I did it y'all! I passed my test at the restaurant and am now a server at one of the nicest restaurants in Staten Island. After Hurricane Sandy, a lot of places closed down and this will be the prime candidate for a gorgeous night out. I wish you guys could see this restaurant. It is just south of the Verrazano Bridge, right on the boardwalk of the south beach in S.I. During the day, you can see out over the water clear to Europe. And at night, the bridge lights up and the lights bounce off of the water. It is just beautiful.
I've been told it is a part-time gig but some of the servers and managers seem to think it is a full time commitment. We shall see. I am just happy to have income now. I will get a check on Monday for all the training I've been doing and hopefully will get my first night of tips on Sunday night! I'm not feeling as excited as I should be though. The other waiters are trying to psych me out about how busy it can get and how crazy and they don't have confidence that I can handle it. It scares me, honestly. I'm not even sure I can. Every time I study a lot and go in confident, they rip me apart with things I don't know. They make me second guess myself at every step and I don't like functioning in that environment. It is not positive and not conducive to a confident waiter... I dunno. I'm not sure it will work out but hey it's a job for now. It will pay the bills.
Second thing: I applied for the Licia Albanese Puccini Competition in two weeks. I sent my resume and application in today. Lordy was that an adventure! Tears were cried, offense was taken, anxiety was held at bay, but forgiveness was ultimately given. I finally had all of the documents I needed today and I found a very cheap copy/print place on the upper west side that charged me only $5.37 to print an 8x10 photo, two color resumes, a color song list, two recommendation letters, the actual application, and that price included the three envelopes I needed to make this application happen. But they didn't sell stamps. So then I had to go to the bank and lo and behold! They sell stamps at the ATM!! (Crazy, right??) So I bought stamps and needed to find a postal drop box. I walked out of the bank and there just happened to be a postman unloading his truck. I asked him where the nearest drop box was, he holds out his hand and says, "Here!" So he took my envelope for me. Of course, this entire adventure made me an hour late for my server test. So that was cool. But the application was sent.
Mignon believes I will win this competition. I have no such high hopes for my very first competition but I will do my best!! I am excited to have a performance to look forward to! She has been so good for me. My voice is sounding better than it ever had and it finally sounds like my one true voice rather than several voices I may be imitating or affecting. It's wonderful!
It's funny though, how that works. When someone has faith in you and roots for you, you can do incredible things. But when someone doubts your ability and continues to tell you you can't or won't do well, you start to believe it. Why does that work? I have always been confident in myself and my abilities and worth. What makes working at the South Fin Grill any different than singing for a teacher who doesn't care for my learning style? Or vocal color? Or work ethic? Why is it that when there is that little seed of doubt, all talent and potential go out the window. Fear and Doubt are so crippling. They are. They make the bearer feel unworthy and inadequate.
So since I'm a God-fearin', Heaven-prayin' kind of girl, would you all pray for me in this? Pray for the environment at the restaurant and that my spirits will be lifted, rather than beaten down. Pray that I do well in this competition and make a good impression on those hearing me for the first time. (It is my first debut as a young artist!) Just keep me on your mind, on your list of people to pray for. I need some extra support. The homesickness is at an all-time high and it is not looking like I will be able to go home until the Fall, if I can even afford it by then.
I know this post is not the most positive. But things are changing and things are happening. That's what I came here for, right? Change. And destiny. I firmly believe God brought me here to this place for a purpose. He gave me the Women of Christ at the church to sing with and to become friends with. He gave me a job that will pay the bills. He brought a man into my life who makes me feel beautiful and amazing and like I deserve everything in the world, though I'm not ready for a full relationship yet (which is smart on God's part since he happens to live in Europe for the moment!). So with that, I leave you with these thoughts:
Everything happens for a reason. Destiny always gets its own way. And if you step back and listen to what God and His universe are telling you, you may end up in a life you never dreamed for yourself, with blessings you never imagined. Open your heart and listen.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
The Price I Pay
Has anyone else ever hated a job they were grateful to get? I've started a new job at a higher-end restaurant than I have ever worked at, and it's a very frustrating process. I have to know the menu inside and out, including the wine and drink menu. I have to take my test on Wednesday. I'm not sure yet if I'm ready. They still ask a lot of questions I have to think about a little bit before I can answer. But the worst part is the training. The guy they have me training with is nice and very good at his own job but he is not a very good trainer. For example, yesterday I arrived at 4pm on time and he gave me side work to do. Then around 5:30 he comes over and tells me I'm taking tables all by myself and not to screw it up. He said I'd be fine, I knew the stuff and blah blah. But I freaked out. I was not mentally prepared to take a table yet completely alone. Then once my table was finished, I stood around waiting to be told what to do. In general, he teaches me one thing, does a completely different thing, and the other trainer has to come back and reteach me all over again. Another server had me polish and stock almost three hundred glasses. Then realized that they had to break down the tables at the end of the night and now there was no room for the glasses already out. They expect me to know things that are not on the menu. The menu they gave me is a customer menu, not a server's menu. It doesn't have all the allergies listed, it doesn't have every ingredient listed. It doesn't talk about the flavors or ideas behind the dish. I have been training for a week now and I am not prepared. They keep telling me the money is worth it but they pool their tips and get $80 a piece at the end of the night. Not going to pay my rent. All of this to say, I have no idea what I'm doing at my new job or even if it's going to work out. But I need the money so desperately, I can't afford not to see it through...
I have been living on pb&j sandwiches and pasta for weeks. I have to scrounge for quarters for the bus. Daisy eats boiled chicken breast and green beans when I can't afford dog food. Every now and then I buy myself a can of Coca Cola and a Dove dark chocolate bar as a treat. And then I kick myself for a week for spending money on so many calories and sugar, with no nutrition in sight. But it sure is delicious....
And then I realize how much time I spend on my commute. To my office job, I spend six hours a week. To the restaurant, I spend four. Nevermind the hour and a half in one direction it takes me to get to my lesson and the hour it takes me to get anywhere in the city for any other reason. That's at least thirteen hours a week I spend on commute. For comparison: at university, I spent roughly four hours a week on commute. In Austin, maybe six. Of course I had a car then and don't have to pay for gas now. But I do have to pay $2.50 per train ride and buying the monthly just isn't worth it unless I ride a train or bus at least twice per day. I don't go out enough for that.
