Static Life

I've fallen a little behind in my blog this month for multiple reasons. I've been stressed with the whole apartment business, had few conversations or experiences that inspired much thought (sad, but true), and the "a" button on my keyboard fell off, making typing a bit annoying. Here I am, though! I fully intend on picking up the pace again in February! January just feels like a month during which my life was on hold. On hold waiting for a place to live, on hold from my friends since so many left town, on hold from drinking (which is not a big deal, but no drink Jan means fewer happy hour hang outs, etc.), and just a general feeling of static living.

I've failed to share some really fun memories these past few weeks, including a dinner party at Jim and Lindsay's, followed by an epic evening of karaoke (we got the whole place singing "Africa" at the top of their lungs), a stroll through central park with my old friend from CNU, and playing Rock Band with Meg before watching the Miss America Pageant. Despite the fact that I haven't just been sitting around doing absolutely nothing, I'm just really uninspired. I'm sure we've all felt like this at times, carrying around an unidentifiable weight that hinders us from moving quickly...both mentally and physically. I've had a harder time getting up and getting out. I've had a harder time engaging in deep conversation. I've obviously had a harder time writing, which is something I absolutely love.

Experiencing a funk is obnoxious because I can tell I'm in one, yet don't know how to get out of it! I know I'll eventually start using my brain again, but it's like there's a bunch of cotton balls stuffed in there right now. I've been trying all of the tricks...going to the gym a lot (lost 5lbs), watching the news (trying to keep my mind occupied with information), meeting new people (gone on a few dates), etc., but it looks like I'll just have to wait this funk out. Even at the moment, I don't have much else to write. Bare with me!

Photos of the New Apartment!

Today, Brittany and I will sign a one year lease for our BEAUTIFUL new apartment in Washington Heights, Manhattan! I have been unbelievably stressed about finding a place to live by February 1st, so a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. Brit and I spent all day Friday looking at apartments and found a newly renovated, never occupied one bedroom that will keep our pockets very happy. We immediately filled out the hours worth of paper work (shout out to Dad and Brit's mom, Beverly, for making it happen!) and have been anxiously waiting approval since! Here's a sneak peak at our gorgeous pad (actual pictures):

A kitchen with room for a table??? Unheard of.

Every room is so bright and sunny! Even the bathroom :)

I'd post pictures of the living room and bedroom, but you can't get a good gist of them from the limited angles of the camera. Just imagine brand new wooden floors and two large windows that let in a ton of sunlight! We will probably be hanging out on those floors until we figure out a cheap way to furnish the place, but who cares? It's ours! More reasons to be thrilled: The neighborhood is very safe (right next to the Columbia medical center), we live three blocks from the express train (only four stops to Times Square) and Starbucks (hallelujah), and I'll get a work out every time I go home (good old fashioned stair climbing)! I'd say we found ourselves a winner.

AAA: Apartment Application Anxiety

Pretending that living in the Trump towers for the last few weeks has been difficult would be an obvious lie. Susan, my stepmom's friend who owns the place, is so much fun to chat with, and well...it's the TRUMP TOWERS. Still, any responsible human wouldn't love the idea of "mooching" off someone for very long. I'm so appreciative of her hospitality, but I'd never want to overstay my welcome.

That being said, Brittany just moved back to NYC and we've been looking at places together! Searching for an apartment is so stressful, but we have our fingers crossed for a great one bedroom in Washington Heights! We'd share a room like we used to, but this time we'd have our own big living room to get some space (not that we had any problems in our super close quarters before!). The application is in...now it's just a waiting game. Anxiety, much?

Me, Brit, and Rayna

Having Brit back in town is so refreshing. We are so comfortable around each other after three months of living together/being attached at the hip that I feel like she's just an extension of myself. Living together again will be ideal! Yesterday, we reunited for the first time at a coffee shop near the Trump building, along with another Miss VA sister, Rayna. The three of us had such a blast catching up and getting excited about the prospect of living near one another (Rayna lives close to Washington Heights). As pageant girls, we are used to the stereotype of "being clones of one another"...and our outfits did not help our case. Take a look.

Tonight, I'm meeting Dave in Times Square for dinner at an oyster bar, followed (possibly) by ice skating! Knowing that apartment paperwork is in the hands of landlords and that I may have a place to live next week, I feel so much more able to enjoy myself! I've even had a hard time cracking down to write new blog posts because of the homeless thing hanging over my head. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more consistently next week!

