Small Vanilla Chai Skim with Caramel

I frequent this coffee shop (The Bean) on the corner of 9th street and 1st Ave so much that they know my name and my order. The order is a little complicated and as a result of my fear of burdening baristas, I've worked diligently to simplify it as much as possible. Tabs, a sassy black woman with awesome dreads, and Dana, a slightly-awkward white girl with an omnipresent bandana, joined my endeavors and we came up with "Small Vanilla Chai Skim with Caramel." Eventually, I plan to make the switch to coffee. It's been about a month of frequenting...it still hasn't happened.

It's also been about a month since I last blogged. Oops. I've decided to post a few adventures from the past four or five weeks in no particular order. We'll start with some happenings at the Bean.

My first notable experience came on October 17 when I pulled my first all-nighter since undergrad in order to finish a midterm paper. I was headed to meet Alex at The Bean when she texted me to hurry along because a cute guy was occupying the table next to her. As soon as I sat down, the kid struck up a conversation with us. His name's Jesse (that was a cute moment), graduated from Northwestern, wanted to be an actor but now is applying to law schools. He continues looking over Alex's shoulder and asking her about the paper she's writing on dating in NYC. I'm convinced he's into her and we're both laying on the charm pretty thick.

All of a sudden, Sarah calls to tell me a hilarious story about MawMaw wishing mom & dad a safe flight by explicitly expressing her hopes that there are no BOMBS on the plane in all caps. A worthy distraction, but regardless, I quickly get off the phone in order to get back in The Bean. Alex has begun interviewing Jesse for her story. I sit down, proud of her for initiating a full-blown conversation, and prepare to jump in when she turns to me and says,

"So, Jesse's gay."

Of course he is. Of course he is.

Turns out, he is also in need of an editor to look over his applications so I happily volunteer. As he's thanking me and fawning over the serendipity of the situation (our names, his need of/my desire to be an editor, our conversation flow) I mention that circumstances like this fuel my faith in God. He agrees! Hey-o! So, I invite him to church on Sunday. When he shows up to Hillsong, he looks around awestruck and confides, "This is the first time anyone has ever invited me to church."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, you know. 'Coz I'm Jewish."

Of course he is. Of course he is.

0 for 2, Jess.

However, I'm still convinced God wants us to be friends. Just last week our class toured the District Attorney's office where you-know-who is a paralegal. He joined us on our tour. I hope I can keep him around until I found out he's also a robot.

Second fun encounter at The Bean came a few days ago when I decided to order an Acai Delight smoothie. "Yogurt, acai, blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, almond milk, and kale."Alright, I'm on board with that. First sip revealed they also put bananas in there.

"Oh, yeah. There's banana in there. We don't list all the ingredients on the menu. We, like, ran out of room. You're not allergic, are you?"

"Oh, no. I'm just not a huge fan."

"Oh, ok. Well, now you know for next time."

Except, I just smiled and said thank you and sat down.About 3 minutes later,  I was literally in the midst of thinking about what an uncharacteristic exchange that had been for The Bean, when homeboy sets a brand new smoothie on the table in front of me. Naturally, I cried and made a Facebook post.

This is why I love The Bean.

Final Bean story occurred yesterday. I brought the beautiful Shelley in tow and we were desperate for an opening on "the squishy" (the seats against the windows with the plush cushions). In our endeavor we friended an adorable pair of best friends who last night provided us with roasted vegetables, sweet wine, and meta-leval conversation. Not bad, Bean. Not Bad. 

Before I moved to New York, I'd daydream about being a "regular" somewhere. I love how comfortable I feel when I walk through the doors, how productive I feel when I plug in my computer to a wall outlet, how giddy I feel when they play all 90s music, and how special I feel when the employees make conversation. I even kinda like the fact that I'm a regular at a coffee shop when I have such an aversion to the stuff. It makes it more endearing, right? There is still hope. If the worst thing New York makes out of me is a coffee drinker, I think I'm doing alright. 

Waiting.

So I'm officially waiting tables at Tavern. 

This is probably the most stressful thing I've done in my entire life. I wish I were kidding. Today was the first day I've cried in New York City and it was at Tavern. 

There wasn't an incident. No one yelled at me. I was filling ketchup bottles and couldn't quite get the right hold on the bag and suddenly I was hit with this overwhelming sense of incompetence. This task was so simple. Why couldn't I figure it out? Why couldn't I remember to put knifes on the plates with huge hunks of meat? Why couldn't I remember to ask customers to choose a dressing? Why couldn't I remember what vegetables we serve as sides? Why couldn't I remember to write a legible and comprehensible check for the kitchen? WHY COULDN'T I OPEN A STUPID BOTTLE OF WINE? 