I know that I am living my dream. I know that I am lucky to be here. And if it wasn't hard it wouldn't be worth it. I know all the earworms out there. But it is hard. And it is frustrating. And I don't necessarily have a direction. That's part of why I haven't been writing as much. I'm just not sure what I'm doing and I'm even less sure of what to tell you I'm doing! So bear with me while I sort my life out. It's snowing again here. I am beginning to get tired of being wet everytime I walk in a building here. But I guess that is a small price to pay to be in my dream city right?
I have been living on pb&j sandwiches and pasta for weeks. I have to scrounge for quarters for the bus. Daisy eats boiled chicken breast and green beans when I can't afford dog food. Every now and then I buy myself a can of Coca Cola and a Dove dark chocolate bar as a treat. And then I kick myself for a week for spending money on so many calories and sugar, with no nutrition in sight. But it sure is delicious....
And then I realize how much time I spend on my commute. To my office job, I spend six hours a week. To the restaurant, I spend four. Nevermind the hour and a half in one direction it takes me to get to my lesson and the hour it takes me to get anywhere in the city for any other reason. That's at least thirteen hours a week I spend on commute. For comparison: at university, I spent roughly four hours a week on commute. In Austin, maybe six. Of course I had a car then and don't have to pay for gas now. But I do have to pay $2.50 per train ride and buying the monthly just isn't worth it unless I ride a train or bus at least twice per day. I don't go out enough for that.
I know that I am living my dream. I know that I am lucky to be here. And if it wasn't hard it wouldn't be worth it. I know all the earworms out there. But it is hard. And it is frustrating. And I don't necessarily have a direction. That's part of why I haven't been writing as much. I'm just not sure what I'm doing and I'm even less sure of what to tell you I'm doing! So bear with me while I sort my life out. It's snowing again here. I am beginning to get tired of being wet everytime I walk in a building here. But I guess that is a small price to pay to be in my dream city right?
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Blessings and News!!
Good news!! I got the server position I wanted! It's at a restaurant on Staten Island and should pay very well. It's a high end and very busy restaurant. And as an added bonus, I have received a little bit of a break in my rent. Lucky me! I can't really divulge details but suffice it to say, I am paying only about 2/3s of what I was paying before! God is so good.
Even better news! I found an amazing church today. You know how I kept mentioning hearing church bells and how they just made me feel warm and cozy and happy? Well, today I went to that church. The service itself was extremely different than what I grew up with. More conservative in some ways, more liberal in others. It even had some completely new practices the lady next to me was kind enough to help me understand. The pastor was great. The sermon he gave was inspiring in that it had a great lesson, but it also inspired me to ask my own questions, spurring on my own Bible study this week. They asked if there were any new visitors, but I was shy and didn't say anything. At this point, an elderly lady in a bright green top turned around and pointed at me. She knew somehow I was brand new. I told her no (I didn't want to stand up in front of the whole congregation) but she found me after and asked my name. I told her Erin and she goes, "Oh a good Irish name! Are you Irish then?" And I said parts of my family were, yes. Her name was Eileen. She had a bit of an accent herself and informed me that her parents were Irish so she is American by Irish descent. She then practically ordered me to go downstairs to the fellowship hall so they could feed me and said she would meet me down there. So I exited and shook the pastor's hand. He thanked me for coming and all but shoved me down the stairs toward the fellowship hall. Not being one for turning down free food, I went.
I stood a bit awkwardly by myself until a lady named Pam came over and introduced herself. She found out I was new and I was a goner. She introduced to everyone and told them I was new and everyone was just as warm as could be!! She dragged me over and pushed coffee in my hand, then took me back and seated me right next to her at her table, all the while asking where I'm from and how I like it here, how long I'd been here, etc. and introducing me to more people inbetween. On my other side sat a lady named Soraya. The conversation flowed like we were the oldest of friends and we had a very talktive Egyptian man sitting with us who provided a very interesting element to the conversation. They told me where all the best markets were and the best parks. Sorayah has a dog and said she'd be more than willing to have doggy playdates with Daisy. Pam invited me to her bootcamp classes on T/Th evenings since I haven't found a workout routine yet and to the Women of Christ music ministry, who just happened to be meeting just after lunch.
Now Women of Christ a women's choir that performs for the church every fourth Sunday and gets invited to other churches as well. They meet every Sunday after the fellowship for rehearsal and ministry. They go and sing and pray for one another and each lady brings a scripture to share with the others for the week. It is very cool. They started to sing and I noticed their soprano section was having some trouble with the high notes. When they stopped, one lady was saying she just couldn't get up there for the day (in all fairness, they were missing about half their members). I, high notes being my specialty, offered to do it. The song was very simple and so I joined them. It felt so good to sing as a part of a group again.
If you knew me at University, you'd know I dreaded choir. I wanted to be a solo singer. But there is something about being in an ensemble working toward a common goal that is very satisfying to a musician. I finally felt at peace. The ladies were so sweet and said how much they liked my voice; they even invite me to sing with them next Sunday!!
I have never felt so welcome in my life. They accepted me into their circle, no questions asked. They were so spiritual, so genuine, and it was so uplifting to meet women I could really relate to. I felt at peace in a way I didn't know I had missed so much. God definitely has something planned for me here, I just wish I knew what it was. For now, my apartment is amazing, this church is exactly what I needed (and only two minutes walk from my front door), and I finally have a second job that will pay the missing half of my living expenses. I am so blessed.
Even better news! I found an amazing church today. You know how I kept mentioning hearing church bells and how they just made me feel warm and cozy and happy? Well, today I went to that church. The service itself was extremely different than what I grew up with. More conservative in some ways, more liberal in others. It even had some completely new practices the lady next to me was kind enough to help me understand. The pastor was great. The sermon he gave was inspiring in that it had a great lesson, but it also inspired me to ask my own questions, spurring on my own Bible study this week. They asked if there were any new visitors, but I was shy and didn't say anything. At this point, an elderly lady in a bright green top turned around and pointed at me. She knew somehow I was brand new. I told her no (I didn't want to stand up in front of the whole congregation) but she found me after and asked my name. I told her Erin and she goes, "Oh a good Irish name! Are you Irish then?" And I said parts of my family were, yes. Her name was Eileen. She had a bit of an accent herself and informed me that her parents were Irish so she is American by Irish descent. She then practically ordered me to go downstairs to the fellowship hall so they could feed me and said she would meet me down there. So I exited and shook the pastor's hand. He thanked me for coming and all but shoved me down the stairs toward the fellowship hall. Not being one for turning down free food, I went.
