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| Friday, March 07, 2008 |
| Starting the Day with a Smile |
I'll be honest, I haven't been in the best of moods lately. I've been working almost constantly with no end in sight, I haven't been sleeping well, I've just been sort of ... I don't know ... blah. It's not to say that I haven't had some great nights out the last few weeks, or that I haven't had any stories to tell around here, I just quite simply haven't been up to it.
But this morning - for no particular reason other than I was fast asleep by 9:45 last night - I woke up with a smile on my face. It was a smile that persisted through my commute. As I stood on the 4 train, with Gomez flowing through my ear buds, I kept smiling at random moments. I'd be subtly mouthing the words to the songs and not realize it. Well, I didn't realize it until a man sitting in front of me caught my eye and smiled. I was a little embarrassed then, but that didn't stop it from happening again just a few minutes later.
As the guy got up to get off the train a few stops later and I moved in to take his seat, he looked me straight in the eye and said " It was so nice to see someone in a good mood on the train. Thanks for starting my day off with a smile - have a good one."
I rocked out a little bit harder to the music after that. Labels: misc., music, NYC |
posted by FINY @ Friday, March 07, 2008   |
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| Thursday, February 07, 2008 |
| Worse and Then Better |
 For a little while today, I got to concentrate on baseball. Not for great reasons, mind you, but at least I was reminded that the season was close. I've already got three sets of tickets to Fenway (thank you six hours of virtual waiting room hell a few weeks ago), and yesterday I received an email letting me know that I had won the lottery for the opportunity to buy Opening Day or Yankees tickets at Fenway as well (what can I say, I'm just a lucky SOB).
And then this evening, as I am heading out of the office, I see this. A window on the Lexington Side of Bloomingdales. It's like I ALMOST get past it, and then it just gets rubbed in my face all over again.
But I will say that stopping to take this photo led to an entertaining story. A guy walked up to me and smiled and said, "Giants fan?". I explained that no actually, I was just trying to prove to people how hard it was to be a Patriots fans in NYC with stuff like this window around all the time.
"Next you're going to tell me you're a Red Sox fan too!" he laughed.
"Well, yeah, actually I am."
He starts laughing that oh-get-a-load-of-this-girl laugh, and says "Ok, well, uh, Buckner!"
"2007"
"Boone!"
"2004"
"Yeah well," he trailed off. "Maybe the Giants will have reversed the New York curse."
And that, that right there, was enough to send me heading down the subway steps with a smile on my face.Labels: NYC, Patriots, Red Sox |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, February 07, 2008 |
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| Wednesday, February 06, 2008 |
| In Any Other City In The World |
In any other city in the world I would have been over it by now. Sure, I would have been devastated. But I would have had time to properly mourn. I would have been able to hang my head, drown my sorrows in my beer, and wonder over and over again ... what went wrong? I would have been able to avoid certain websites, not listen to certain radio stations, and completely avoided whole channel blocks on my television until the mere mention of the event stopped sending daggers into my heart.
The Giants are the Super Bowl Champions.
I want to be the bigger person. To give the Giants their due. I mean, they won! It wasn't some cheaply won, bad call kind of game, they out played the team I root for. But the minute the game was over it started. The taunting. The jeering. The chants in the street of "18 AND 1!" "18 AND 1". When you live in enemy territory, well, it's just what you get.
The next morning I tried to avoid any mention of the game. I got ready in silence, choosing to awaken to my alarm instead of my typical Mike and Mike in the morning. My massive hangover from drowning my sorrows as the last of the seconds ticked away the night before dulling the dread of what I knew awaited me outside the safety of my apartment. The joy.
It surrounded me on the subway. Even with my nose shoved firmly into the spine of my book I could see images Eli Manning hoisting the trophy above his head all around me. On the backs of papers. On the fronts of papers. His goofy I'm-only-twelve-years-old face mocked me everywhere I went. When I got into my office my coworkers had plastered him to my door. So what that I was nice to them when their Mets COLLAPSED at the end of the season? The Giants won the Super Bowl!
Coworkers stopped by to gloat. Especially one who had called, back in July, that the Pats only loss was going to be to the Giants. Of course, he was thinking week 17, but his prediction came true none-the-less. On Tuesday it was just as bad. Giants jerseys were everywhere as the city celebrated their heroes with a parade.
Most days I love this city. This week? I think I'd rather be anywhere but.
