'd give a little insight into what I've been thinking as I make the most of these cool days.

1. It never seizes to amaze me how New York has yet to develop a mass public transportation system that rivals those of other metropolitan areas like London's efficient Underground. Twice this week my morning commute to work has been an obstacle course in the saunas of subway platforms, herds of people and frustration. I find myself checking my watch every 30 seconds and peering down the subway tunnel in hopes of seeing the lights beyond approaching...or days (like today) when commuters have no idea the subways are being stubborn and I stand on the platform for the better part of 15 minutes before realizing that no trains are stopping at Union Square. It's madhouse sprint back to the 'Q' Train uptown and morning jog 3 streets and 2 avenue blocks to work. If only there were some way to make trains run on some sort of schedule or warning us patrons of delays prior to stepping foot into the torturesly hot basements we call subways. London, Paris and Barcelona all do it right...why don't we? I miss driving.

2. Walking through Grand Central in the mornings reminds me of the video game Frogger. Except, instead of playing dodgeball with cars on a highway, you're playing dodge the 350 lb linebacker of a CEO, unkempt-haired secretary with knit stocks and white tennis shoes and avoiding the whords (hords?) of tourists dragging their suitcase-on-wheels at an obnoxiously slow pace-- in hopes of arriving to work a semi-reasonable time or just stealthly enough to come-in late unnoticed (welcome to corporate America). So, here's what I've been thinking. I wonder how many of pictures I've been in since I've moved here. I mean 4 out of 5 of my days walking up the stairs of Grand Central I get an-all-to-fantastic welcoming by a flashing camera. There's no doubt I my giant forehead made it into grandma's picture...C'Mon! I mean...seriously people take pictures of the buildings, the streets, the terminal and I'm curious to know in how many of peoples' memories I've somehow managed to be in. It's kind of humorous to think about actually because I could be 'that guy' in one of the photos who is awkwardly glaring at the camera, or in mid-blink looking like a knocked-out, pill poppin' 15-year-old in business attire. Funny.

3. Turns out my new apartment had (has) a mouse. I discovered it the 2nd day I moved in about 2 weeks ago as I stood in front of my closet and something darted along my floor board and dashed into my closet only to disappear behind a box and down a tiny dime-sized hole in the corner of my closet. I was so startled by the tiny thing I wasn't sure whether to jump, step on it, scream, laugh, cry, choke on my salive, move out, throw up or die that the only thing that came out of my mouth was the sound I'd imagine a guerilla making if it were cholking and its mouth was duct tape shut.... uuhhhh...eeee.....uugggh (that's hard to spell). I was so shocked and it happened so fast that I stood in silence for a bit before having a minor panic attack at the thought of having to deal with a f*cking mouse. SHIT! Really, this was one of those incidents that I would have rather had out-of-sight, out-of-mind because had I never seen it, I wouldn't know what the little hole was for in my closet and I wouldn't be tip toeing around my kitchen, peeking through the door before entering the apartment and practically sleeping with one eye open at night fearful of it crawling on me at night. Instead, I did research online about the little rodents and became even more anxious at the thought of my little friend living with me (and possible 100s of his friends because they breed by the 100s). I found out steel wool (had no idea what that was before now) can divert the little buggers temporarily by causing them to chew on it, scratch their little mouths and through Pavlov's classical conditioning never to return to their entry point again. I was lucky in the sense that I saw where he was coming in and out of because if I hadn't the steel wool wouldn't have done the trick. I'm happy to report I have not seen my ratatoulie (its not a rat) so I'm calling him Stuart in weeks. Chances are he's already working on his next point of entry somewhere in my closet or making his appearances while I'm out of the apartment, which is fine with me as long as I don't see him again. Oh yea and the landlord said he'd conduct a massive genocide of the things at the end of the month (not exactly his words, but I'd rather not have to deal with them again). Ah the many wonderful things of living in New York-- rodents. Gross.

This concludes my random thought post for the day as I have severely delayed all my morning duties. Good talk.

breaking New York

2007-09-13T12:31:00.000-04:00

There's not doubt that New York has a magnitizum to it. That there is this gravitational pull forcing hundreds if not thousands of people here every day-- be it to live or vacation. It's the buzz. The hype. The glitz. The glamour. The prospect of success. The hope of starting over. The American Dream. The melting pot of the U.S. The culture. The fashion. The entertainment. The struggle. The challenge. The idea is all consuming. It's all encompassing...it's an identity of itself. It takes on its own character. It's own personality. It lives and breathes through its hustle, the commotion and the players within it.

They say it takes 7 years to consider yourself a "New Yorker." But what does that really mean? That by year 7 you're so tainted by the mysticism the city provides? That by year 7 you're so far beyond the ever changing expansion of the city? That by year 7 you've become so cold and accustom to the concrete, urban jungle? Is it in 7 years that you develop a "New York state-of-mind?" Are your first 6 years practice? A scrimmage for the rough-n-tough lifestyle of a "real" New Yorker? I don't know, but without question there is a sense of pride that comes with those 7 years. Perhaps its paying your dues because so many have walked through the city, left their mark or perhaps failed and were spit back out into the world. New York is not for everyone-- not so much that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. I've come to learn that it does take a certain "type" of person as diverse and cultural as this city is...there's some underlying thread linking people on this island (and its neighboring boroughs).

I've been prompted for this post by the thought that New Yorkers are jerks, cold-hearted, rude, selfish, pretentious souls. They're bitter, aggitated, rushed and frantic about life, work and the pursuit of happiness. I mean....really? Here's my perspective on that whole stigma. Yes, you encounter hostility, perhaps unwarranted disrespect and selfishness, BUT (there's always a but) I truly feel that it is a mechanism of adaptation. That's not to say that everyone in New York is out to ruin the party or is full of themselves (though it may seem). My observation is that in a city that draws so many people, from so many corners of the world, in a tiny mass of land whereby the disparity between the rich and poor is present no matter which block you walk down... if you don't suck it up, step up or speak up... you're more than likely becoming someone's doormat. You'll either pay for something you didn't want, pay more than you should be, be undermined, undervalued, unappreciated, misunderstood, trampled, chewed up (or out) and you'll be pissed, frustrated and aggitated. So what's left to do? Develop a hard outer exterior-- a "New Yorker" attitude. Fuggetaboudit! Don't sweat the small, protect your intergrity, character, dignity and self and pray you dont' lose sight of the person you once were when you first arrived on the island. It's Darwin's survival of the fittest. I'm not saying anything new here.

I've come to learn that its not joke trying to make it in New York. It's daunting. It's tiring. It's tough. You have to be tough. You have to be willing to accept things you may have never though twice about. You have to be comfortable in your solidarity, confident in your actions and have a stance on issues, but (there it is again) this is not to say that you should remain closed minded or (the horror) unwilling to let yourself change, evolve, transform, develop, grow, learn and live. You'll miss out on a lot....duh!

Perhaps one of my favorite moments in the city occurred this past Monday night when I was meeting MS and KM for dinner in Chinatown. The restaurant was Wo Hop deep in the heart of Chinatown off of Canal St. at the very end of Mott St. It was late and the street were sparce. The garbage was piled up on the curb for collection, the cages on store fronts were down and people were scattered about....but it wasn't that late. As I walked down the narrow street it was lined with the usual garb of apartments stacked upon small restaurants, bubble tea shops, bakeries etc. It felt like (you guessed it) like Europe. As I walked to the restaurant, the street glowed from the neon store signs shining there chinese scripts. It was as you'd picture it in a movie...capturing the heart of New York's Chinatown. To the newcomer, you'd feel hesitant walking down the solemn street alone. You'd fudge your nose up in disgust at the odor, be weary of the man standing smoking a cigarette and think twice about eating anywhere in the neighborhood. I loved it and what made me love it even more is that as I walked down Mott and passed people...I heard not a lick of English. I heard simply a foreign language I could unknowingly characterize as Chinese, but could easily be Mandarin, Japanese etc. etc. etc. It was fantastic. It made me happy to know that even in America you can still find cultured people and that people like me can see just a snippet of that walking down a street.

I don't think you come to New York to find yourself. I think when you get to New York you're merely here to evolve upon the person you already are-- because if its naivety that's pulling you in, then its naivety that'll spit you back out-- at least that's how I see it.

I work out with John Mayer

2007-09-10T12:19:00.000-04:00

caught your attention didn't it? Well, let me explain that in the 4 months (yesterday officially) I have not spotted one "A-list" celebrity since being here aside from the scattered reality television rejects that include America's Next Top Model and lesser known shows that don't even come to mind right now. So--this weekend's "adventure" was something noteworthy despite the fact that I'm not a particularly HUGE fan of John, but seeing as how he's been in the news with his on-again, off-again relationships....it seems like something to blog about.

I'm not one to get star struck, which when I explain the way things unraveled you'll see that it makes me more uncomfortable too admit that I know who a celebrity is, than it is for them to get recognized. Plus who wants to be bothered? Especially when at the gym?

I was working out on the eliptical putting in my 10 mins. of cardio to get the ole ticker working a bit and a tall (bit lanky) guy with unkempt hair and arm tattoos hops on the machine next to me. I wouldn't have normally thought anything of it, but this fellow also happen to be ferociously texting on his blackberry while pedaling away on the ellipitical. A talent I couldn't master-- not to mention a blatant disregard for the gym's strict no cellphone policy while on the gym floor.

It was at the New York Sports Club in SoHo about noon and with his texting back and forth with who knows who (maybe Jessica Simpson? Cameron Diaz? I dunno). He seemed familiar. I knew I had recognized him from somewhere (he's currently on a Gap campaign with his face plastered on billboards and public busses). But that's not where I knew him from. Obviously, I came to figure out it was John Mayer. At first it was exciting-- to be working out next to a pseudo-celebrity? Musician? Then I realized he's just another dude doing his routine and I was not going to blow up his spot with a "Aren't you John Mayer?" question. Really? What would that have accomplished? He probably would have just looked at me and said "Yea" and I would have looked like the cool kid who asked the stupid question. I didn't bother and I preferred to save my integrity and just casually continue my work out.

To confirm it was him, I hopped off the machine (when I was done of course) walked around and just double checked to make sure. It was. What surprised me was that during all his appearances, he has woman swarming him, coveting his very being, reaching out in desparation for a chance to touch the guy-- yet all the had to do was work out at NYSC in Soho and they could chill with him. I was curious as to how he was going to escape from the gym following the work considering the gym resides on the busiest (and perhaps most well-known streets) of New York-- Broadway.

I continued my routine-- still in a bit of surprise that no one else realize or perhaps cared that he was there considering there were a couple of younger females working out at the time as well. I guess it's that New York state-of-mind that nothing phases New Yorkers and everyone seems to wrapped up in themselves. Speaking of which, he kept checking himself out in the mirror that lined the machines...I dunno it was weird.

After wrappin' up my workout I headed to the locker room and where he was packin' up. Just to confirm his status symbol he slipped on his dark aviators and casually strolled out of the locker room. I suppose it's a good story to tell, but nothing of magnitude or true awesomeness occurred. I guess it could be considered lame and it makes me laugh thinking about it. Now had someone of a true calibre been in his shoes--- there's a story!

I'm such a pop culture junkie though-- it's fun to recount. haha. But no I didn't talk to him and no I didn't blow up his spot. It just isn't me and it wasn't the right circumstances.

3rd Times A Charm

2007-09-05T13:46:00.000-04:00

That's what I've been told. Actually, I've never been told that, but more like overhead it being used. What does it apply to? And what was its original context? Was it the 3rd time somebody got hitched? The 3rd time caveman attempted to get fire going? The 3rd time Dru moves in 3 months, while living in New York? I'm going with the latter.

In a little under 4 months (September 8th will be 4), I've managed to move apartments 3 times. Yes, I moved yet again on a whim this past weekend. Now before I go any further let me start out by saying that I came home from my last summer Friday to my neighbors that live below me on the 3rd floor moving out of their apartment. I'd been in the space before and really liked the layout of the apartment. It was more evenly distributed between the two rooms, the kitchen and bathroom were bigger and it felt more like an apartment.

Upon discovering their departure, I jumped on the opportunity to switch apartments. That would be moving from the 4th floor of this building to the 3rd floor. I simply needed to get my roommate on board and the landlord's approval. I wasted no time to make my interest in the space apparent and spoke to my landlord immediately. He was Ok with it. Now it was up to my roommate LH to be Ok with the move. For her, the deal would mean more effort than for me. She'd already had the bigger room in our current apartment, she had all the furniture and was comfortable in the arrangement. Me on the other hand, had the smaller rooms living in what felt like a glorified shoe box that just barely fit a twin size mattress and a night stand.

The living quarters were tight and my rent was going up $25 anyways. For a few bucks more each month I could move downstairs and have a MUCH larger room, 3 awesome windows overlooking a blossoming tree and the capability of purchasing a full/queen size bed somewhere down the line. How could I not?

Needless to say, the final arrangements-- after a bit of a debate with the roommate and a stipulation the landlord failed to mention when I first brought up switching was resolved-- we started hauling all our stuff one flight of stairs. By 10 p.m. I was exhausted and drained. I don't recommend wearing flip flops when lugging things up and down a flight of stairs. It can really work a number on your feet (especially if you're flat footed).

I've spend the past two nights in the new apartment and I'm so excited about the space. It's nice to be able to move around and have the option of getting furniture (which I'm still attempting to save for). There is one downside to the room--- it's painted teal from floor to ceiling. Not - I'm OK with this color teal -- it's more like this is nauseating teal. Florida Marlin's teal. Some may call it seafoam green or aqua, but I call it temporary lapse of psychosis by the previous tenant. Why?! Why?! would someone want to paint an entire room that hideous shade of blue/green? It escapes me.

All-in-all, I'm happy and settled in the new place. I'm officially signing the lease this week-- making my transition permanent for a year and I'm calling it home. Now, it's just a matter of sprucing it up for when the family arrives in December for the holiday. This will be my first apartment that I sign for on my own! That's a major accomplishment. No guarantor, no help from the parentals-- just me and my money. Whoat?! (my made up word to mean Whoa! and What?! simultaneously. It's a big deal and it's frickin' sweet to say.

Just be advised that if visiting New York and you need a place to say...I'm gonna have to say that I gotta really like you. Considering the unraveling of recent events where I had someone invariably crashing at my place turned out to be a sour experience-- prompting me to once again reevaluate my generosity with people and become more exclusive about who I want to extend a hand to. Some people, despite how much or how nice you think you're being, take advantage or grow resentful. However, I have not been completely tainted by the experience because while particularly unpleasant-- I haven't lost much from it and have gained back my space. Sometimes you need a wake-up call to realize you may be, becoming someone's doormat. Not me. Not here. I didn't move to New York to fall into the SAME EXACT social scene and context I found myself in while in Gainesville. New beginnings, new experiences-- that's what this blog and my adult life is about 'nough said.

Feist-y

2007-08-30T14:45:00.000-04:00

There's so much going on this week that I've managed to somehow neglect my weekly blog entry. I've been dying to get on here and "free my mind" of the crap that has managed to clout my normalcy. Work is starting to really feel like work and I've managed to be consistently busy these last few days with a ton of my clients. The days go by faster and my stress level seems to get the best of me, but I've never really been one to succumb to that kind of pressure. I always somehow manage to power through it. Not today--- today has been an experience all on its own. To put it in perspective, it's sort of like when you're feeling great and having a great day and someone says something so minute and miniscule that borders offensive-- but packs so much punch and hits you right below the belt-- that it literally cripples you by eating away at your thoughts. It's amazing how you can't manage to take the compliments you receive for what their worth, but really place a lot of emphasis on the insults (or critiques).

Arriving to work I knew that I'd have to submit a press release for a client. It has been in the works for about 2 weeks now and it was a particularly sensitive subject for the company. Due to my confidentiality clause I can't specify more on it, but after going through the routine of getting it ready for dissemmination-- a particular foreign exchange releases the release an hour before the client wanted to announce it. Keep in mind-- the announcement had a lot riding on it. Well, this does not play well with the client who upon seeing stories appear in the news, immediately phones my boss, who in turns questions my actions and the entire mess pushes me inches from an anxiety attack-- no kidding. More than anyone else I am hard on myself when I make a mistake, especially when my job could potentially be on the line or I could cost a corporation millions of dollars, or have my employer lose a client because of my stupidity. Granted the fact that this guy at the foreign stock exchange was the one to leak the announcement before he had authority too--- the client doesn't know that. I was merely following procedure that's endured longer than anyone can remember, but of course I look like th asshole who f-ed it up for the company. It's strike two for me with this particular client because I'd previously released a press release with the tracked changes from Word still on it to the distribution list and upper management. DUH! I don't know what's wrong with me-- I'm usually more meticulous than that and I pride myself on my ability to pay attention to detail. I'm easily overwhelmed by the work though and obviously something has to improve or I'm packin' up and shippin' out. Let's just hope I'm jumping to conclusions and being completely irrational.... at least for my sanity.

