HELLO FROM THE BIG APPLE!!!
First of all, I hope this update finds you all in high spirits and good health for the new year. I have hit the ground running for 2010 in reconnecting with many of my old friends, moving to New York City, and starting a new job this week at CBS News. I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel so blessed this year, already, with good fortune in many ways. A friend recently told me that he noticed a different energy about the way I carry myself and I can tell you that I feel different, too.
For those of you who witnessed my panicked, late-night phone calls, stress-induced hysteria, or tear-stricken moments of self-doubt lately: thank you for your unwavering confidence and (more importantly) THAT NEVER HAPPENED. For those of you who are hearing about my move to New York for the first time: know that I made this life-changing transition with nothing less than grace, poise, and style! And to my microloan financier: thanks (mom) for believing in me. Your support means the most, and I will pay you back.
Okay, so New York...
After thinking/wishing/dreaming about moving here for 3 years, I sat down at my computer in early October and bought a one-way ticket for December 30. After that, I put the word out in my professional network that I was looking for a job. I planned two "networking" trips here for informational interviews and landed a contract gig working for Ralph Lauren, but still no full-time job. I continued volunteership-ing for Warren Miller Entertainment in Boulder until one day I received an urgent message from a friend in New York requesting my resume. To make a long story short, she knew of an inside hiring and thought I would be perfect. I emailed my resume on Friday, flew to New York on Tuesday, met Barbara Fedida (CBS News Executive Vice President of Talent and Development) on Wednesday, and here I am wrapping up my first week of work with CBS News.
I spent my first week here uncertain of their decision on whether or not to hire me and, if any of you know me well at all, you know that when I'm stressed, I bake. That week I baked three quiches, mussels fra diavolo, coffee cake, macaroni and cheese, brownies, and red lentil curry (to name a few). To prevent draining the rest of my dwindling savings, I slept in as much as possible. (I call this the Jon Doolan Effect, after a friend of mine who used to run out of his monthly college allowance in the first two weeks, then sleep as much as possible until the first of the month.) I was also completely exhausted. I made it my mission to test out as many yoga studios as possible that week, which also helped me learn my way around the different neighborhoods.
As you can imagine, there are so many things to adjust to in moving from Colorado to New York. Some things are obvious, for instance, not having a car, tiny restaurants, inflated prices, or navigating the train system. Other differences are more subtle, and have been harder to adjust to, such as the way longer work hours and a faster pace of life affect your friendships. In New York, every person is racing at 500mph toward a different version of success, and I would describe most of my friends here as either "paying their dues," proving themselves within a company, generating buzz, or getting their first break (the rest are addicted to great pay at jobs they hate). What does this mean for friendships? All I'm saying is that it seems that getting together with friends falls a long way down the list of priorities when your career is utmost important.
The upside is that when people do find the time to get together here, the result can be a combination of the most interesting, creative, eclectic, motivated bunch of people in the history of dinner parties. (Sidenote: I remember reading a description Bob Colacello wrote about the dinner parties he used to attend with Any Warhol in New York in the 1960's. Remind me to come back to that another time.) Its these type of people who are attracted to living in New York and that made me want to move here in the first place. This city has a pressure cooker-like affect on people's talent, personalities, careers, inspiration, drive and everything else. There are literally millions of people sucking, feeding, thriving, pulsing, living, and breathing in the same place and amplifying, condensing everything that happens. Accomplishing everything from meeting a friend uptown to finding a new apartment seem to require
so much more effort that these actions become all the more significant. At least it seems that way now.
Right now I'm living with my friend Danee in SoHo (through February). What a dream! Who would've thought that my first "residence" in nyc would be in such a wonderful neighborhood? Her apartment is on the second floor of a small, 6-story building at the corner of 6th Avenue and Watts Street (which is a crooked little half-street at the west end of Broome). Danee's bedroom mimics the flatiron shape of the building's east side, which lends an interesting, angular layout to the rest of the space, as you can imagine. So interesting, in fact, that the bathroom is at the end of an absurdly long, narrow hallway and the shower is in the kitchen. Not exactly eggs while you're conditioning, but pretty close! The best part about it is smelling the coffee brewing on the stove while I'm waking up to a hot shower.