Bring on pitchers and catchers.Labels: Boston, NYC, Patriots, sports |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, February 06, 2008 |
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| Wednesday, January 09, 2008 |
| Office Space |
The days immediately following the Red Sox World Series victory are still a bit of a blur. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, and a whirlwind trip to Boston for the victory parade all contributed to a no-longer-knowing-what-day-it-was Finy. So when I met MBB (the name will make more sense later) I was completely shocked that he asked for my number, never mind that he actually used it.
But after meeting me at my absolute worst (read: on no sleep, fresh off the sox parade, slightly buzzed and looking like hell on an Amtrak train) he did, in fact, call. While on the train I had found out that he was 32, lived in midtown, and was a former marine. He was now the part-owner of his own company and had a pair of eyes that could seriously melt a girl. When he planned our first date as dinner and drinks at a sports bar before sitting in tenth row seats to a Knicks game I was pretty much sold.
Ok, so there were a few red flags. I wasn't a fan of the fact that he'd never gone to college. I was worried the marine thing would put him staunchly on the right hand side of the political line. And who lives in midtown? But you know what? I was having a damn good time with this guy, and all of those things I had been worried about turned out to be totally unfounded.
And then he dropped the bomb. The "I'm divorced and have two kids" bomb. This came on about our 5th or 6th date. We had had dozens of long conversations on the phone. I was really starting to like this guy. But an ex-wife? TWO KIDS? But again, after a long conversation about it I decided, you know what? I'm having a damn good time with this guy. So we continue dating.
Flash forward: MBB and I have now been dating for about a month and a half. And we haven't hooked up once. Oh, sure, we've made out like bandits on random street corners, but that's as far as it's gotten. I realize that I'm the first girl he's really dated since his ex-wife, but damn! So one night we meet up. We get outrageously drunk. I decide that this is absolutely the night that I am getting laid.
It is now 5:30 in the morning and we have just exited what feels like the tenth bar of the night. He looks at me and says "Do you want to stay in midtown tonight." After telling him that it is no longer "tonight" I say yes. What I really want to say is "Do you honestly think that wasn't my intention? We've been molesting each other in public for hours now". I restrain myself. Barely.
As we walk into his building the following conversation ensues:
MBB: You are finally going to see where I live.
FINY: Yeah I am excited.
MBB: Me too.
FINY: It kind of looks like an office building.
MBB: Well, it kinda is.
This should have been my first clue that this was not going to go the way I had hoped.
As the elevator doors open we are deposited into a reception area. The logo of MBB's company is hanging on the wall above the front desk. MBB takes my hand and gives me a quick tour. As we wander through the cubicles it still hasn't hit me yet. I'm wasted, I just don't get it.
Then we reach an office in the back corner. Like my office, the wall that faces the hallway is floor to ceiling glass. Unlike my office, this glass is blacked out somehow.
MBB takes out his keys and unlocks the door. I am now just flat out confused. What are we doing here? MBB steps inside the office. The door is only half open. And then I see why.
There is a Murphy Bed unfolded from the wall blocking the door.
That's when it hits me.
This is where Murphy Bed Boy (MBB) lives!
Inside the room there is just the Murphy Bed, a dresser with a TV, cable box, tivo, and playstation, and an odd compartmentalized closet type thing. This should bother me more than it does. But the minute his lips touch mine I forget where I am. The copiuos amounts of liquor probably had something to do with it too.
Then, suddenly, it's morning. Or, more accurately, later in the morning than it was when we fell asleep. Now hundreds of questions are running through my head. The most important of which are the immediate ones. Where in the world is the women's room, and IS THERE GOING TO BE SOMEONE WORKING IN THE CUBICLE OUTSIDE THE DOOR!
I wake MBB to ask these questions and realize that the reason I am freezing is that they turn the heat off in office buildings on weekends. After a thousand assurances that no one will be outside, i quickly dress and head towards the women's room. Two things happen here. 1. I find mens shaving gel next to the sink. 2. I hear someone moving around outside and almost die of a heart attack. I imagine exiting the bathroom and running into one of MBBs coworkers. What would I say? "Uh, hi, I'm Kim. I'm just visiting MBB ... at 10am on a Sunday morning. With bed head. And his shirt on. Nice meeting you!"
I basically run back to MBBs, I don't even know what you call it, his room? and find it empty meaning that whatever I heard before was him. I breathe a sign of relief. It's a quick one because I then find my own shirt and have my coat on before he returns.
He tries to convince me to stay and watch football. Not once has he made any mention of the fact that we are in the middle of his office. He's acting like this is totally normal!
Me? I bolt as fast as my aching, heeled, walk of shame feet can carry me.