I stood a bit awkwardly by myself until a lady named Pam came over and introduced herself. She found out I was new and I was a goner. She introduced to everyone and told them I was new and everyone was just as warm as could be!! She dragged me over and pushed coffee in my hand, then took me back and seated me right next to her at her table, all the while asking where I'm from and how I like it here, how long I'd been here, etc. and introducing me to more people inbetween. On my other side sat a lady named Soraya. The conversation flowed like we were the oldest of friends and we had a very talktive Egyptian man sitting with us who provided a very interesting element to the conversation. They told me where all the best markets were and the best parks. Sorayah has a dog and said she'd be more than willing to have doggy playdates with Daisy. Pam invited me to her bootcamp classes on T/Th evenings since I haven't found a workout routine yet and to the Women of Christ music ministry, who just happened to be meeting just after lunch.
Now Women of Christ a women's choir that performs for the church every fourth Sunday and gets invited to other churches as well. They meet every Sunday after the fellowship for rehearsal and ministry. They go and sing and pray for one another and each lady brings a scripture to share with the others for the week. It is very cool. They started to sing and I noticed their soprano section was having some trouble with the high notes. When they stopped, one lady was saying she just couldn't get up there for the day (in all fairness, they were missing about half their members). I, high notes being my specialty, offered to do it. The song was very simple and so I joined them. It felt so good to sing as a part of a group again.
If you knew me at University, you'd know I dreaded choir. I wanted to be a solo singer. But there is something about being in an ensemble working toward a common goal that is very satisfying to a musician. I finally felt at peace. The ladies were so sweet and said how much they liked my voice; they even invite me to sing with them next Sunday!!
I have never felt so welcome in my life. They accepted me into their circle, no questions asked. They were so spiritual, so genuine, and it was so uplifting to meet women I could really relate to. I felt at peace in a way I didn't know I had missed so much. God definitely has something planned for me here, I just wish I knew what it was. For now, my apartment is amazing, this church is exactly what I needed (and only two minutes walk from my front door), and I finally have a second job that will pay the missing half of my living expenses. I am so blessed.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Update and Satire (Only mildly exaggerated)
Hey friends! So sorry I haven't been posting. I have a million excuses and no real reasons but I will try to catch you up without boring you to tears!
On the music front, I have been sick and have only within the past few days been feeling better. Apparently it happens to a lot of non-newyorkers who haven't been exposed to subway travel or come into contact with quite so many people before. That being said, my vocal cords are fine. I have a bit of lingering chest congestion, and coughing makes trying to sing an excruciating process. I want to sing and vocally I feel fine; but if I take too deep a breath I start coughing or simply can't get enough breath to move the air. I have my lesson with Mignon on Saturday after two weeks of not seeing her. I will ask her then what she recommends and hopefully I will not be prevented from using my lesson time well!
-=-
On the job front, I simply have no news. It is beyond me why in a city full of people concerned about their time, so much of mine has been wasted. I have gone on interviews and slogged through the ad sites trying to find a decent person who will give me work to no avail. My work at the computer maintenance company is great. I love the office and my boss, the girls I work with are smart and nice people. But they can only afford to give me so many hours. Lucky for me (though not for them), half the office has been dealing with a cold, the flu, and pinkeye so I have been able to jump in and help where I can. I am learning quickly but there is just no substitute for experience. Story of my life, right? But my boss is proud of me and the work I do. My computer skills are apparently greater than your average worker's so I do bring some knowledge to my position. But I still need another source of income. Several less than appealing opportunities have presented themselves lately, but there are some that I just can't bring myself to do. I guess I ended up with a moral compass after all.
-=-
On a somewhat related note, living within a certain budget has not always been easy for me. I have always managed to find a way to make ends meet, and still have Starbucks money to spare. This time, however, I am not so lucky. The real world is cold and unforgiving. Rent is an ever-looming obligation and I have never thought about the cost of food more in my life. Since rent itself is double my current income, I live on peanut butter and juice. I splurge on the occasional craving (and by splurge I mean spend more than five dollars on one sweet dessert or strawberries-- my personal weakness) but for the most part I have been good. But I am definitely learning how to be a starving artist.
-=-
Now about the subways. It is extraordinary how much fun I have watching people on the subways. I am a total snoop! I just love to peep at people's iphones and blackberries, reading their facebook feeds, seeing what music they listen to, trying to write a mental dossier on their lives just by observing their manner and phone content. It is so much fun! Today, in fact, I caught a super macho man in his workout gear with a basketball in his sloppy, unzipped gym bag listening to Beyonce. Priceless. So, here are a few things I have observed and kept a list of in now particular order:
--There was a man who appeared to have a home, though I assumed not much of one. His clothes were mostly clean at least but out of fashion, unmatched, and extremely well-worn (strange for NYC). That being said, this man was wearing tennis shoes-- without socks. How do I know this? Because he took them off. His legs were ashier than Pompeii and his feet looked like they were home to more fungi than a mushroom farm. And then he scratched them. Not just once, maybe twice and put the shoe back on. No... I wish. He scratched and rubbed his bare feet for the better part of three stops on the express train, leaving a dirty pile of skin flakes on the floor and the most abominable odor to waft across the measly five feet of subway air, already atrocious in quality on its own, to where I was trapped. I had to change cars. Apparently, I wasn't the only one. We had a good awkward laugh.
--You will never experience wrath like that of New Yorkers waiting for a train that finally comes and blows right through the station without so much as a warning of arrival, followed by ten minutes of outrage while we waited for the next train.
--There is a guy who rides the 4 express in Manhattan, who in his phone, has someone saved as "Babymama." No lie. She had recently sent him a three paragraph long text and he replied with one word. Wonder what happened there....
--The subway at rush hour is ruthless. Especially in the evening because everyone is tired and mad at their boss (or so I assume). One lady, in a crowded subway car no less, was perturbed that my bag was touching her. So she turns around with all the New York attitude she could muster and says, "Miss, do you MIND?" Of course I mind. You're on a crowded subway. If you don't want to be touched or squashed by people you don't know, take a cab.
--If you don't speak English properly and that's why you don't understand the rules, you have no right to have attitude and throw a princess fit. Ferry or not.
--New Yorkers are bold. I'm not talking liquid courage bold, I'm talking people (men in particular) frequently stop to say, "Miss, you are so beautiful." "Ma'am, you're hot." "Damn, you lookin' fine witchyo big brown eyes." In the morning on my way to work. On my lunch break. On my way home from work. On my way to dinner. Walking my dog. Waiting for the ferry. On the ferry. And in many of these places, I'm stuck. I can't very well jump off the ferry or out of a train in motion. So I play nice and put on my best southern accent and tell them how much I 'ppreciate the compliment. And then I act like I'm deaf. I act like I'm deaf until I'm blue in the face.... Or something like that.