(I've watched this 4x.)

So I cried. My eyes got puffy, my face got red, and a little bit of snot came out of my nose. I'm still really worried someone saw the snot.

Everyone at work responded in the worst way -- they began to lavish upon me encouragement and compliments, which of course made me cry even harder because I can't get over how blessed I am in terms of coworkers. I tried to explain myself between quick intakes of breath, which also made things worse. Plus, I really had no explanation. 

As Becky likes to point out, I am a textbook ENFP. With every question or mistake, I take personal responsibility for making the jobs of my coworkers just a little more difficult and that KILLS ME. I don't want to be a burden, and I want to deserve to be there. I know people don't walk into West Village waitressing gigs. I know I have this job only because I'm a friend of a friend. I also know that I don't have the serving background or alcohol expertise of most of my coworkers. I feel like a child, completely dependent and painfully naive. But, man, do I really, really want to be good at this job.

Thankfully, after a slightly tearful walk home (sidenote: I did successfully give directions to an adorable couple who I like to think are married with a Pomeranian or some other cute animal at home), God decided to once again bless me through a conversation with someone from my best friend tier. A level-headed Melissa on the other side of the world made me admit out loud that the only person overwhelming me with pressure to be perfect was me. 

I've been at Tavern a month. I can't possibly know everything. Instead of being discouraged, I should be welcoming a challenge and counting myself supremely lucky I have such helpful coworkers to ease my pains. (Thanks, Melissa). These things take time. It's not always fun, easy, or peaceful. 

Hey, that's waiting. 

In other news, classes are going well. I enjoy discussions and I feel like I'm getting great opportunities and learning a lot. Maybe if I dote on NYU enough, this blog will come up in search optimization exercises and they'll cut me a check. haha...I'm hilarious.

I visited Graffiti Church two Sundays ago and they were so nice it made me want to hug everyone I saw for the rest of the day. I can't go to their sunday school class because of work and I was sincere when I told one of the ushers I really hated that. 

Last Sunday I had brunch with Max Manack at Clinton Street Baking Company. Blueberry Pancakes and Apple Pie Waffle. Get at me. All the time. Get at me. 

This past weekend I tried Artichoke pizza which rocked my world and confessed to a classmate I was secretly obsessed with her. Thankfully, she claims the feelings are mutual. I'm excited to have a potential bestie in addition to my roommates in New York. Last night we saw Matilda together, which was wonderful but also borderline terrifying at times. The final number felt like a prequel to Spring Awakening. Subsequently, I've decided to enroll my child in Hip Hop Dance as early as possible. 

GETTIN' IT.

I was in a film for the cute Italian waiter that required me to be on set at 5 am and go home at 10. I met some interesting characters -- a "professional" extra and a personal trainer. I really liked one of them. Rufilin jokes aren't that funny, extra man. They're not. 

For the future, I'm thrilled for Core Four Christmas and family time. I miss those girls like I miss Zaxbys Buffalo Chicken Zalad and I miss my family like I miss having a washer and dryer in my house (second sidenote: I am totally best friends with Mark, the owner of the laundromat next to my apartment. We talked for, like, 30 minutes and I now I feel like if I ever wash clothes elsewhere, it will feel like an extramarital affair). I've also begun to consider internships and online dating. I'm kidding about that last one. Mostly. Seriously, I'm all about the waiting. 

Loads of Fun

I’m writing this blog post from the floor of a Laundromat in the lower east side. My mac just auto-capitalized the word Laundromat and I think that’s hilarious because there is nothing proper about this place. That being said, I am literally sitting on the tiles in front of my dryer so who am I to talk? My mother would be mortified right now.  I’m hoping she would at least be proud of my frugality. I am washing and drying my own clothes and saving approximately ten dollars for doing so. 

The past two weeks have been beyond incredible. I know it sounds cliché and self-indulgent, but I literally wake up every morning and tell God that I can’t believe I’m here and I’m this happy. I have a support group of the best friends and family I could possibly imagine. I have two roommates who are gorgeous and spunky and could not be kinder to me. I have an opportunity for higher education with NY freaking U. I have a job. And I live in the greatest city in the world. #Blessed

I read Crossing Brooklyn Ferry and Here is New York for my Storied New York class this week and I think E.B. White captures my sentiments perfectly.

“New York provides not only a continuing excitation but also a spectacle that is continuing. I wander around, re-examining this spectacle, hoping that I can put it on paper.” …or the internet.

