Adventures in Trade Showing

We have the New York International Gift Market this week. It means another week in which I had to essentially give up my weekend and spend my days in a flourescent lighted building smiling and selling the hell out of our products. But with each one I learn something new and this one has been an education in itself. I never realized before that people want specificity in their lives as much as they do. We carry a wide variety of books on gardening, cooking, interior design, babies, weddings and animals, but for many stores that's just not enough. I actually had a woman in there yesterday wanting to know if we did Baby Journals for adopted babies. Um, no. Because I thought the whole point was that your adopted baby was supposed to be your child.

Then I had a man ask if we did books on Virginia. Um, no again. Because who else would we sell them to besides gift stores and tourist stops IN VIRGINIA? Why are people so demanding? Why isn't what we offer good enough for ecletic tastes. As I carefully explained to both, those are specialized niches and we can't profit on doing things in that area. I imagine if adoption were more popular than it currently is we would do something along those lines, but, judging from all the pregnant people I see, I know that there are many more people who are choosing to give birth to their own herd rather than take on someone else's child. I imagine if Virginia were a super popular place we would do something on Virginia. But, as it stands, it's just another American state, and personally, about the same as Maryland or NOrth Carolina or Arkansas (except it's not land-locked).

I don't know what that says about us as a society. We want things that directly affect us. We don't want to have to make the connection ourselves. We want to scream out what we're about. I wonder if this is a result of all the therapy that's piled upon us day in and day out with so many TV shows and people who are so open about their own help that they can't "help" but share it with anyone and everyone. One woman was in our booth for over an hour AFTER she placed her order, discussing her fertility issues with us. Do I appear to be someone who knows a lot about that or wants to hear about your struggles with dealing with a husband's low sperm count? People become obsessed with their own lives to the point it becomes normal to openly discuss them with other people. A lot of time we're complete strangers and more than that we don't want to hear about it.

Another reason the man in Times Square subway station makes a killing. For $2 you can just talk at him about whatever you want. I would love to know the stories he's heard from people struggling with everything from bills to impotency. I would love to know how he just tunes everything out to avoid listening to what others have going on in their lives. I like that idea that he's made a living out of it. Who says homeless people don't do anything, right? Maybe I should adjust myself to do the same thing, to tune out anything tha't snot related to what we are selling and what other people are in, if no other reason than to avoid having it all come together in one big blob.

Location, Location, Location

Okay, I just found out something about the Starbucks nearest the office and I don't like it. Turns out they don't sell any Coke or Pepsi products. Normally this wouldn't bother me since I'm not going to specifically hit it up for those items in comparison to, say, go out of my way to buy a Coke at a Starbucks- super American, right? But when I walked in out of the 25 degree temperatures this morning into my toasty warm office, I immediately saw both bosses sitting at the table with a client. One looks at me, says, "Great! Since you're still in your coat, why don't you set your bags down and head back out to get us some coffee?" So he wrote down everyone's order and out I went. I was told to go to Starbucks for one, and a coffee stand for another, but tried to ignore my inner belief that coffee is coffee and went and stood in the "business-line" at Starbucks. What I mean when I say this is that I was surrounded by other NYC assitants and good souls who were buying coffee for essentially the whole company and probably a couple of homeless people nearby. The line was in theory short but since people were ordering 6-20 drinks, it seemed to take forever.

When I got done placing my own order, I added on, "And a Diet Coke." The girl behind the register looked at me oddly, and said, "What?" "A diet Coke."
"We don't sell sodas."
"You don't?"
"No."
"No Coke products?" (I wanted to be positive before I started searching for one)
"No."

So I sighed and joined the queue with everyone else waiting for drinks as they yelled out. What amazes me is that they are super organized when screaming out "Caramel macciato, half-soy, half-skim latte, venti regular" while hordes of people angrily stand around glaring at the green-capped people behind the counter and demanding to know when their drink will come up. When mine finally came up, I decided to leave off my gloves, since I was only techinacally walking a couple of blocks back to the office. I walked down to the coffee stand and asked for a decaf with milk. Another strange look, and the man in the box said "No decaf. Only regular". Another long sigh from me. "Well, do you at least have diet coke?" Affirmative and with that, I headed back up to Starbucks, the wind whipping past me and pushing me so hard I spilled coffee on my new coat.

Back in the Starbucks I approached the counter carrying the tray that is used in places like McDonald's and Starbucks to carry several drinks. I could see the face of the girl saying "Next customer, please" and she had the look that goes with somebodys-messed-up.

"I need a decaf regular."

And then I put the milk in myself, remembering that the request had been sugar on the SIDE, please. As I walked back to the office I thought how unfair it was to go this long without the promised raise, carrying coffee for people who are gettng paid enough to order it in. It impresses upon me what An-drea-uh must have felt in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA as she desperately ran the ridiculous errands her boss demanded. So it's already been a day and it's barely 10 a.m.