In other news: I attended the Feist concert last night with DB and DP at the McCarren Pool in Brooklyn. Let me just start off by saying that thanks to my unwillingness to carry a camera around with me to capture my adventures and thanks to my willingness to maintain a blog-- I've learned to absorb more of the things I experience, so as to accurately recap them in this "electronic diary."

A woman who can rock out on an as-yet-un-named guitar in front of a sea of people standing in what use to be a massive (and I mean massive) pool that is now drained and turned into a pseudo-concert hall for the world of hipsters to enjoy------ is awesome. Standing on the 7 ft. tall (my best estimate) stage with a mic stand and underneath the string of red, green and blue lights, her voice sounds better than any recorded material. Almost instantly-- you become enveloped in her sultry-folk voice as the rythmic beating on the guitar leaves you no choice but to move in unison. Your mesmerized, completely infatuated and have fallen under the spell that is Feist-- as you stare up in complete awe of a human being capable of sounding so serene and evoking so much of herself in her songs. For a second you almost wonder if her CD could sound better-- but you quickly realize that you're in the presence of a real performer capable of doing what only distinguished performs of the past were capable of doing before electronic synthesizing and massive paychecks forever changed the face of concerts because greedy artists preferred the spectacle of a concert over a gritty, unplugged performance. So many have fallen victim to the comfort of a back-track that'll loop the chorus or worse keep them from ever stressing their vocal chords. The only looping you'll find from Feist comes from the looping machine she uses while her bandmates sit out a song or two. The only thing that could have made her performance more raw was if we were sitting in an intimate recording studio, packed on top of pillows and her simply interjecting spurts of songs, while engaged in friendly conversation--- naked.

During her one song appropriately entitled "The Park"-- I became aware of where I was, who I was with and what I was doing. It sounds peculiar, yes, but how many times have you ever felt aware of where you are? I mean really aware of your surroundings. There's no doubt that we often walk like mummies through experiences without fully grasping onto what we've just witnessed or been through. In my experience, those lost moments are the ones that for obvious reasons become mere blurs and even when a friend says to you "remember that one time..." you can't for the life of you remember what they're talking about. Frustrating.

If it weren't evident as it stands...I had the most incredible of times at the concert. Certainly ranks on my top 10 experiences in New York thus far-- where among this list I just made up when writing that sentence it stands....I don't know. I have to see what else I can list on my top 10 best experiences in New York.

Beantown

2007-08-21T14:03:00.000-04:00

It feels like I haven't had a chance to write in the blog for a while now. It's been kind of hectic at work and I was explaining to DB earlier today how I think I've finally begun to cross this line where I'm actually delving more and more into my career. I'm beginning to understand my clients industries saving me on the frustration that comes with the confusing industry talk, I'm becoming more active and proactive with my job looking for projects to help with and dealing more on a one-on-one basis with my clients. It's actually pretty cool to have my responsibility gradually increase with time. I've even asked for a 3 month review because I'm really trying to focus on the direction I want to take over the next year. I imagine it shows a great deal of initative and drive-- plus I've always appreciated constructive criticism from people, so knowing how my supervisors perceive me will obviously help to work on my weaknesses and continue building my strengths. It's made me really happy to come to work and feel useful. It could also have something to do with the fact that I'm finally gaining some ground on the monetary side. I've been able to start saving or at least accumulating some money from my paychecks without having to worry about what I can and cannot afford. Everyone did say that it would take some time to adjust, but I had no idea it would take nearly 3 months.

On to more entertaining stuff-- I took a leap of faith, a spontaneous act of youthfulness this past weekend and decided last minute (after much internal debate) to visit yet another one of my London friends who lives in Boston-- RG. She has been living there for 2 months and is in the same boat as me as far as finances, starting a new job, renting an apartment, getting to know the city and new people etc. So, when she offered and invited me to come visit Boston-- I knew I'd be a fool not to check out the city having never been there.

One of the nice things about living up North is the mass transit available to you for an economical price. I booked a ticket on a greyhound bus for 30 bucks from New York directly to Boston-- a 4.5 hour trip. It just so happened I had an early summer friday, so I ran home, packed a bag and headed to the bus terminal without mentioning it to any of my friends or family until I had arrived in Boston. I felt like a backpacker again-- and it was a fantastic escape from the city. It was my first trip away from "home" since I'd been here and it made coming back home to Manhattan all the better. I realized how much I've grown accustom to New York and the lifestyle that I really appreciated it. That's not to say that Boston wasn't incredible.

I arrived around 9:45 p.m. to be greeted by CM, RG and a new friend BR. They had already begun their night at the bar, and I was eager to catch up. We started out be visiting what was described to me as the "Fifth Ave." of Boston--- Newbury. It was a more upscale part of town decorated in brownstown style buildings sporting high-end fashion names, expensive restaurants and fancy boutiques. We sat down and ate a Spanish tapas restaurant named Tapeo that served a descent version of a Spanish Sangria (nothing compares to the one I had in Barcelona though). We order a ton of tapas to share and knocked back two $21 jugs of Sangria.... this was clearly the beginning of a good night.

We headed out to the main bar area and checked out City Bar- a swanky bar inside an even swankier hotel. The crowd was unique in that there was a mix of middle-aged and young professionals in the dimly lit bar accented with neon lights behind the bar, club chairs and rich wooden furniture. It's never me scene to wait in line for a night out or stay too long where you can hardly hear yourself think...so we opted to head next door to a more low key bar named Sola. This was more my style in that it reminded me of a pub in England with its subtle yellow tint, wooden high tops and countless drafts on tap. In true celebration we began buying rounds, taking shots and enjoying eachother's conversation. It was really refreshing to be amongst friends that are capable of just relaxing, holding a conversation and making the best of the atmosphere without complaining, negativity or a puss on their face. My new friend BR was also a really great addition to our already tight clique of Londoners (CM, RG and I). There was no hesitation in her chummy demeanor nor did she ever make herself be the odd woman out-- on the contrary it was as though we had known her for years. Very sweet girl with a killer personality and incredibly witty sense of humor who also happens to look like Tina Fey.

Boston reminded me of a big city in a small town. There are something close to 50 universities and colleges within a 20 mile radius of the city, so during the fall semester the city swarms with college students. I can't decide if that would be fun or a huge disappointment. The clubs and bars close at 2 a.m. (with last call around 1:30 in true Gainesville tradition) and the subway shuts down at 12:30 a.m. with the streets completely desolate leaving you only to walk home or grab a taxi. After deciding to take a shot of jager with the faintest splash of red bull just before the bar closed and we somehow convinced half the patrons that remain to join us in our inebriated version of Journey's- Don't Stop Believein' we were welcomed by the rain. Now, whether it was the alcohol or the good vibe we had going the four of us (2 guys and 2 girls) decided to walk through the rain. Let me say that again...sprint through the rain down the streets of Boston. It's one of those moments you look back and realize how much fun it really was...almost liberating and not something that is or should be done every weekend. Plus hurdling over bags of trash on the sidewalks wouldn't be fun had we been running through the streets of New York. Boston is so much cleaner and sprawled out-- its beautiful. I had said that I could see myself living there when I got older if I wanted the feel of a big city but without the chaos and filth. All this and I had been in the city for only a couple of hours!

The remainder of the weekend consisted of a lot of leisurely walking with absolutely no destination in mind. I was the only one who had never seen the city, so we just walked in no particular direction stopping to play frisbee golf in the Boston Commons gardens, meeting more UF Alum that CM new, which I happen to have mutual friends with and even throwing back to my good old days of London by eating lunch at Wagamamas--- SO GOOD!

We dined in the North End saturday evening-- even meeting up with a UF acquaintence from Freshman year only proving again how small the world really is when you have attended the University of Florida. I couldn't tell you anything about the restuarant we ate at except that the streets that neighbored it reminded me of the tiny cobblestone streets of Europe and the house wine with gnocci (sp) was delictable.

All-in-all my trip to Boston was amazing and I am not the least bit worried about not having seen Fenway or visited a neighboring bar because I know that I'll be back to visit my friend RG. She's already agreed to it. Like I said... taking a holiday away from Manhattan because I can was perfect and I would have never imagined missing New York so much.

By the way...it's freezing and raining outside right now in New York...could it be fall and will I finally get to see snow? One can only hope, but it is only August-- which is insane considering I'd be drenched in sweat if I were still in Florida.

Cheers.

3 Months Into It

2007-08-14T14:14:00.001-04:00

Today I celebrate my 3 months working at my first job. I've managed to learn a great deal about my industry, clients and myself surprisingly. I would have never imagined enjoying working as much as I do and I'm slowly shaking off the college mentality one day at a time. What I mean is that I'm starting to realize that this place I come in every day at 8:30 a.m. and work for 8 hours at--- is my job. It's my career. It's now the most prevalent part of my life. I'm reminded of that quote: "Live to Work, Don't Work to Live." It has become increasingly more important to me over these last 3 months to learn as much as I can about the direction I want to maneuver my career-- perfecting the craft that is investor relations. I've found that my priorities have shifted dramatically in every facet of my life too. I guess they sort of have to when you have rent to worry about, bills to pay, taxes to file, a 401K to manage and credit score to maintain. Life has become less about constantly satisfying the minimalist of whims that urge a sporadic Tuesday night outting, spending binge or dinner soiree-- rather it's about finding that balance between those things of high importance and maintaining one's life in order. It's been about tapping into interests that are often subsided for unbeknownst reasons and allowing yourself to fall into new interests that time now permits you to explore. It's surprising how you realize how much the things you once enjoyed were left out of your life when you graduate from college and you seem to have a lot of spare time to "kill." I would have always thought that college would be the appropriate avenue to explore those things, but for some reason it always seemed like there was never enough time for it in college. Maybe it was just me.

I like the responsibility and routine that has come with "growing up." It hasn't been monotonous because there are days that broken up by gatherings with friends or free events in the city. For instance, last night myself, CM, CD, Nicori and Beatrice all went to Bryant Park to watch Casablanca on this giant screen they set up in the park. We sat and sipped on some wine, while watching the classic movie amidst the back drop of midtown Manhattan. It was cool to be sitting there experiencing that...it was certainly one of those New York experiences that I could see myself reading about in a magazine and wishing I'd lived in New York to do. You know how you sometimes say that about things or places? "If I lived there...or if I had this...I would do this." Like before I got a car I said that I would wash it every week no matter what. I got car and probably washed it once every 2 months depending on how dirty it looked.

And up until now its seemed like I've been living paycheck-to-paycheck with little to no money to spare before the next paycheck was deposited, but in reality I've had my fair share of entertainment and luxury these past 3 months. I have, however, begun establishing myself and thought that about how it's taken 3 months to finally get my feet grounded. In all fairness though, it really hasn't been like I haven't had my "feed grounded" it's more that I've been keen on inhaling (there's no better adjective to describe it)--- on inhaling what this city has to offer as if it were to escape me or I was going to be shaken from a dream.

The 3 months have zooooomed by and it's incredible how fast time goes when you find yourself buzzing around the city. I'm finally eligble for my company's health insurance plan and in two weeks I'm about to sign my first lease for my first apartment in the city. Making my residence here official-- or at least until I opt for getting a New York driver's license.

Through it all, I've managed to do this massive transition on my own accord. It's been an immense learning experience and had someone told me that this is what I would be doing after graduating college...I'd find it pretty hard to believe or think it possible to somehow survive. That's the thing about our preceptions....it seems like we often project the possibility of things to come as being one way based solely on our experience with an entirely unrelated event-- leading us to assume that we know what to expect, when in reality our expectations never correlate with the reality of the situation -- be it good or bad.

To the friends I've managed to stay in touch with these past 3 months. You've proven me wrong on so many accounts that it feels fantastic to know that the time vested in those friendships over the years have not been for nothing. I've managed to speak to the majority of you, if not all of you, on many occassions often being the one to receive the call rather than being the one to place the call. I've also been in great company these last 3 months having a few of you come crash at my place.

I've been through a lot of good these last 3 months and that's pretty damn refreshing to say. Cheers.

Rain, Trains & Buses

2007-08-09T15:47:00.000-04:00

Living in a big city the immense convenience of having mass public transportation outlets (i.e. Trains, Subways and Busses) is that you no longer have to drive to every destination. You're free to let someone else worry about maneuvering through the grid lock of Midtown traffic or simply bypass it all via an underground subway. Living in a big city the immense inconvenience of having mass public transportation outlets (i.e. Subways, Busses and Taxi's) is that if the weather strikes you're left with a three hour commute to work and a city up-in-arms trying to figure out how to get onto Manhattan. Such was the case yesterday-- which was coincidentally my three month anniversary of living in Manhattan.

Here's the back story: At about 6 A.M. thunder and lightening were clashing outside my bedroom window. The rain was violently batting against the fire escape and I thought it almost calming that I could get another hour of sleep amidst the heavy rain. I was secretly hoping it would continue raining, so that I could leisurely stroll into work. It's often treacherous walking in the rain to the subway and from the subway to the office. I'm talking-- hiking up your pant legs -- Olympic style leaping over puddles and dodging splashes from passing taxi's. It's the obstacle course of the urban jungle.

As the lightning and thunder became increasingly violent, little did I know a tornado was touching ground in lower Brooklyn. It will later be reported that trees and cars were damaged in Bayridge, Brooklyn by the turbulent weather.

I wake up assuming its just a regular day. Getting ready for work and strolling to the subway stop just two blocks away from my apartment. The attendant tells me 'Q' train isn't running and neither is the 'B' because of the rain. So, I have to take the bus to the Atlantic/Pacific terminal down the road about 2.5 miles or so. At this point it's 7:45 A.M. and everyone is trying to get to work with no means of getting into Manhattan unless you walk the bridges, bike the bridges or take a car over the bridges.

The line to get on a bus was ridiculous. Everyone and their grandmother stood waiting in no particular organized manner for a bus to pull up to the curb, which coincidentally were all packed to the very stairs with people by the time it pulled up. This only lead me to get aggressive with the my neighbors by the time the 7th or 8th bus pulled up and I realized that, that was the only way I was getting to work. By now, I've already called in late and it's 8:15 A.M. Once on the bus, I was literally breathing on one lady and somehow supporting the entire body weight of another who had no where to hold onto as the bus was in motion. My nostrils stung of my cologne, the ladies horrendous odor of fried chicken, stale cigarette smoke and some combination of listerine and morning breath. As we stood in traffic, because the bus really wasn't going anywhere due to the back up of traffic from everyone taking a taxi, driving or in a car service vehicle, the people on the street passed us by. For a brief second I contemplated walking, but found comfort in the air conditioned bus and secretly hoped people would not all be going to the Atlantic Terminal. Bits and pieces of news started flowing around the bus as the passengers frantically got on their phones to tell their friends and family just to stay at home, call into work or find out what the news was saying. By 9:30 I had arrived to the terminal with every possible subway line out-of-order. There were no trains leaving Brooklyn to Manhattan. The subway paths were obstructed by debris and flooded with water from the storm. I opted for some breakfast (I thought I might as well make the best of it because I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon) and walked to my old subway station. As luck would have it the subway began running just as I walked into the turn-stile and I hoped on the 'Q' train only to get stuck over the Manhattan Bridge for 20 mins. before moving into Manhattan.

The short of it is that I wound up with a three hour commute to work arriving somewhere around 10:30 A.M. The only thing that could have possibly made the entire "Amazing Race- Manhattan Edition" worse is if it was raining. I found it both frustrating and hysterical at the same time to see hundreds of people swarm to the streets, walking and talking on their cellphones, pulling into bagel shops for a bite, looking around lost and wondering what to do to get to work. It was like Mardi Gras minus the drunken sheraides and flashing. Apparently, this is what the blackout was like a while back.

So what did I learn from all of the chaos and mass transit hysteria that ensued yesterday? It all comes with the territory and you gotta take it all in stride. I suppose this isn't exactly the outlook of a "New Yorker," but then again this city continues to surprise me in all its many splendors. I've been here for three months and I'm growing very much accustom to the lifestyle I craved way back in 3rd Grade when I said I'd move here someday. There's a lot going on every day and there's something to be said when I've managed to survive these three months on my own. It's exciting, it's a sense of accomplishment, it's rewarding and above all else it's what I wanted.

"If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere." I don't know if I can officially say "I've made it" in New York, but I'm certainly enjoying whatever it is that it takes to "making it."

Cheers.

A White Stretch Limo with Texan Bullhorns

2007-08-06T14:46:00.000-04:00

Sometimes bizarre can be exciting. At least that's how I would describe perhaps one of the most interesting experiences I've had in a big city reminiscent of a scene from a movie conceptualized to depict the endless possibilities of entertainment nestled inbetween the East River and Hudson also known as Manhattan.