The Teeter Totter

Good is defined by bad, happy by sad, patience by anger, and joy by despair. When you feel one of these things, odds are that the opposite is right around the corner.

Positive feelings don't always end immediately, but the higher you jump, the harder you fall. When you first meet a potential interest, you usually don't feel one way or another. A person's company may be intriguing after one conversation, but if you never speak again, the most emotional word you'll utter will be "bummer." The more time you spend together and the stronger good feelings become, the more those bad feelings start preparing their snarls, too. When you're on cloud 4, the bad feelings on the ground are just tall weeds that will require some detangling, should you fall off that cloud. By the time you reach cloud 9, the bad feelings are something from the Little Shop of Horrors, waiting for you to plummet into their freaky little mouths.

The classic elimination-limo cry (Jillian, Season 13)

An expedited journey to infatuation and its partner-in-crime, heartbreak, can be seen on ABC's The Bachelor. Twenty-five women in the best shape of their lives show up at a mansion, ready to fall in love. They have to know that their chances are only 24-1, right? Still, all of them are convinced that this one man holds the key to their happy endings. Seven girls are eliminated the first night, most parting with words like "It's a shame we didn't talk more tonight" or "We'll  never know what could have been." Sure, there's usually a cryer or two, but that has more to do with their low body fat percentage mixed with an open bar rather than feelings of loss over the bachelor. By weeks four and five, the girls are a little more invested and leave with a little more mascara on their faces. When the last few episodes roll around, we see giddy flirtation and starry-eyed fawning, followed by full-on hysteria as girls hiccup their way through the limo ride to the airport.

Is it worth it? Is the good worth the possibility of the bad? Those of us in relationships or open to meeting new people have decided that the answer is "yes." Living life on the safe, middle road is a boring path to discontentment. No one likes when someone else has the power to tie his/her stomach in a knot, but that same person made him/her feel incredibly happy at some point, evoking feelings sweet enough to elicit a physical reaction when things start going sour. It's a trade off: butterflies in your stomach for a lump in your throat.

The good will always teeter with the bad, but the best part of the teeter totter is when you get stuck on top.

Vivid Memories...for Today

Today is January 14th. How is that possible? Fourteen days have already passed in 2012. I can't even remember what I did each of those days...it's insane how time goes so fast and we only remember glimpses. I find life amazing in that sense. We only clearly remember a fraction of the time we spend living. Still, I have some pretty fun memories of the past couple days (though who knows how long they'll stay vivid).

Tuesday afternoon, I ventured to Washington Heights- wayyyyy up on the Upper West Side- to pick up my sheet music that I'd left at the Bound for Broadway showcase a month ago. After chatting with the director in his apartment for a few minutes (as he helped me fix my painfully outdated phone, which has been trapping my texts in 1997 and never sending them/deciding at random to not have service in highly serviced locations), I found myself listening to my iPod (also on the ancient side) in the train station. In the middle of a Gavin DeGraw song that I uploaded when I was 17, I noticed a tall, dark and handsome guy with permanently pursed lips I somehow knew so well...AHH!! MICHAEL! I ran over to him in disbelief. Here, in Washington Heights, was one of my close friends/coworkers from Busch Gardens! We hadn't seen each other since 2009, when we were wearing ridiculous costumes and singing in Italian! No, that's a lie. We had a little reunion dinner in August of 2010 when some old cast members visited Virginia. Still, to see him in a subway station in a random part of Manhattan was shocking- and amazing! We boarded the train together and reminisced for one stop, laughing at the days that I was "homeless" and would come over to his apartment just to have a place to shave my legs. True story. Chatting with someone you were unbelievably close with in your past is always such a joy- it's as if no time has passed. Hopefully he and I can get together officially before he leaves on his tour as Prince Charming!

"The Artist"

I spent Wednesday afternoon working for the attorney, doing everything from moving heavy files into a new office (serious manual labor...picking up giant stacks of paper for an hour can get sweaty!) to typing court documents that I had to get in the mail by 5. I always enjoy my time in that office for some reason, though, so I'm definitely not complaining! Afterwards, I ran home to change before heading back downtown for dinner with a new friend, Dave. We ate at a really cute authentic Italian pizzeria, followed by a silent movie. I had never seen a silent film, so I absolutely loved the new experience. "The Artist" is really captivating and a fun way to be entertained if you're tired of Hollywood Blockbusters...I personally thought the whole theme and cinematography was fantastic! Music generally accompanies every scene, but of course during the one absolutely silent moment, my stomach growled as though it was communicating with a pack of lions five miles away. It did not go unnoticed. Story of my life.