Location, Location, Location

Okay, I just found out something about the Starbucks nearest the office and I don't like it. Turns out they don't sell any Coke or Pepsi products. Normally this wouldn't bother me since I'm not going to specifically hit it up for those items in comparison to, say, go out of my way to buy a Coke at a Starbucks- super American, right? But when I walked in out of the 25 degree temperatures this morning into my toasty warm office, I immediately saw both bosses sitting at the table with a client. One looks at me, says, "Great! Since you're still in your coat, why don't you set your bags down and head back out to get us some coffee?" So he wrote down everyone's order and out I went. I was told to go to Starbucks for one, and a coffee stand for another, but tried to ignore my inner belief that coffee is coffee and went and stood in the "business-line" at Starbucks. What I mean when I say this is that I was surrounded by other NYC assitants and good souls who were buying coffee for essentially the whole company and probably a couple of homeless people nearby. The line was in theory short but since people were ordering 6-20 drinks, it seemed to take forever.

When I got done placing my own order, I added on, "And a Diet Coke." The girl behind the register looked at me oddly, and said, "What?" "A diet Coke."
"We don't sell sodas."
"You don't?"
"No."
"No Coke products?" (I wanted to be positive before I started searching for one)
"No."

So I sighed and joined the queue with everyone else waiting for drinks as they yelled out. What amazes me is that they are super organized when screaming out "Caramel macciato, half-soy, half-skim latte, venti regular" while hordes of people angrily stand around glaring at the green-capped people behind the counter and demanding to know when their drink will come up. When mine finally came up, I decided to leave off my gloves, since I was only techinacally walking a couple of blocks back to the office. I walked down to the coffee stand and asked for a decaf with milk. Another strange look, and the man in the box said "No decaf. Only regular". Another long sigh from me. "Well, do you at least have diet coke?" Affirmative and with that, I headed back up to Starbucks, the wind whipping past me and pushing me so hard I spilled coffee on my new coat.

Back in the Starbucks I approached the counter carrying the tray that is used in places like McDonald's and Starbucks to carry several drinks. I could see the face of the girl saying "Next customer, please" and she had the look that goes with somebodys-messed-up.

"I need a decaf regular."

And then I put the milk in myself, remembering that the request had been sugar on the SIDE, please. As I walked back to the office I thought how unfair it was to go this long without the promised raise, carrying coffee for people who are gettng paid enough to order it in. It impresses upon me what An-drea-uh must have felt in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA as she desperately ran the ridiculous errands her boss demanded. So it's already been a day and it's barely 10 a.m.

It's Worse in ALaska

New York is cold today. We've had an exceptionally warm January (even I've been able to deal with it nicely) but today the wind chill is down in the single digits and gusts are going up to 60 mph. In other news, it's worse in Alaska. Fairbanks, Alaska, is expected to reach a "high" of -40. I have to wonder what possesses people to stay there through the winter. Imagine being in a dark room for six months of the year with temperatures like that. Guess you really learn how to layer. I'm simply struggling with living in the Northeast, much less in a worse climate. But the body does adjust and I'm learning very quickly that weather here is as unpredictable as the ocean.

Last night I returned to my apartment to find that everything on my little list had been fixed. THe kitchen cabinet, bathroom sink, and kitchen light were all ready to go and shining brightly. It was really thrilling to have that to walk into. Sicne I have had such a difficult time dealing with management in the past. It amuses me because i always pay my rent on time, thus holding up MY end of the bargain, to maintain the dwelling I'm in, report problems, and stay on top of my bills, but they seem to have lots of problems holding up their end of the bargain, which is to repair things that need repairing and take responsibility for the major maintenance of the place. So i can't understand why, if I'm doing my part, they can't just meet me halfway. I briefly considered only paying them part of the rent, versus the whole rent and then pointing out that if they weren't going to help me take care of their place, I shouldn't have to spend so much money on it each month.

I also sunk to a new low when it comes to threats and bribes. I suggested that I didn't feel safe in an apartment without a working buzzer. I mean, what else is a single girl supposed to do to get some people in there? I think it's my right to go to any means neccessary. I have been in the apartment for almost seven months and been asking for the buzzer to be fixed for about six of those. It probably wouldnt take that long if they would actually get in and do it already! If it desn't work out I guess I could complain to 311, but i hate doing that because then you have to go to a hearing and deal with it in that sense.
So apartment living can be not so great sometimes!

Blind as a Bat? Or just sight-choosy?

I went to the opthamologist on Monday. For several months now, I've had a lot of trouble seeing certain things. This includes movies, television, books, and street signs (okay, that's been a problem for a couple of years now). So at the convincing of my boyfriend, I finally made an appointment and went with the best intentions. As in, they would tell me that my vision problems were simply being created by the change in atmosphere since moving to New York. I imagined the doctor shaking my hand and saying "You're fine! Its just a little windy out!"