It was Saturday night and I was playing host to yet another one of my mates from my study abroad experience in London-- RM who was in town for the night in true celebratory fashion. I was in my usual stomping ground of the Lower East Side at a bar/club called Keys on 13th St. between Ave. A and 1st Ave. when RM showed up all smiles and with a pocket of money itching to be spent on booze. He had his friend Colin tag along for the festivities-- assuring him that CM and I were a trip to hang with-- prompting us to guarantee them a good night out on the town.

Apart from the usual boozing at the bar, partying with some broads from FSU and bombing shots like it was our job.... CM had come to know and grow to love a entrepreneur who owns a white stretch limo with Texan horns latched to the grill appropriately named "Big Al." Up until the mid-1990s limo pulled up on Ave. A and CM swung the door open to reveal a velvet red leather interior with zebra print shag carpetting, purple track-trimmed lighting and a psychedlic light display resting atop the back windshield-- did the adventures with "Big Al" CM ranted about seem like that out of a Snoop Dogg Up-in-Smoke Soul Plane movie. I was proven wrong when I gave into temptation and for the betterment of my friend RM having a good time out in Manhattan to hop into the limo with CM, RM and our lovely female guests.

No sooner did the door close did the limo start making its way through the blocks of the Lower East Side. The shabby and surprisingly retro-tastic limo was decked out with munchies (uhmm) and adult beverages. The limo, while timeless, was surprisingly fitted with a quality sound system navigable by the iPod resting atop the beverage bar left to the discretion of its passengers. It really felt like something out of a novel written about NYC and while incredibly cheesey (albeit partially sketchy) it was unbelieveably fun. Big Al rolled down the chauffer window to pass his guests a 6 pack of Budweiser cans (to keep with true tradition these were no Bud lights) and other paraphenilia in which the passengers had the option to partake in-- I'll leave it at that for you to make your own assumptions. He was a generous man from what I caught of the back of his head....he appeared tall, black and bald but that's merely my own conclusion considering he didn't even turn around to pass the beer back or glance at who it was partaking in the car service he provides. It seemd CM and him had worked up a nice working relationship and CM had become a regular. I rode along intently listening to whatever song selections the girls made and taking in as much of the uber swanky environment I had volunteered to be in. It could honestly only be described as pimp-a-licious. That's what it felt like....as if I should be decked out in a purple velour suit with my pimp cane in one hand and my bling-studded pimp chalice in the other. If it sounds as bizarre as I'm making it seem...it really was.

The drive lasted a good 30 minutes with no particular destination in mind--we ended up back at the bar, so that our other friends could take a ride around. By the end of it all...you kind of wonder if it's all just a supped-up taxi ride with a great story to tell come Monday. Perhaps, but I gotta tell ya -- it makes for yet another ridiculous story about what this city has to offer.

Dem' Yankees

2007-08-01T11:28:00.000-04:00

In the account that this blog is capturing the many firsts of this wonderous city...I attended my first Yankee's game last night versus the Chicago White Sox. While an entertaining game -- it was a reminder of how patient, slow and steady America's favorite past time really is. The experience was an experience none-the-less with seats in the top tier out in right field providing a nice perspective of the beloved diamond. The only thing I kept thinking about was what the stadium looked like when baseball greats (Ruth, DiMaggio -- among others) played back when baseball became "America's favorite past time." It was also a nice outting with the fellas (CM, his friend Z and AH)-- where we grabbed a quick brewski at Stan's Bar just across from Gate 6 of the stadium. In a game that boasted an impressive 8 Home Runs with 7 different hitters -- and what could have been A-Rod's 500th Home Run (he disappointed) -- I was told the Yanks hadn't hit so many in a single game since 1939 making history. It was really sumthin' (no better word to describe it) to be sitting amidst all those rowdy/belligerent/loyal Yankees fans...an experience I soaked up and realized was so much a part of history based on generations of fathers bringing their sons to games and watching legends dawn the beloved pin stripe uniform. But perhaps the most nostalgic feeling of my evening out to Yankee Stadium was its ability to transcend me back to those ridiculously awesome Gator home games. The street at 161st in the Bronx, mirrored our prized University Avenue, but crowded with herds of Yankee fans adorned in the navy blue and pinstripe jerseys. The bars lining the street opposite the stadium just below the subway tracks looming above overflowed with patrons. Squeezing into Stan's-- the only thing I could say was "Gator City anyone?" It was back to the groping sessions, awkward brushes with strangers and elbowing to get to the bar for a 16 oz draft beer. It's plastic cup politics.

Everywhere fans, which oddly seemed on or about my age maybe a few years older were there to root on their team (obviously), but what I came to realize is much like us Gator Alumni and once Gator student represent the Orange & Blue with our obsessive chanting, trash talking, color-wearing pride and National Championship Title smearing........the Yanks were New Yorker's Gators. To them it....it's the school spirit...the pride and joy of their state, borough or city. It's their investment, their past -- their best days (our college days). I realized that--that's why people were such aficianados about the sport and about the team. That's why there was so much talk about "jumping on the band wagon" and NY Yankee hats sold on nearly every street corner. It's their Gator Chomp, their Swamp, their University Avenue, their 3 National Titles (26 Championships for them). That's awesome. Granted I know little to nothing about the real history of the Yankees and never really paid baseball much attention until it counts, but I can't say that it wouldn't be fun to become a fan of a major league baseball team in my new home state. Undoubtedly-- I'll do my research into the Mets before afiliating myself to any one team without knowing all the ins and outs.

Looking back now at last night-- I feel a little spoiled. I'm surprised I was in awe of the events considering the insanity I've witnessed while at UF. It's almost like-- once you've won 3 National Titles in a row... the rest of the sporting world seems......menial. I said seems.

Summer in New York

2007-07-23T16:34:00.000-04:00

There are many things that make New York so awesome in the summer (aside from the heat waves and occassional rain showers that leave me drenched at work). For instance, this past week concluded "Restaurant Week" whereby many of the City's top restaurants offer prixe fixe menu's for $35 that include an appetizer, entree and dessert. Most of the restaurants featured are often pricey and outside my normal spending limit for luxury dining, but it's fun to actually get a taste of what they may actually be like from their prixe fix (pronounced pre-fix) menus.

They City also offers tons of free concerts (like the Spoon concert I wrote about), in addition to Central Park's Summerstage and this past weekend's Village Voice Siren Festival at Coney Island (see pictures). The weather couldn't have been more perfect for the event that is rumored to be its last because of renovation and reconstruction of the historic Coney Island. It was sun drenched Saturday with a nice breeze riding over the water as the boardwalk lay overcrowded with sandal and bathing suit clad music enthusiasts. The line up included a number of bands (i.e. The NY Dolls, The Black Lips, M.I.A., We Are Scientists, Voxtrot, The Noisettes, Cursive-- among others). Spilling over onto two stages-- I stook to the main stage as it featured more of the bands I was willing to check out. I caught The Black Lips eccentric style show with the lead singer bopping up down reminding me of a child throwing a temper tantrum in a Wal-Mart toy isle. Their music, while a bit catchy, was inaudible over their heavy guitar strumming, scratchy scream-o lyrics and hyper stage presence. I was really in it for the We Are Scientist performance that proceeded.

Running 30 minutes behind schedule (bands were suppose to go on every 30 mins. between the two stages) the band set up and immediately jumped into their stellar performance. Having had their recent release, which apparently they've been riding low since then, I wasn't all too familiar with what they brought to the stage. I was immediately impressed (and possibly revived) by their quarky bridges and head-bobbing (perhaps foot tapping) tunes. Today, I stand a bigger fan of the group. But perhaps what made the songs that much more fun was the mixture of the sunkist faces, cool breeze and occassional banking of the famous Coney Island Cyclone at Astroland that sat just next to the stage. How could you not look around and feel like summer had finally arrived-- it was like a scene out of those summer movies that make you wish you had more experiences like these. Download: "Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt," "It's a Hit," and "Selective Memory."

The weather this weekend also gave me the opportunity to spend some time with my little brother Sebastian who was in town with his mom (we share the same Dad). It was really nice to get to see him and take him around my new city. It was a little piece of home and who doesn't enjoy having family around. He's such a great kid-- very smart, well behaved and looks up to me (while he still can)-- so it was a pleasure to take him to the National History Museum to see the dinosaurs, treat him to a NYC hot dog and just hang with him. After leaving him with his mom to visit the Statute of Liberty, I had some time to kill with my day. I decided to explore the lower part of Manhattan and visit the World Trade Center since I hadn't been there since I last visited the December after it happened. Just being in the vaccinity of the area I could feel the vacancy that lingers in the air. As you approach the area-- it's evident by the gaping whole in the sky and floor that this event was much bigger than people outside of NY could possibly comprehend. It was eerie and tragic to stare into this hole that looked more like a construction site and realize that structures once stood there and lives once lost. It was hard not to get misty eyed to think about how many lives were changed that day. I can still remember where I was that day vividly (Mr. Weissman's Chemistry class) not realizing anything had happened until reports of the 2nd plane striking. There was a memorial-esque kiosk outside one of the subway entrances that features the new Freedom Tower to be erected on the site by 2010. On the kiosk there were quotes from people looking back at that day...that's where it hit me. We've lived through a part of history.

I also took advantage, while the weather was nice, to casually make my way around the city-- not particular destination in mind. It reminded me a lot of what I use to do in London-- roam the streets and see where the afternoon takes me. I had never felt so comfortable in New York before then...and the city with all its hustle, all its chaos, all its happenings, all its tourists, all its history, all its culture, all its spirit... that's when I felt like this was finally becoming my home. Despite having two months under my belt living here... I'm starting to accept the reality that my life is here now.

Good talk.

DRUnken Rant

2007-07-22T01:23:00.000-04:00

I couldn't wait to get home tonight and write this entry. I'm so furious and frustrated right now with people and myself. I'm a bit buzzed after having a few drinks with some buddies, but none-the-less this entry merits its. I'm so angry. I'm sick of being the nice guy I discovered. I'm tired of people taking advantage of the fact that I'm to cowardly to speak up about certain things. It's interesting because if you ask people to describe me they usually say that I "speak my mind" and that I "take no bullshit" but what they don't know is that there is a lot more that goes on in my head than I say. For instance, I had a friend, RK, come into the city today and I thought it would be nice to take him to Coney Island to check out the Siren Festival with a bunch of free bands. Turns out that he got bored and wanted to leave after only seeing two bands. I let that slide. Then, he wanted to head back to my apt. before dinner to drop off his iPod. I let that slide even thought it was out of the way. Then, he droped my $250 phone on the ground SCRATCHING it, which really pissed me off, but in leu of coming off as a materialistic ass I let it slide. Internally, I was furious. I take care of my things. I appreciate the things I have. I work hard to get myself nice things and I paid for my phone with my own money, so when some schmuck comes and fucks it up for me after having it for a few months and not getting a scratch on it-- of course I'm going to make him feel bad about dropping it and scratching the face of it. WHAT THE FUCK? Don't I have a right? It's my gadget... I bought it...I take care of it. Then, after going out to Momo Fuko's (great by the way) we decide to go to some bars because he wants to go out and being the nice guy that I am, I say yes. Well, we hit up some bars-- spend more money than I want to spend and then...he has the audacity to tell me that I only live in Brooklyn because I can't afford to live in Manhattan and that my neighborhood is full of "african american people and we didn't pass one white person." I got pissed. First of all-- I was kind enough to offer him a place to stay when he said he wanted to come into the city for the weekend. I was ready and willing to set up him with an air mattress bed and everything. Second, I am so tired of people who don't know jack fuck about Brooklyn criticizing it for their naive, stereotypical, racist remarks. LIVE HERE FIRST AND THEN COMMENT ON IT. Sure, I don't live in an all white neighborhood and it could be characterized as a "caribbean" neighborhood, but that's not to say that these "african americans" are not people who want and desire the same things we all want. I've learned more about culture and life than these spoiled ass, ignorant fucks I call friends will ever know because there so wrapped up in their parents giving them limitless discretionary income. It really irritates me when I open my door to a so-called friend and all they can seem to do is draw some kind of conclusion assuming that they know what they are talking about. I'm tired of it. i really am, but you know what? I'm too much of a nice guy to say anything. I care too much about what my friends will say or that I will wind up with no friends if I really say what's on my mind. Take for instance my new roommate, I don't hate her by any sense of the word. I hardly see her for that matter and things haven't been at all as bad as they could have been in my old my apartment, but she's....... a lost puppy. She lacks the maturity level, respect and consideration that a 21-year-old female should have by her age. It's another aspect I'm sick of. I take the time to ensure that I am not showering or cooking in a shit hole of a place by cleaning and scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen area. ALL she can seem to do is make it as disgusting as humanely possible by leaving her half cooked noodles on the stove top and dirty dishes in the sink before running out and not returning back to the apartment for 2 days leaving me to clean the the pots and pans if I wish to use them. That's fucking ridiculous. To add to that...she lost her apartment keys a couple of weeks ago and has been so lazy as to not get a replacement of our mail key half expecting me to get one for us. Think again. But yet again, I have remained silent because I don't want to have any confrontation. I think maybe perhaps she's having a rough day-- or she's running late and she can't wash her dishes-- or that maybe I'm jumping too quickly to the gun and I'm a little OCD, but then I think well...why the hell do I have to be subject to her nasty ass style of living when I don't subject her to anything? I mean you would hardly know that I lived in the apartment because I'm so clean. There's nothing wrong with wanting a clean place to shower and a clean place to cook. TWO OF THE MOST IMPORTANT AREAS OF THE APARTMENT THAT SHOULD REMAIN SPOTLESS. To many that don't really know me...you may think I'm neurotic, but then again you don't really know me. I'm not an unreasonable person. I'm a nice guy and that's why people around me take advantage of me. A huge part of me wants to say FUCK ALL OF YOU and never speak to some of the people I consider "friends" again. Half of you I have nothing in common with and the only reason I was friends with you was because of proximity. You were the nearest thing to me at the time and THAT'S what made us friends. The other half of you I enjoy your company. I enjoy our conversations and I can actually be my self around you. So why pretend? I'll tell you why... as I mentioned above...it's because I'm too much of a coward to say anything, but again... I'm done. I moved to New York to find myself. To learn more about who I was, start over and never fall back to this doormat of a person that I felt I have become. I huge part of me has been successful. I've managed to make some incredible friendships with people that stimulate my mind with good conversation and thought. Then there is the part of me that wants to remain friendly with those I have come to know from years in college...hoping that their visit will be something to entertain me. Well, it's become more of a burden lately than a release. To put it in the clearest of forms...don't expect anything from me if you're not really someone I value as a friend. This is a lesson i've had to cope with since I could remember. I've always seemed to have gone out on a limb for people and get nothing in return. Always disappointed. Always the ass who fell for it. Always the guy to get taken advantage of. Well-- this is my chance to say NO MORE.

While on the topic of disgust...I'm so sick of pessimistic people. People who have absolutely nothing positive to say about life or the world. WAKE THE FUCK UP PEOPLE... you only get one life. Why are you wasting it away with negative thoughts about how things don't fruition as you wanted them to be. I suppose you can say my rant above is a bit of a pessimistic outlook, but really it's a release of these tensions I've had building inside. You can learn to like me or learn to hate me, but there is no middle ground with me anymore. So, for some this all may seem harsh and come as such a surprise from "little ole Dru," but really? I'm 22. I'm an adult. Treat me like one with dignity and respect. I'm not your little brother you can step on. I'm not your cute neighbor you can be all chummy with and say anything you like because "you were just kidding around."

Don't call me skinny because it's not a compliment. I hate it and you're not doing me a favor by saying it. You don't call a fat person fat no matter what the "social norm" may tell you. Don't call me short because quite frankly it's not flattering. Don't call me Mexican because disgracing another heritage simply because they are doing jobs white people think they are too above doing isn't funny. It's disgusting. It's disrespectful and ignorant. I am Colombian. 100%. I don't pretend to be anything I am not. I've grown accustom to a lifestyle and that's all it is. Don't say I sell cocaine or that my family runs a drug ring because that's just idiotic. Again, it shows your minute sense of understanding and your ridiculously inappropriate "sense of humor." It's not original and it's fucking insulting. Don't tell me to relax when I confront you about your paradigm that can only be described as capsulated in an air tight bubble with absolutely no regard for what the world really has to offer.

I don't appreciate judgments from people who think they know me because we've had the same crowd for a few years, but never once sat down to have a really conversation. Don't call me shallow or materialistic because I'm more appreciative and I've worked for more things than many of you spoiled brats may think or even know. It's so easy to make an assumption when you don't know all the details. Don't pretend we have something in common when you know there is nothing but a mutual acquaintance.

To end this rant that has been more liberating than any of you could ever imagine... I'd like to say that for what it's worth... I thank each and every one of you who have come in and out of my life because without you I would have never learned what it is to have a TRUE friend and the stupid fucks I once possibly considered friends.