Only in New York, folks. Only in New York.Labels: dating, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, January 09, 2008 |
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| Monday, August 27, 2007 |
| I Miss The Innocence I've Known |
I'm a pack rat. There are no two ways about it, I save EVERYTHING. Ticket stubs, programs, cute pictures small children have drawn for me. Eventually they all end up in shoe boxes stored under beds, in closets, behind chairs. Occasionally as I'm cleaning or trying to find something I'll root through them, reminisce a little, and then promptly put them back to once again begin gathering dust.
A few weekends ago, while I was at home in Rhode Island, I was given an ultimatum. There was an entire closet filled with evidence of my sentimental nature taking up space in my parents home. I was to go through it all, throw out what I no longer remembered the significance of, and indicate what deserved saving so it could be sent to its new home: the attic.
Some of the oldest stuff dated back to middle school. All those self-important diaries in which my apparent hatred for my mother, and love for some kid I don't even remember, was splashed across the pages. I found a small Happy Meal toy a guy I liked freshman year of high school gave to me. I found prom photos, knick-nacks, a red sox themed soda can from 1995, all of my sheet music from All-State choir, a flower Steddy brought me my sophomore year of college from his sister's wedding.
What amazed me was how vividly I remembered almost all of the items in these boxes. Each layer revealed something I had thought once long forgotten, when in fact it was actually just deeply buried - awaiting some visual cue to come crashing back to the forefront.
One of the items that gave me the most pause was a stack of letters written to me by one of my best friends in high school. Matt had been a few years older than me and the only way to describe my feelings for him is to say that I loved him in a way that only a girl who's never had her heart broken can. Innocently, naively, and completely. The letters were filled with what we then thought were hugely important issues. We were yet to be jaded then, untouched by the real world.
This trip back through childhood continued this weekend when I attended a Brooklyn Cyclones game out on Coney Island, which was immediately followed by hours of riding the Cyclone and various other vomit inducing rides and playing games to win a small stuffed gorilla that I probably could have bought at a toy store for a buck. Sure I didn't grow up in Brooklyn, but it reminded me an awful lot of Rocky Point. (To all of you Rhode Islanders out there - tell me you don't still remember the theme song ... "Come with your family, come with your friends, that's the Rocky Point tradition 'cause it's summer time again!").
As my friends and I were flung about like rag dolls on a ride called the Break Dance, I laughed with an abandon I hadn't in what felt like ages. I may only be able to vaguely remember the innocence that came along with the younger years, but it's nice to be reminded of a time when you absolutely believed in the good in the world, and your biggest concern was whether you were going to lose your lunch on the Music Express.
side note, title of this post borrowed from the lyrics of Wilco's "Heavy Metal Drummer"Labels: misc., NYC, Rhode Island |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, August 27, 2007 |
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| Wednesday, August 15, 2007 |
| Promoting Health |
Ext.:Finy and a coworker stand outside smoking a cigarette. Behind them is a window promoting the new Botox Walk-In Clinic. The two are chatting.
A door opens.
Plastic Woman: Excuse me do you work at [Finy's place of employment]
Coworker: Yes.
Plastic Woman(with a holier-than-thou attitude) Ok, then would you mind not smoking in front of our store? We're trying to promote health here.
Finy and Coworker wander away thinking that only in Manhattan would Botox injections be considered a health service.Labels: NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, August 15, 2007 |
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| Friday, June 15, 2007 |
| Life Blood |
Coffee falls into the stomach ... ideas begin to move, things remembered arrive at full gallop ... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink...
- Honore de Balzac
I've spoken before about the important role NYC coffee carts occupy in my life. But really what makes them so great is finding those carts that if you go to them every day, you get to know the people working in them.
The woman on the corner of 59th Street and Lexington Avenue is one of those women. No, I don't know her name, but every morning I am greeted with a huge smile and a steaming cup of hot coffee made just the way I like it (without so much as asking for my order). How can that not be a great way to start a day?
But today I received devastating news. Today is her last day. Her mother is ill and she'll be taking an undetermined amount of time off to care for her. To be honest, I am going to miss her. If only because I've actually had three separate coffee cart guys ask me out on dates over the past five years, mistaking their knowledge of my coffee preferences as a knowledge of me as a person. This woman not only was a sweetheart, but I could also be fairly certain she was harboring no feelings towards me that would then create awkward interactions and then force me to find someplace new and start all over again training someone else on the intricacies of my coffee (you know ... three sugars with half and half).