The streets surrounding her apartment are cobblestone, and (for those of you who don't know) the area was made famous by its boutique-y shopping and beautiful (outrageously-priced) loft spaces --most of which have romantic, floor-to-ceiling windows. I've been in a few that would truly make your jaw drop, including one of the most gorgeous yoga studios I've ever practiced in. I'm three blocks from two of my favorite stores, Topshop and Madewell, which is much like a disaster waiting to happen. I'm proud to say that I haven't set foot inside either store in the three weeks since I've been living here. I can't promise anything once I get my first paycheck at the end of the month ...!
Grenwich Village is further up Thompson Street from Danee's apartment. This neighborhood was made famous by its proximity to Washington Square Park, wide array of vintage shops, and New York University, among other things. I haven't explored the area much, partly because it's been so cold and partly because I'd rather buy vintage clothing than eat some days and THATS JUST NOT RIGHT.
I'm wrapping up what has been a very loooooooooooong week of working 9:30-7 with a slow Friday and a 21-year old's excitement for the weekend! Tonight a few of my friends have arranged a "Welcome/Farewell" party to welcome me to New York and bid farewell to a friend who is leaving. What's more is that after dinner we're headed to an all-night dance party in Brooklyn! ...And what could be better than that? !!!!
Love and miss you all! Much more (in shorter bits) to come!
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
1.15.2010
10.06.2009
Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours
Damn you, Boulder. Why is it that every time I make an actual plan to move and leave you behind, you wager with a cloudless, 70-degree day in the middle of Fall and taunt me with snow-covered mountains just within view?
I've been crazy about Colorado since visiting Boulder for the first time nine years ago. I mean, come on, after a half-dozen road trips to a handful of journalism school east of the Mississippi, I'm not sure if it was the fear of spending another eight hours in the backseat of the car with my sister or the Rocky Mountains that convinced me first. All I know is that if I had to choose where to spend my four years of college all over again, this would still be the place.
Back when I graduated high school (yawn), the University of Colorado was still a fairly balanced combination of "granola" culture, academic credibility, and airport proximity to appease most parents (generous enough to pay $30,000 a year). The four-state distance from my home town appealed to my budding independence, the liberal climate to my sense of rebellion, and the mountains to an artist's taste for aesthetics. I think I summed it up for my parents something like, "I just like the people."
My first winter in Summit County was a mind-eraser. After that, I couldn't remember what I ever used to do with the snow in Indiana. And from what I remember of growing up in Chicago, winter was nothing but wind and The Walnut Room.
Wow. Just thinking that I actually won't be living here past December stirs up a good wave of emotions in my stomach. Back to wind and pointless snow. Damn you, Colorado, for making me want to stay. ...For nurturing me and pushing me out of the nest, for having more sunny days than anywhere I'll move, and for the loads of sexy, athletic men more muscular than anyone should grow acostomed to.
In fact, this whole love letter to Boulder mentality was triggered by someone I met unexpectedly this weekend, yoga instructor, Richii Jai. (God bless male yoga instructors who inspire me to write, let alone contort my body for an hour and a half in a sweaty room.) I stumbled into Richii's class Saturday morning at the same studio that I go to every day, so I was surprised that we had never met. He is this tall, sinuey guy with tattoos up and down both arms, a shaved head (minus a grown-out mohawk rat tail or something...?) and this great spastic, hyper energy that I;m attracted to in just about anyone. Let me put it to you like this:
Think of how your mom is capable of making a meal so delicious, so favorite, the night before you leave for college that, even though its the same meal you've had a million times before, something about the way it smells, the way it tastes, makes you want to just throw in the towel, forget any plan to get on a plane the next day, and stay forever.
True. But lately it's felt like all my "moving" pieces have fallen into place, so I felt immune to all the local home cooking, so to speak. Nevertheless, Boulder cooked up one last meal that took my breath away this weekend --proving that it can still give me what I need when I least expect it. It happened during Saturday's yoga class --where Richii's incredible sense of humor, lightheartedness, wit, and spontaneity left me with hands-down the best mood I've had in months.
AND THAT'S WHAT BOULDER DOES TO YOU when you make a plan to move away. It gently, subtly reminds you what you'll be missing, such as the fact that no where will the skiing be as sunny nor the guys as "mountain men" gorgeous (as Mari would say).