--Actresses look hungry. And I don't mean starving, although half of them look that way too. Actresses want to act so desperately. You can pick them out of a crowd. No offense to my actress friends, I love you all dearly. But there is something about actresses in New York that have this crazy hungry look in their eye like they will do anything to make a name for themselves. Just like DJs will hand anyone a card who will listen to them introduce themselves. And certain public transportation users will risk their own hearing for the sake of looking cool or pretending they're not on public transportation. Moms look tired. Businessmen look empty. Musicians look like they are torn between doubt and hope.
And new yorkers as a whole, are lethal with umbrellas.
-=-
That's all I've got for now. I hope you are smiling and telling the ones you love you love them. At the end of the day, sometimes a brat just needs a hug or a distant friend a phone call.
On the music front, I have been sick and have only within the past few days been feeling better. Apparently it happens to a lot of non-newyorkers who haven't been exposed to subway travel or come into contact with quite so many people before. That being said, my vocal cords are fine. I have a bit of lingering chest congestion, and coughing makes trying to sing an excruciating process. I want to sing and vocally I feel fine; but if I take too deep a breath I start coughing or simply can't get enough breath to move the air. I have my lesson with Mignon on Saturday after two weeks of not seeing her. I will ask her then what she recommends and hopefully I will not be prevented from using my lesson time well!
-=-
On the job front, I simply have no news. It is beyond me why in a city full of people concerned about their time, so much of mine has been wasted. I have gone on interviews and slogged through the ad sites trying to find a decent person who will give me work to no avail. My work at the computer maintenance company is great. I love the office and my boss, the girls I work with are smart and nice people. But they can only afford to give me so many hours. Lucky for me (though not for them), half the office has been dealing with a cold, the flu, and pinkeye so I have been able to jump in and help where I can. I am learning quickly but there is just no substitute for experience. Story of my life, right? But my boss is proud of me and the work I do. My computer skills are apparently greater than your average worker's so I do bring some knowledge to my position. But I still need another source of income. Several less than appealing opportunities have presented themselves lately, but there are some that I just can't bring myself to do. I guess I ended up with a moral compass after all.
-=-
On a somewhat related note, living within a certain budget has not always been easy for me. I have always managed to find a way to make ends meet, and still have Starbucks money to spare. This time, however, I am not so lucky. The real world is cold and unforgiving. Rent is an ever-looming obligation and I have never thought about the cost of food more in my life. Since rent itself is double my current income, I live on peanut butter and juice. I splurge on the occasional craving (and by splurge I mean spend more than five dollars on one sweet dessert or strawberries-- my personal weakness) but for the most part I have been good. But I am definitely learning how to be a starving artist.
-=-
Now about the subways. It is extraordinary how much fun I have watching people on the subways. I am a total snoop! I just love to peep at people's iphones and blackberries, reading their facebook feeds, seeing what music they listen to, trying to write a mental dossier on their lives just by observing their manner and phone content. It is so much fun! Today, in fact, I caught a super macho man in his workout gear with a basketball in his sloppy, unzipped gym bag listening to Beyonce. Priceless. So, here are a few things I have observed and kept a list of in now particular order:
--There was a man who appeared to have a home, though I assumed not much of one. His clothes were mostly clean at least but out of fashion, unmatched, and extremely well-worn (strange for NYC). That being said, this man was wearing tennis shoes-- without socks. How do I know this? Because he took them off. His legs were ashier than Pompeii and his feet looked like they were home to more fungi than a mushroom farm. And then he scratched them. Not just once, maybe twice and put the shoe back on. No... I wish. He scratched and rubbed his bare feet for the better part of three stops on the express train, leaving a dirty pile of skin flakes on the floor and the most abominable odor to waft across the measly five feet of subway air, already atrocious in quality on its own, to where I was trapped. I had to change cars. Apparently, I wasn't the only one. We had a good awkward laugh.
--You will never experience wrath like that of New Yorkers waiting for a train that finally comes and blows right through the station without so much as a warning of arrival, followed by ten minutes of outrage while we waited for the next train.
--There is a guy who rides the 4 express in Manhattan, who in his phone, has someone saved as "Babymama." No lie. She had recently sent him a three paragraph long text and he replied with one word. Wonder what happened there....
--The subway at rush hour is ruthless. Especially in the evening because everyone is tired and mad at their boss (or so I assume). One lady, in a crowded subway car no less, was perturbed that my bag was touching her. So she turns around with all the New York attitude she could muster and says, "Miss, do you MIND?" Of course I mind. You're on a crowded subway. If you don't want to be touched or squashed by people you don't know, take a cab.
--If you don't speak English properly and that's why you don't understand the rules, you have no right to have attitude and throw a princess fit. Ferry or not.
--New Yorkers are bold. I'm not talking liquid courage bold, I'm talking people (men in particular) frequently stop to say, "Miss, you are so beautiful." "Ma'am, you're hot." "Damn, you lookin' fine witchyo big brown eyes." In the morning on my way to work. On my lunch break. On my way home from work. On my way to dinner. Walking my dog. Waiting for the ferry. On the ferry. And in many of these places, I'm stuck. I can't very well jump off the ferry or out of a train in motion. So I play nice and put on my best southern accent and tell them how much I 'ppreciate the compliment. And then I act like I'm deaf. I act like I'm deaf until I'm blue in the face.... Or something like that.
--Actresses look hungry. And I don't mean starving, although half of them look that way too. Actresses want to act so desperately. You can pick them out of a crowd. No offense to my actress friends, I love you all dearly. But there is something about actresses in New York that have this crazy hungry look in their eye like they will do anything to make a name for themselves. Just like DJs will hand anyone a card who will listen to them introduce themselves. And certain public transportation users will risk their own hearing for the sake of looking cool or pretending they're not on public transportation. Moms look tired. Businessmen look empty. Musicians look like they are torn between doubt and hope.
And new yorkers as a whole, are lethal with umbrellas.
-=-
That's all I've got for now. I hope you are smiling and telling the ones you love you love them. At the end of the day, sometimes a brat just needs a hug or a distant friend a phone call.
Monday, February 25, 2013
You Should Never Doubt
You should never doubt. Doubt is this evil little seedling that plants itself in a moment of thought: that moment when reason and desire battle over who will win and who will submit. The battle has to take place in order to make a commitment to a decision. But beware that scavenger that preys on questions and kills courage before it can realize its potential.