Maybe I'll go down for a second cup of coffee today. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go do just that.Labels: misc., NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, June 15, 2007 |
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| Monday, May 07, 2007 |
| An Exercise in Pictoral Excuses |
Yes, I have been absent over the last few weeks, months, etc. But really, I've got some pretty good excuses.
First, I went to a Sox game at Yankee Stadium where I watched Dice-K pitch and the Sox win:
And ate a lot of peanuts:
After the game, I got way too wasted when the Twin showed up at Prof. Thom's after a 6 month absence. But he wasn't alone, he had the new-me with him. I held it together while at the bar, but the evening ended with me crying on the sidewalk in the Welshman's arms. Look for a post soon about the rules of post break-up behavior. I think The Twin needs a memo.
So the next day I was hoping the Sox would cheer me up when I attended the second game in the series. That didn't happen, since they lost, but at least I got to watch Wakefield pitch.
The third game in the series was watched at Thom's. Much beer was imbibed during the day. And into the night. 12 straight hours of drinking does not a good blogger make:
After a few days break in which I recovered from said weekend, I went to a very swanky and very successful Alzheimer's Association Junior Committee gala:
At which I was the PICTURE of decorum:
Two days later I was at a Cinco De Mayo party in Boston:
That didn't end until the sun was rising:
Long story short? I'm such an ass that I am not even going to promise that I'll be blogging more now (even though I will, no really, I swear).Labels: Alzheimer's, baseball, blogging, Boston, dating, drinking, misc., NYC, photos, Red Sox, sports, travel |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, May 07, 2007 |
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| Tuesday, April 24, 2007 |
| Public Service Announcement |
Tickets to the Red Sox and Yankees series starting on Friday are not yet sold out.
Or I guess, more accurately, they WERE sold out, but are no longer. I am assuming they released a chunk of seats recently, because I had tried multiple times to get tickets since they went on sale and no luck. But today on a whim I checked the site and lo and behold? I was soon the holder of four tickets. Two to Friday's game, two to Saturday's. Which at this point brings my projected total of games to 8 for the season.
I love my life.Labels: baseball, NYC, Red Sox |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, April 24, 2007 |
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| Tuesday, April 17, 2007 |
| Words Are My Weakness |
It was a good thing I brought my most recent Time magazine with me. Typically, my subscriptions to Time and Sports Illustrated serve as reading material for my breakfast in the morning, occasionally my commute. I'll get an article in here and there. I hardly ever have the time to sit down and read through an entire issue in one sitting. But Saturday was a bit different.
Two hours, two subways, and a bus ride later, I found myself in the far reaches of the Bronx, having read through the entire issue I had brought with me, and walking towards a Barnes and Noble just blocks from Co-Op City.
I was on my way to meet Dave Copeland, an online friend who, one of his recent posts reminded me, I've "known" for a little over two years. Having just released his first book, Blood and Volume, Dave was doing a reading and after having heard about the project for so long on his blog, I was excited both to finally meet him, and to get my hands on a copy of the book.
Neither disappointed. Dave's just as friendly in person as I expected him to be, and the book? Let's just say that it's a good thing I had finished my magazine on the way to the event because there was no chance I was reading it on the way home. The two hours flew by as I was completely drawn into the world of the Israeli mafia members that populate the pages of Blood and Volume.
Now normally, I'd feel a little bad about overly praising the work of someone I consider a friend. It ends up sounding just so incredibly biased. Mainly because it is. But when you think about it, this one makes sense. I mean, I got to know Dave online through his blog, so really - it was his writing that drew me in the first place. What can I say, I'm a sucker for someone who can string a sentence together.
Of course there were a few awkward moments in the afternoon. Dave not being able to remember my real name when going to sign the book for me (though in truth, I've had that problem with others in the past - if Dave blogged under a pseudonym the way I do I am sure my first inclination would have been to call him by it). And I would have loved to have been able to hang out a bit longer, but with Dave surrounded by actual friends, I ended up feeling like the would-be online stalker girl or something. And nobody wants to be that girl.
So off I went, having picked up a great book, a new "real" friend (as Dave's inscription in the book so aptly put it), and an interesting start to what turned out to be a very packed Saturday.
But more on that later ...Labels: blogging, books, misc., NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Tuesday, April 17, 2007 |
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| Thursday, March 01, 2007 |
| I'm A New Yorker |
It's official people, I'm staying in New York. I have accepted the position of Online Content Manager for a nonprofit here in the Big Apple that works for a cause that I happen to not only feel strongly about, but am also personally connected to.