But it didn't go exactly like that. It went more like, "Your eyes have definitely changed. When was the last time you saw an eye professional?"

"Um, 2001, I think."

"Well, I'd like it if you could come in once a year."

"Okay."

"Now, let's talk about your vision problems."

In the end I came out still alive, but with a prescription for glasses that I am supposed to use when watching TV, driving, or going to the movies. But not ALL THE TIME. I was thrilled. And when I went home and explained that to Boyfriend that night, he said, "So pretty much all the time." "Nooo," I replied, "Only when..." and I repeated myself. He looked at me skeptically. And since then I have continued to iive in my dream world. I have definitely known for a while that I wasn't seeing as clearly as I used to, but attributed that to being tired and working full time and spending a lot of time sitting in front of a computer.

So I'm going to have to wear glasses more than usual. But as Samantha said on "Sex and the City" "I'm wearing glasses and I'm fucking fabulous. So there."

Privacy Invasion

Part of what initially attracted me to New York was the idea of being anonymous. It was nice to think of starting over in a place with eight or nine million other people I didn't really know. While I love my friends up here and have enjoyed making new ones, I also like the idea of keeping things private and when I want to, disappearing. What I am finding by watching the news, however, is that "disappearing" and "privacy" seem to be things that are becoming past events. It used to be that essentially everything was personal. You couldn't find someone's criminal record or bank records or phone records unless you were a cop or a lawyer investigating with a warrant. Now you can simply click on a website, pay a fee, and find out who your boyfriend has really been calling.

I remember the days before caller i.d., when you had to pick up the phone to know who was on the other end. It makes me nervous how much I depend on the caller ID on my cellphone now. I'm always screening my calls, and while I'm glad to know which calls I missed, I wonder if it's affecting my way of dealing with people head on. Instead of speaking to someone and throwing them off using my witty banter, now I just screen my calls and if I suspect it's a telemarketer or my mother, ignore it. I have to wonder what effect this is going to have on the next generation, a generation that's always had access to knowing who's calling. They will never have to deal with people, at least on the phone, that they don't want to deal with and I don't know if that's a positive thing or not. Some forms of stress are positive and i worry that the children we are raising are being taught that they don't have to learn how to deal with it.

Another thing I remember is the days before the internet. I mean, I'm sure it was already in existence, but certainly not for the average citizen. Then I remember trying it out for hte first time and waiting for forever for an email to go through. It has changed the way we do everything. It has also made it easier to find out who we are and what we are doing. Which is an invasion of privacy that we have allowed and is now coming back to bite us in the ass. President Bush and his posse are attempting to get Google to release over a million random websites to find out "what kind" of American uses them. Their position is that they are trying to protect us. Google's position is that even though they aren't asking for specific people's names, in time they will, and if they give into the first battle it's only a matter of time. On top of that, they would also be giving away some of their trade secrets about how they organize information for consumers.

This is worrisome on a variety of levels, but the most amazing thing to me is how little we've heard about it. The attorney general just came back and said that Bush tapping into phones without a warrant was perfectly legal since we are now dealign with "terrorism" and a new form of war. What's next? Maybe going to an operator system that will send us to approved numbers only. I hve to wonder how many people out there were tapped and what information they were specifically looking for. How did they pick the people? Is it possible that they based it on past phone contacts? They said they looked for international numbers, which in a country like America, a country full of immigration, seems wrong. Could you calling your grandmother in Brazil be overheard by CIA agents? On Saturday Night LIve this weekend, they did a spoof of a conversation being overheard. IT was essentially two old ladies discussing everything from back problems to their "holy terror" grandchildren, ages 9 and 11. The joke was that because of their language and references to the Big Day, Bush felt it neccessary to tap in on their conversation. I laughed but at the same time was worried that this would in fact become true. That everything we said the word "bomb" we would be recorded and it would be used against us. What's next, Chinese water torture? Will people find themselves forced to confess to crimes they may not have committed because of things they said?

America was supposedly founded on freedom and supposedly we help other countries find their own freedom. But right now it seems that some of our most important rights are being breached by a Connecticutt Texan who claims to have our best interests at heart and yet only seems interested in a personal agenda.

False Spring

Today it's expected to hit 57 degrees in Central Park. This is not only rare for New York during the winter, but almost unheard of. People today were wearing next to nothing and flip-flops, celebrating this weather related accident. And I do believe it's accidental. I was telling someone recently that the last time North Carolina hit exceptionally high January temperatures, the next week we received 25 inches of snow. Really, we did. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and then suddenly, out of nowhere, wearing snowboots. It was crazy.