Today I doubted myself. Really, for the last week or so I've been doubting myself. At home in Texas, where I always knew people, I never had a problem finding a job when I most needed it. I never had a problem finding someone to sit down with me at an interview or recommend me to someone known to be hiring. I had no idea how lucky I was. The job search here in New York has been the worst and most prolonged nightmare of my life. Frankly, from someone who frequently has violent nightmares involving blood and the death of close friends and family, that's saying something. Not only do I have limited financial resources to survive on, I only have a handful of contacts in the NYC metropolitan area. How dare I, with the hubris of a twenty-something in possession of a bright and shiny, new diploma, move across the country expecting someone to hand me a job offer on a platter saying, "Thank you, we have been waiting for a candidate just like you to graduate so.... blahdee blah blah" ya get it. That is obviously not what happened.
But really, a month here and I only have a part-time job that will barely cover food and transportation. I have been meaning to go to an agency to get a job but I kept thinking I had nothing to offer, that I just needed to start small and work my way up. But why not get a real job? With benefits and a 401k? (By the way, will someone explain to me what exactly that is? There really should be a course in college called Application and Job Offer Lingo 1301) But I doubted myself. So today, after a weekend of hellish sickness and self-loathing, I dragged myself out of bed, put on some make-up and faked doing something with my hair, threw on my favorite jeans and moccasins, and went to the agency. After one very short hour, I was sitting in a cubicle with an agent discussing my resume. He had ideas right off the top of his head and we got right to business putting in applications. I put out six applications, came back with two interviews, and all with the added recommendation of this guy Mike. I was thrilled.
Here's the catch. IF I get one of these jobs, I may not begin working for another week or two. IF I begin working that soon, I probably won't get paid until a week or two after that start date. So I went home discouraged and bewildered. How on earth did I find myself in this ridiculous city knowing practically no one with no job prospect in sight?
Here was my second doubt. I doubted the man for whom there are so many better words than boyfriend. The Italian man I met a few weeks ago? We've kept in contact and we've talked all day every day. He is one of the kindest and most intelligent people I have ever met. I could go on. But I doubted our relationship. I began to doubt if this was smart, if he was someone I really wanted to tie myself to, if it was worth feeling alone to be with someone I knew for a week? I began to doubt his intentions. I began to doubt my intentions. Not knowing how bad I really was, the poor guy signed onto Skype anyway.
The moment I saw him, I was a bawling wad of tears and mumbling. And can I just tell you, God put this man in my life. He did everything from offer comfort and support to offering monetary help to just trying to make me laugh by being his crazy self. I refused the help of course, but it was so nice knowing someone was on my side. I honestly couldn't tell you what we talked about for the next hour and a half because conversation is just so easy. We laughed and I finished crying and he reassured me that things happen in their own time. I will find a job when I'm meant to find one and I can't find one any sooner.
Given the six-hour time difference, Mr. Italiano (as he has been lovingly deemed by my family) had to go to sleep since he had work in the morning. So I went about my business, made dinner played with Daisy, then finally resigned myself to the fact that I needed to do laundry. Since we have to do laundry with quarters here, it's always a hunt to find enough quarters for both the wash and the dry (I need twelve, in case you were curious). With the worries of not having enough money to eat after I pay rent looming over my head, I begin to dig for quarters. I have ten quarters from my purse, so I decide to look in coat pockets. First pocket: empty. Second pocket: three bobby pins and a hair tie. Next coat, first pocket: three pennies. Second pocket: SCORE! SIX WHOLE dollars and the remaining two quarters. I just about cried. That is lunch tomorrow. Excited, I get my laundry together and head downstairs. As my mother taught me to do, I diligently check all the pockets of the clothes I am washing. Lo and behold? SCORE!! Ten dollar bill. Right there in my jeans pocket the whole time.
This was my third doubt: my God. I didn't trust him to take care of me which is why I cried, which is why I let my monkey chattering brain get to me. Sure it was just my absent-mindedness that gave me that sixteen dollars, not God, per se. But, since God obviously did not give me good budgeting skills, he gave me absent-mindedness so that I would accidentally provide for myself when I most need it.
Moral of the story? You don't have time for doubt. Doubt is crippling. Doubt is what makes a bad day worse. Second guess yourself, by all means. Make sure a decision is worth it. But when it comes down to it, don't let doubt take over. Fate has a funny way of getting what it wants whether you like it or not. Matthew 6:26 has never rung more true. Look it up if you don't know it. Don't doubt yourself. Don't doubt your relationships. And most importantly, don't doubt your God. If you don't believe in God, this is not the place to convince you. So don't doubt whatever belief it is you hold at the core of your being. It created you. It will take care of you. Let it be. And don't sweat the small stuff. It's small for a reason.
Today I doubted myself. Really, for the last week or so I've been doubting myself. At home in Texas, where I always knew people, I never had a problem finding a job when I most needed it. I never had a problem finding someone to sit down with me at an interview or recommend me to someone known to be hiring. I had no idea how lucky I was. The job search here in New York has been the worst and most prolonged nightmare of my life. Frankly, from someone who frequently has violent nightmares involving blood and the death of close friends and family, that's saying something. Not only do I have limited financial resources to survive on, I only have a handful of contacts in the NYC metropolitan area. How dare I, with the hubris of a twenty-something in possession of a bright and shiny, new diploma, move across the country expecting someone to hand me a job offer on a platter saying, "Thank you, we have been waiting for a candidate just like you to graduate so.... blahdee blah blah" ya get it. That is obviously not what happened.
But really, a month here and I only have a part-time job that will barely cover food and transportation. I have been meaning to go to an agency to get a job but I kept thinking I had nothing to offer, that I just needed to start small and work my way up. But why not get a real job? With benefits and a 401k? (By the way, will someone explain to me what exactly that is? There really should be a course in college called Application and Job Offer Lingo 1301) But I doubted myself. So today, after a weekend of hellish sickness and self-loathing, I dragged myself out of bed, put on some make-up and faked doing something with my hair, threw on my favorite jeans and moccasins, and went to the agency. After one very short hour, I was sitting in a cubicle with an agent discussing my resume. He had ideas right off the top of his head and we got right to business putting in applications. I put out six applications, came back with two interviews, and all with the added recommendation of this guy Mike. I was thrilled.
Here's the catch. IF I get one of these jobs, I may not begin working for another week or two. IF I begin working that soon, I probably won't get paid until a week or two after that start date. So I went home discouraged and bewildered. How on earth did I find myself in this ridiculous city knowing practically no one with no job prospect in sight?