And to those of you who may be wondering who it is that I consider a TRUE friend. You don't have to question you status because you just know..... and there's nothing much more to it.

Business Tactics & Investor Relations

2007-07-18T14:06:00.000-04:00

I'm always happy to entertain friends that come into town. I suppose it is because I get the opportunity to act like a tourist-- without being a tourist. With my friend CJ in town, it's nice to be able to dabble in the activities usually reserved for those on a tight schedule to squeeze the city into their allotted holiday time. While she's been to the city many a times-- there were still a few things she had never done. For instance, she's never seen a Broadway show or musical. Now, my logic is this...whether you're a fan of theatre (Lee it's spelled t-h-e-a-t-r-e ... and it is not underlined in red, so it's recognized by spell-check) or not being in New York it is almost as customary to see a show as it is to take a picture of the Empire State Building. So, she arrived yesterday mid-afternoon and I prompted her to sign up for the lottery certain theatre's offer patrons for discounted tickets. According to the Web site, it was to begin at 5:30, but when she arrived at 5 she was notified that the lottery had already been finished. Here's where this story is blog worthy....upon my arrival at the theatre I insisted on finding out why the Web site had misinformed me. I approached the ticket counter where an older gentleman, who had previously been curt with my friend CJ, was happy to help me out. He informed that the lottery was earlier and there were no tickets available. Long story- short...I managed to get him to give me two tickets for the $21.50 each (regularly $125.00). I'm not exactly sure what I said or how it came about, but I gotta tell you I was impressed with my business swagger (or is it personably demeanor?) that got me to check out the show for a price I was more comfortable dishing out. Perhaps the best part of the deal was that we got front-row seats. No obstruction of views. I secretly laughed (internally of course) at those other attendees and their naivety to pay extravagant prices for a show. It should also go to show that there are alternatives in this city that won't leave you hungry (and with enough money to pay your subway ticket-- I'm still annoyed with this idea).

This post got me to thinking about a question I've been asked a lot and is probably the most relevant and pertinent question of how and what I'm doing in New York. What is Investor Relations? Well, I can tell you that my job consists of a few day-to-day tasks that somehow or another keep me busy. I've also begun to appreciate the sophistication and intellect my job requires-- especially when I'm meeting people my age working in Investment Banking earning $60,000 a year (unfathomable to me). So what do I do? A large part of my job consists of working on 7 accounts assigned to me on my first day. Each client is different, but generally require the same technical materials. For instance, because my clients are primarily large organizations, corporations and businesses (all public with investors and stakeholders) and in drastically different industries (spanning Pharmaceuticals, Satellites, Semi Conductor Wafers, Broadcasting, Cable and Internet Video Programming) each deals with analysts and other financial disclosings. This may include announcing quarterly earnings (releasing their revenue and expenses etc.), announcing the promotion of a CEO, CFO, COO, dealing with competitors, monitoring industry news and keeping their largest investors happy. I suppose in one word its: consulting. However, at the same time it is very much being the liasion between the corporation and it's primary stakeholders (investors) because without happy investors there is no money to keep the business going. So, this requires me to do a lot of monitoring of analyst reports and the stock market. It really has been a nice integration of public relations (my major) and business/finance (my minor). It alsohas a lot of promise for advancement and pay. Especially if I'm considering getting an MBA somewhere down the line.

Putting Your Feet on the Seat Could Cost Ya

2007-07-16T09:15:00.000-04:00

Let me paint you a picture of what this past weekend was like for me. Now, looking back I realize it's actually a lot funnier than at the time. I spent the better part of my weekend trying to cut my spending to a minimum. I've realized, looking at my bank account, that my standard of living has become a bit on the extravagant side and it's time to draw it back a bit. By that I mean I have my friend CJ coming into town tomorrow and I know she's going to want to check out all the cool places I've discovered, so I'm gonna need some extra cash.

Friday- I headed out to the East Village at what has become my favorite hang out for good drinks and good times with good people (shout out to DB and DP). As usual, we got the corner booth, sipped on some deliciously mixed drinks and found ourselves clicking our feet mid-air, karate kicking and snap windmills with our arms at 3 a.m. If you were there you know what I'm talking about. Odd-- but fun.

Saturday- My friend CM invited me to a NY Red Bulls soccer game where they were playing the New England Revolutions. While, we arrived at half time (because I tend to run late alot now) it was still a good time. Now, you'd never envision an American soccer league game to be entertaining, or intense, but it was a little of both. We sat just off to the side of one of the goals in the "Raging Bulls" section, sipped on some $8.00 beers (that hurt a bit) and watched some futbol. Perhaps the intense portion of the evening was post-game when the New England Revolution fans came chanting out of the stadium (where the Giants play) holding up their teams scarf (as they do in Europe) and singing their fight song. It got real interesting when the Red Bull fans belligerently began giving them the bird and welcoming any sign of a brawl. It reminded me of the movie Green Street Hooligans about the Manchester United fans over in the UK. The two crowds started to clash a bit-- with a few nudges, spitting and tossling of one another-- but nothing of catastrophic consequences ensued. It was just funny to see these people actually come close to fighting over a soccer game...American soccer. Yet, at the same time the spirit and pride for their teams made me miss game day at UF...walking into the Swamp (or O'Connell Center), chanting "Gator Bait," doing the Chomp and looking down on our opponent as if they were inferior to the wrath of the Gators (turns out with 3 National Championships they were). We headed back into the city where we ate-- get this-- WHITE CASTLE. No, we were not under the influence of any substance other than alcohol, but I did manage to eat half a dozen little cheeseburgers that were actually much more delicious than I anticipated. We brought back to CM's place and I had another first--playing Nintendo Wii. It's nice to know that the gaming industry is making a conscious (or unconscious?) effort to get the fat kids off the couch and moving by making the game console active. You actually have to put forth effort in some of those games....I was surprised.

So here's where it really gets interesting...since I've made you wait so long into this entry. It's 2 a.m. and I decide to head home from CM's apartment. I hope on the 'Q' train and knowing that I had a bit of a ride ahead of me I decide to get comfortable, so I kick up my feet on the seat in front of me, rest my head on the window and doze off. Now, sleeping on the train is faux sleeping because you're sleeping, but you're also aware of where you are, who's around you and when the train stops (if you're lucky). I'd been on the train for about 20 mins. when we pull up to the Atlantic-Pacific platform. I wake up to check out how many more stops left till mine (I count 2) and check my watch (2:35 a.m.). With my feet still rested on the seat in front of me I think nothing of it....until a cop walks up to the door (as it is about to close) and fingers to me to get off the train, while saying "Please step of the train." Perplexed...a bit buzzed...and grawgy from my abrupt brush with the law...I oblige. The rest of the conversation was as follows:

(Int: A well-lit subway platform 2:36 a.m. a crowd of 6 police officers occupy the area)

Cop #1:

Do you know why I asked you to get off the train?

Dru:

Cop #2:

Did you fall asleep?

Dru:

(frustrated)

Yeah.

Cop #1:

Do you have an ID with you?

Dru:

Yeah. (Reaching for the ID) What's this about?

Cop #1:

I pulled you off the train for having your feet on the seat.

And if I didn't...I wouldn't be doing my job.

Dru:

I wasn't aware you couldn't put your feet on the seat.

Cop #1:

(non-chalantly)

Oh yeah. You haven't seen the signs? They're posted everywhere

(pointing behind him half-assed as if it were just a known fact)

Dru:

No. I had no idea.

Cop #1:

(Looking at the ID)

You're from Florida?

Dru:

(playing the stupid visitor)

Yeah. I just moved here two weeks ago. (Frustrated) I had no idea you couldn't put your feet on the seats.

Cop #1:

(Ignoring Dru's remark)

Do you have a Brooklyn address?

Dru:

(still graugy)

Yeah.

Cop #1:

Ok. I'm going to run your name through dispatch. Is there anything on

your record that I should know about? (presuming there should be)

Dru:

Uh...no

Cop #1:

Are you sure? Because if there is and you're lying to me.

Dru:

(half mocking- half thinking you're a fucking schmuck)

No.

(He phones in my name using the military alphabet for every letter. Standing around Dru notices a group of 4 guys around his age also being questioned by a group of cops. The cop, who happens to be shorter than Dru (which is saying a lot) continues to fill out a yellow slip of which Dru thinks nothing about. Just then a big black woman approaches the cops and Dru.)

Cop #1 & Cop #2

(In Sync)

Hey Searg!

* They actually said that. Like in those cop shows. It made me laugh

Radio:

Come in...his records clean. Proceed with (inaudible)

Cop #1:

(Filling out paper work)

Dru:

Out of curiousity how much is it normally? (assuming he was getting let off with a warning)

Cop #1:

(without looking up)

$50

Dru:

(shocked) $50 for putting your feet on the seat?

Cop #1:
Yeap. (Handing Dru a yellow sheet)

Dru:

Wait. I thought you were giving me a warning.

Cop #1:

I never said that.

Dru:

But...I had no idea.

Cop #1:

You have until the 14th to pay it...otherwise it becomes a misdemeanor. Have

a nice night.

Dru:

This is ridiculous.

- End -

Now not only is the fact that I have to pay $50 to the city of New York because of some douche bag cop who gets his fix by serving up these ridiculous citations, but I just couldn't believe that with all the things occurring in the world right now and talk about how NY is on high alert because of possible terrorists and protecting Times Square of an attack-- this is how NYPD spends their time and my tax money? REALLY?? Give me a break. So, after I was completely dumbfounded by the entire incident I sat around for 30 mins. until the next train came and looked at the slip as the other spectators assumed I was some kind of delinquent. The slip read "caught him with his feet on the seat on 'Q' train" and had "Obstructing Seating" checked off next to "$50." To make sure the situation was rubbed in nicely, on the train ride (2 stops) home. A guy sitting across from me was sitting exactly the same way I was "caught" sitting and fined for. It was like the world was mocking me before my very eyes. Where was the cop then?

All I could think about is how those $50 were better spent on some alcohol or a nice dinner. And if I was to get my first citation (EVER!) I'd much rather it have been for something bad ass like skipping a turn style or peeing on the subway. Lesson learned-- fight temptation and keep your feet off the seats and learn to laugh about it because that's all you can really do.

Rain no match for Spoon

2007-07-12T16:14:00.000-04:00

A few months back (two to be exact) I wrote about my fellow New York friends warning about the "alleged heat of New York summers." I'm here to attest that the 22 years I spent in Florida CAN NEVER prepare one for the intense heat waves that New York experiences. The past week was struck by one of those unbearable-ly hot heat waves that feel as though you are just sitting in a vampant sauna that radiates on-going heat, suffocating your lungs and causing parts of your body to sweat-- as you uncomfortably attempt to uncling your sweat-drenched clothes from your body only to find yourself navigating from one intensely hot area to the next in hopes of a gust of wind to perhaps provide a milli-second of cool and remind you that life will be OK even if it feels like you're going to pass out from heat exhaustian. Add to that the fact that you are dressed in work clothes and you got yourself a beautiful summer day in New York. I am just glad that I do not work in one of those places that requires me to wear a suit every day because that would just make it that much worse.

Yesterday, however, was a pleasant (maybe?) break from the heat, but the humidity still did not spare us. The thing about the heat in the city is that it permeates within the heart of New York trapped between the buildings with absolutely no room for a gust of oceanic breeze-- like down in Florida. I also feel as though the congestion and walking everywhere doesn't help the situation-- factor in that my apartment lacks central air and I rely on a fan for cooling. How's that for a change of lifestyle? This city takes sacrifice-- even if it means having to sleep naked with the fan on full blast to get some comfort.

So...it rained yesterday. I mean actually rained. Not this whimpy New York rain people here run frightened from every once in a while (in which case I laugh because it's merely drizzling). Not yesterday though...it was a down pour. It rained and didn't stop raining leaving a few looking like they had jumped into a pool with their button down shirts and pin striped pants. Florida rain. But...there was no stopping me from getting a chance to catch one of my favorite bands SPOON play live and for free. I took the "R" train down with Maddern to catch the show in Battery Park City put on by the River to River summer concert series. The rain was still going strong, so the concert was being postponed in hopes that it would lighten up. This caused many to bail on the show, but allowed me to a chance to get a good spot to catch them rock out in case they decided to perform. Just as it appeared as though it would never stop-- as if Mother Nature herself were a fan -- the sky cleared just long enough for Spoon to perform their entire set minus an encore. I stood just behind the front barricade close enough to the speakers blasting that I felt my entire rib cage vibrate with the bass. It was awesome. I snapped the picture below with my phone and caught some video of them playing two of my favorite songs of their last album.

Fresh off their recent release "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga" which debuted Tuesday, the band had just finished performing live for The David Letterman show. They jammed out a nice mix of old and new songs capturing the rhythm and beat that makes these guys so damn good. Without missing a beat (or stroke) the enthusiasm and fierce guitar playing performed by lead singer Britt Daniel was both impressive and down right inspiring. It was hard not to bob your head to the addictive and hypnotic beats. Amazingly, these guys have been around for 5 albums (now 6) and they still have the formula for killer hooks and catchy tunes down to a science. Perhaps the best part of it all was that while there were some youngin's there... I did not feel like a 13-year-old middle schooler watching these guys play.

Download: "Stay Don't Go" and "Back to the Life" from Kill the Moonlight

It Always Moves Faster Than You'd Expect

2007-07-08T21:09:00.000-04:00

I realized today that I was "celebrating" my two months living independently as a New Yorker and recent grad. It's all been a bit of a hectic ride-- with much more ups than I can even keep track of. It's like the beginning of a rollercoaster where you just ascend-- and I'm hoping the drop never comes. It's been interesting to see how much I've changed in just these two months. I've touched on a bit of my new characteristics in a few of my previous posts-- but I really do feel much more grown up. I've also realized that I've managed to survive off my own means these past two months with no help from my parents. It may come as no surprise to some, but the fact that I can afford to pay my own way will never sit comfortably with me. At the same time I've managed to blow nearly every paycheck I've earned these past two months with a complete disregard for an attempt at saving. I'm in the moment. I'm living for now and I'm enjoying my life as 22-year-old in New York. If not now than when? I read an interesting quote from an article I came across-- basically it said that there is no dress rehearsal for life-- this is it, so what do we spend so much time preparing for?

My friend LH just moved to the city yesterday and just speaking with him made me realize how much I've changed-- for the better of course. I think-- I know-- that I've grown more in these past two months than I ever did in college. That's not to say that I didn't mature in college, but it's a different type of maturity that comes with being independent, working and in a new city. I'm much more confident, rational, reasonable, realistic, driven, focused, oriented and happy. It's really great to be surrounded by so many people who are bright, care about things worth caring about and are genuine people fearless of how others my perceive them. You really do build your character in this city by finding your niche. I've met some incredible people who have stimulated my mind through intellectual conversation. I've expanded my horizons by delving into activities I may have otherwise never deemed interesting. I'm busy and it keeps me going. I've learned to sit more comfortably with myself...something I lost when I went to college trying to fit into this stereotype that just didn't suit me. But really what does that mean? To be comfortable sitting with myself? Honestly it's the serenity I find in sitting at home listening to some music, reading TIME magazine and cooking a quality meal that leaves me satisfied. It's also about sitting with friends and engaging in conversation fearless of voicing my perspective. It's comfort in yourself-- and not needing someone constantly around to fill the void of silence. It's a chance to relax. I suppose that's where all this self-realization (on Maslow's heirarchy of needs) comes from I suppose. It's the highest achieveable level of satisfaction (I can't believe I remember that from psychology).

Two months-- wow. It's flown by faster than I ever imagined. I've loved every minute of it, but at the same time isn't interesting how the years in your life you seem to enjoy the most whiz by you? I mean where did 18-21 go really? Those five years went a helluva lot faster than 5-10 did. I would never want time to slow down, but perhaps its up to me to make sure I absorb as much of it as possible. These entries sure help. But really two months? I feel as though I just arrived last weekend. I'm still getting settled in my apartment, accustomed to the lifestyle of lugging groceries up 4 flights of stairs, buying MetroCards every 30 days, making time for possible subway delays etc. etc. etc.

At the same time-- I am also beginning to realize the path I'd like my career to take. I'm learning that while life is steering me into one direction... my gut and instinct is telling me to go in another. By that I mean that perhaps the monetary comfort of corporate America isn't enough to keep me, but rather my appreciation and passion lies in entertainment and pop culture where perhaps the monetary rewards aren't reaped-- but my enjoyment and satisfaction is far more satisfied. It's an idea I've been toying with lately and I'm not quite ready to make any rash decisions as of yet-- but it's interesting to think about none-the-less. I would hate to look back and wish I had done things differently with my career. I really believe that now's the time to take the leaps regardless of the consequences.