Classes are fab, and challenging but I’m not overwhelmed yet. My first assignments were a NYFW story and a mini profile of a classmate. Did I shamelessly flirt with a young security guard to make my way into the Lincoln Center lobby where I interviewed the head of security, his Dartmouth/Georgetown alum son, and a lovely production manager? That doesn’t sound like me.

I really love the Tavern because it makes me feel like a New Yorker. All the employees have at least 2 jobs, most have 3 or more, and represent all the city’s best archetypes.

There’s the beautiful young actress with a wit that keeps me at her side most of the night.

There’s the 50-year-old rockstar who refuses to get old and still sticks it to the man.

There’s the cute little Italian filmmaker whose accent is as adorable as her size and quip-py conversation.

There’s the part-time stand-up comedian who feels like your aunt, ready with a hilarious impression or some sound relationship advice.

There’s the male-cougar (not sure what the equivalent is) bartender who was totally hott with two t’s a few years ago, and still worth the harmless work-flirt.

There’s the Hispanic bus boy with the sly smile who you want to talk to all night but he’s so busy because of his incredible work ethic.

There’s the cranky New Yorker who yells at everyone and complains all the time in a way that’s so endearing because you know he secretly loves this job and you.

I could go on.

Work gives me a purpose and allows me to entertain the notion that I’m a “real-life working girl” juggling school, church, social outings, and a job. I know I am definitely here by the grace of God and Lowell & Paula Mooney, but it’s nice to feel like I’m contributing SOMETHING. Plus, I got to seat Josh Lucas last night and his blue eyes are as magical in a poorly lit restaurant as they are on the silver screen. EEK. 

I’ve also had two run-ins with Nick Jonas and I’m not sure if this fortuitous happenstance is indicative of anything—I know Melissa Bene really wants it to be.

Friday night, Sept. 13, was my first official “night out” in the city. Some magazine kids met up in an apartment to pregame and then hit Phebes, Off the Wagon, and an awesome pizza place on W 4^th street. It was a wonderful evening. I say this with the utmost love and respect for my dear Athens and fellow Dawgs, but going out in NYC feels more glamorous.. The crowd is a little smarter. The clothes are a little better. The DJS are a little more experienced. The light fixtures are a little more expensive. You get the drift.  Though my lack of funds means these outings may be few and far between, I am looking forward to the ones I can slip in every now and then.

So now that I’ve washed clothes in a Laundromat, I secretly feel this small happening constitutes loads of progress (forgive me) towards becoming a bona fide New Yorker. Now I guess I just sit back and wait for the slow downward spiral into loneliness and self-loathing. Those are inevitable here, right? 

Frate/Freight

Though its spot on urban dictionary suggests that someone else had a similar stroke of brilliance, I like to think I coined the term, "frate."

Frate 

a term used to describe a date with friends. It combines the

               words, "friend" and "date." A friend date.

I was incredibly blessed to have best friend Becky with me for a 4-day frate my first weekend in the city. (Sidenote: "Best friend isn't a person, it's a tier." --Mindy Kaling) I also met her boyfrand Andreas, the ticklish chemist. He's adorable. They're adorable. Insert cute asian-inspired emoticon here.

I love Becky because she is unapologetically who she is without being insensitive and I think this is a difficult balance to master. Examples: She knows it drives me INSANE when she kisses people's hand upon meeting them, but it's one of her quirks so she does it anyway. She tells me when she's tired or hungry or bored or not in to something. However, if put in a situation she does not want to be in and then asked to complete a task she does not want to complete, she will be and complete in a heartbeat if it means making my life easier.

Saturday consisted of lunch in central park, drinks @Parkside, and a very disappointing football game. I did have the opportunity to witness Ryan's charms in action when he got us a barrel at American Whiskey, after being told they were all full. I'm looking forward to UGA games at this bar, if for no other reason than the Clayton Street Cocktail which was pink and delicious.

Sunday started at Gallery Church which was very nice, but not the scene I picture myself in for this time in my life. Wow, that sounded pretentious. I just mean the seats were cold metal, the sermon was a little long and unfocused, and the songs were from the 90s. I was a little distracted, however, with thoughts of Becky and my next musical engagement with First Date.

First Date felt very much like a semi-successful middle school dance. There were moments of unexpected creativity, some awkwardly placed profanity, and many grasps (not all successful) for profundity and personal reflection. But at the end of the night, the same typecast characters showed up, someone got kissed, and in the truest of middle school fashion, the transitions between emotions were sporadic and awkward.