Here was my second doubt. I doubted the man for whom there are so many better words than boyfriend. The Italian man I met a few weeks ago? We've kept in contact and we've talked all day every day. He is one of the kindest and most intelligent people I have ever met. I could go on. But I doubted our relationship. I began to doubt if this was smart, if he was someone I really wanted to tie myself to, if it was worth feeling alone to be with someone I knew for a week? I began to doubt his intentions. I began to doubt my intentions. Not knowing how bad I really was, the poor guy signed onto Skype anyway.
The moment I saw him, I was a bawling wad of tears and mumbling. And can I just tell you, God put this man in my life. He did everything from offer comfort and support to offering monetary help to just trying to make me laugh by being his crazy self. I refused the help of course, but it was so nice knowing someone was on my side. I honestly couldn't tell you what we talked about for the next hour and a half because conversation is just so easy. We laughed and I finished crying and he reassured me that things happen in their own time. I will find a job when I'm meant to find one and I can't find one any sooner.
Given the six-hour time difference, Mr. Italiano (as he has been lovingly deemed by my family) had to go to sleep since he had work in the morning. So I went about my business, made dinner played with Daisy, then finally resigned myself to the fact that I needed to do laundry. Since we have to do laundry with quarters here, it's always a hunt to find enough quarters for both the wash and the dry (I need twelve, in case you were curious). With the worries of not having enough money to eat after I pay rent looming over my head, I begin to dig for quarters. I have ten quarters from my purse, so I decide to look in coat pockets. First pocket: empty. Second pocket: three bobby pins and a hair tie. Next coat, first pocket: three pennies. Second pocket: SCORE! SIX WHOLE dollars and the remaining two quarters. I just about cried. That is lunch tomorrow. Excited, I get my laundry together and head downstairs. As my mother taught me to do, I diligently check all the pockets of the clothes I am washing. Lo and behold? SCORE!! Ten dollar bill. Right there in my jeans pocket the whole time.
This was my third doubt: my God. I didn't trust him to take care of me which is why I cried, which is why I let my monkey chattering brain get to me. Sure it was just my absent-mindedness that gave me that sixteen dollars, not God, per se. But, since God obviously did not give me good budgeting skills, he gave me absent-mindedness so that I would accidentally provide for myself when I most need it.
Moral of the story? You don't have time for doubt. Doubt is crippling. Doubt is what makes a bad day worse. Second guess yourself, by all means. Make sure a decision is worth it. But when it comes down to it, don't let doubt take over. Fate has a funny way of getting what it wants whether you like it or not. Matthew 6:26 has never rung more true. Look it up if you don't know it. Don't doubt yourself. Don't doubt your relationships. And most importantly, don't doubt your God. If you don't believe in God, this is not the place to convince you. So don't doubt whatever belief it is you hold at the core of your being. It created you. It will take care of you. Let it be. And don't sweat the small stuff. It's small for a reason.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
The Ferry, The Rat, and The Boiler
Today, I took Daisy to the dog park in Battery Park City. To get there, I had to bundle me up (I've been sick but more about that later), bundle Daisy up, pack a bag with a bottle of water, dog poo baggies, etc., and-- the dreaded muzzle. Now our whole experience with the muzzle thus far had been one little day of experimentation where we went for a walk and I died laughing because Daisy was so darn pitiful. She would go up to any and everyone hoping someone would take pity and remove the dreaded muzzle. No such luck, but E for Effort!! So I took the muzzle in the bag, intending to try and get away with not putting it on her. We get to the ferry with about five minutes to boarding and the bomb labradors have a wild fit of rage at the new comer, barking and growling and lunging at one very terrified Daisy. Then the guard tells me we have to board on the lower level with the strollers, invalids, and bikes. So we find the stairs, walk around and find the lower entrance to the ferry. The guards out front make the usual comments (What a pretty dog! She is so big! etc.) in addition to informing me that she would require the muzzle. As I dig in the bag for the muzzle, they make small talk (How old is she? What breed is she?) and one funny guy informs me that he thinks they made a new rule-- owners need to have matching muzzles. I told him I didn't have one and begged for mercy. He said he'd give me a pass just for today. So, muzzle on and laughing, Daisy and I board the ferry.
Daisy does not like the ferry. It is loud and full of strange people and smells and no traction. She is quivering and whining and breathing faster than a mouse's heartbeat. I finally take her outside and she calms down a bit when she can see the water. She looks through the funny little portholes (Is that the right word for them?), watches the seagulls, and continues to whine but at least she is panting less. The guard told me if she was friendly I could take the muzzle off once I was actually on the ferry. Daisy has never seemed more relieved than the moment that dreaded muzzle slid off her snout. So then I discovered that as long as I don't try to sit down, she will be calm. As long as she is walking, she is fine. But the moment Mama wants a rest, Daisy has a panick attack. Ok. I can walk circles around a boat for thirty minutes. Sure. Bright side: She is becoming much more adept at meeting new people and not being afraid.
The dog park was fine, there was room for her to run but only one big dog for her to play with (in addition to half a dozen smaller dogs that frightened Daisy into hiding behind my legs.) Then the ferry ride back, much easier than the ferry ride over. I knew what to expect, but again, I couldn't sit down for long. I met a nice couple that pet her and loved on her, asked me all kinds of questions and suggested a few other dog parks to try. I tell you what, my dog is a trooper. From flying halfway across the country to learning how to live in Staten Island, to learning to get along with new people and go with whatever I throw at her, my dog is a trooper.
Oh and the same funny guard on the way back asked where my matching muzzle was. I kindly reminded him of the pass he gave me today. He then offered to buy me one for Christmas. I refrained from reminding him that Christmas is not for another ten months. I just laughed and Daisy and I headed for home.
-=-
I saw my first subway rat the other day. This thing was enormous!!! Its body had to be ten inches long and its tail a good foot. It was bigger than most purse dogs in Manhattan. The thing was disgusting. And braver than any rodent I've ever witnessed. This rat was just chillin' on the platform searching for food, not minding the throngs of people in the least.
It was funny to watch the reactions. The women were scared. The men didn't notice. The tourists took pictures. The natives just took him in stride, veering imperceptibly if at all around this gigantic mutated subway rat. I have never seen anything like it. Although, surprisingly enough, no one screamed. Not one screamer in the whole blasted subway. I admit, I was a bit disappointed.