Two months in New York City-- that's nuts.

Working For the Weekend

2007-07-06T16:42:00.000-04:00

It's Friday at 4:45 p.m. and I am at work counting down what seems like eternity to finally come. I woke up at 5 a.m. to a sky that looked similar to what I went to bed at, at 11:30 p.m. -- DARK. I was really psyched for the day ahead-- I was going to check out one of my favorite bands at the Today Show in Rockefeller Center. I grabbed some coffee and made my way to the studio situated on the corner of the all too familiar Plaza and to my surprise (dismay) 100s if not 1000s of people were already cramming themselves up against baracades to see Fall Out Boy play live. I caught the last few seconds of "Sugar Goin' Down Swingin" but didn't stand a chance of actually catching the guys rock out. There was tooo many people...an interesting crowd too. A mixture of what seemed like 13-year-old pop punkers and 50 something-year-old Meredith Viera fans. I can't help that I like the same music as middle schoolers!

Because of the unGodly hour that I woke up to catch the event-- or rather stand and wish I could see. I grabbed a Starbucks coffee. Of particular interest with this particular cup was

"The Way I See It # 267" quote hidden underneath the cardboard sleeve.

"Music can lift us out of depression or move us to tears-- it is a remedy, a tonic, orange juice for the ear. But for many of my neurological patients, music is even more-- it can provide access, even when no medication can, to movement, to speech, to life. For them, music is not a luxury, but a necessity."
- Oliver Sacks

Was music my remedy for sleep deprivation? Did I really sacrifice two hours of precious sleep to stand behind a baracade 50 feet away from the back of the stage only to hear them play two songs in the 2 hours that I stood there from 6:40 to 8:30 a.m. before I finally had to head in to work for a full day?

YOU BET YOUR ASS I DID... while the outting was a sure fire BUST-- it was an experience none-the-less. I can say I tried and came up short, but that's far better than wishing I had at least given it shot. And my day hasn't been any longer than usual. Mainly because I'm still hyped up off the caffeine.

Considering how awkward this week has been- how overly tired I am (I met up with some friends for a few pints of Snakebites last night) - and how I have yet to actually relax in my new apartment. I could use some R & R...I'm thinking Long Island and a trip to the beach with TL.

Bring on the weekend...

Set it Off

2007-07-05T16:48:00.000-04:00

The Fourth of July in New York is pretty much a spectacle. Aside from a few select cities in the U.S.-- it's pretty much a great place to be for the festivities. The fact that it fell on a Wednesday made this entire week incredibly awkward. I am exhausted. I suppose it's from the move this weekend-- then the abrupt interruption of the Holiday -- and then back to work today.

I spent the holiday at AH's friend's apartment in alphabet city (Ave. C and 13th St.). His friend lived on the 11th floor facing the East River-- right smack in the heart of Macy's Firework Extravaganza. It was really great to see the fireworks from their living room window and not have to stand in the rain. It was also kind of surreal watching the opening on T.V. and then realizing that the panaramic shot of New York is where I live. I hope that never gets old.

Also, my new apartment is treating me awesome. My new roommate is hardly ever there (she works part-time and has classes in the city). I'm pretty much gone the entire day at work, which I then hit the gym, so I'm usually home by 8-8:30 p.m. I cook dinner-- relax for maybe 30 mins. before I go to bed and start my day at 6:45 a.m. again. Although, this week seems to be a bit of a challenge with the adjustment of the new subway stop train times. The apartment is great though. I can sleep with the window open, which lets in a nice breeze. It's relatively quiet outside most of the time and I can pretty much do what I want when I want. However, the lack of furniture is a bit sad. I've been looking for furniture online to fill my den that I plan on converting to that T.V. room, but everything is so pricey right now.

There hasn't been much development-- work is pretty slow right now because of the holiday. I do have a couple of friends coming in the next few weeks, so it'll be fun to see them and take them around town. I've started writing down all the bars I've been to with brief descriptions, so that I can remember which ones to take people to. So-- if you ever come and visit I should have a range of places for you to pick from.

London Attacks: Close Call

2007-07-02T15:07:00.000-04:00

The recent terrorist attacks in London have struck a bit of a cord with me lately. Especially considering that the location of one of the cars police found was parked in front of a night club myself and several of my study abroad mates frequented: "Tiger Tiger." It's even located on Haymarket Street where our weekly gatherings and NCAA 2006 Men's Basketball celebration at American Sports Cafe took place. The link below shows a clip of the proximity the car found was in relation to the club that had a reported 2,000 people inside the 3 story massive night club.

http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=9ce6764e-ede1-41fa-af6f-325a31094b26&f=00&fg=copy

It's been over a year and 1 month since I was in London, but none-the-less there is still a big part of me that has great appreciation and love for The City that was home to me for several of the best months of my life. It's even the inspiration behind this blog. The thought of what may have potentially ensued is frightening. I'm just glad there was ample time to diffuse the situation. Its situations like these that make wonder if perhaps I am a little too confident in these big cities. Should I be more cautious? More reserved? More suspicious? I'd like to think 'No' because I generally feel safe (have felt safe) in both New York and London. I'm not one to live fearful of what may occur, but these events certainly make one question whether more caution should be taken. I mean is there really anything that could be done? Are there really any precautions? Something interesting my father always tells me before I hang up the phone with him is he reminds me to "always be aware." I'd like to think I'm generally an observant citizen-- never one to walk oblivious to my surrounds, but never one to walk paranoid either.

The heightened security around New York does bring relief and in some sense unity to The City. I hope, people are more alert (not cautious) about their surroundings and looking out for the well-being of the great majority. Interesting how these are things I have to consider now living in New York.

My New Apartment

2007-06-30T18:04:00.000-04:00

As I sit in my new apartment, the windows letting in a nice unfamiliar breeze, the birds chirp and the sound of children playing, horns honking and the trees rustling in the wind-- make me glad to be out of my confined asylum I use to call an apartment. It's strange how things play out in the scheme of things and I never anticipated moving 3 times in 3 months. It's taken a lot of adjustment and a lot energy to haul your life from Florida to New York and then from apartment to apartment, up 4 flights of stairs and a car ride loading and unloading your belongings. Despite it all I'm happy to be where I am now. I can already sense the relief of having my own place minus the regulation and sly remarks. The situation is better and I'm really looking forward to getting this place all set up the way I want it. That said-- I have absolutely nothing! There are no pots, pans, or plates. I do have a bed though, so there is an upside to it all. In the two months that I'll be completing July 8th-- the only thing I've managed to accumulate is two night stand tables and more clothes for work. Other than that-- I'm starting pretty much from scratch with the whole apartment items. However, this luxury affords me the chance to invest in some things that I've been wanting for a while now. Once everything gets settled-- and I get at least a few more checks-- I fully intend on buying a flat screen, flat panel LCD 720p television and accompanying surround sound system. It's a staple in any man's apartment. With all the change that has been going in the last couple of months living in New York-- I've realized that I'm officially doing this all on my own. No help from the parents. It's strange-- and exciting to know that I can afford to pay my rent, utilities and manage my own money without having to rely on calling for more. At times, it's a bit of a challenge and it takes discipline not to go out and blow it all on that t.v., but I make up for it by going out and having a good time (such as last night). Interestingly enough I never wanted last night to turn out the way it did. I was only going to have dinner with my buddy Chris from London and maybe a few beers before meeting up with my favorite person in the world Tami ;). We checked out this really fantastic sports bar with the best burger I've had (sober) in NY. The place as called Pour House on 11th and 3rd ave. Aside from the good burgers, they had a wide selection of beers and more t.v.'s than Best Buy. As we waited for Tami and her girls to show up to the city (they live in Long Island)-- we knocked back a few brewskies. We met up with them and were going to go to this "hoppin" bar called Joshua's Pub, but the line was unnecessarily long, so we opted for the place next door. It was your typical NY bar with low lighting, modern couches, red accent lighting, thumping music blasting as the videos play on the flat screen t.v.'s etc. etc. etc. We immediately jump into a round of SoCo and Lime shots and order some gin and tonics. As a working man it's nice to afford to treat your good mates once in a while to a couple of drinks. The gesture undoubtedly gets repaid. Needless to say, Chris, Tami, her friend and I were out for a good time, as we began order shots of Patron (which even just typing it makes me cringe a bit inside) and Jueger. A couple gin and tonics later I am wasted, but perhaps the most interesting (or annoying depending on who you ask) thing about last night is the amount of UF people I ran into that I knew. Most of which lived in my building back in Campus Lodge, so it was primarily AEPhi girls... all of which are nice enough to pretend like they know me (because we did living the same building and I did date one of their sisters) but really could give two shits. Quite frankly-- neither do I. It's just nice to see what I'm not missing anymore about Gainesville. I did happen upon one old friend (who spotted me from across the bar) who was stopping in NY before her flight to Rome to study abroad-- Emily. She was awesome to run into and looks great. She was never one of the typical bitchy sorority girls. I also ran into my friend Ali from UF who will be starting law school in the fall, and whose sister I studied abroad with and Chris also knew. Small world or popular bar? I can't say which.

The Best Of...

2007-06-25T14:44:00.000-04:00

I'm always thinking...as I imagine most of you are... about everything. The past. The future. Rarely the present, but recently during one of my morning showers I decided it would be fun to sort of see what I consider my favorite things about New York to be in the early stages of my residency in the city. In no particular order I will list some of the things I've found to be gems in this mine of a city.

My favorite bar to sip an expensive cocktail: PDT (Lower East Side)
My best bar to chill at: Hop's Devil (8th and Ave. A)
My favorite drink to order: Gin & Tonic
My favorite bar for a beer: The Perfect Pint (Midtown)
My favorite park to lounge in: Bryant Park
My favorite part of town: Between W4 and Canal Street on Broadway.
The best train ride: The 'Q' Train crossing the Manhattan Bridge
The best tourist spot: Battery Park staring at the Statue of Liberty
The most convenient subway stop: Union Square
The best hot dog: Crif Dog's "Chihuahua" (wrapped in Bacon, fried and topped with avocado and cream cheese)
The best drunk food: Burger joint next to Iggy's on Ludlow and Stanton whose name I can't remember obviously
My favorite breakfast spot: Le Bagel Delight (Brooklyn)
My favorite park for a jog: Fort Greene (Brooklyn)
The best pizza I've had: Little Italy Pizza (42nd near 5th Ave- Midtown)
The best view of Brooklyn Bridge: South Street Seaport
Best clothing store not found anywhere else: UniQlo (Soho)
The best street fair: Park Slope's 7th Ave.
The nicest weekend getaway in the city: Caroll Gardens (Brooklyn)
My favorite unique bar with a good vibe: Union Hall (Union St. just before 5th)
My favorite tourist comment: "That's the Empire state building!" as they point to the Chrysler building.
Best word puzzles: USA Today Sudoku
Favorite subway reading material: AM New York
Newspaper I check daily: The New York Post
The best cheesecake: Junior's (Brooklyn)
The best place to feel like a young professional: Grand Central Terminal amidst all the real honchos of corporate New York.
Moment I realized I was no longer a visitor: When a tourist from Barcelona asked me if I spoke Spanish and then asked me for directions.
The best cab ride: Flying over the Manhattan Bridge with the window down...feeling like I'm skiing (just two weeks ago.)
Best B-list "celebrity" spotting: Jimmy Fallon wannabe from the show "30 Rock"
Best museum I've visited: MoMA (they have Andy Warhol's)
The best part about summer: Free concerts every Friday morning from Good Morning America and Today shows.
My favorite place to get lost: SoHo
Best place to escape the city: Central Park (you could seriously get lost)
Best place for a gourmet "buffet" style lunch: Dishes (Midtown)
Favorite pricy lunch spot: Cinema (Midtown)
Best magazine to check out city happenings: Time Out New York
My favorite sandwich from a restaurant: Ham & Cheese w/ Pear on Cranberry bread from 'Wich Craft (Bryant Park).
The best way to get around: an Unlimited MetroCard
My favorite part of the work week: Alternating the gym and yoga every other day
The best place to avoid because of tourists: Times Square
The best chain restaurant: Europa Cafe
The best thing about my new apartment: My room and separate "office" space I fully intend to turn into a lounge.
My favorite thing about my new apartment: Having whoever I want stay over when I want.
The best feeling in the morning: Getting to the subway platform just as the train is approaching.
My favorite day: Pay Days

My favorite thing about New York: The endless amount of things I have left to do!!

Getting all Daper

2007-06-21T11:32:00.000-04:00

I've recently been getting a lot of acknowledgement (more so than usual) about my blog entries from my friends and I gotta tell ya it's pretty exciting to know that people are reading (let alone interested) in what I am doing and what I have to say (albeit somethings may get boring). I've been more consciously trying to capture the New York experience (through my eyes) as best as possible-- after all that was the intention of my blog to begin with. So-- thank you for your readership. I appreciate it more than you know.

If you've ever visited New York, which most of you have (and even if you haven't), I am sure you have an image in your head of what it means to work on 5th Ave., Midtown, Wall Street and Manhattan in general. For me, it meant men and women dressed in suits, large Blackberry telephones, shiny shoes, black socks, briefcases and taxi cabs. The past two days I've spent fitting this image while attending a conference here in New York. I got all decked out in the suit and tie schpeel (granted I only own one suit I needed to rotate shirts and ties). I've been told to invest in another 3 suits by fall... is this going to be common place? It's likely and the idea kind of excitements. I use to think the idea of getting all spiffed up in a suit was silly-- but for some reason (within the confines of the city) a certain confidence and swagger comes with wearing a suit and tie. It says-- I'm important and I have places to go, people to see and E-mails to reply to. Then I thought-- well anyone could wear a suit and tie and walk around the city and not have anywhere to go, no people to meet or E-mails marked urgent. Wouldn't it be funny if someone got all dressed up one day they felt particularly down on themselves and just walked around Midtown pretending they were some important executive? Now, for nearly everyone except for me-- that would work. I felt as though people on the subway thought I was going to a bar mitzuah or was on my way to church at 7 a.m.-- not work. I joke, but I really wonder what they are thinking.

The conference the past two days was for the Newspaper Association of America-- a client of ours. At the conference, newspaper corporations and their CEOs, COOs, and CFOs were scheduled to present their year-to-year projections and answer questions from prominent analysts. It was my chance to see the big guys battle in their arena. On one side you have the confident business CEO with the half-mocking sense of humor that reaks of wealth and on the other you have the sophisticated, hard-ass, no-nonsense analysts frantically checking their Blackberry's every minute (this is no exaggeration-- everyone had one and checked them in sync with their breathing).

Perhaps the best insight I gained from the experience was that I was actually in a room of really powerful people. I was amidst CEOs that earn millions (maybe billions?) of dollars to do what exactly? They really just seemed like faces on the corporations they represented-- think the logo of a brand. Granted this perspective may be a little naive and they may very well be entitled to the incomprehensible amounts of cash deposited into their bank accounts, but its just easier to picture them with their feet kicked up on their desk and not having a care in the world whether or not the company succeeds-- their still getting paid. This is a completely unrealistic look, but it's my blog [insert malicious laugh here].

So here's what I learned from all of this "rubbing elbows" with the CEOs. I use the term lightly as there really wasn't much communication between myself and the others there. I was there as a spectator and offer help to our client by taking charge of the microphone for questions. Nevertheless, the experience is worthy of documentation. In this city where it's been said time and time again..."If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere." Never has it rung so true to me as the last two days. This city is made up of ambitious, career-driven, smart and well-polished individuals all out to get the same thing you want...money (and to some degree power). So how do you stand out? How do you succeed in a city where it's so easy to just blend in and get lost in the crowd? More than anything I've come to realize that in order to get far in your industry (whatever it may be) you really have to be willing to put your ego and fears aside and lunge for it. The hesitation the resides within the bottomless pit of your stomach should never overpower the voice inside your head that says "go for it."

In general, people often steer clear of people who speak their minds or lack the little chip that tells them something just shouldn't be said. The "censor chip" if you will. I think-- lacking that reservation, that apprehension, that worry of where something may take you-- is admirable and almost necessary to survive in this urban jungle. I think you really do need to step up your game in this city and I say this because in the past two days the opportunity to further my career presented itself, but I shied away from it. This is what I've learned... and I've said it before. New York is a dog-eat-dog city. You either bite or get biten because chances are there is someone right behind you just as eager or more qualified than you to do your job-- but if you find it within yourself to persevere... this city is unbelieveable.

I Now Have A Usual

2007-06-18T14:14:00.000-04:00

My weekends have quickly acquired a usual routine-- that feels nothing much like a routine except in that it's become habitat to enjoy outtings with good friends and even better cocktails. I suppose in college (which still sounds strange to say) I longed for weekends comprised of social outtings in sophisticated, swanky bars that boast overpriced cocktails...and by the looks and sounds of preceding entries I've come a long way from the sweatfests I once looked forward to in 80s nights at XS. Gator City really is Gator-shitty.