The difference being that I had no where to go and so it became fun, with sledding and snow angels and all kinds of things. Up here, it just means going to work in high boots and a grumpy mood, under overcast skies. It's depressing to think about. No wonder SAD is so prevalent in the North. I'm even longing for Miami and I don't really care for hot, hot weather that much. But if you make your bed lie in it, and that's what I'm planning to do with this. Lie in it. There's plenty of work to be done, and not much time left until spring comes along with the publication and release of ALL our new books. This coming week we have another gift show and are expecting all kinds of things to pop up in the planning of that.

New York is the city of unexpected pop-ups. Just when you think you have an understanding of how things work, something changes. A store closes or a new restaurant opens and scaffolding blocks yet another route on the way to somewhere. Things are always moving around and changing within the city and that's something that I can appreciate at this age. I'm not sure if I could twenty, twenty-five years from now, but for right now it's just fabulous the way it moves and shifts. Kind of like those holiday stores that open in the mall just for November to January, then sell the rest of their stuff and get out, leaving these bare black holes in their place. New York is like that. It leaves something there, something that tells you it was different at one time or another.

When I was in Enwood a couple of weeks ago, up near the CLoisters, B and I were fascinated at the way things were. There were huge partitions of really old looking wall all over the place, rising high out of the soil. It looked like an old fort and made me wonder how long those rocks had been built on, then stripped down and built upon again. People in cities are constantly changing things, tearing out buildings and building new ones in their place that promise to better everything in everyone's life. In NOrth Carolina I"ve noted the sad change from farmland to suburbs, as people become convinced they need a Kroger at every corner and can't bear to drive in, though they've chosen a place where driving is a requirement. That amazes me most of all. Why would you pick somewhere to live and hten demand they change it to suit you? But developers are happy to do just that, which may be the most depressing thing of all.

At least in New York they're still working with the same land. There isn't anywhere new to go, unless we were to build down into the Hudson river. While that may be a possibility in the not-so-distant future, fortunately we're stuck with what we've got here and it looks like it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

The Half-Assed Sick Day

I just wasn't feeling very well when I woke up this morning. A splitting headache, nasal congestion and just that overall "sick" feeling had me down. So I called intot work and said that I would be coming in, just coming in later. Once my meds kicked in. I got to the office at about 10:30, to find that since I was only the second person in the office, no one had even made any attempt to try and find out why I was an hour and a half late. Even our UPS guy, who I ran into on Mercer Street, had the same idea, asking me what I was doing on my way to work at 10:20 a.m.

So I'm here, attempting to get as much work done as I possibly can before collapsing later on. I have yet to take a full sick day, I'm happy to say, and hope that I"ll be able to make it most of the year without one. In college, I no doubt would have used the opportunity to stay in bed all day and rest, relax, watch a little Sex and the City. But now that I'm being paid to be here, I feel like I should be here every day. Rain, shine, snow, sleet. I've shown up in all of those. Even during the combo wind/rain/snow situations. I feel like New Yorkers are overall a hardier type of urban breed. We'll walk in just about any weather, when most Southerners would have happily hibernated in their living rooms and dens, cleaning their houses or watching movies all day long.

It fascinates me that I've even made it this long without becoming ill. Usually by this time of year I've had at least one or two sinus infections, a stomach flu, and a fever. Maybe all the air and vitamins I'm taking really are paying off. I wonder if that's why New YOrkers are a bit hardier. It's much easier to admit that you're sick when you don't have to get out of bed to do it. Even if I was sick, I'd either have to order in or go out for medicines and food and movies to rent. Walking. on Foot. I guess i spend at least an hour a day out and about, walking from place to place. I'm sure I haven't walked this much ever, except maybe when I was first at Carolina nad didn't want to take the bus or bike somewhere.

It definitely affects how you feel about yourself. What a great thing to be able to walk whereever you need, and eat healthily and not worry about how you look as much because if you're getting that much excercise, chances are you look fine. I still work out at the gym , but it's less of a priority than it used to be because now I'm out and about enough to equal the time spent on a treadmill after driving to the Y. I've never been good at walking just for the sake of it, but walking with purpose is enough to get me moving.

So I got up and walked to work and while I was definitely not Best Dressed today did do okay getting through as much as I could and figuring out what to do about laundry and dinner and the normal things we all worry about.

Americana Contained

Everything about a gift show is kind of kitchsy and Americanized. No one really needs another throw pillow or baby stroller covered in your alma mater's color and logo. It proves our materialistic values, our lack of insight into the Reduce, Reuse Recycle program, and our belief that these things are not just whims and desires but will actually make our life better, and are as important as water. My job is to smile and convince people that they are right, that they need our company in their life and desperately want it as well. We will not only improve their lives as buyers and store owners but as consumers. Also, I happen to have a knack for it, which I'm not sure is a good thing. I have been trained and responded well to suckering people in to turn the tables and make them desperately want our products as much as we want to sell them. I always use good posture (thanks to all those piano and dance lessons) a smile and my Southern accent to make it happen fo ra company that doens't pay me enough to cover my rent each month. I spend four or five long, exhausting days smiling at strangers and pretending we're all on the verge of becoming best frineds.