-=-
My other newest experience is of being sick in a New York apartment building. We don't have central air or heat. We have window units and a boiler. It's nice not having to pay for heat and water and all, but really, the boiler has one temperature-- boiling. This is no exaggeration. I can walk around my apartment in a camisole and the shortest shorts I own and be sweating like an Olympian when it's negative-something degrees outside. The only way to turn down the heat? Open the windows. So it's become a skill of mine to adjust the window to just how much air I need in the house. The problem is, it's almost always raining, especially at night. So there is dry heat from radiators and hot pipes running through the different rooms and then there is cold, damp air coming through the cracks in the windows. Not so terrible when one is perfectly healthy. Throw a fever in the mix and you've got more temperatures in one room than emotions in six months worth of PMS.
Not only do I believe that having the window open at night is what caused a phlegm colony in my lungs in the first place, but it is impossible to keep them closed and stay at a reasonable level of hydration. I try desperately to drink enough water to combat the dehydration process but short of becoming a camel, I see no end. Heaven forbid it ever warms up outside because Lord help us if the outside temp is forty-five and they don't turn the heat off until it reaches fifty!
-=-
No word on the job front. I got the one little part-time job and it is stellar!! The people are so nice and it is good honest work. I don't mind it in the least. But I need more than twelve hours per week. I am going to a temp agency tomorrow just to see. Even if it is temp, it is better than nothing.
Thanks, y'all, for reading and I made some adjustments to the comments section so it should be easier. Let me know what you think!!
Daisy does not like the ferry. It is loud and full of strange people and smells and no traction. She is quivering and whining and breathing faster than a mouse's heartbeat. I finally take her outside and she calms down a bit when she can see the water. She looks through the funny little portholes (Is that the right word for them?), watches the seagulls, and continues to whine but at least she is panting less. The guard told me if she was friendly I could take the muzzle off once I was actually on the ferry. Daisy has never seemed more relieved than the moment that dreaded muzzle slid off her snout. So then I discovered that as long as I don't try to sit down, she will be calm. As long as she is walking, she is fine. But the moment Mama wants a rest, Daisy has a panick attack. Ok. I can walk circles around a boat for thirty minutes. Sure. Bright side: She is becoming much more adept at meeting new people and not being afraid.
The dog park was fine, there was room for her to run but only one big dog for her to play with (in addition to half a dozen smaller dogs that frightened Daisy into hiding behind my legs.) Then the ferry ride back, much easier than the ferry ride over. I knew what to expect, but again, I couldn't sit down for long. I met a nice couple that pet her and loved on her, asked me all kinds of questions and suggested a few other dog parks to try. I tell you what, my dog is a trooper. From flying halfway across the country to learning how to live in Staten Island, to learning to get along with new people and go with whatever I throw at her, my dog is a trooper.
Oh and the same funny guard on the way back asked where my matching muzzle was. I kindly reminded him of the pass he gave me today. He then offered to buy me one for Christmas. I refrained from reminding him that Christmas is not for another ten months. I just laughed and Daisy and I headed for home.
-=-
I saw my first subway rat the other day. This thing was enormous!!! Its body had to be ten inches long and its tail a good foot. It was bigger than most purse dogs in Manhattan. The thing was disgusting. And braver than any rodent I've ever witnessed. This rat was just chillin' on the platform searching for food, not minding the throngs of people in the least.
It was funny to watch the reactions. The women were scared. The men didn't notice. The tourists took pictures. The natives just took him in stride, veering imperceptibly if at all around this gigantic mutated subway rat. I have never seen anything like it. Although, surprisingly enough, no one screamed. Not one screamer in the whole blasted subway. I admit, I was a bit disappointed.
-=-
My other newest experience is of being sick in a New York apartment building. We don't have central air or heat. We have window units and a boiler. It's nice not having to pay for heat and water and all, but really, the boiler has one temperature-- boiling. This is no exaggeration. I can walk around my apartment in a camisole and the shortest shorts I own and be sweating like an Olympian when it's negative-something degrees outside. The only way to turn down the heat? Open the windows. So it's become a skill of mine to adjust the window to just how much air I need in the house. The problem is, it's almost always raining, especially at night. So there is dry heat from radiators and hot pipes running through the different rooms and then there is cold, damp air coming through the cracks in the windows. Not so terrible when one is perfectly healthy. Throw a fever in the mix and you've got more temperatures in one room than emotions in six months worth of PMS.
Not only do I believe that having the window open at night is what caused a phlegm colony in my lungs in the first place, but it is impossible to keep them closed and stay at a reasonable level of hydration. I try desperately to drink enough water to combat the dehydration process but short of becoming a camel, I see no end. Heaven forbid it ever warms up outside because Lord help us if the outside temp is forty-five and they don't turn the heat off until it reaches fifty!
-=-
No word on the job front. I got the one little part-time job and it is stellar!! The people are so nice and it is good honest work. I don't mind it in the least. But I need more than twelve hours per week. I am going to a temp agency tomorrow just to see. Even if it is temp, it is better than nothing.
Thanks, y'all, for reading and I made some adjustments to the comments section so it should be easier. Let me know what you think!!
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The Labradors' Secret and the Lost Borough
I finally figured out the secret to the labradors!! I went to pet one yesterday and I asked the man if they were training. He declined and told me they were bomb dogs. They use labradors because they don't scare the ferry-goers. Funny. And now we know!
I had two lessons with my teacher, Mignon, this week. One Friday, one Saturday. She charged me for neither but let me go to the store and get groceries, play with her dog and help with making lunch as payment. She has also offered me the use of her studio at the school after she is done for the day so that I can practice without disturbing neighbors and so that I will have a piano. She is just so nice and really takes care of me. I am finally in a vocal home!
Mignon doesn't settle for mediocre. She fixes everything as many times as needed until I can do it right each time. She also tells me all the time how pretty my voice is and I'm starting to believe it too. I am still struggling with jaw problems, but it is more from misplacement of vowels and my own listening than from any real issue. She is preparing me for competitions for this summer. My first application isn't due until March 15th by which time we will see if I am ready. She thinks I can be but that maybe I don't have the right rep. She wants to reign in my voice for a bit, sing some smaller things, and really work on my middle and lower octaves to get them to match my top. She lets me sing high notes, even encourages it. And she says that one day, La Traviata will be a perfect role for me!! La Traviata is my dream role so yayyy!!!!!!! I am so happy I have made this move. She has been everything I have expected and more!!
I start my new nanny job tomorrow. It is a trial basis since it is a bit of a commute and I haven't actually met the family yet. I have however spoken with the mother on the phone and she seems very nice and very understanding. This week is a bit funny, but eventually, I will nanny Tues/Thurs and work in the office Mon/Wed. That being said, even without extra babysitting hours, I should make enough to pay rent and have food to eat. If I can get a church job, I can then pay Mignon and the coaches and pianists with no trouble. Life is actually happening here in NYC! This is the dream!