Last night, I accompanied Jim and Lindsay to Jacob's apartment for a few hours, but headed home when they decided to go dancing. Tonight, I'm watching Miss America with Meg! My fingers are crossed for Elizabeth! Go Miss VA!

Pointers for the Picky

Aside from gold diggers and those who are painfully desperate to find a spouse, everyone is picky about who they date. Everyone. Hence why I hate when someone says, "I can't find anyone because I'm too picky." First of all, stop hinting that people who have found someone have lower standards. Second, maybe you're just looking in the wrong places. Or picky about the wrong things.

Now, I'm obviously not in a relationship or an expert on such matters, but I've recently had a few friends ask me how I "get dates." I don't go on that many, but the formula is simple: 1. Give someone your number, 2. Say "yes" when they ask you out, 3. Show up (or be home when they pick you up). When I shared this mind-blowing insight with one of my best friends today, she said, "I'm just too picky." Well excuuuuuuse me, missy. Who's the one asking why she doesn't go on dates? Cough[you]cough. And who's the one who just went out with an awesome guy attending Columbia? This girl. Being picky doesn't mean you refuse to give your number to someone who doesn't match all of your carefully thought-out criteria. It means you get to know them and then decide if their bad taste in music or poor fashion sense outweigh their company.

If your "pickiness" has to do with their employment status or moral and ethical values, perhaps you want to remember that good ol' real estate mantra: Location, location, location. Okay, so maybe that analogy isn't perfect, but you're not going to get your ideal oceanfront property if you're looking in rural South Dakota. If you want a guy with a booming career, try Happy Hour on Wall Street. If you want an artsy guy, try joining a bike club Williamsburg, Brooklyn. If you want a guy with strong morals, try church. You can't expect to meet a responsible nine to five-type guy at a bar on a Tuesday night. You also can't expect to meet a new guy by staying glued to your circle of friends. You already know that Mr. Right isn't among them, so you must branch out to find new candidates. Leave the group to go grab a drink at the bar and compliment a new guy's shirt...boom, you have now opened the door for conversation.

Even if you're not part of the bar scene, there are plenty of (better) ways to meet a future-date. Like I mentioned, join a bike club- a kickball club- any club! New activity= new people= new prospects. Go to a charity concert. Go to your friend's show. Go to the grocery store. Go anywhere and talk to anyone. Talk to the guy next to you in line at Starbucks. You'll be with him for 20 minutes anyway. Talk to your friend's friends after her performance. Talk to the guy who looks bored at a birthday party. Talk to whoever looks like they've showered recently. Just talk. Crack a joke. What's the worst that could happen? You have a nice conversation. You make a friend.

True, both in the dating world & once you're in a relationship

When we start thinking that dates are a big deal, they become a big deal- thus, we rarely offer our numbers and create the opportunity. "Oh, I don't want to go on a date with someone who I met while working at a promotion. I want a guy with a college education and he obviously doesn't have a real job." Do you know what happened last time I went out with someone who was "security" at a Halloween party promotion? He ended up being a very bright guy with an architecture internship who needed some extra cash. Now, clearly, it didn't work out, but the point is- stop thinking of dates as a means to marriage and just give people a chance. Say, "Hey, take my number. We should hang out sometime," then leave the rest to him. Go out with the mindset that you're getting to know a new friend. If sparks fly, awesome. If not, maybe he has some single friends.

Point-of-View

Early morning run through southeast Central Park: Check. Church at a historic Episcopalian church on 5th Ave., just for the experience: Check. Stroll through northwest Central Park followed by the Metropolitan Museum: Check. Home-cooked meal and catching up on the best show ever, a.k.a. Revenge: Check.

Today was pretty fantastic. Instead of showering you with details, however, I'll fill you in on one of the topics that was discussed with my friend during our stroll through the park.

I believe I've mentioned this before, but one of my favorite things to think about (besides what life would be like if Velveeta Shells & Cheese were 10 calories per serving) is how every single individual has different perspectives and experiences. We may have shared beliefs, similar upbringings, and the same hobbies, but no one among us can ever fully understand any person's life but his/her own. We live most of our lives alone, in the literal sense and in our heads. You walk or drive to work alone. You sit in your office alone. You daydream during class alone. You are reading this blog post alone. Even when other people are around, you are alone unless directly interacting. The only person who knows all of your intentions, thoughts, and actions is you. That is, if you don't deceive yourself in order to avoid the reality of your shortcomings. Likewise, you don't know the half of anyone else's intentions, thoughts, and actions. No matter how much we try to see the world through someone else's eyes or walk in someone else's shoes, the only eyes we'll ever have are our own, and the only feet we'll ever have are the ones we were born with.