This was a tough one. Up until a few days ago, I was completely convinced that I was ready to move to Boston. I was. I thought I would have no problem uprooting my life, and hauling ass up to the city I always said I would move back to.
And then something happened ... I got the offer down here ...
Suddenly, there really was an option for me to stay in New York. I wouldn't HAVE to leave. I could make the choice. And thinking about moving suddenly made my heart hurt. Sure, the position up in Boston was better for my career, but it turns out, faced with the reality of leaving a city I always said I'd leave ... I wasn't ready to do it.
So it came down to what was going to make me happiest. And while the decision was hard, harder than any I've probably had to make to this point, I know I made the right one. Turns out I am NOT a Bostonian who just happens to be living in New York as I previously thought. Turns out, I'm a New Yorker with the heart of a Bostonian. A small distinction, but an important one.
It was a really stressful last 48 hours. Lots of phone calls. Lots of worry. In the end, the Boston position wasn't even offered to me. Not because they didn't want me, but because they couldn't afford me. So while I had already made the decision to turn them down (though it was a decision that I was wavering on at times), in the end, I didn't even have to make it.
But I AM very happy with the position I took. It's a sizable raise over what I was making in my last position - something I was not at all expecting. They seem like a good group to work with, and like I said, it's a great cause (though I am not going to go any deeper into that since, well, I probably shouldn't mention EXACTLY where I am working). It's going to challenge me, push my writing, and my career. The benefits are fantastic, the location is amazing, the list goes on and on.
So a week from today, I will no longer be unemployed. Now who wants to celebrate with me?!Labels: NYC, Unemployment |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, March 01, 2007 |
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| Sunday, February 11, 2007 |
| Back to Boston |
Well, wish me luck. I'm on my way up to Boston for my interview on Monday.
I've had a lot of conversations with people about the potential position up there, and reactions have varied quite a bit. From friends who always thought I was more of a "Boston girl" to others who were wary that the position would be at a catholic girls school. It's impossible to find someone in my life who is unbiased, and that's totally understandable, but it'd proving hard to get myself some perspective.
So for now, I'm just rolling with it. I have a bag full of materials to study on the bus, my suit is in my garment bag, and I'm going in with an open mind. Fingers crossed, everyone.Labels: Boston, NYC, Unemployment |
| posted by FINY @ Sunday, February 11, 2007 |
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| Wednesday, February 07, 2007 |
| The New York / Boston Rivalry |
The competition between Boston and New York transcends two baseball teams and their avid fan bases. Sure the Red Sox and the Yankees have a rivalry unlike any other in sports, but in all honesty it goes much deeper than that. It's about two cities whose residents are fiercely loyal to the places they call home.
Typically, you choose one or the other. You're either a Bostonian or a New Yorker. As I've mentioned before, I'm the odd-ball. I consider myself both.
It's almost impossible to compare the two cities. Countless people have asked me to do so, and my stock answer is that it's like apples and oranges. But now I have to compare them both. I have an interview in New York today and one in Boston on Monday.
 New York, New York. It's the place where dreams are made, and dashed, and made again. It's the thing movies are made of, stories are written on. I love Boston and all, but let's not joke, this is NEW YORK. When people ask me why I love it here so much, I hardly know where to start. New York has a palpable energy to it. The city is alive, vibrant, pulsating. There's the feeling here that anything is possible. Hell, if you can make it here you can make it anywhere, right? So it's a source of pride that I've made it here. Really made a great life here.
If you're looking for concrete reasons, it's the fact that the city never sleeps; I can order take out at almost any time of night. Stumbling out of the bar at 4am (another plus side for NYC) I will have no problem finding a cab to go home, while first stopping in the deli to get a sandwich. Sure they don't know how to make clam chowder here (seriously, who thought it was a good idea to put it in a tomato based broth?!), but it is undeniable that the food here is some of the best in the country.
Another check mark on the plus side for NYC is the diversity. I know that that sounds stupid and arrogant coming from a "privileged twenty-something white" woman, but still. I adore the fact that I used to live in one of the most heavily populate muslin areas in the city. It's great watching cultures collide, learning about each of them at some of the most random points (like on your commute to work). That kind of diversity, a subway car filled with Hasidic Jews, Arabs, Hispanics, Blacks, etc etc. was the kind of philosophy that this country was based on. America was supposed to be the boiling pot, and New York City embodies that more than anywhere else I've lived.