Just when I thought something that I love as much as yoga couldn't get any better, I meet a great teacher who takes the practice not to the next, serious-spiritual level, but in a completely new direction (such as a crack-you-up, techno-blasting, quit-taking-this-shit-so-seriously direction) that makes it feel more comfortable, less-phony than ever before. So, there it is, and herein lies the lesson, I suppose: That when Boulder leaves you wanting more, it's time to take things in a completely new direction. Literally.
I've been crazy about Colorado since visiting Boulder for the first time nine years ago. I mean, come on, after a half-dozen road trips to a handful of journalism school east of the Mississippi, I'm not sure if it was the fear of spending another eight hours in the backseat of the car with my sister or the Rocky Mountains that convinced me first. All I know is that if I had to choose where to spend my four years of college all over again, this would still be the place.
Back when I graduated high school (yawn), the University of Colorado was still a fairly balanced combination of "granola" culture, academic credibility, and airport proximity to appease most parents (generous enough to pay $30,000 a year). The four-state distance from my home town appealed to my budding independence, the liberal climate to my sense of rebellion, and the mountains to an artist's taste for aesthetics. I think I summed it up for my parents something like, "I just like the people."
My first winter in Summit County was a mind-eraser. After that, I couldn't remember what I ever used to do with the snow in Indiana. And from what I remember of growing up in Chicago, winter was nothing but wind and The Walnut Room.
Wow. Just thinking that I actually won't be living here past December stirs up a good wave of emotions in my stomach. Back to wind and pointless snow. Damn you, Colorado, for making me want to stay. ...For nurturing me and pushing me out of the nest, for having more sunny days than anywhere I'll move, and for the loads of sexy, athletic men more muscular than anyone should grow acostomed to.
In fact, this whole love letter to Boulder mentality was triggered by someone I met unexpectedly this weekend, yoga instructor, Richii Jai. (God bless male yoga instructors who inspire me to write, let alone contort my body for an hour and a half in a sweaty room.) I stumbled into Richii's class Saturday morning at the same studio that I go to every day, so I was surprised that we had never met. He is this tall, sinuey guy with tattoos up and down both arms, a shaved head (minus a grown-out mohawk rat tail or something...?) and this great spastic, hyper energy that I;m attracted to in just about anyone. Let me put it to you like this:
Think of how your mom is capable of making a meal so delicious, so favorite, the night before you leave for college that, even though its the same meal you've had a million times before, something about the way it smells, the way it tastes, makes you want to just throw in the towel, forget any plan to get on a plane the next day, and stay forever.
True. But lately it's felt like all my "moving" pieces have fallen into place, so I felt immune to all the local home cooking, so to speak. Nevertheless, Boulder cooked up one last meal that took my breath away this weekend --proving that it can still give me what I need when I least expect it. It happened during Saturday's yoga class --where Richii's incredible sense of humor, lightheartedness, wit, and spontaneity left me with hands-down the best mood I've had in months.
AND THAT'S WHAT BOULDER DOES TO YOU when you make a plan to move away. It gently, subtly reminds you what you'll be missing, such as the fact that no where will the skiing be as sunny nor the guys as "mountain men" gorgeous (as Mari would say).
Just when I thought something that I love as much as yoga couldn't get any better, I meet a great teacher who takes the practice not to the next, serious-spiritual level, but in a completely new direction (such as a crack-you-up, techno-blasting, quit-taking-this-shit-so-seriously direction) that makes it feel more comfortable, less-phony than ever before. So, there it is, and herein lies the lesson, I suppose: That when Boulder leaves you wanting more, it's time to take things in a completely new direction. Literally.
10.21.2008
Circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone today
Just when I thought I got away with a pleasant Monday start to my week, Tuesday hits like a derailed Amtrack.
If only I had seen the signs... I would've known that Tuesday meant trouble. My younger sister was in court due to a recently confiscated fake i.d., and the reason that this has anything to do with me can be best described as a tangled web of bank accounts, living in the same city, and out-of-state tuition. After a pleasantly-excruciating yoga class (take my advice, don't quit for six months and expect it to be fun again when you start back up), I spent the rest of Monday night transferring funds for her and running to the ATM in my pajamas.
