This weekend some very good friends came up from DC to enjoy the 21st birthday festivities of a fellow AUer here in the city. The party was held in this beautiful old home in Brooklyn Heights overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline. Is it sad that everyone compared the evening to an episode of Gossip Girl or Marie Antoinette as opposed to simply taking it for what it was–a well-organized, champagne infused, over the top dance party?
Call me nostalgic and cliché, but it was one of those evenings that will not soon be forgotten. Even if there was copious amounts of alcohol.
Moving on from my life where I pretend to be a socialite once every business cycle, we arrive at my day-to-day life as a commoner. There are certain cultural advantages I get to experience that those who are better off will simply never know of. Take for instance the subway. Why, just the other day I witnessed a man with a razor blade shaving his face only a mere three feet from me. Some might condemn such behavior, deeming it uncouth. If you think about it though, this lowly peasant cared enough about his outward appearance to take a moment and beautify himself prior to making it to his morning engagement.
And here’s something for all of you who enjoy a scandal. I may be relatively poor right now, but like those young, Hollywood starlets I was involved in my very first sexual harassment dispute last night! Leave it to a couple of drunk and middle-aged male customers at a “fine-dining” establishment to tap your bottom and grab your arm when asking for the check. But hey! They sure did tip well. Everyone wins.
Writing is like a sport. Without proper training and practice, you really start to suck at it. The only type of written work I’ve completed since graduation in May has been along the lines of: “Attached you will find my resume, cover letter, and writing samples. I may provide references upon request.” I have been applying to various jobs like crazy ever since moving to New York about a month ago, which is really a full-time job in itself. It’s a tedious and winding road, but it’s also the only route to my final destination. So here I am–hopefully on my way.
For those interested in knowing (and I’m assuming you are, otherwise why would you be reading this?) I have begun my editorial internship with NYLON and have started waitressing at this quaint pizzeria in Brooklyn not far from where I live. For the moment, holding my breath, life is good. I’m busy and tired, but I deposit my singles into the bank the following day with a pride that only servers and strippers can understand. I say to myself: Bitch, I earned my money! Of course I then go and buy some frock to don. Some people, like my father, may think of this as an unnecessary expense. You’d be wrong though. It’s like I tell people, such as my father, that clothes are just little investments into my future career. More importantly though, above all else, new clothes just make me feel better. I could have a worse addiction. Am I wrong here?
I have several more things I want to talk about right now but can’t because I have to go to work in thirty minutes. I’ll give you a quick “dirt sandwich”-like preview though (only in writing and not by video): man shaving on subway, new Russians: a.k.a “my family”, one-eyed cab driver, first Brooklyn Heights experience=a good one.