Growing Up Is Hard To Do

I like to think that over the past almost-five years of living away from home that I've managed to pick up a good deal of knowledge about how to be an adult. I can do my laundry and make myself meals, pay my bills, go to work...But one thing I cannot do is be sick. If there's anything that makes me want to crawl back home and curl up in my childhood bed, it's an illness. Anything from a bad cold to stomach flu (which I battled last winter while dogsitting for a friend - not advised) to the throat infection I'm currently fighting off will have me on the phone with my mom in no time, mumbling in my most pitiful voice, "Mommy, I don't feel good." Google and WebMD just can't take the place of my mother's infinite wisdom - as far as I'm concerned she knows more than either of them put together. I don't think that when I was younger I really appreciated what my mother did for me when I was sick (which was fairly often - say hello to the kid who had pneumonia twice). After all, because she was there I could spend all my time focused on how terrible I felt without actually having to do anything for myself. Now I get to focus on how terrible I feel, but also navigate medicating and feeding myself, not to mention changing my own sheets after spending a day sick in bed, instead of my mom doing it while I sit on the couch watching TV with a glass of ginger ale in front of me.

This weekend was a tough one - mostly spent curled up in the fetal position in bed, alternating between sleeping and watching movies (and eating way too much ice cream during the latter). It was the first time I had gone to a doctor in NYC for something urgent, and it didn't help that I had to drag myself there, and then to the pharmacy, in the pouring rain. When I felt marginally better on Sunday afternoon, instead of getting to revel in the hour in which neither my throat nor my head hurt, I had to muster up the energy to go to the grocery store so that I might have something to eat for the rest of the week. And then today, back to work, even though I'm not at a hundred percent - though, luckily I'm no longer contagious. This might be the hardest part of growing up for me. I can rely on myself for a lot of things, but taking care of myself when sick is not something that comes easily for me. I'm undoubtedly my own worst patient, capable of really plumbing the depths of self-pity. But I'm trying my best to get through, and in the process hopefully growing up a little in the process. And hey, it's still better than that time I had pneumonia in August.

Of Coffee Pots and Silk Pajamas

Do you ever see something and immediately conjure up an image of how your life would be if you owned it? That's how I felt this morning while browsing Moda Operandi (which I have a serious, mostly unrealized, obsession with) and coming across the House of Hackney wares for sale. As a tea party lover, I was immediately drawn to the teapots and cup and saucer sets, but after glimpsing the pajamas above, my heart's desire ultimately settled on the coffeepot, also pictured above. And then I daydreamed - padding around barefoot in my little silk camisole and shorts, making coffee and pouring it into the pot to take with me back to the couch where I read my newspaper and magazines and blogs and sip coffee out of oversized white teacups (I live alone in a sun-filled studio apartment in this daydream). I know that's the point of lifestyle brands, selling to you by appealing to your idea of what your life should or could be - I guess for me that's a studio apartment and matching my sleepwear to my dinnerware, using the Keurig on weekdays and my French press on weekends and having enough closet space to coexist peacefully with my wardrobe... - but there's something about it that's so useful. I know my life won't be vastly improved by buying a pretty coffeepot or some silk loungewear, but the escape of dreaming about that life does me a lot of good during a long workday. Still, I'm going to need to be convinced not to buy either (or both, together) of those items.

House of Hackney coffeepot and pajama set, both from modaoperandi.com

What's in my Bag: Minimal Edition

I'm falling prey to my old habits: beginning posts and letting my mind drift away to the point that it takes months for me to get a thought up. But I've found a solution - short posts to get me in the spirit, long posts when my heart is really in it. So here's today's short post - what's in my bag.

Even though it's done and done and, you guessed it, done again, I always seem to enjoy a brief glimpse into someone's bag. I'm usually a crazy hoarder in my bags - numerous metro cards, receipts, five lipsticks, a handful of bobby pins, a mess of used kleenex (it's allergy season, don't judge). But this week I switched to using a new bag, which led me to pare down the contents. An empty table at work beckoned to me and I spilled the contents and arranged them to fit in the frame.

The bag is a Rebecca Minkoff M.A.C (a lovely birthday gift from my bosses) and here's what's in it:

• The ID card that lets me into Conde Nast everyday
• A metro card, used mainly when it's raining
• Sunglasses from Forever 21, essential for my morning walk to work
• Dr. Hauschka lipstick in Pink Topaz
• My trusty iPod, necessary for my walks to and from work 
• Kleenex (see above)
• My keys and cards, featuring my out of date student ID

Not pictured: the iPhone I used to take this picture and the cardigan I stuffed in so I wouldn't freeze at work...and the other lipstick I just found while digging around in the bag (I knew I couldn't have just one on me).