I still speak with my Italian man every day. I like him more and more. He is smart and down to earth, even through the language barrier. We talk about everything. Politics, life here versus life there, music, religion, food, vacations, dreams, work. He asks about my day and actually listens!! He laughs at me and loves to make me life. It is almost a bonus too that he is in Italy because I can focus on getting settled here while still looking forward to coming home and Skyping with him at the end of the day. We also text a lot throughout the day: I am thinking of you, this reminded me of you, works sucks, this funny thing happened, yadda yadda. We both have good and bad days and we are able to comfort and support each other, even through the newness of this little relationship we have.
Daisy is doing great. I usually only leave once a day, sometimes for long periods. But she has not had one accident in this apartment!! Not even in the bed!! We go on walks, sometimes just around the block (about fifteen minutes) and sometimes to explore (much longer). Today, we went exploring up the hill. I have been here a month and I had never gone UP the hill! What I found was so surprising.
There is an entire neighborhood up the hill from where I am of HUGE houses and they are all different styles from all different time periods. There is even a little section that has that funny dark brown wood work on the outside and it looks like a tiny old German village, just right at the top of the hill. Inbetween a couple of the houses, there is this amazing view of the valley just behind. I went at dusk, so the sun was down but not all the light had gone just yet. There were beautiful shadows of pink and purple in the sky over the ocean in the distance and all the lights of the niehgborhood were on. What a view!! I can't imagine living in one of these houses and having this view every night.
I get Staten Island. Most New Yorkers hear that I live in SI and they say, "OH!" like it's some sin I have committed, or like I am some lower-class human with whom they couldn't communicate properly. What I have discovered is that most of those people haven't been here. They have no idea what the island is like, with its people, culture, and history. Sure, there is construction. There are houses that are empty, and there are places that are less pretty than others. But there is also history. There are these trees with huge trunks that have seen the times change and have seen multiple cultures pass through this little town. These hodge-podge neighborhoods consist of houses from different centuries and different cultural influences. It is a bit far from the city but it is loveable. The little diners are kept afloat by their regulars. The owners want to be on a first name basis with their customers. The inhabitants are nice here. They greet you on the road, with a little wave or a friendly hello. Not at all like Manhattan.
I know it's a little sinful, but I am falling in love with Staten Island. Maybe I can't personally change the entire reputation of Staten Island for all of New York. But maybe just for those with whom I come in contact, I can provide another side of the story, a first-hand encounter with the Lost Borough.
I had two lessons with my teacher, Mignon, this week. One Friday, one Saturday. She charged me for neither but let me go to the store and get groceries, play with her dog and help with making lunch as payment. She has also offered me the use of her studio at the school after she is done for the day so that I can practice without disturbing neighbors and so that I will have a piano. She is just so nice and really takes care of me. I am finally in a vocal home!
Mignon doesn't settle for mediocre. She fixes everything as many times as needed until I can do it right each time. She also tells me all the time how pretty my voice is and I'm starting to believe it too. I am still struggling with jaw problems, but it is more from misplacement of vowels and my own listening than from any real issue. She is preparing me for competitions for this summer. My first application isn't due until March 15th by which time we will see if I am ready. She thinks I can be but that maybe I don't have the right rep. She wants to reign in my voice for a bit, sing some smaller things, and really work on my middle and lower octaves to get them to match my top. She lets me sing high notes, even encourages it. And she says that one day, La Traviata will be a perfect role for me!! La Traviata is my dream role so yayyy!!!!!!! I am so happy I have made this move. She has been everything I have expected and more!!
I start my new nanny job tomorrow. It is a trial basis since it is a bit of a commute and I haven't actually met the family yet. I have however spoken with the mother on the phone and she seems very nice and very understanding. This week is a bit funny, but eventually, I will nanny Tues/Thurs and work in the office Mon/Wed. That being said, even without extra babysitting hours, I should make enough to pay rent and have food to eat. If I can get a church job, I can then pay Mignon and the coaches and pianists with no trouble. Life is actually happening here in NYC! This is the dream!
I still speak with my Italian man every day. I like him more and more. He is smart and down to earth, even through the language barrier. We talk about everything. Politics, life here versus life there, music, religion, food, vacations, dreams, work. He asks about my day and actually listens!! He laughs at me and loves to make me life. It is almost a bonus too that he is in Italy because I can focus on getting settled here while still looking forward to coming home and Skyping with him at the end of the day. We also text a lot throughout the day: I am thinking of you, this reminded me of you, works sucks, this funny thing happened, yadda yadda. We both have good and bad days and we are able to comfort and support each other, even through the newness of this little relationship we have.
Daisy is doing great. I usually only leave once a day, sometimes for long periods. But she has not had one accident in this apartment!! Not even in the bed!! We go on walks, sometimes just around the block (about fifteen minutes) and sometimes to explore (much longer). Today, we went exploring up the hill. I have been here a month and I had never gone UP the hill! What I found was so surprising.
There is an entire neighborhood up the hill from where I am of HUGE houses and they are all different styles from all different time periods. There is even a little section that has that funny dark brown wood work on the outside and it looks like a tiny old German village, just right at the top of the hill. Inbetween a couple of the houses, there is this amazing view of the valley just behind. I went at dusk, so the sun was down but not all the light had gone just yet. There were beautiful shadows of pink and purple in the sky over the ocean in the distance and all the lights of the niehgborhood were on. What a view!! I can't imagine living in one of these houses and having this view every night.
I get Staten Island. Most New Yorkers hear that I live in SI and they say, "OH!" like it's some sin I have committed, or like I am some lower-class human with whom they couldn't communicate properly. What I have discovered is that most of those people haven't been here. They have no idea what the island is like, with its people, culture, and history. Sure, there is construction. There are houses that are empty, and there are places that are less pretty than others. But there is also history. There are these trees with huge trunks that have seen the times change and have seen multiple cultures pass through this little town. These hodge-podge neighborhoods consist of houses from different centuries and different cultural influences. It is a bit far from the city but it is loveable. The little diners are kept afloat by their regulars. The owners want to be on a first name basis with their customers. The inhabitants are nice here. They greet you on the road, with a little wave or a friendly hello. Not at all like Manhattan.
I know it's a little sinful, but I am falling in love with Staten Island. Maybe I can't personally change the entire reputation of Staten Island for all of New York. But maybe just for those with whom I come in contact, I can provide another side of the story, a first-hand encounter with the Lost Borough.
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