And then there's the culture. You've got Broadway, Lincoln Center, some of the top music and dance schools in the country. You've got iconic architecture, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building. I can't tell you how incredible it is to take the subway to work every day and come up out of the tunnel on the Manhattan Bridge to see the New York skyline, the Brooklyn Bridge and old Lady Liberty looming on the horizon. It's beautiful, and still awe inspiring on a daily basis.
And then there's Boston. If I said that New York has a palpable energy, Boston feels like a warm down blanket. Boston is comfort, home. Boston doesn't have the same hustle, the same go-go-go-every-single-minute. And that's a good thing. You can burn out on that sort of mentality real quick. Boston is also a much younger city, something that is due to the hundreds of thousands of college students that stream into its borders ever September.
Boston is a more laid back city in general. In New York, image is very important. What you're wearing, where you're eating, what bar your drinking your $12 martini in matter. Boston fits my Jcrew clad, not-a-stick-thin-waif appearance much better than New York. And speaking of overpriced martinis, did I mention that Boston is significantly cheaper when it comes to beers, food, well, just about everything other than real estate? Sure to someone coming from say, Alabama, Boston prices would seem outrageous. But to someone who's used to paying $6 for a beer, Boston is a welcome change of pace.
Another pro in the Boston column is those students I mentioned earlier. Because where there are students there are schools. Call me a dork if you like, but I love the academic environment like no other. New York has some amazing colleges and universities, don't get me wrong. NYU and Columbia to name just two. But Boston is far and away a much more academic city, and that shows in the abundance of lectures, book stores, readings, etc.
And I'm not going to lie, after the way New York has treated me of late, the idea of starting over in a new city with a completely clean slate is not entirely unappealing.
Boston is a more walkable city. New York's subway system is more comprehensive. Boston doesn't have as many museums. New York has so many, and I hardly ever go to them. Both cities are surrounded by water, but Boston's is more easily accessible and much much cleaner. Boston is more historic, but New York is no slouch in that category either. Boston has the Red Sox. But it's easier to get tickets to the Sox v. Yankees at Yankee Stadium than it is at Fenway Park, and it's not like living down here has stopped me from seeing games. New York has my support network; a group of friends that I would lie down in traffic for. Boston is much closer to my family, and while I may not be as close to everyone up there, I have no doubt that I wouldn't lack for people to hang out with. Boston is cleaner. New York bigger. The list goes on and on and on.
In the end, I guess I am going to have to go with my gut. See where I am offered a job. Where I think I'll be happiest. It's incredibly liberating to know that I could up and move anywhere I wanted to right now. I have no strings, am tied to nothing. It's the kind of freedom that you can only find at this time in your life. But it's also amazingly scary to think that in a month's time my life could be completely different.
So stayed tuned, folks. This could get very very interesting.Labels: Boston, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Wednesday, February 07, 2007 |
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| Monday, February 05, 2007 |
| 3 Homes |
There are three places in this world that will always feel like home to me. Rhode Island. Boston. And New York. Rhode Island will always be home, but it's a place I could never move back to (sorry Mom). New York, well it's been home for going on five years now. And Boston? I may have only called Boston home for 4 years, but it's where my heart will always be. And where I plan to move back to. Eventually.
But what if eventually were to come sooner rather than later? What if NOW is eventually? Am I ready for that? Suddenly my head is spinning, my heart is torn in two directions, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it.
See, there's this job in Boston. This Director of Communications job in Boston, and as of tomorrow morning, I will officially be an applicant for said job.
It's something I had pondered for weeks. DTR happens to work there and over the weekend while visiting her I met her boss while watching the Super Bowl (and no, I won't talk about that here, but I will say that the wrong quarterback got the MVP award - Grossman won that game for the Colts). She's wonderful. The job I'm applying for is everything I've been looking for. More even.
But it's in the wrong city.
Then again ... is it really the wrong city? I've spent weeks trying to figure it out in my head. I love New York, I love Boston, I've made pro and con lists, I've thought and thought and thought. And I just have no idea.
It's a conundrum I don't technically have to worry about right now. I would only need to worry about it if I was offered the job and hell, I haven't even been offered an interview yet. But it's amazing what a mind fuck this has been already. Just thinking about it.
They say that home is where the heart is. What happens if your heart's in two places?Labels: Boston, NYC, Rhode Island |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, February 05, 2007 |
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| Friday, February 02, 2007 |
| A Message to NYC |
To: The City of New York
From: Finy
Re: (untitled)
Message:
You're trying to break me right now. And I just thought I should let you know, I'm not going to let you.Labels: NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, February 02, 2007 |
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| Monday, January 29, 2007 |
| It Really IS A Small World After All |
It's a small, small world.