The next thing I know, my four (no joke) morning alarms are going off to the tune of various ringtones, and voila! it's Tuesday. When I hop out of the shower it's barely 7:30 a.m. and I notice a missed call on my cell, which is vibrating itself off the table. In my mind, I assume my mother is calling to remind me to take it easy on my sister this morning. So without listening to the message, I decide to humor her fictitious request.
As I run out the door, my sister calls and asks me to grab a pair of black slacks she has stuffed in my closet. Good girl, I think. Maybe she has a shot at getting out of this mess after all. Sadly, all is lost when I pick her up on campus. She takes one look in the back seat, and yells, "Black flats, Lindsey! I said, bring me a pair of black shoes." Seizing the opportunity to verbally slap her ungrateful behind, I tell her to change anyway, the black pants would look much better.
On the way to work, I have a chance to listen to my voicemail, and the tone is surprisingly unpleasant. In fact, news of my supposed "difficult" behavior from the night before (going to yoga instead of directly to the bank) has already traveled 1,132 miles and back again before my coffe-craving brain has time to process what's happening. What's happening (8:10 a.m.) is that I'm being "not yelled at" for not being helpful enough to my sister in her time of stress and need. If you ask me, stress and need sounds a little bit more like tough-shit and caught-red-handed.
I arrive at the office feeling frazzled, and before I can sit down I get a phone call to tell me that I have ten minutes to ensure a missing $40,000 finds its way into our client's checking account. Unable to close on a new house without the check, my coworker and I have zero time to solve the problem and a mess of red tape to navigate. The rest of the morning and early afternoon is lost in what can best be described as a flurry of phone calls, faxes, frustration, and eventual blackout. When I come to my senses, it's late afternoon.
Gripping a Starbucks iced double-shot, I sit down at 3 p.m. to check my gmail. By the time I read my daily horoscope, I can already tell you what it says. "You may not want to come out of your shell today, but circumstances make it difficult to stay quiet..." More like, circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone by calling in sick, turning off my phone, and staying in bed all day.
By the time I'm off work, I'm feeling so desperate for two hours of alone time at the gym that I end up falling asleep in the sauna after a long run. Relaxed and well-deserving of a bottle of my favorite wine, I am seconds from home-free when I notice a text from a friend who wants grab dinner. Could I possibly make it? I ask myself. No way, no how tonight. Half passed-out, I text an apology.
Two hours ago, I walked through the door of my apartment, poured myself a fat glass of wine, and collapsed on the couch. Netflicks delivered Platoon last week and I've been avoiding it on my coffee table. What's better than a classic war movie to put a bad day in perspective?
During the first scene, I got another text from my friend saying that "we need to talk soon ...and address the ambiguities in our relationship." I smile to myself, and think, what a perfect ending to a day where everyone needs some sort of answer from me.
If only I had seen the signs... I would've known that Tuesday meant trouble. My younger sister was in court due to a recently confiscated fake i.d., and the reason that this has anything to do with me can be best described as a tangled web of bank accounts, living in the same city, and out-of-state tuition. After a pleasantly-excruciating yoga class (take my advice, don't quit for six months and expect it to be fun again when you start back up), I spent the rest of Monday night transferring funds for her and running to the ATM in my pajamas.
The next thing I know, my four (no joke) morning alarms are going off to the tune of various ringtones, and voila! it's Tuesday. When I hop out of the shower it's barely 7:30 a.m. and I notice a missed call on my cell, which is vibrating itself off the table. In my mind, I assume my mother is calling to remind me to take it easy on my sister this morning. So without listening to the message, I decide to humor her fictitious request.
As I run out the door, my sister calls and asks me to grab a pair of black slacks she has stuffed in my closet. Good girl, I think. Maybe she has a shot at getting out of this mess after all. Sadly, all is lost when I pick her up on campus. She takes one look in the back seat, and yells, "Black flats, Lindsey! I said, bring me a pair of black shoes." Seizing the opportunity to verbally slap her ungrateful behind, I tell her to change anyway, the black pants would look much better.
