6 posts tagged “new york city”
It's raining again. It seems like whenever it rains I post. Funny, that.
The apartment is almost set up entirely how I want it. Still need to reconfigure the desk and figure out what to do with the spare TV. It's still woefully taking up our sitting area. It's a table, I swear.
I keep having to remind the boyfriend to throw his garbage away into the garbage cans and not leave them just sitting there. Ugh. No matter how old they get, boys are always still little children in some aspects.
I've been getting worried about money lately. It's a tad ridiculous but I've felt like I've been spending as if it were water. Inflation is such a bitch. I swear, all the diners have already updated their menus so everything is $0.25-0.50 more expensive. It doesn't seem like much, but it adds up. I'm exit-polling on Saturday so that should be at least $50 bucks, hopefully closer to $100 though.
I dropped out of my playwriting class. I decided that the screenplay I'm working on is too important to let myself be distracted by theater. We all know what happens when I let theater into my life. I just can't do it. I need as much time for the screenplay, the rest of my homework, and finding a job as possible. I solemnly swear to not let theater take over my life this semester. Amen.
Ugh. And the damn dog, as much as I love her, wont leave me alone for more than two seconds so I can't really get any work done. She's so adorable though, which makes it okay. I mean, look at her face.
I'm just ready to get out of here again, is all. Home always drives me crazy, though it's not really home anymore. I've been a drifter for the past five years, this is just another stop in the journey. Moving to Brooklyn will give me my first space to call my own in so long. It's rather silly, I'm so excited to buy tea towels, and a bureau. Some new store opened on 8th Street dedicated solely to kitchen items and every time I pass by, I think about baking cookies in an oven that is mine, in a kitchen that is mine, using sheets that are mine.
A quick photo of what I see out my window. It's a crappy quick photo with blow out, but it does demonstrate that good views from second floor apartments in New York City do exist! The very center, top thing that's blown out in the blown out sky is the top of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Yes, it's true, I live in a second floor studio now in the Financial District, across the street from the South Street Seaport. My apartment is huge though, almost 350 square feet for my roommate and I. The Boyfriend, who lives on Union Square has probably 250 square feet for four people. The six of us pay the exact same rent after splitting it up, so I think we got the better the deal. The only bad thing is we're half an hour away from classes and they are 15 minutes.
I moved in exactly a week ago, but I still have some unpacking to do. That's kind of shitty of me since The Roommate, who movied in the day before I did, was finished by the time I showed up. I should get on that, but I have to put together something real quick while store I still open, then head up to Union Square.
Today was my official last day of work. All in all, I had a very nice time working at the school district; it wasn't terribly difficult and all the people were very nice. We ate icecream cake to celebrate my summer efforts and my moving back to New York City. The ladies also got me a Starbucks card worth a pretty penny, which was awfully nice of them. I always feel a little awkward receiving gifts like that, but I think I handled it semi-gracefully.
And now I'm counting the days until I get to return to my beloved New York City. As of right now, I leave in 10 (soon to be 9) days. I move into my Financial District apartment a week from Monday, then classes start the following week on Tuesday. That's when my life will return to normal. I'll be back with The Boyfriend, and The Gay Boyfriend, and The Roommate. And I'll be back doing what I want to be doing
Hopefully, though, I will not be returning to this--the graduate strike. Supposedly they came to a semi-agreement over the summer, but I highly doubt it will last, if it even did anything at all.
I just think the whole thing is silly. NYU should pay their graduate students what they were paying them before Georgie busted their union. And the graduate students should stop hurting the undergrads. In fact, everyone should just realize that the only people getting hurt in the whole thing is us. The grads are still being paid, their classes aren't being taught, and the NYU is refusing to negotiate.
Eh, I wouldn't mind not having to go to my ConWest class though. I was pretty pleased when Writing the Essay was cancelled just about every other class. I just feel bad for the people who had all their classes cancelled or moved. Since it was just the College of Arts and Sciences that was effected, as a Tisch student I was minimally bothered.
I just want to go the park and sit in the fountain before they tear it out. I wish they wouldn't.
When a lot of people hear I attended boarding school for three years, they always become shocked and tell me they're sorry. It's pretty much a given here in the midwest that the only reason you go to boarding school is because your parents make you. And the kids usually end up at religious schools, or reform schools, not Exeter like my soon-to-be roommate. Nor is it expected that one would end up a world reknown art school like I did.
I made the decision when I was 13 that my education was only being hindered by staying in public school. I was routinely singled out by students and faculty alike and discriminated against because I did not come in the package they wanted me to be in. I forced my way into the only honors class (english) offered for freshman at my high school and was sabotaged by my teacher. I was forced to take 5 hour partner tests by myself and in an hour after school. I was not allowed to sit at tables with other students because I was cheating (I wasn't), and papers with my name on them were automatically graded down. As an experiment, a friend and I traded papers. Her paper (that I wrote) got an A, while the one with mine on it recieved the standard B-.
The only reason why I was still in the district that year was because my eigth grade teachers refused to write my recommendations for private schools. Those that did agree wrote scathing letters that warned of non-existant behavioral problems, the bad grades I wasn't getting, and the outright opposition to authority I didn't have (until then, that is).
I had a very excellent Latin teacher who believed in me, though, and she personally made sure my english teacher wrote a truthful recommendation since I had to have one for her. I was accepted into Interlochen Arts Academy and was off at fifteen.
But this isn't a story about my time at Interlochen. I know, it seems like it should be, but I often ramble and get off track. This is really about summer.
Here I am at nineteen, a month away from my sophomore year at New York University, and I feel stuck. All of my college friends are happy to be at home, have the break from a rigorous schedule, but this is my fourth summer. I have a full time job for the summer, but it seems irrelevant to what I'm doing.
I'm ready to be a human being, thank you very much. For four years I've been going through the routine of strenuous art classes and college level academics. Dare I say that my year at college was much easier than my high school years? I practically sleep-walked through the whole thing, waiting for my classmates to catch up to where I was while all I did was review. The core classes I had to take I'd already covered my junior year of high school. My major classes were rehashings of my three years at Interlochen. I'm ready to move on already.
It's more bearable during the school year when I have the entirity of New York City to entertain me, but in the midwest, it's excruciating. And I'm very frustrated because I've been passed over for jobs back in New York in my field that I was more than capable and qualified of doing just because I was eighteen/nineteen and in college.
I hate summer. I hate this respite from the intensity of my work. I can't do what I love here because it stifles me to death. My hometown sucks the life out of me.
Soda? Cola? Pop? What do you say? Any other regional words that set you apart?
Question submitted by Gladys.
I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, went to boarding school in northern Michigan, and am now in college in New York City. This pretty much means I've been on every side of the argument at some point in time.
My entire family says "Pop!" but I'm a member of the "soda" camp, myself. I don't even know how that happened. Possibly because ESL classes teach students to say "soda" and since my high school was 40% ESL students, a lot of kids were "soda" proponents. Granted, the more people came from the Midwest than anywhere else. But in Korea it's "soda" and since I lived in what we affectionately dubbed "Little Korea" my sophomore year.
Besides, "soda" just sounds so much more sophisticated than "pop."