So there it is, a short post, a snapshot of life, and hopefully a ticket to getting me back on track.

A Year and a Day

Bryant Park, one year ago

On Monday I turned 23 - Taylor Swift to Blink 182 style, though luckily it seems that my approval rating hasn't dropped yet. Monday was also my one year anniversary of being in New York. Instead of being dropped off at the train by two teary-eyed parents (to be fair, I wasn't exactly dry-eyed either) and then arriving to spend the next two weeks on the living room couch of some very gracious family friends, I spent my day at work and then drinking and dining (and drinking some more) with some of my closest friends in the city. I spent Saturday night surrounded by even more friends, celebrating the year past and the year to come.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my job. It's hard to believe that in the past year or so I've graduated college, moved to New York City and started a job in the field I spent my four years of college preparing for. And now here I am, a year and a day in. A lot has changed in the past year but so much has stayed the same - the walls in my walk-in closet of a room have stayed bare but the number of shoes crammed in here with me has grown...significantly.

I think I've changed in the past year - having a job and paying rent will do that, as will late nights spent with friends in darkened bars and Sunday mornings spent in bed ordering from Seamless because moving is just too difficult. Every year on my birthday someone inevitably asks me if I feel different. And I didn't feel any different on Monday than I did on Sunday. But thinking back on the past year, I feel older than the person I was a year and a day ago when I walked into Conde Nast for my first day of my big-girl job. I'm older than the person I was sitting on the Amtrak train bound for New York from D.C., crying a little and silently reading the letter my mom slipped me before she and my dad kissed me goodbye. I'm older because of the experiences I've had and the people I've met - the early mornings and late nights and too much coffee or too much vodka and first dates and no, wait nevermind, maybe no second date after all.

 Fewer people ask if I'm a teenager now (though I was told, on Monday when heading down to the 21+ restaurant at which my friends and I ate that night, that I looked 18) and whether that's because my face shows age or my attitude does, I'm not sure - but it feels good to grow up.

I'm optimistic about 23. Even though I'm still not sure about how to navigate adult relationships and the walls of my teeny room are still bare and I'm still not exactly sure how to avoid those Sunday morning hangovers, I know there's a lot of good left to come.

Marching On

My neighborhood on a sunny March day

It seems that every time I commit myself to writing more, that is the exact opposite of what I do. After my last post, I got excited and started working on multiple posts and then...well, I'm not sure what happened then. February set in, and things got gloomy and busy (you can try to persuade me that February is not the worst month, but you will fail). The computer that I usually use for, well, everything decided that February would be its last gasping breaths month. Now, instead of turning off some of the time that I unplug it, it turns off any time I unplug it. Immediately. Even if it's in sleep mode. As much as I love using my iPad for pretty much everything, blogging is not one of those things. And while I contemplate buying a new computer (appealing in every aspect besides price) I've let this little alcove of the internet lie dormant. It's not that I don't want to write, or that I have no inspiration (which would perhaps be easier to deal with) it's that I've let other things get in the way. Instead of sitting with my computer after work, I sit with my iPad, which, while useful for watching TV shows and listening to music and browsing the internet, isn't great for actual typing. And on weekends I'm desperate to turn my brain off after the work week. But all the thoughts rattling around in my head have to go somewhere, and for now, this is that somewhere. So once again I'll treat this as my virtual window seat - my place to sit and think and write it all down. Here's to a fresh (re)start and hoping I actually keep with it this time.

Hello 2013

2012 was a year of big changes for me. I graduated college in March and moved to New York for my first real job at the end of April. I bought my first pair of designer shoes (Manolo Blahniks from the sample sale when my bosses urged me out the door on my third day of work) and attended fashion week for the first time (and then bought more designer shoes). I reconnected with old friends, made a few new ones, got in touch with my social side and went on a few dates. I found my way around my new neighborhood and my new city and survived a superstorm. I went to Indiana and California and back home and always came back to New York feeling like it really was becoming my city. I spent my first New Year's Eve away from home and celebrated the end of 2012 with some of my best friends in the city.

2013 has a lot to live up to, but right now I'm looking forward to getting better acquainted with New York, spending time with my friends (and hopefully making some new ones along the way) and making my apartment feel more like a home. I've got more than a few goals for the new year - which I put off for a week while suffering/recovering from a cold - and with those I'm looking forward to bettering myself both inside and out (2013 is the year I really embrace my vanity). I'm going to make a real effort to get back in touch with the part of myself that sits down at the end of the day and does something productive - aka the creative part of me that writes and takes pictures, which hopefully means more here, more there, more everywhere. In 2013, I'm going to make progress.