Finishing this show up I am more aware than ever of how much New York has changed me. Before, when I would buy something ust because it was cute, I would have spent a fortune here. It's like being at the "Everything is 50-75% off sale" Now I think "Why do I need that [dog bed, chandalier, chair with deer antlers on it] in my life?" I am much calmer about letting that be a part of my life. Because I don't really need any of it. Reading the Times while in Atlanta made me aware of how much better off I am than so many other people in this world and even this country. And I know that secretly this stuff won't change my life, who I am, won't make me a better or worse person, get me that promotion or provide food. The decision to us that is a concious one. As is the decision to screw that moral and buy something. I now tend to focus on smaller things that aren't for a home the size of most people's closets. For instance, I love jewelry but have a hard time justifying the expense.

I wonder if we will always insist on the newest, most advanced, the quote-unquote "best". If so, what happens to everything leftover? As a New Yorker, I am continually disappointed in people's ability to discard everything from clean laundry to furniture, just on the street. I've even picked up a few things from the trash pile on my way to work or home. A few years ago, in a college geography class, I was involved in a group project on a Haitian family. Our task was to analyze, from a photo, how they lived, what they did, and what kind of environment they lived in. The family of eight stood in front of a couple of dirt floor shacks with Mickey-Mouse sheets acting as doors. All their belongings were spread outside on the ground for us to view, among themselves and their animals. It was like looking at a gallery of Americana discards. Their pride was incredible given that they had about a hundred Coca-cola glasses, mixed shoes and socks, two dishes, cowboy boots, to name a few, surrounded by their goats and chickens that provided them with food and drink. The children wore t-shirts emblazoned with places in the United States- The Grand Canyon, Chicago- places that they had more than likely never been. The average person there makes the US equivalent of $40 per year.

We can eat basically whenever and whatever we want. We can even specify how it's cooked or what's seclected. There are no problems asking for seconds or even thirds, and I think we must be one of the few countries that specialize in 95 foot buffets. Water is given with free refills. We don't hunt and gather as we used to, conviently finding everything we could possibly need through online food producers or by walking or driving ourselves to massive super markets. Even during natural disasters, people rarely truly suffer while awaiting aid (excepting the recent Katrina hurricane, of course). Food water and shelter are already set up ahead of time, which limits loss of life and even injuries. Even Katrina's measly 2000 dead certainly does not compare to the Indian Ocean's Tsunami, which caused the loss of roughly 200,000. At the gift show there were already stores from New Orleans, Lafayette, and Slidell purchasing. Everything's on the rise again.

As we try to better our position in life by absorbing consumers, I wonder what kind of messgae we're sending other countries. This month alone, there are seven international gift shows in the US- I'm talking international markets that are held like the Atlanta one. Buess I'll have to work on a solution in another career. As John Cusack's character said in Say Anything, "Sir, I don't want to buy a product, sell a product, manufacture a product, or work for someone who sells buys or manufactures a product".

Living at the Ritz

This is possibly the nicest hotel I've ever stayed in. Maybe traveling for work is not as glamourous as it sounds but it sure beats sleeping in a Days Inn or something. I've been drinking sweet tea, eating Chick-fil-A, sleeping in a king size feather bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, and swimming in a heated indoor pool. Oh yeah, and working 10 hour days. But that's just part of the job. I thought about people who live in hotels. In New York it's not necessarily an uncommon thing. In some cases it's cheaper than living in an apartment and you have maid service and breakfast. There are plenty of benefits including the hotel gym, room service and here a complimentary evening shoe shine service. I kid you not.

But Atlanta's a weird city. there is all of that, but I've passed through some neighborhoods that aren't so great, and yesterday was shocked to see that traffic is based on people driving their own car- seriously, ONE person per vehicle. that's an absurd way to go. But sitting in the quiet of the hotel, with a busy morning ahead of me, I'm happy to report that I've slept well. And expensed everything and am trying to take advantage of everything else.

Leaving the City on Someone Else's Tab

I'm going on my first business trip this week. This is important because I have no idea how to handle it and I'm not sure if I can bring up a raise while eating dinner on someone else's credit card. We'll have to see how that plays out. Atlanta International Market and Home Furnishings is this week and it will involve thousands of people trying to sell millions of objects that people don't need neccessarily, but that Americans believe will make their life better.

It fascinates me the way Americans market like no other country. I work i the industry and understand my job is to sell books and publicize them in the best light possible. There's nothing wrong with this, partly because I really love our books and want the company to grow, partly because I'm right out of college and North Carolina and need something to go to for forty hours a week. Maybe that something will even turn into a career. What I can say, now that I'm out of school, is I understand better the need for extensive education. No wonder people shirk back into graduate programs. Who wants to be out here doing this? Underpaid, and tired and still expected to function like a normal twenty-something. My friend T this weekend proudly stated that he's in bed by 10 on most nights and I wish that were me. Instead I'm usually up until closer to midnight writing or reading, trying to keep my mind and hand from falling off, and up again between 6 and 7 a.m. trying to eat, clean, go to the gym or write some more, depending on the flow. I also watch a lot of Friends reruns, but that's about it as far as indulgences go.