The song has been running through my head lately (and now probably through at least a few of yours). It's easy to think that in a city of a couple million people it would be easy never to run into people, never to have that kind of random coincidence type of moment. But in the last week, I've had more than my fair share. Luckily, all of them were in a good way.
Thursday of last week, I went out to drinks with my Philly Fan Friend (Let's call her PFF for short) for drinks. While we were out playing darts we ran into a guy that works at the company that I had my first job out of college. In and of itself, not random, right? Thing is this guy is based out of Boston, is rarely in NYC and just happened to be staying at a hotel across the street. Add to that that he is about four rungs up on the corporate ladder than I was when I was there, and just happened to be handed the resignation of one of his team members just hours before seeing me, and you've got a very productive coincidence. He asked me to send him my resume, which he has since passed on for consideration. Small world episode number one.
The other two both happened on Saturday night. The Midwesterner, The Guy Magnet and I went out for a night on the town that night. Just out of the relationship with Barnard Boy, wearing my glasses, and not feeling all that up to trolling for men, I was going along as the wingwoman. I just needed to get out of my apartment.
A few hours into the evening we're leaving a bar and I run into an exroommate, her boyfriend, and their friend (hi guys!) who I hadn't seen in ages. I had never been to the bar we were at, and we were just leaving as they were coming in, but it was fantastic to see them and remind myself that I really should give them a ring to hang out soon. Small world occurrence number two.
Number 3 is really the most bizarre though. That same night, at our third bar of the evening, I am starting to get sick of this scoping men out thing. Since I wasn't in the mood to meet anyone for myself and the girls were pretty focused on it, I was getting a bit bored. So I separate from them for a few minutes and head out to have a cigarette where a guy asks me for a light. We start talking, and yes, ok, kind of flirting, and he and his friend join the girls and I for a drink inside. As this guy and I are talking I ask him where he's from.
Guy: Rhode Island.
Finy: No way, me too. Where in RI?
Guy: Barrington.
Finy: *Stunned Silence*
He's from my hometown. No joke, we went to middle school together. We don't remember each other, but MUST have had some of the same classes because we had all the same teachers, and we're the same age/class (though he went to private high school while I continued on in the public school system). We know some of the same people, and our houses were probably a mile and a half apart. We spent the next THREE HOURS talking about home, who we knew, retelling stories from middle school, where we go when we go home now, etc. etc. etc. I left the bar that night and still couldn't believe it.
Moral of this story: "Though the oceans divide and the mountains are wide, it's a small world after all."Labels: dating, drinking, misc., NYC, Unemployment |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, January 29, 2007 |
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| Friday, October 27, 2006 |
| Thank GOD This Week Is Over |
I redeemed myself last night with a trip to Welcome to the Johnson's (I'm sorry, $1.50 beers? Yeah I'm in.) followed by a stop at Two Boots for Pizza before heading to the Bleeker St. Bar to finish off the evening. Zoe crashed at my place, we had a great time together, and I woke up this morning in a fantastic mood.
That was beaten out of me pretty damn quick. Half an hour into my work day (and really only fifteen minutes after I had arrived) I was pulled into the kind of meeting that just makes you want to scream. Almost four hours later we emerged - without having accomplished a thing.
But in just a few hours the week will be over. Tonight, Barnard Boy is making me dinner. Tomorrow, brunch with Zoe, and more time with Barnard Boy. Sunday? Who knows, but sleep will factor in heavily.
It's shaping up to be a pretty good weekend, and just the kind of laid back, no stress kind I need. I hope you all have wonderful weekends as well.Labels: NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Friday, October 27, 2006 |
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| Monday, October 23, 2006 |
| What a Weekend |
Certain people fascinate me, and she was absolutely one of them. sitting on a folding chair smoking a cigarette, her frizzy grey curls forming a halo of hair around her head. She wore a mauve mock turtle neck, paired with the type of jeans you just know had an elastic waistband. And all around her were twenty-something women in varying states of undress; each of them teasing their hair, adjusting their break-your-ankle heels, painting on their makeup, or examining their exposed breasts.
This is the version of the strip club most never see. Here in the ladies room of the Manhattan genlemen's club called Private Eyes, I could barely contain my laughter. There I was, wasted, in my first strip club, continuing a conversation with one of the girls that had started while she was gyrating on a pole in front of me.
What can I say, I really liked the lingere she was wearing!