Last Thursday (June 14) I celebrated my one-month in the working world. It's flown by much quicker than I could imagine or remember. I suppose it's the consistent busyness of being in a new city, the acclamation to a new role and the need to take it all in one day at a time. My anniversary was coinsided with a colleagues departure to Duke's MBA program. He had been with the company for 4 years and decided to pursue high education (me in 4 years??). We celebrated by taking over a posh bar on Park Avenue named the SilverLeaf Tavern. The place in all its decadence was typical of a lounge with oversized mohagony furniture and pricey cocktails-- but price has little bearing when it's going on the corporate card. The outting brought a large crowd of office dwellers--and a fantastic opportunity to get to know my co-workers in a setting the solicits casual (perhaps borderline inappropriate) converational and a glimpse into their personal lives (whether intentional or not). I tend to get a little overzealous when I know I am not paying for my drinks-- hence my rapid intoxication at the company event (I'm still blaming it on the fact that I did not eat dinner). Perhaps the best relevation that occurred was my acquisition of a "usual" at bars around the city.

"I'll have a gin and tonic" has become this weekends motto. While not a stretch, creative or pretentious by any standards I've come to appreciate a well contrived mixture of gin and tonic water with a lime wedge. Contrary to my belief-- not all gin and tonics are created equal. A well mixed gin and tonic can do the job well, while tasting pleasant (a rarity in drinking for me considering I find liquior to taste awful). Perhaps pacing is my biggest fallback when it comes to drinking with my peers. I got hammered with my superiors, however the act seems tolerated and expected of a few individuals as I've been told the Christmas party usually leaves a few with some embarrassing stories to tell. Not to mention the CFO was ordering everyone shots of Patron tequila (x2). It got blurry. The most impressive thought of the evening, however, was the tab that read more like someone's rent ($1700). We followed the drinks with some fine dining (all on the company). In true London tradition we started early (6 p.m.) and ended early (12:30 a.m.). One of the night's occurrences that dawned on my yesterday (Sunday) was that as I crossed a cross walk (DRUnk) a taxi cab cut in front of me and as it made its way in front I tapped playfully on the trunk of the car (as my co-workers warned me not to do that--as it appeared what my intents were). This act prompted the cab driver to halt the car (mid street) and get out. He began yelling at me: "Why the fuck you knocking on my car-- what's your problem." In which my co-workers stepped in to explain my belligerance and New York inexperience. I was ushered into the restaurant because it appeared the driver wanted to attack me. That was embarrassing come to think of it and I can't believe I remembered that 3 days later.

New York has a way of keeping you fit despite your desire to actually be proactive. My down time has been spent-- spending my paycheck. I decided to treat myself to a luxury item (a Jack Spade backpack) with my first sum of money that did not go to bills. This made me realize that I cannot continue splurging on fine items to entertain me on the weekends and I've therefore succumbed to the $89/month gym membership at New York Sports Clubs. Fortunately, there is a gym on every corner (possibly just as convenient as a Starbucks in this city). I've said it to myself many times before-- I will stick with it, but this time my motivation stems far beyond my inner desire to gain some weight...it's costing me a pretty penny to be a part of the gym (and my frugal side will make my ass work out). In a recent conversation with my friend, CJ, I realized that while we do a lot of maturing and personal growth in college-- it isn't until after college that you really begin to develop your true persona. I've begun asking myself where all my time and energy has gone into these last couple of years? I mean-- I don't have a hobby, sport or activity that I particularly excel in...so what have I been doing? This has prompted me to dabble in new activities in the last couple of months (i.e. rockclimbing, yoga) until I can find something that I can call my own. Something I find entertaining, relaxing and that I can excel in.

This weekend I've also come to appreciate those friends I can immediately fall into a friendship with even after so many years, months or days apart. It makes me appreciate the fact that I have made some really great connections with people throughout the last couple of years. In particular I had two of my friends from my semester in London visit with hopes of moving to NYC next month. It was as though we hadn't spend an entire year apart since we left London--but rather had seen eachother just last week. The same goes with friends from high school (MA and DB).

So, this weekend I learned that while you make think you've hit this ceiling of entertainment, knowledge and activity-- you've only really begun discovering the possibilities. I think I'll try painting or learn to play the guitar.

A Good Attitude

2007-06-13T12:11:00.000-04:00

Ever since I started working in New York I've quickly realized the pleasure of coming home and not having to deal or worry about much of anything. There are no assignments to be handed in, papers to be written or tests to study for. There's no required reading or group presentations (as of yet) to prepare. Therefore, I've found that upon exiting the office at 5:30 (usually) I have the next 5 1/2 hours (until I go to bed at 11 p.m.) to myself. Lately, it's given me a lot of time to reflect attention on myself because while I know a lot of people in the city (both old and new) it is difficult to coordinate something when everyone is on their own schedules (we're all working now a days). So, because I spend a lot of time thinking I've really become interested in meditation and the practice. I've started reading a book entitled "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki, which speaks of the practice of sitting in zazen (the lotus position) and allowing your mind to clear itself. As of lately...I'm merely reading about it and have not put it into practice.

Along the same lines, I've decided that I needed to take on some hobbies to occupy my spare time. It is not enough to come home after work and take a nap (otherwise my routine gets messed up). So, because gym memberships are $100 a month (no thanks)-- I've turned to an alternative style of exercise that incorporates both my new interest in meditation and my need for physical development-- yoga. I only started a week ago going to a donation based studio(where I can pay as little as $1 to go to a class) in the Lower East Side. I've never been one for sitting in silence, dripping of sweat from every part of my body (even parts I never knew could sweat) and actually enjoying it. The practice is much more physically demanding than I ever envisioned and honestly appears at first glance. The feeling afterwards, however, is like nothing I could begin to describe. Essentially, it's an hour of my night where I am able to detox from my day. I don't think about anything but the task at hand (often some kind of stretch that tests my balance and patience). The real practice comes in the controlling of your breath, which until now I've never realized the importance (as silly as that sounds) of breathing fully and heavily. We typically have a tendency to breathe shallowly (without thought)-- try actively thinking about your breathing for 3 minutes as you read this -- filling your lungs and letting it out slowly. You'll notice a difference. In the 3 sessions that I've attended this yoga class I've noticed a huge difference in so many areas of my day-to-day life. For instance, I've actually become more toned (and found to be sore) after doing a few of the classes. I've also been sleeping a lot better and feel well rested in the mornings (no need for coffee). I've also been able to relax a lot more without having any worries taint my thoughts. It feels good to escape your life and focus on yourself for a least an hour of my day...we never do that-- as much as we like to think we try. I recently came across an article online that said a study was conducted on people who chose to participate in yoga and those who took leisure time to read (in order to unwind). The study found that yoga could lower stress, anxiety and depression (not that I'm depressed--haha).

So here's what I've come to learn from all of this...there is a direct correlation (relationship) between your attitude and many branches of your day-to-day life. A good attitude definitely influences your work (at your job), your relationships (with your significant others) and your body (warding off sickness). I believe that remaining positive also brings a lot of good into your journey-- and I never believed in that before. I was never a believer in 'things happening for a reason' or 'good things happen to good people' (or is it bad things?), but considering the unraveling of events between March (when I dreamt of moving to New York) to June (where I am living in New York) the cards all seemed to fall exactly where they should have-- no questions asked. Can I attribute that to luck? or a good attitude? Something I learned in a business class was that "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." If I was lucky-- it's because I had been preparing for this my entire life and the opportunity fit. But, I gotta tell ya there's nothing like a downward facing dog to get you thinking about (or not thinking) about how far you've come and have left to go.

Yesterday's Lesson

2007-06-12T12:27:00.000-04:00

Often at work you find some down time (hence writing this entry) to perhaps converse with Co-Workers via AIM. Today, a Co-Worker of mine asked me a question I believe few ask ourselves and seldom take the time to contemplate in our otherwise "hectic" lives (which aren't so hectic).

"What did you learn today?"

If you were to take the 2 seconds it takes to ask yourself this question and really think about your answer-- I think you'd be surprised at the response you come up with. I think one of the many awesome things about being young and living is the endless lessons we learn each day that carry on into our futures making up our characters. It's realizing the lessons that really help us strengthen those characters and build personas that may withstand any test down the line. Can you learn to appreciate those lessons now, so that later down the line you don't say to your grand kids "If I could go back...and known what I know now...I'd do it this way." It's not about avoiding regret, but embracing that you will flub many times. It's how you look at your flub that says a lot about where you're headed. Do you stay down and hope no one saw? Or do you get back up and run it off, perhaps glance back to see what you tripped on and realize it happens to the best of us?

The lesson I learned yesterday was this: I learned that if I really want to succeed in my life (career and personally) I need to really engage in the activities (and people) I deal with. I've found that a lot of my past has been about getting myself to the next level without appreciating the steps I took to get there. I realized after work that I kind of myself going through the motions rather than actually trying to comprehend what it is that I am doing in the bigger scheme of things. I don't want that to be my role at work or in life. I have a lot of aspirations for myself, and I really feel like the only way I'll succeed is becoming good at what I do. My grandpa always tells me before I hang up the phone with him..."Be the Best" and I think I should really start. There's always room for being better. I'm grateful for where I am..believe me...it feels fantastic, but I'm extremely driven and I enjoy out doing myself. Funny thing is no one puts pressure on me-- I do it for myself. I have this image of where I want to be later in life (as everyone), and I know it's going to take work, but won't happen unless I continue to push myself. it's like working out. I believe there is a difference between being "hard on yourself" and "driven." I believe being "hard on yourself" implies that there is this stressful, almost burdening feeling to accomplish something, whereas "driven" implies taking the set backs and pushing forward despite adversity.

Pretty deep for Monday lesson-- huh?

Please Don't Tell

2007-06-10T17:12:00.000-04:00

The title of this post seems relevant on so many accounts of recent happenings. As of Friday June 8, 2007 I have been living in New York for one month and I gotta tell you that time has flown by faster than I could have ever imagined. I'm going into my 5th week of work, I'm still visiting parts of the city that I haven't seen and I'm slowly adapting to the lifestyle of a Big City young professional.

(Bronx Zoo with Michelle- May 2007)

Everyone has a New York story to tell. You know, the tale they tell about their move to the city where it typically consists of a rat infested apartment, some kind of robbery or the roommate from hell. Well, if I had my pick I'd gladly take door No. 3 and as it turns out I've chosen correctly. Moving to New York I didn't have the misfortune of having to hunt down an apartment on Craigslist, hire a broker or crash on a couch for a month before getting my footing.

(Andy Warhol- Museum of Modern Art)

I was fortunate to fall into a space with a good friend from high school (DB) and a 48-year-old pilates instructor (DW). It was the ideal situation for my big move to New York. I get a room within my budget, in a nice neighborhood and in a large apartment (see pictures below). My intention (and agreement with DW) was to stay until October 1st. A verbal agreement that I was prepared to honor. However, I never imagined that my post-college experience would require me to live by someone else's rules in an apartment that I had to walk on eggshells in. The month I've spent in this space has been like living with my parents, while there were no formal declaration of rules, it is clear that there are lines of distinction present. The energy in the apartment is burdening and the borderline psychotic laughter, mid-life crisis and lonely desparation of DW begins to question whether one could put up with living here until October 1st. So, when an opportunity arouse to live in a much better apartment with only one roommate (a 21-year-old NYU student) for far less... I would be foolish to commit myself to the asylum I've called a home this last month.

It took some time for me to work up the nerve-- nay the balls -- to confront DW. I knew the confrontation would not be pleasant with a woman whose eyes bulge out of their sockets on a day-to-day basis. I knew it would be an all out brawl with a woman whose passive aggressive manner and ignorance are prevalent in every word that leaves her congested mouth. I came home preparing myself for the daunting task of remaining rational with a woman I knew could not be rational even after 48 years of existence. I asked to speak with her and she immediately became defensive "what about?" I started "Well, I'd like to move out July 1st."

Now, normally I'm a down-to-earth, albeit feisty guy who genuinely respects individuals as long as they remain on my good side. However, when you start cursing at me about how I am "fucking you over" that Hispanic fight rears its ugly head. We exchanged words with this 22-year-old remaining calm and have mockingly staring at the 48-year-old woman who looked like she was seconds from a panic attack. I reminded her that I was uncomfortable in a place that I paid so much for and felt confined to a room. I explained that I understood it was "her" apartment since her name is on the lease and the renters (myself) should sort of live by her rules, but this did not feel like home. In her usual demeanor she proceeded to tell me that I was the crazy one, while yelling at me reminding me that everything has been "just sooo convenient for me." I stood my ground and reminded her that she was not my mother, and that my mother does not even speak to me the way she was speaking to me. Granted this was probably not the best approach considering the woman has never been married, doesn't have children nor speaks of a significant other-- ever.

So how did it end?
Well, lucky for me I had plans that night with DB and did not have to stick around for long. I told her that I would be moving out July 1st, in which she replied she needed 30 days notice (making my move-out day July 8th). My only concern now is having her screw me over by not giving me my entire month's rent back that I paid her June 1st.

Where will I be going?
Here's where the hag had a point... DB and her boyfriend DP are moving into an apartment together, so I will conveniently be taking over DP's apartment, which as mentioned is better for me. It's a five-story walk-up apartment with my apartment on the 5th floor. I have roof access, my own entrance and a fire escape. I also have a window in my room (which I don't have any in the room I am in now), I get a small room to serve as office or lounge (my choice), a nice living room and the kitchen and bathroom rests in between my room and my roommate's room. The best part is I don't have to answer to anyone and I can make my own rules at my apartment. If I wanted to live with my parents I would have stayed in Florida.

In true New York City style I hit-up a lounge on the Lower East Side. Picture yourself walking down a crowded street lined with restaurants, bars and trendy hipsters overflowing the sidewalks. Now, picture yourself walking into a tiny hot dog joint nestled in between two buildings and smelling of cooked pork. At first glance it seems like the perfect locale for a 3 a.m. snack binge following a heavy drinking binge. You give the place a sweep looking left and right-- minding the fact that it isn't much of a place to begin with. The tables are cramped in-line one next another, an arcade machine hinders the walk way entering the restaurant and for whatever reason a crowd stands in front of a phone booth. You make your way to a tiny phone booth and peer inside. Its a phone booth...or is it? Could this phone booth be a portal to another dimension? Could it be a threshold to an alternate universe? No...its the doorway to an exclusive bar appropriately named PDT. For both pretentious and selfish reasons I will not disclose the locale or name of the bar, but if you happen to visit me I will decide whether ye are worthy of this happening bar. So for now this discreption will have to satisfy your curiousity.

Once you pass through the phone booth a cute bleached blonde reminding you of Scarlett Johannson reminds you that if you arrive 15 mins. late to your reservation she will give your table away. You apologize and are immediately escorted to a U-shaped leather booth lit by a tiny boxed light in the center of your table. The bar feels like a cellar. The roof is lower than usual, the floor lined with hardwood and walls made of what looks like red brick, but difficult to distinguish due to the lack of light. The place is small and could easily fill to capacity but the bar has a strict policy of not allowing more patrons in than the number of seats available. There is no standing room allowed here. The decor reminds you of a hunter's trophy case with deer heads and taxidermy serving as the focal points. The bar plays music, but just loud enough to hear without having to scream to have a conversation with your mates. A short italian woman with a sexy birth mark on her face and bright red lipstick comes to take your order. You skim the cocktail menu that boasts $11 cocktails and finally decide on a tequila-riched cocktail titled "El Diablo." You sit back and watch the bartenders (dressed in non-typical aprons that remind you of something a scientist in Amsterdam would wear) make cocktails from behind a bar lit from beneath a fog-paned bar. They taste their creations (like true bartenders should) to ensure the taste of their concoctions are just the right mixture. Your drink arrives and nothing as tasted so sweet. You realize there and then that, that is what a real cocktail should and does taste like. It's just the right amount of liquor to give you a buzz, but not enough to make you wince at every sip. By drink 2 (which you ask the waitress to choose her favorite beer) you are ordering a "Chihuahua" hot dog. You're begrudging paying respect to the fraternity nickname you never embraced, but the idea of a fried hot dog wrapped in bacon and topped with cream cheese and avocado sounds amazing. By now you have moved on to letting the waitress choose a cocktail not featured on the menu with an "S" name and contain "absinthe" as an ingredient. It's strong-- but you wouldn't have it any other way. You sit back, enjoy your conversation with good mates and appreciate this tiny gem of a bar that's "perfectly engineered," as DP put it.