Zachary Levi was flawless. Though not a powerhouse, his vocals were spot on and lovely. His movements and inflections were always with intention and he absolutely dazzled the crowd as a completely believable and charming boy next door. Though, I'll confess I was sweating even more than usual during his solo number. After the show Zach and the rest of the cast came out for meet & greets and pictures. Zachary Levi is an absolute doll. He said my name and that it was a pleasure to meet me and God bless. I'd like to skip over the rest of the story in which I spoke a million miles an hour and attempted to be funny...unsuccessfully.

On Monday, we visited Trader Joes where Becky and I waited in line for over an hour and argued about whether organic was actually worth an additional 34 cents. I found out my monthly allowance for rent; it's definitely not. Becky then taught me how to prepare delicious veggie tacos and I learned how to pronounce quinoa (KEENWAH). Yes. Crushed it.

Becky was indispensable with all her help unloading, cleaning, constructing, and organizing my apartment. But, I obviously enjoyed the frate more than the freight...baha. We spent time a lot of time this extended weekend in coffee shops and diners, and I think those times were my favorite. We never discussed anything especially special, but I remember having moments where I realized I was so happy. I was so happy to be sitting in a simple place, eating good food, and enjoying the company of someone who gets me completely and loves me all the more for my flaws.

IKEA came on Tuesday and turned our stairwell into a cardboard jungle so that was extremely inconvenient. Fortunately, 20 unnecessarily huge cardboard boxes make for great conversation pieces and I did chat it up with some neighbors. Though I missed Friends Trivia and a frate with my roommates/neighbors, I did get my life in a kind of order and Skype with Laura--a friend I'd neglected amidst the hustle and bustle of the weekend. I can't believe I'm the type of person who'd use the phrase hustle and bustle...and who'd write about it instead of deleting it.

I start work today and classes tomorrow. Let's hope I make friends.

Also, Melissa Bene leaves the country for 3 months tomorrow.

Biker Shorts & Blogs

I wore biker shorts to my New York University orientation today. 

Before we freak out, it should be noted that these shorts were completely hidden under a pale pink sundress and a stylish denim vest. I donned the shorts because I have hyperhydrosis and when I walk or run long distances, my sweaty thighs tend to rub together and cause massive chaffing. Ouch. Gross. In a desperate attempt to justify wearing spandex to a professional event, I tried all morning to attach some profundity to my decision. 

This is the best I've got. 

New York City has been the pedestal on which my dreams of pencil skirts, corporate offices, and toned calves have comfortably rested for the past 22 years. I've said since I was in middle school I wanted to move to New York. Who doesn't want to move to New York? But now that I'm here, I realize the city I've romanticized for so long is far more than its flashing lights and promise of endless possibilities. It's about a subtlety of confidence that I long for far more than a celebrity spotting or a designer tote. There's a sense that everyone and everything has a place in New York City. For a long time, I've worried I didn't have a place here -- that my talents and practices just weren't "New York" enough. This blog is to force me to come to grips with the idea that the only things holding me back from OWNING my spot in NYC are my own insecurities...and to help with overall self-actualization or whatever. If I want to wear Biker shorts under my clothing because that's what makes me comfortable that's ok. I'm still Jessie Mooney in New York City (and I have additional waist control!). 

This is my dream. I get to live my dream. It's funny how the gifts (PTL/Mom&Dad) you want the most can be the hardest to accept. I don't deserve any of this, but I GOT it. There's no sense in worrying I'm not "doing it right." 

I had the notion that New York meant leaving everything behind for once in my life, but after today I realize it's more like taking everything with me. My life experiences HAVE prepared for for this transition because they've outlined what will be important to me no matter where I live -- my faith, my family, my friends, good food, musical theatre, youtube videos of choreography, organized sports, covers with great harmony, j-crew clothing, Disney, fantasy novels, dancing to music, concerts and shows, working with kids, GRANOLA, being cynical about things I don't fully understand, engaging in sarcastic banter, well-dressed men, and exercising without fear of a nasty rash. 

Orientation Tips 

Love,

Meryl & Mary

ENERGY! CURIOSITY! FUN!

1. Blog AT LEAST once a week and write something short every day. 

2. Keep a source list. (names, numbers, & email.)

3. Look professional & ask questions.

4. Think about your identity capital -- professionally and personally.

5. Think about your weak links.

6. Your ideas matter more than your prose.

7. Fake it til you make it and choose an expertise. 

8. Read good articles twice.

9. Learn to write headlines/pitch.

10. Shut up & listen to people.