So I'm glad to have someone pay me to leave the city and stay in a nice hotel and feed me hopefully decent food for a few days while I make sure their product sounds great. In the end that's what it's about, is what you have to offer and who's buying. We can't control the economy or half the time even our own debt, but we can control how we deal with all of the above by selling ourselves and whatever else we have to offer to the world. I spend almost every day sitting in front of this computer, working the whole time but in the back of my mind trying to figure out ways to make myself look better, ways to "sell" myself into more money, more security or at least some perks. I try and figure out what they're looking for in a new employee, what the customer is looking for in the books we sell, and how to go about and find all of the above with those. It's a long and arduous process and most of hte time leaves me lying awake at night wondering how I'm going to make this month's rent, but at the same time it's a part of living in New York.

No where else, I believe, are jobs in such high demand. No where else are you expected to do menial labor regardless of your education in order to claim a place on this tiny island. People fight for jobs in everything from retail to PR and there are plenty of competitive universities here as well. It impresses me to see someone working on their doctorate by day and cocktail waitressing by night just to "get by". Everyone here is either "getting by" or incredibly rich and can't remember what it felt like to look in the windows of Saks but not let yourself go in. I wonder if that is why New Yorkers have the reputation they do for being a hard, fast people. And I wonder if it's even New Yorkers who actually prove that reputation. For the most part I meet transplants. I meet people from Georgia and New Jersey and even Alaska, from Colorado and Texas and Wisconsin. But rarely do I meet people that say they were born and raised in New York. So maybe what we're seeing is the people who have moved from further away desperately fighting to hold down a job in this place, to understand what's ticking underneath the streets.

Maybe this trip will allow me insight into that, as I watch people literally fight their way into sales of products and visitors try to get the best deal they possibly can before jacking the prices up to retail. The last gift show I worked was like that and I loved it. It was not unlike gambling to me. Gambling meaning spending a ton of money on a booth and furnishings, having all your products out there for the world to see, and betting there would be enough takeers to make it profitable for you.

Brokeback Mountain and one Hot Date

We agreed over New Year's that we weren't seeing enough of each other, and so decided to start getting together on a more regular basis. Not Boyfriend but friends B, J, L, and C. So Friday night we did a date night where we met up at Serendipity at 8 and then would go on to see a movie at a little past ten. At least that was the theory. I imagine they did have our table at eight, but I was almost forty minutes late (courtesy of a cab driver who stayed on 6th avenue a little too long) and literally running in the door after almost screaming at him when he didn't run a yellow light. Generally I applaud the cab drivers who don't make you feel your life is flashing before your eyes but at the moment this seemed a little more important. So we had this great dinner and dessert thing going on with a cute waiter and funny little touristy couple sitting next to us. My favorite moment of dinner was when we elected J to ask the waiter if this was Serendipity 3, where were 1 and 2? Answer: A strange look and "This is the only one. It's called 3 because it had three owners." Um, why wouldn't they just call it Serendipity, is my question? I hate when people feel it's necessary to put their own stamp on things.

After dinner we headed over a couple of avenues to the old Clearview at 62nd and 1st ave. Boyfriend was running late and I had had trouble with credit cards being declined that evening (a ridiculous story that ended with me once again h aving to explain to them that I lived in New York now, and yes, I spent money at a Barnes and Noble here). So I picked up tickets and rushed in the theater and finally found my friends and we settled down to watch my first Golden Globe nominated movie of the season.

Brokeback Mountain actually lived up to its criticism. Of course, that's just an opinion, but I'm the kind of girl who doesn't mind a movie that spends a lotof time panning the countryside and showing cowboys in tight jeans and sexy hats. My favorite movie is the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice, for God's sake. That should explain it. So I loved the opening scene of just dust and earth and a blue blue sky that was probably Canada but definitely represented Wyoming to me. PLus anything with Heath Ledger is a safe bet, even if he is playing a gay role. Women are not turned on by men making out with men the way men love to see women making out, but a girl can definitely respect a guy who takes on a role that involves close contact nakedness and passionate kissing with Jake Gynllenhal (spelling?). I did. I loved watching them as they herded sheep through this beautiful mountain range. I love films that focus on the beauty of living off hte land. Sure, ranching isn't the best part of what mankind has done to this earth, but it wasn't the "factory farming" they have going on today. It was two guys and their horses along with a couple of dogs to make sure the sheep made it without being preyed upon or getting lost. And if Heath LEdger asked me to be a ranchhand for him, I would not hesitate.