The entire scene had been perpetrated by The Redhead who had surprised us all the night before (Friday) by simply appearing - as if out of nowhere - from the left coast. See, while he had flown in just the previous day, his flight back to Los Angeles left at 6am Sunday morning. So clearly we had to stay up all night or risk him missing his plane. Clearly we all needed to take one for the team. And what better time for me to see my first strip club?
Previous to this, Barnard Boy, Midwestern Girl, the Redhead and I had packed the day with Brunch, a viewing of The Prestige, a walk in Central Park, a trip to Professor Thom's, and a pit stop at the Blarney something, a bar on 34th Street. Call us what you will (and drunks would be appropriate) but we know how to make the most of limited time together.
I laughed for the majority of the evening. At how my first thought upon entering the club was "Gee, I really like the boyshort and cami set the coat check girl has on" straight on through to our discussions while sitting on Perverts Row about whose boobs were fake, which were too coked out to know what they were doing, and if I had to choose, which girl I'd want a lap dance from.*
Somewhere towards the end of the night/morning, we split off into two conversations. The Redhead and Midwestern Girl discussing I don't know what, Barnard Boy and I talking yet again about the possibility of us trying to be more than friends. It was a topic I had grown accustomed to in the past week, and a thought I had had previous to that. But, as I am want to do, I had been over rationalizing myself out of it for weeks. Hadn't I just gotten out of a relationship? Did I really want to risk our friendship? Could he really open up to me the way I would need a partner to?
As we sat there, discussing our pasts and debating our future, all while absentmindedly stuffing dollar bills in half-naked women's G-strings, I decided I needed to stop thinking. He's cute, he's smart, he's funny, and I already trust him. Oh and he's a Red Sox fan.** What more could a girl ask for?
So yes, it is entirely possible that Barnard Boy and I "officially" crossed the friend line while sitting in a strip club. Now there's a story to tell your parents!
After all that, Sunday hit like a ton of bricks. Barnard Boy and I arrived at Riverside Park at 9:30am - just four hours after returning to his Harlem apartment. We proceeded to sleep-walk our way through the two mile Memory Walk before parting ways.
More than 24-hours later, I still don't think my body and mind have caught up with what went on this weekend. And neither has my wallet.
But hot damn if it wasn't worth it.
* I never did end up makign up my mind, so no, I did not get a lap dance.
* How in the world I've ended up with yet another Sox fan while living in NYC I have no idea, but trust me, I am not questioning it! :) Labels: dating, drinking, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, October 23, 2006 |
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| Thursday, September 28, 2006 |
| I Officially Reject the Month of September |
From here on out, I will no longer acknowledge the existence of the month of September. Let's take a quick recap of my month thus far:
* Moved into an apartment over-run by cockroaches.
* Got dumped.
and now we can add a third to the list:
* Had purse stolen.
That's right. Last night, while riding the train home, I fell asleep. And when I awoke, it was gone. Three hours later, three hours of crying, and police reports, and waking up a super who had never met me at 3 in the morning to get his set of keys, I was in my apartment. Without my cell phone. Without my wallet. Without my camera, my Kate Spade purse, without my checkbook.
This morning has consisted of trips to the bank, to verizon wireless, calls to my management company, my credit cards, my parents. It will continue with calls to the DMV, and a visit from the locksmith so he can change my locks.
Of course all of these calls are being made from the office since I have no phone.
And it's all my fault. All of it. Everything that's happened this month falls directly on my shoulders. I should have asked MM more questions about the bugs. I shouldn't have ever let The Twin back into my life. I shouldn't be traveling on the subway while tipsy and tired.
I've hit rock bottom at this point. Here's to hoping there's nowhere to go from here but up - but I'm not going to count on it.Labels: apartment, dating, NYC |
| posted by FINY @ Thursday, September 28, 2006 |
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| Monday, September 18, 2006 |
| It's Not Much, But It's Mine |
 Say hello to Tessie, everyone. It's been a while since the kitty has made an appearance here at Miles From Fenway, but tonight as I sat curled up in my hideously ugly, but oh so comfortable, and incredibly cheap armchair, reading a book with my cat curled up next to me, I just had to share how ridiculously happy it made me. I live on my own. Everything in this place is mine. The bathroom is mine. I can walk around naked after a shower and - it doesn't matter! All the shit that's gone down in the past few weeks aside, I've got a damn freaking good life.Labels: apartment, NYC, tessie |
| posted by FINY @ Monday, September 18, 2006 |
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