Although we might become more empathetic or tolerant when we imagine life or a specific situation from someone else's point-of-view, we are doing nothing more than imagining. Perhaps we get some explanations from those who are close to us, but even their words can only paint a picture of what they see and feel...they can't very well hand over their actual brains, nervous systems, and eyeballs. Maybe this is why humans feel so drawn towards God or a higher being...we want to feel assured that someone else knows exactly what it's like to be "me." But that's a whole nother tangent.

The following are some of my favorite "my-life-is-different-from-yours" thinking points:

1. What if my concept of blue is actually your concept of orange? We can never prove that the colors we see are the same colors other people see. Heck, we might not even have the same color palate. Our spectrums could be made of colors completely foreign to anyone else.
2. When I'm sitting across from someone at a table, what they see behind me does not even exist in my world. We can be at the same table in the same restaurant, meanwhile experiencing two different worlds. The little girl reaching for her sippy cup at the table behind your date is not part of your date's experience, but she is part of yours.
3. What would this room look like to someone who lives in India? Or Thailand? Or Cambodia? If I slept on the floor of a 6x10 stone room that I shared with four other people (like many homes I saw in India), how would I view a small New York studio?
4. All the crowds in the street or cars on the road...where are they going? Each of them has friends, family, drama, and lives that I know nothing about. They don't even exist in my world, yet I could step on their heels or share with them a lane.

Maybe these kind of thoughts are "weird," but I find them far more entertaining than absentmindedly listening to my iPod or watching T.V. And the truth is, you've probably had some pretty weird thoughts, too.

Bananas

My life is bananas. No, literally. Observe:

I forced myself out of bed at 5:50 this morning to trudge in the 27 degree weather towards Bryant Park for a Jamba Juice promotion. Upon arrival, myself and sixty-some-odd other people (where did they come from?) threw on banana suits and marched through the city in one large, hilarious banana parade. We stopped and did a choreographed dance at key locations, including Rockefeller Center and the NASDAQ building in Times Square. We even made a cameo in the background of The Today Show! Al Roker didn't see us since we were behind him, but the camera crew definitely cracked a few smiles. I guess 70 marching bananas isn't something you see everyday. By the way, do you recognize the girl in the picture with me? She's my fellow elf-handler from the TMobile event I wrote about last month. If we ever grab a drink together, I'm not sure how we'll explain our connection to people. It'll either be, "Oh, um, we ran around New York with an elf last Christmas" or "We danced in a flash mob as human bananas." You know, your every day activities.

Yesterday was just as exciting, though no banana parade included. One of my closest friends from college, who was also my little in Phi Mu, visited NYC for the day with her boyfriend. After spending a few hours in the attorney's office, I met them on Wall Street for lunch and a full day of exploration. George, Sarah's boyfriend, drooled as only finance majors would during our stroll through the financial district. He couldn't believe that I was more interested in the men in suits than the location of the stock exchange. Not ashamed. We spent the rest of the afternoon seeing the tree at Rockefeller Plaza, window shopping on Fifth Avenue, taking a cliche- yet really fun- horse and buggy ride through Central Park, and eating dinner at Ellen's Stardust Diner (where I'd love to work with the singing waitresses). I knew I had an early morning of banana dancing to prepare for, however, so I left them at a bar on Restaurant Row around 9p.m.

The rest of my weekend will most likely be uneventful since all I have planned is a movie night with Meg tomorrow and a couch date with Lindsay on Sunday. I'm participating in "No Drink Jan," my own made up challenge to kickstart a healthy new year, so I'll be even more of a grandma than usual these upcoming weeks. I'm going to miss those relaxing glasses of wine and cocktails with my girlfriends, but if I'm going to get my butt in shape by Miss New York locals, I've got to buckle down! So long, Chardonnay.

What's Your Sign?

Zodiac signs are foreign to me. I don't think much of the question "What's your sign?" If ever asked, I reply "Cancer" as though the answer is merely a fun fact. One of my best friends, Wes, ignited my interest in the "meanings" of signs for the first time when we were eating sushi in Virginia Beach last week. I put "meanings" in quotes because I'm not sold on their validity...but what's not entertaining about reading predictions for your personality traits and compatibility?