I $ee Dollar $ign$

2007-06-05T08:53:00.000-04:00

So I suppose the "perk" in actually becoming a young professional is the lump sums of cash deposited into my bank account every two weeks. I got my first taste of true satisfactory accomplishment this past Friday when I received my first paycheck. Of course, having been on somewhat of a budget since I arrived in the City it was my first impulse to go out and blow all of it on things I merely "wanted" and didn't really "need." However, I shook myself from the hallucination, came back to Earth and realized that I now have bills and responsibilites to take care of before I can consider my paycheck discretionary income (after all I am officially cut-off from the parentals). So, after paying half of my rent (my roommate gave me a break this month and let me give her half now and half on my next paycheck, so that I could have money to have some fun with) I proceeded to treat myself to some lavish dinners, expensive drinks and good times with old friends. There is nothing like spending money you know you've worked for and earned. It makes the satisfaction of every sip that much more enjoyable (or painfully depending on how you look at your cup). A paycheck is like chocolate cake after the delectable meal. The shower following your evening jog (silent 'J'). The cigarette after your afternoon delight ;) It's the icing on the cake. The cherry on top. I could continue...but you get the idea. Perhaps I could attribute my excitement and appreciation for the "reward" to my ambitious and naive state-of-mind. I've worked before, I've earned checks before, but I suppose that after doing it for so many years the checks start looking less like rewards and more like overdue debts from your employers.

So how did I spend my first paycheck? Well that "sweet pad" pictured below isn't cheap, so after (half) my rent was paid I went to celebrate at this tiny, authentic, mom & pop Italian bistro on Park Ave. with Michelle (she was celebrating her new job). We went all out ordering calamari, a bottle of wine, two authentic tasting (very much comprable to the meals I ate in Italy) entrees and washed it down with the complimentary schnapps. Any of my Barcelona mates remember killing the two bottles they put on our table after that one giant meal we ate? It was the same idea... free booze. Needless to say, splitting the check in half with Michelle left me paying for dinner that, at first glance, would seem a family of four had ordered (judging by the total). However, one thing I told myself almost immediately coming to New York was that a good meal is worth it. I would never sacrifice eating at a delicious place for anything. I've also told myself that I will never (can't really say never, but try really hard not too) eat at a chain restaurant again. There is absolutely no need to being in this city with the endless options lining nearly every block of town. So far... so good, and I haven't had one bad meal to date.

Following dinner, we met up with two of our friends to see an early preview of "Knocked Up" which is truly one of the funniest movies I've seen (it's ranking close to my staples of "Anchorman" and "Zoolander").

Along the same lines of my dining out mentality, I've become quite the Emeril in the kitchen. I've slowly began enjoying cooking after work, going to the great markets around the city picking out fresh produce and actually creating some quality meals for myself. It's become my way of "winding down" after work since I don't really watch television anymore. That being said a portion of my money went to the Farmer's Market, Trader Joe's and Whole Foods this weekend. That sounds really boring.

I did go out Saturday night and met up with two my London friends (Candy and Chris). It's so interesting to me that we spent 5 months in London together and went through this incredible experience together-- and we've managed to stay close. The three of us invited friends along for the night out, which began at this awesome mexican restaurant named Senor Swankies. They are primarily known for the "Super-Duper Margaritas" and at $13 bucks a pop they certainly do the job. But, I must say that the most impressive part of the restaurant is the plate-sized burritos it serves. The menu's description intimates a "Moe's" style burrito "over stuffed with succulent beef," but that is pretty much a lie. The burrito comes sprawled on a plate like a giant heap of beef, mixed with beans, rice and cheese and a flour tortilla placed on top because it is too big to even wrap all the way around the filling. The burrito was the length of the plate (a modest 8-9 inches long. It was certainly a feast. Of the 6 people only a mere 2 could actually finish the entire burrito. Needless to say, we had to walk it off before hitting up Nice Guy Eddie's on W. Houston (pronounced HOUSE-TON, not HUSE-TON), which is a typical college-beer bar where the $2 draft budlights quinched my thirst. We proceeded down to Ave. A where we came across SB3, which we came to find out from the burlesque show it stands for "SEXY BITCH 3," and yes I said burlesque.

The cocktail lounge sat conveniently on the corner of small street with 2 of its four walls comprised of open-air door ways. The place, dimly lit with high tables, buzzed with a more sophisticated crowd sipping their $12 concochins. We were led to the downstairs, which was even darker than the upstairs but dramatically lit from behind the velvet couches with red lights... the show was about to start. I'd never been to a burlesque show-- or a strip club, and I never anticipated seeing full frontal nudity, nipple tassles and strange interpretative dances of a mermaid caught in a net on a Saturday night, but it was a good time to say the least. Of course, the bouncer let all 5 of my friends in and when he saw me walk in he made sure to yell to the bartender to "double check all of their IDs to make sure they are 21." You'd think I'd be use to it by now. I did however try some really good drinks-- which if you can find a bar to make them you should give them a shot.

1) Dark & Stormy: A national drink of Bermuda it is comprised of 4 oz Black Seal Rum (the rum company owns the trademark, so if the drink doesn't use this kind of rum it's not a real "Dark & Stormy.) with 2 oz of Ginger Beer. Serve over crushed ice and garnish with a lime for a good time. HEYOOO.

2) PIMMs "Chalice" Cup: Now this cocktail is for the more experimental alchy. It reminded me of a Mojito, and is made of mostly diffused gin and Pimm's ( 1 of 6 types of alcohols including gin, whiskey and rum ). Stir in some mint, fresh cucumber, ginger citrus and top with ginger soda. Tasty.

We hung out and enjoyed some good conversation until about 3 a.m. and decided to check out another bar down the block. It was more of an Emo/Indie Cash-only bar with a real chill vibe, books lining the walls and lit by christmas-style lights. I guess imperfections and beer goggles are better aided by "mood lighting." I hung out until about 4 a.m. and grabbed a cab back to Brooklyn to call it a night.

So what did I learn from earning my first paycheck? That every two weeks my life will be absolute bliss filled with expensive cocktails, delicious food and 4 a.m. cab rides. To quote a "Lab Nerd" friend of mine currently conducting cancer research in Miami... "My bank account is growing exponentially."

Madison Ave. Closed For the Day

2007-05-28T23:21:00.000-04:00

My second week at work flew by faster than I could imagine. It started out slow (as expected) but quickly picked up as I began to receive more and more work toward the end of the week. I've found that Friday, when you are trying to leave at 5:30, is when most of your work swarms onto your desk. One of the account executives took the last two days of the week off, which left me with some of her responsibilities that I would eventually take over as my own anyways. It just meant jumping into my clients a little sooner than anticipated, but it made Friday go by fast because I had no time to look at what time it was.

I've seemed to have fallen into somewhat of a routine, but the great thing about my job is that I am working with 7 different clients-- all in different industries, so on any given day my "duties" can change. It keeps me interested, and the job from becoming monotonous. I wake up at 7 a.m. after getting about 7-8 hours of sleep. I've quickly learned that anything more or less than that I am exhausted throughout the day. I've found myself going to bed during the week as early as 10:30 p.m., which I can't remember doing since the 3rd grade maybe? I get ready, eat breakfast and organize my things. I try to be out the door and on my way to the subway by 7:45-7:50 in order to make the 7:55-8 o'clock 'B' train to Manhattan. I ride the subway for 20 minutes and arrive at 42nd & 5th by 8:15-8:20 a.m. Just enough time to pick up a coffee at Starbucks, a breakfast sandwich at Cafe Europa or if I'm really running late get to the office by 8:30 a.m. I arrive in my cubicle, get situated and typically begin my morning reading with The New York Post, U.S.A. Today or Daily Variety (Gotham issue). Depending on the influx of work I'll have time to read PR Weekly or Entertainment Weekly. At this point it is usually around 11 a.m. before any of my "superiors" decide to interrupt me and give me something to do. Typically, I finish my work within 30 - 45 mins. with minimal questions. I suppose its the "new worker" ambition. I take my hour of lunch somewhere around Bryant Park and spend the rest of my day either working on something or reading articles online or in the publications mentioned above. I've been assured on numerous occassions that "this will change" due to the easing in process of a junior account executive. I say "bring it on."

Apparently, in New York (and this may be true in other cities) there is a business standard called "Summer Fridays." The concept is simple. Employees are given the option of leaving work at 1 p.m every other Friday assuming their work is complete and their teammates don't need any assistance on any accounts. The best part is you get paid as if you had worked the entire day (hence being on salary). Isn't that great? My first summer Friday is this Friday after pay day, so you can imagine my excitement.

This past 3 day weekend, aside from remembering the brave and continuously being reminded of Fleet Week (where the Navy and Marine ships are docked on the New York and the sailors get time off to roam the streets), I spent my time taking advantage of the many New York highs. I visited the enormous Bronx Zoo on Sunday and the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) today. I spent an exhausting 5 hours at the Bronx Zoo with Michelle checking out everything its sprawling landscape had to offer. The interesting about this zoo is that its animals aren't so much set up in cages, but rather are free roaming in a loose sense of the term. It was the perfect day to be out at the zoo and when you were out there it hardly felt like you were in New York. Again, its amazing the diversity this city can offer you.

Today, I spent the better part of 2 hours admiring art by Andy Warhol, Vincent Van Gogh, George Suerat, Robert Sierra and Roy Lichtenstein at MoMA. Typically, it is a $20 admissions fee, but being a Bank of America customer you were admited free. The museum was a piece of art in itself. Recently renovated it rests right smack in the middle of Manhattan and constructed with glass pane walls that give this boundaryless essence. There were some interesting pieces featured on the 6 floor + garden museum. It was also nice to do something to stimulate the mind, get some creativity back into the brain and become enlightened. I've noticed that being out of college-- it takes a lot more effort to keep your mind stimulated. After spending almost your entire life reading, writing and learning-- it's strange to not have that as part of your world anymore, so I am making a conscious effort to maintain that spark. Not to mention that I hardly watch any more television, which if you knew me was all I seemed to do. I can't really say that I miss it, but it's nice to know that it wasn't a source of dependence. It was really because there was just nothing else to do in Gainesville. More importantly, I certainly hope that being in a city as large and expansive as New York that I will never become so bored with the idea that around every corner there is something new in which to experience. For instance today, the city closed down Madison Avenue for a street fair. Madison Avenue (a.k.a. 5th Ave.) is a major street in Manhattan and it was just closed off, so that hundreds of booths and miniature tents could line the sides. It was fantastic.

This 3-day weekend was just long enough of a break to finally get back into the swing of things at the office. I find myself actually looking forward to going into work tomorrow. It will be week 3 and the excitement has yet to have faded or seem to be dying down. On that note. I bid you farewell and goodnight.

A New Life

2007-05-26T15:14:00.000-04:00

My Office Space:

The Office

View of Midtown 5th Avenue from Office

Pictures of my apartment.

Pictures of my bedroom:

Celebrity

2007-05-22T22:29:00.000-04:00

Walking around the streets of New York City can be a rewarding experience in itself. You never know what or who you're going to see. For instance, today I saw a "homeless" lady dressed in the usual garb, knee bent on a cardboard box, holding up a sign-- typed and laminated. How is that possible? Where does one homeless individual get the means, nay the funds to even print and laminate a notecard? A lot is said about consistency (I suppose its the Public Relations guy in me), but am I honestly expected to donate change when the story just doesn't seem to coincide with what you're selling? On the other hand, New Yorkers walk the streets of Fifth Avenue (where my office is), Soho (where my gym is) and the Dekalb Ave. subway platform (where I frequent to ride the train) like it's nobodies business-- and it really isn't. You'd think more than half this city were posterchildren for Banana Republic or Urban Outfitters. I fall victim to my own judgement. I mean it's great to see people actually taking care of themselves outside the normal hygiene standards. Although, by the smell of some subway cars it's safe to think deoderant hasn't made its way into the hearts and medicine cabinets of some people's bathrooms. Everyone here likes to dress up, show up and add their own personality to what they throw on in the morning. Perhaps the best thing about it is... not everyone is wearing the same damn thing as you. Case in point-- Gainesville. Chances were you and the guy next to you had the same shirt and shorts on from American Eagle or Abercrombie. Little variation and personality for that matter existed in the bubble that is Titletown.

So what's this post really about? Did I just want to comment on New Yorkers styles? Not really. It's greater than that. Allow me to paint a picture. In Florida there's the haves and the have nots. The haves make it known that they have. They flaunt it. Show it off. Ride it around. Carry it on their arm. Live in it. Talk about it. Breathe it. Smell of it. And of course never fail to remind you that they come from it. In New York there's the haves and the beggers. The difference lies in the haves desire to remain composed, humble, practical and modest about their material wealth. Sure some of the wealthiest people in the world live and work in New York. Yes, you see the luxurious side of people here, but the class distinction is less evident. It's not as in-your-face as it is in Florida. People don't seem compelled to show it off and talk about it. It's not given second thought. It's nice not to have that distinction here. It's nice to feel like a person undefined by the price tag on your things.

One of my theories is that New Yorkers can't afford to flaunt their shit-- otherwise they'll get mugged and have it ripped right out of their hands. I still don't carry my wallet in my back pocket so as not to get pickpocketed. Even though I'm sure it doesn't happen as much as this city is notorious for. My second theory is that walking along the streets of New York there is so much variety and ways of life in front of you all at once that you become unphased by the idea of something nice. For instance, a beautiful Mercedes SL500 parallel parked outside Saks 5th Avenue with a homeless bum slumped over a bench sleeping through the honks and hustling of the street just a few feet away. It's almost like life is contradicted here. You can't have too much of something "GREAT" with a reminder of something "TERRIBLE." Another example would be the beauty of the brownstones and highrises juxtaposed (I don't even know if that's the right word) with the garbage bags piled up just outside its fancy revolving doors and flights of stairs.

My point is, what has made the transition into this city so easy is that life is not defined by someone else's standards. It's really left up to your personal aspirations and limitations. It sounds like a simple concept that should be followed by all no matter what city you live in, but I feel as though it is often difficult when a standard has already been defined for you. With the individualism and personalization of this "melting pot" of a city-- it's no wonder hundreds have flock here every day. This city has been defined by the immigrants of yesteryear and the hungry hopefuls of tomorrow. That's where many other cities have a lot of catching up to do.

I'm from Florida

2007-05-20T22:36:00.001-04:00

As one would imagine, being the new guy around town can sometimes be a little intimidating. You're never really sure what to expect, or how people will react. Fortunately, I've had the chance to meet and socialize with some really open-minded, intellectual and interesting people. Especially this weekend. I ended up meeting up with Chris (from London) to show him my place, and he invited me to a get together he was having with some of his friends a little further into Brooklyn. I was hesitant at first, but the night turned out to be a really great opportunity to meet cool young people with similar lifestyles and interests. We arrived to the apartment, and I had some reservations about the type of people that would be on the otherside of the heavy wooden door. I suppose its my judgemental elitist Gainesville-Bubble mentality, but I automatically assumed Chris' friends would be like Chris USE to be... fratty. To my surprise and what became delight everyone there was really chill, laid-back, indie-esque, youngin's ranging from 22-26-- including another Florida alum who happened to be a public relations major from 2004.

What's interesting is that when you find yourself in a new environment there is a wonderful opportunity to really start off on the right foot, let people know the kind of person you are and make an impression on them. You can create a persona. You have a clean slate. What's more, everyone in New York is welcoming. It seems like everyone here is from somewhere else, but in a similar sense always dreamt of making it to the Big Apple. It has been so easy, fun and exciting to jump into situations such as these without apprehension, concern or the slightest bit of worry about what to expect. Chris' friends (Lauren, Crystal, Dierdra, Burt and Tom) were hospitable and made me feel comfortable. It was nice to go into a setting where the conversation just flowed and I could use my sarcasm without being misunderstood. As with any gathering we began drinking, jamming and eventually made ourselves to the roof of the 5 story walk-up where I caught a glimpse of that all too familiar skyline so many dream associate America and good fortune with.

The city has an interesting way of steering you in many directions despite your desire to "take it easy and not drink." Its easy to get caught up in the excitement of being around people who have the ability to make you feel at home even when you are a complete stranger. It was as though I had known them for days, months or even years the way it just seemed to click without a second thought. We then headed out to St. Mark's Street in Manhattan via Avenue A and 7th Street where we met up with some more of Chris' old co-workers at a bar titled "Hops Devil" with an enormous selection of beers on tap from around the world. There I got my first taste of networking and "adult" social scene. I was one of the youngest people of the bunch, but I never for a second thought twice about the situation. I was able to maintain a conversation with a 28-year-old Jewish Venezuelan Therapist who happened to be one of Chris' friend's girlfriend. Her boyfriend was a marketing and programming director of sorts of a video gaming company based outside of Manhattan. I told him I had done PR for Edios (the developer who created Tomb Raider) and the conversation sort of took of from there leading him to give me his business card, so we could stay in touch. To my dismay I hadn't received my business cards from my job yet, but I just thought it very mature to have had the chance to actually say "lets exchange business cards." It's weird, but cool. LOL.