What made this movie work though, way beyond its shock value is that in the end it was truly an unrequited love story. I even got a little teary, as it moved over two decades and watched these men try to fit into a world they could not appreciate and not be appreciated for fitting in. They were both in marriages that would end up dying out of their own accord and both only finding their true selves in their partner. "Old fishing buddies" was a way of getting them together outside of this. Anne Hathaway played an amazing role as Jack Twist's wife, becoming more and more dated and disillusioned as the film went on. I'm not a big Michelle Williams fan so I couldn't really comment on her role, except to say I thought she would be a little better about handling the relationship when she found out about Ennis.

Since I live here now, I like going to movies that are set in very rural parts of the world. Maybe it's something about compressing people to this extent that makes us want to see another world where people literally don't have to talk for days. I love watching that, maybe because of how talkative I am it's nice when there are characters out there who are mostly or nearly silent. Did it make me want to leave the city? Not yet, not yet. Will it someday? Who knows. I guess i could go out west and herd something.

Blackmail and Bribes

THought you would like that catchy title. Last night, I admitted to my mother that i was thinking about going back to school. I'm making plans to take the GRE and the LSAT, see how I do, and start applying to schools. I've realized that being in grad school would beat the heck out of working for the salary I'm currently earning. in doing that, my mom said she hoped I was planning on coming back to North Carolina for school and taking advantage of the cheap in-state tuition. When I said that I was planning on staying up here for school, she became upset, claiming that she hoped I was ready and willing to only do it at night and on weekends because those were my options. I can see where she's coming from in that UNC would be a heck of a lot cheaper than NYU, but one of my fears is getting caught up in living down there and not being able to move back to NYC after it's all said and done. Plus New York has some great colleges and universities all over the place that I should be taking advantage of.

Then, she said they were going to give away the latest kitten that has appeared in our lives. When I said I wanted to take her, Mom once again tried to bargain with me, claiming that if i moved back to North Carolina I could have her. Which is ridiculous, to try to sucker your daughter back to a place where she wasn't so successful because you want her to be close to you and your dying relatives. I don't think so. I'm still working out a way to get her up to New York and have also started prepping for that. I've never thought that cats were a bad thing, but apparently my parents fear becoming the "cat people" who will end up with like 50. I prefer sticking to a couple here and there.

So I'm really settling in here. I know I haven't been here long enough to go back home. That's for sure. And I know that I love it, which is enough to make me happy. Walking to work today I realized that I had survived December and January in a Northern climate, completely different than the 60 degree climate i'm used to. I don't expect I'll always live in the city- something seems depressing about dying in an apartment, but beyond that, I love walking to work every day in the cold, crisp air (when it's not raining or snowing or humid and cold, which is possible) and waking up to the sounds and sights of a city that is constantly changing. There are always stores opening and closing. It seems incredibly optimistic to me to rent a place in SoHo and try to make a go of selling your clothing or jewelry or whatever. This is the most specific place i've lived since I lived overseas. You have literally the baker, the butcher, and the candlestick maker. You go to stores that just sell men's bathing suits, for instance, and stores that only have a certain kind of shoe or bag. There are umbrella stores and parka stores and everything you can imagine. It does nothing but make this a more magical place. Kind of like living in a small French village that has 10 million of your closest friend and is, at least sometimes, rudely American.

Essentially what I'm getting to is that I'm at the point where I can't be bribed out. I'm researching graduate opportunities so I can stay. So I can live in a place where there is a guy who will fix my heel for five dollars- across the street. Where I can say good morning to the dogs that I see on my walk and the preschoolers off to play for hte day, with no idea that there is anything out there other than this. THey have no idea that they could be living in houses with yards and fences and SUVs parked out front and instead are wrapped up in the trendy, lovely world, of New York city. It is very much like the snowglobes that are everywhere in mid-town. Which is what I love about it.

Christmas lines the Sidewalks

Walking to work today, I noticed the amount of Christmas trees on the sidewalks. I hadn't really considered before how people got rid of them, and it makes sense that someone in the city would come around and pick them up, but seeing them covering sidewalks, some still hanging onto decorations like children clinging to their mother's hands made it real. Christmas is over. They looked forlorn, all the douglas firs and winters and other trees that brought greenery and scent and sight to apartments all over the city, that made former tiny apartments feel like home.

Christmas tree farming is an art that fascinates me. Imagine most of your year's profit, if not all, being based on a Christian holiday celebrating the birth of a baby who would change the world around him. IMagine checking the trees all year, having to be concerned about too much rain or too much sun, waiting for November when, with the first snows falling, you could choose the trees to harvest. I'm not sure I could do something so unreliable. What if a year came when more people bought fake trees than real? I did this year, after swearing for multiple years that I would never have a fake tree. Of course, I'm not even sure my ceilings are high enough to warrant a real tree. So I went with a really cheap fake from Metrodrugs that literally changed how I felt about coming home at night. The Christmas tree is, I believe, the best of pagan symbols we stole God knows when. It's a way of sharing your excitement of the season with your friends and neighbors.