I'm not really sure how we got on the topic, but Wes is a Leo and I am a Cancer. Actually, I'm pretty sure the subject arose afters I huffed, "Ugh, Wes, why can't we just fall in love?", knowing full well that Wes and I have never been nor will ever be more than close friends. There's really no good reason for our strictly platonic relationship other than we've just never viewed each other in a romantic light. It must have to do with our signs...right? That, or I'm simply incapable of ever having feelings for someone who I love and respect as a dear friend (and vice versa). I refuse to believe the latter since a good relationship's foundation is a friendship, so I'm embracing the sign thing to explain Wes and me. Relieving my fears, most Zodiac websites confirm that Cancers and Leos are better off staying friends. Phew. As a matter of fact, they make great friends:

Wes & me at Miss Virginia 2011

"A friendship between a Cancer and a Leo is one in which both friends can understand and provide for each other [Wes drove me five hours in the middle of the night so that I could sleep after my sorority formal and make it across the state for a Miss Virginia event by 8:00a.m...talk about understanding and providing]. They are both faithful to each other, often possessive of each other, especially among other friends [Once while visiting Wes at William & Mary, another girl friend of his was blatantly rude to me, seemingly out of jealousy..naturally, I didn't leave Wes's side the rest of the night]. They usually form a strong friendship that could stand the test of time [Wes moved to Florida and I moved to New York, and we're still close as could be]." -Astrobix.com (very, very reliable source)

After dissecting Wes and myself, I started looking at my Zodiac compatibility in terms of whom I have dated. My two longest relationships were with Aquarius guys...doomed from the get-go, it seems. 

"The Cancer and Aquarius relationship is not particularly likely to be successful. Both partners have very distinct divergences in their basic personality and character traits, which leads to frequent disputes and discords" -Horoscopes-love.eu (also a very, very reliable source). Wish I'd had the heads up.

Then there were my short flings with an Aries ("Cancer signs of greatest overall incompatibility: Aries & Libra"...enough said), a Capricorn ("It is an even and balanced relationship which has equal chances of survival as well as getting extinct"...makes sense), and a Virgo ("A Cancer and Virgo make one of the most well matched couples"...did I let a good one go?).

You see, I can't trust this system. I'll start questioning past relationships and/or start asking for proof of birthday before going on a date. Neither sounds fun. I'll just keep reading Zodiac predictions for entertainment and act amazed when I'm able to twist them to match my reality.

The Other Half

So this is how the other half lives.

I've spent 2 1/2 days in my temporary neighborhood in the Upper West Side, now understanding why people say "don't move to New York until you have money to live there." If I could live in this neighborhood, I think I'd be obsessed with NYC. I'd also have to be a partner for a major tax firm or a trust fund baby. Each street is lined with the most beautiful three story apartments, their gated walk ups leading to large windows revealing glimpses of Christmas trees and hardwood floors. In the high rise building community I am staying in, doormen in movie costumes ask me if I need a car every time I leave and to announce myself every time I enter (though I think they're finally beginning to recognize me). Little dogs, skinny people in expensive gym clothes, and children on Razor scooters sweep by me on every corner. Sometimes I wonder if they're secretly thinking, "I know you don't actually live here." And then I remember that the world doesn't revolve around me.

We had a little fun with the "Bieber Me" iPhone app

Like the rest of the class acts in my building (I'm going to call it "mine" to avoid feeling like a wandering nomad with no home), I put on my shiny dress and heels for New Year's Eve. Unlike the rest of the class acts in my building, I then walked six blocks and two avenues in my shiny dress and heels to catch the subway instead of a taxi. Although I was tempted to stay in by myself to celebrate 2012 with a good book, I decided that my first New Years in New York City should be spent around new friends and champagne. By no means was I willing to spend $150 on tickets to a bar, but my friends convinced me to join them at a small house party. Nine of us rang in the new year with blow horns and pink champagne bottles, giving each other pecks on the cheek at midnight. Despite the party hats and Ryan Seacrest's enthusiasm, I could only fight my urge to be at home (or whatever) for so long, so I started the 45 minute trek back up to the Upper West Side at 12:45. Anyone would be tired after two days of moving by themselves after a week of being in another state, even on New Year's Eve. I do want to mention that I was not forced to move everything by myself- Jim and Lindsay tried to come help, but I gave them bad directions.

Since I haven't seen Jim and Lindsay since our road trip back from Virginia, I'm heading to their apartment at 8p.m. tonight to watch the premier of The Bachelor. A friend of mine from Miss Virginia 2010, Erika Uhlig, is one of the contestants! I hope she wins Ben's heart!