This weekend I've had the joy of getting to know and meet many "New Yorkers," and none have lived up to the stigma of being rude and inconsiderate. Perhaps its that this city is comprised of so many people who have migrated to the city (to use a trite term) "where anything can happen" that no one is really a "New Yorker." I've also found myself being comfortable with saying "I'm from Florida" as if it allows me to get away with a little bit more while I get acclamated to the city. The general reaction is "Why would you leave Florida" and "Do you know how cold it gets here?" or "How come everyone wants to come to New York." None are meant in a belittling way, but I suppose its easy not to comprehend the mysticism of New York when you've grown accustom to it. Again, I never want to lose the naivety or optimism I've seemed to have nourished about this city. I truly believe it is what keeps us young and keeps life interesting because without it we become cold, bitter and unimpressed by the little things that make something exciting. SCROOGE.

I'm going into my second week at work tomorrow, and I have to say that I'm looking forward to it. The weekend was great. I had my few drinks, my socializing and my brunch with friends out in Caroll Garden (think a small Maine style downtown area in the middle of Brooklyn). I asked my roommate Dara if it was weird that we both were looking forward to going to work tomorrow, and she merely replied "It just means we have really good jobs." I couldn't agree more. There's a time for work and there's a time for play. It's nice to have the weekends to "play," because the week of work makes you appreciate the leisure time even more. Here we go: Week 2

Reader's Note: As some of you (if anyone does actually read this) may know that this blog started out with my adventures abroad. It has quickly turned into my stories about New York, and an outlet of expression. I never envisioned my blog to become a source of free expression, which explains the long entries. I appreciate the time it takes you to read this because in a way I write for you to gain a better sense of where I am and where I am coming from. It's my way of keeping my friends close and in tune with the occurrences of my life. Albeit I can get a little too "EMO" for even myself sometimes on this thing. I would just hate to have a "falling out" of sorts with my friends because neither side made any effort to update one another about their lives, which leads to awkward reunions filled with meaningless conversations that leave you wondering why you were friends with eachother in the first place. I suppose my true attempt with my blog is to maintain those friendships I've come to cherish and value with friends I've made and lost, so as to avoid the occurrence of a "falling out." So thank you for reading, and I would love to hear the stories that make up your lives wherever it is that you find yourself (i.e. Miami, Washington, Ft. Lauderdale, New Hampshire or Australia).

Clock Out

2007-05-18T18:49:00.000-04:00

What do you do after you've "clocked out" from your first week at your new job? The answer is simple-- sleep until Monday and do it all over again. This week has been jam packed with so many new happenings that its almost overwhelming just thinking about it. You kind of just have to take it one breath at a time and relax. I think looking back at the week I never realized how crazy it really was for me-- I mean these past two weeks have been crazy who am I kidding?

So how was my first week? Well it's kind of weird to say this but...I really enjoy my job. I enjoy the atmosphere, my co-workers, my assigned clients and the tasks I've been assigned so far. The best part is time flies. I can really see myself exceling in investor relations. Perhaps it's the combination of the two things I chose to concentrate on when I was in college. Wow that sounds weird "when I was in college" as if I am so old. I loved the communications, writing and social aspect of public relations, but enjoyed the professional, analytical and business side of finance. My job allows me to do both. I never thought I'd see another balance sheet in my life after I took accounting, but I'll be working with them quite a bit. This week was really about gradually introducing myself into the position of junior account executive. I appreciated the patience with which my colleagues have shown me teaching me how to use this machine called the Bloomberg (which is essentially Wall Street in a machine-- and quite possibly the most sophisticated piece of machinery I've ever had to use). Also, it's nice to ease into procedures and practices. The best, however, is that this is a position that will trust me with an immense amount of responsibility. It's no glorified internship unlike many entry-level positions.

Last night I had the chance to get to know my co-workers on a more intimate setting. We rented out the 14th floor of the Library Hotel in Midtown. Apparently, its the posh hang out for Midtown professionals-- it was so exclusive we were assigned a "password" to get on the elevator, which was guarded by a bouncer of sorts. Once reaching the 14th floor we were then again asked for the "password" just in case we somehow snuck our way onto the elevator. The view from a top "The Roof Top" as it was called was incredible. Imagine being amidst the towering sky scrapers with the bustling sounds of New York in the background sipping your first Manhattan cocktail. You gotta just take it in-- how can you not?

Afterwards, I met up with my old roommate from London (Chris) and friend Raija who was in town for interviews. I had my fair share of drinks on the corporate card at The Roof Top, but the three of us decided to grab some dinner in Murray Hill (just above the Lower East Side) at Ethos (an authentic Greek restaurant). We shared some good conversation, good wine and fine food. I felt so grown up heading to happy hour then having wine over dinner. I mean within a week I've already realized a difference. I found myself actually discussing political and foreign policy. I was shocked, but it may have had something to do with actually reading newspapers and being exposed to intellectual people concerned with things other than beer and fraternity garbage.

Perhaps the best luxury of being a "working man" is that once I am home-- I'm home. There is no cause for concern about getting work done. Now, this may very well change as I become more immersed in my job, but as of now its a relief to just sit back and blogger for a bit before heading out to dinner and drinks to kickoff the weekend.

Welcome to the Real World

2007-05-15T23:07:00.000-04:00

I never envisioned my life changing as much as it has the last two days that I've entered the "real world." I must admit though that it has been pretty exciting to be a working man, commuting on the subway both to and from work, getting paid, taking lunches around Midtown Manhattan and living the fast pace lifestyle I craved for so long. It's been a week since I first arrived in New York, and it's been an incredible week at that.

My first day at work was excited as expected. I was introduced to all my colleagues-- all of which seem very nice and are around my age range, professional but friendly. I was given my "office" a.k.a. cubicle on the corner. It was actually pretty cool to have a space to call my own-- it even has a door that I can close for some privacy. It's bigger and not as claustrophobic as I would have imagined. I spent most of my time organizing my computer, E-mail account, voicemail and desk ready for when I arrive each day. I was also given my list of clients, which consist of 6 ranging from cable communication corporations both U.S. and International to a pharmaceutical company. I've been briefly briefed on what the companies do, what we do for them and what I'll be doing. The exciting thing about my job is that it seems to have a lot of variety and not much routine, which will keep my interest peeked.

The office also has a lot of really fantastic qualities and perks, which make working for a smaller agency much better than a larger one. First, the experience I am expecting to get from this position is unfathomable. The thing with smaller firms (40 or so at mine) is that they trust you with a lot more work and responsibility than the larger ones. You are not there to simply do research or photo copies. Its not a glorified internship. Also, it was a pleasant surprise to learn that it was customary for two members of the the Investor Relations team (which is the team I work on) to take me out to lunch each day of this week. Mind you we work on Fifth Avenue (not modest by any means) so the restaurants I've dined at for lunch are the kind you casually stride by while glancing at the menu and think the prices are too ridiculous for what the meal consists of, but nevertheless I've had the opportunity to dine with four of my colleagues these past two days and its been a great experience to have them get to know me and visa versa. My only problem is (and if you know me- you know this is a reoccuring problem) is actually eating fast enough to keep up with conversation and the people I'm eating with. I really have to work on cutting that "pouch" down. haha.

The most brutal adjustment has been the schedule I've been on these past two days. I've managed to get myself on a little bit of a schedule, so that I can get some kind of "normalcy" in my life. On Monday I needed to be at work at 8:30 a.m. which I anticipated being a one time thing, but apparently my hours of work are 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. assuming all my work is done. If not I could end up staying much, much later. Today (Tuesday) however I was to sit in on an earnings report conference call for one of my clients, so this mandated that I be in the office at 7:30 a.m. I couldn't tell you the last time I've been up at 6 a.m. I think I was still in high school. It's really draining. My day generally goes by pretty quickly, but there are moments when I find myself fighting off the sleep at my desk. I don't want to become that guy who becomes dependent on the caffeine fix because I'm worried that the day I stop I will be in this rage (I've heard some bad stories). I usually fight through it. The other challenge is leaving work. I get off at the same time that everyone and their grandmother gets off of work in New York and the U.S. so the subways are swamped. So by the time I actually sardine myself onto a train I am not home until 6:15-6:30 p.m. and I'm exhausted, but I refuse to take a nap because that will keep me awake until late in the night, so I've gotten a two week pass to the New York Sports Club which I tested out yesterday and was a great facility. Today, I went for a jog (its a silent 'J') around Fort Greene park just down the street from my apartment. Apparently, the guy who designed Central Park designed this park, so it was fun to go running up and down the hills to free my mind.

The rush of the city is intense and I've learned quickly that any rest you can get is appreciated and needed. I do feel a little worn out having only been here a week and trying to get acclamated to the environment, but one thing I have refused to let myself do is become tainted to the idea that I am living in New York City. This is what I've wanted since the first time I visited back in 3rd grade. Every morning I take the 'Q' train to Manhattan, which crosses the Manhattan bridge giving me a beautiful scenic shot of the famous Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty and the Financial District both to and from work. I make sure to take a glance at the scene to remind me of how fortunate I am to be living my dream (sounds so cliche). I also take the opportunity as I walk in Midtown amidst the high rises to just take it all in. I mean my life has been so extreme within the past two years its incredible and I don't want to forget how I've felt or what I've experienced. I mean I went from being at a small-town highly populated Gainesville at 20 -- to one of the most expensive cities in the world (London) and abroad at 21 -- to graduating from UF and moving 3 days later to New York City at 22. That's a lot-- and I've loved every moment of it, I'm so appreciative of every moment and that's why I feel it necessary to 1) keep this blog to remind me 2) take a moment of each day to look around and realize what I'm doing, where I am and how far I've come.

How could I not be proud of myself? Anyways, its another early morning tomorrow (and for the rest of my life for that matter) so its time for a quick shower and bed, but New York is treating me well-- s0 thanks for asking. goodnight.

My First Day

2007-05-14T07:13:00.000-04:00

What is it about first days that gets people so wound up? I woke up at 6 a.m. ready to start my morning, and now I sit and wait a bit before I actually head out to the subway off to my first day at work. It sounds strange, but I really haven't viewed today as anything different than a first day at school, or an internship. There are no nerves, no apprehension, uncertainty, but more so anxiety to finally see where it is that I'm going to spend the next few years (hopefully).

I guess you kind of always ask yourself how do you know when you are grown up? I mean do you just wake up one day and say "I think I'm going to be an adult today!" No. I think it happens more gradually. Its almost organic and natural for you. I look at today and I realize that my lack of fear or nerves makes me feel as though I am ready for this new chapter. Maybe today was my day that I woke up and said "I'm an adult."

And when you finally do hit your adult revelation (sp?) how long until you are struck by the monotonous train that seems to speeding by with no intentions of stopping? How long until your routine becomes.... routine? I guess a big party of me is banking on the excitement of this amazing city to keep me from ever reaching the platform of that monotonous train... hell I hope I never purchase a ticket.

Remove Your Shoes At The Door

2007-05-11T17:44:00.000-04:00

My life has done a complete 180 in the past couple of days. Adjusting to city life has been incredible, stressful, busy, tiring, but fun nevertheless. I've spent the last few days getting oriented to the city. I'm still unsure of where I stand sometimes, but I think that's the fun in this city. I end up walking more than I have too to get my bearings, but in the end I find something I enjoy (i.e. a good restaurant or store). I've also managed to spend more money than any person should for having only been here 4 days. It still feels surreal that this is home for me now, and at times I feel as though I have to still take everything in all at once. I should really slow down, or maybe I've acclamated to the speedy lifestyle New Yorkers are so reknown for.

Perhaps my biggest adjustment has been the intensity of this city. On that note there is a misconception of New Yorkers-- they are not rude. I have yet to come across a rude person, but rather I've met some interesting people often very friendly. Especially when I need a point in the right direction. The city is intense and I can see how you can easily be swallowed up by it. You have to run with the big dogs here, and I already sense a building of confidence just from walking around. No one wants to appear like a deer in headlights-- you're just asking for it if you do.

The biggest frustration so far is the dirty feeling you get when you get back home. You don't want to lay in your bed without taking a shower. Your snot (I know its gross) is black from the dirt you inhale in the subway. Your hands never feel clean and you shuold remove your shoes at the door because chances are you stepped in something you don't want to trek into your room. I feel like showering everything I come back from the city...it is an adjustment though.

My story for today begins outside my apartment: I had just left for the morning with Billy and Jackie who were leaving for Florida. I was clean, showered and in my new white converse. I stepped out onto the sidewalk talking heading toward the subway talking to Billy. The street I live on (St. Felix) is a one way street with cars lining both sides, so when a car cuts through it has to maneuver itself through parked cars. Well two cars were driving down the road one behind the other. The car in front stopped. The car behind it decided to swerve around it to get through. As I was walking on the side walk the car made its way around the other car and sped up. It also managed to hit a puddle of water nicely positioned next to me. Now here's where it gets funny because I swore this only happened in movies. The car hits the puddle with such speed that the puddle ends up all over me wetting my entire leg, drenching my shoes and soaking my shorts. I stood there in disbelief because I didn't think something like that actually happened to people, but I'm a living testament to it. It was actually pretty disgusting because the water left on the street near a gutter isnt exactly the cleanest of waters, but I had to just laugh about it. It was a taste of what the city had to offer.

To paint a better picture if you've ever seen the opening sequence of Sex and The City (you know you've seen an episode or two too). It was just like when Sarah Jessica Parkers character gets wet by the bus turning at the end. However, I refused to let it dampen my day and I knew it would make for a fantastic blog entry. Now I know why back in the day when people used the street as their toilets by throwing their crap onto the streets...the gentleman always walked on the side closest to the street. To protect their lady from the passing horse and buggies.

Lesson learned? Steer clear of puddles and passing cars. Walk further from the street because chances are you may get sh*t on you.

My Arrival

2007-05-08T21:48:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting on my bed in my new bedroom, on the new new street, in the new city called New York. It has been a long day full of emotions, travel and hunger pangs. I've been up since 8 a.m. working to get my gear in order for my flight at 12:38 p.m. I was careful to spend as much time with my grandparents, cousin and aunt before I said my farewell. They drove me to the airport, but the goodbye was not as difficult as I had envisioned it to be. I suppose that my frequent absence being in Gainesville, and having to say goodbye before I left to London have given my family a tough exterior that makes it easier to wave goodbye as I pass through security.

I was fortunate to get on the first flight out of West Palm Beach airport considering I flew on standby. It felt like a long flight, but I think it was the anxiety to finally be home that made it feel longer than necessary. Upon arrival, I was the first to get my 3 massive suitcases from baggage claim and managed to haul them to the taxi queve. I've become quite the pro at managing large luggages and maneuvering them through metropolitan areas (i.e. London, Italy, Paris...now New York).

I jumped in the cab with an young (Indian) driver, who as luck would have it had no idea where my final destination was. My apprehension began before I even landed because I was told cab drivers could potentially scam me by taking me the long route to my apartment and charge me an absorbent amount of money for the ride. I didn't want my first experience in the city to be a terrible one, so I asserted myself as best I could as a native New Yorker. However, when he asked me the best way to get to my destination...he pretty much new I was new in town. He turned out to be an honest, hardworking young guy-- genuine. He took me to my street and the price was standard and fair. I even gave him a good tip, so the experience was nothing as I had envisioned it. The only downfall was he managed to drop me off 3 blocks from my actual apartment, so I had to lug the 3 suitcases of (51 lbs., 40 lbs, and 30 lbs.) 3 blocks to my apartment. I arrived earlier than anticipated and phoned my friend Dara (who is also my roommate) to let her know I was at the door, but she was out to eat with her parents (because they are in town for her graduation). It did give me a chance to meet my building's super-- an older gentleman white hair, glasses and the faintest hint of a New York accent. He's a scruffy guy who walks with a limp, but on first impression seems "grandfatherly."

At this time of my day its around 6 p.m. by the time I am let into the apartment and I can see my new room. It was much, much larger than I had remembered it to be, and has a great layout to it. There's plenty of room, a small closet and shelving behind the door. Hardwood floors, high ceilings and white walls make it nicer than some of my previous abodes I've inhabited. It's just large enough for me to get everything I need and live comfortably. The area is also a lot nicer than I remembered. The street is lined with renovated brownstones, recently flourished trees and is reminiscent of what most people think of as a typical New York street. The location is pretty prime too, on my way to Target (2 blocks away) I saw a Crunch gym, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and a large indoor/outdoor mall with various stores-- and that's all just on the oneway street I live on-- Saint Felix Street.

I'm trying to ward off a bit of a cold I feel coming on, so I'm trying to take it easy tonight. It still hasn't hit me that I'm really doing this-- I'm really living in New York just as I always wanted. It's all so excited. I wish I could find a better word to describe it, but there just isn't. I mean this is going to be my life from here on out. I'm a New Yorker.