So we spend a fortune picking out the perfect tree, time setting it up and decorating it, putting presents under it, letting the fragrance fill the air, and then, after Christmas, it's just thrown out in the streets- literally. At my parents home, we always took the tree down a little afte rthe New Year and pulled it out into the woods for birds to nest in. It was a way of saying good-bye to the season while welcoming in the winter birds that spend their time eating our birdseed and hopping around my dog Coco driving her insane as she tries to control "her" yard.

The upside of walking to work amongst the trees? I spent the whole way drifiting along in the heavenly fragrance of what is leftover from Christmas.

One of my Crazier Nights

New Year's was one of the most entertaining I've had in years. It began sort of slow with me running around grocery shopping, picking up champagne (excuse me, cheap sparkling wine) along with neccessities, like bubble bath and lightbulbs. I ate my New Year's Eve dinner at home, a McDonald's Happy Meal with Champagne, I mean Brut. It was fabulous. Then I took a bubble bath, got dressed to kill and prayed as I began dialing my friends to find out what they were up to for the evening. Because I didn't want to spend the ridiculous amount of money to get into even the lowest bars- seriously everywhere that generally had five dollar drinks was suddenly charging one hundred dollars for the five dollar drinks and some balloons they'd blown up. I was horrified.

So I ended up at a party held by a friends neighbor I hadn't ever met but thought would get to know over the course of the evening. I walked through the cold enjoying New York. I think it's a wonderful place to be in winter, if you have to be somewhere with below freezing wind-chills. THe air was crisp, people were laughing and already half-way drunk (something unusual before ten p.m.) I found my way to the UPper West Side and ended up partying like a champ all night long, something I haven't done since high school. Usually I'm not much a party hopper, or crasher, but New Year's Eve I was both. Please, allow me to explain.

When I arrived at my friend's building, I stood outside pondering which door to buzz. Generallyl people tell you the apartment number of a party you go to but not so much this time. This time I was examining the last names on the door- except one was T-Bone?- and finally another group of people who looked to be about my age came up and asked if I was going to the New Year's Eve party. It didn't occur to me at that time that there would be more than one in the same building, but later on this made perfect sense. So I lit up, said yes, we made the awkward introductions that people do when they're meeting each other mostly sober and headed inside. The apartment was AWESOME- two stories with a YARD, and a full dinner buffet out on the table, including turkey. Theey had an open bar and about ten bottles of champagne along with a refrigerator full of other goodies.

So I walked in, started to mingle, and suddenly realized I didn't know a single person there. After perusing the rooms, I found no one that I even recognized as friends of friends. My stomach began to sink as it occurred to me that I wasn't supposed to be at this party. I was crashing. Finally someone asked who I was here with and when I said my friend's name, gave me a strange look that meant I was definitely crashing in on someone else's party. So out I went, waving bye to my "new Friends" and trying to remember Friends cell phone number. Even the background noise was different. Finally I found "my" party two flights up, and just as busy. Squeezing in and talking to new people who were already clearly on their way towards passing out, I found people to hang out with and hte fun began. We danced, drank, ate, and played random games.

Then C and B found out that I had crashed on a party with a lot of boys and a great apartment and watned to check it out. We ended up floating back and forth between the parties, flirting madly and coyly grabbing drinks that we weren't paying for. At midnight I was doused in champagne as we all screamed and raised our glasses to 2006. New Year's is the most optimistic of holidays, in my opinion. You spend all year trying to live up to who you think you could be at the beginning of a year. Suddenly you believe everything will change and for the better, of course. Drop those five extra pounds, take a course in French, cruise around Greece. As you can see, I fall right into this optimism when I make my resolutions to essentially be a better, more contributing citizen of this life.

Naturally I say that every year and wonder if it affects my perception of what it is to be a better person. Maybe I'm being a better person already and don't even know it. Maybe we all are. Our optimism may get in the way of seeing what we're already doing to be better people. I try to go out of my way to do something good for someone else at least a couple of times a week, be it holding open a door for someone with packages, giving up my seat in a crowded subway when someone older or pregnant comes on, buying dinner for some of hte homeless people that live down here. It can be so easy to focus on what you're not doing that you don't look at what you have done for other people. Especially in places like New York, with millions of people, the chain reaction of doing something good can be huge.

So this New Year's Eve was amazing, and wonderful and made me so happy to have friends to share it with. But what I'm looking forward to is keeping that feeling going through the year, especially as we head towards the most depressing months- January and February. I'm expecting they'll be cold and windy and make me want to keep on the extra weight, but have to know, and hope that April and May bring something green and beautiful to the surface.