On the way to work, I have a chance to listen to my voicemail, and the tone is surprisingly unpleasant. In fact, news of my supposed "difficult" behavior from the night before (going to yoga instead of directly to the bank) has already traveled 1,132 miles and back again before my coffe-craving brain has time to process what's happening. What's happening (8:10 a.m.) is that I'm being "not yelled at" for not being helpful enough to my sister in her time of stress and need. If you ask me, stress and need sounds a little bit more like tough-shit and caught-red-handed.
I arrive at the office feeling frazzled, and before I can sit down I get a phone call to tell me that I have ten minutes to ensure a missing $40,000 finds its way into our client's checking account. Unable to close on a new house without the check, my coworker and I have zero time to solve the problem and a mess of red tape to navigate. The rest of the morning and early afternoon is lost in what can best be described as a flurry of phone calls, faxes, frustration, and eventual blackout. When I come to my senses, it's late afternoon.
Gripping a Starbucks iced double-shot, I sit down at 3 p.m. to check my gmail. By the time I read my daily horoscope, I can already tell you what it says. "You may not want to come out of your shell today, but circumstances make it difficult to stay quiet..." More like, circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone by calling in sick, turning off my phone, and staying in bed all day.
By the time I'm off work, I'm feeling so desperate for two hours of alone time at the gym that I end up falling asleep in the sauna after a long run. Relaxed and well-deserving of a bottle of my favorite wine, I am seconds from home-free when I notice a text from a friend who wants grab dinner. Could I possibly make it? I ask myself. No way, no how tonight. Half passed-out, I text an apology.
Two hours ago, I walked through the door of my apartment, poured myself a fat glass of wine, and collapsed on the couch. Netflicks delivered Platoon last week and I've been avoiding it on my coffee table. What's better than a classic war movie to put a bad day in perspective?
During the first scene, I got another text from my friend saying that "we need to talk soon ...and address the ambiguities in our relationship." I smile to myself, and think, what a perfect ending to a day where everyone needs some sort of answer from me.
10.16.2008
McCain's going to need a lot more than yoga
I’m going to have to hand it to Gail Collins for hitting the nail on the head –or should I say “nailing the Jell-O to the wall,” this morning in her New York Times column. She says that with twenty days to go in the race for the presidency “the candidates are gearing their remarks to people who have managed to completely ignore nearly two years of news about the 2008 elections.”
Which means anyone who is already informed will just have to suffer?
The only reason most of these people are undecided is because the only time they pay attention to the nominees is during the debates. If this is where you’re getting all of your information, you might as well take a quarter with you into the voting booth and call it heads or tails.
The undecided voters interviewed on NBC last night want someone to spoon-feed them information. Their questions sounded like whining, “But he didn’t mention this,” and “They didn’t explain that,” “There weren’t enough details about whatever,” and on and on. I mean, educate yourself, people. Go to the candidates’ websites. I doubt you have. Sift through Obama’s rhetoric (http://www.barackobama.com/issues/), make sense of McCain’s proposals (http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/), and if all of that is too partisan for you, check the facts (http://www.factcheck.org/). Cut your losses, and make a decision.
If it wasn’t evident last night, these two candidates disagree on virtually every issue, which gives voters the advantage. If you’re undecided, in my opinion, it’s because you’re not informed –and watching three debates does not make you informed.
Twice now, in my yoga class, the instructor has paused and asked the students, “Where are your thoughts right now?” She says that everyone has a tendency to think about events in the past, or their plans for the future. The first time she asked, I came to class feeling agitated, tired, and annoyed. My thoughts were hung up on a tangle of frustrating events. Yesterday when she asked, I came to class feeling lighter, optimistic, and prepared. When she asked, I my thoughts were in the future, and my excitement prevailed.
It’s not hard to determine that McCain’s actions in the past two weeks are motivated by the fact that he has fallen behind in the polls. Is it possible that he feels annoyed? Agitated? Even tired of this long campaign to the White House? It’s no wonder that he is focusing on the past by attacking Obama’s former relationship with Professor Bill Ayers. It’s nearly impossible for him to focus on the issues when he can’t think clearly into the future. In the end, McCain is going to need a lot more than yoga to get out of this negative rut. His criticisms were clear last night, but were lost in his delivery.
Obama was riding high on a wave of optimism and recent success, so it came as no surprise that he was able to calmly articulate his plans for the future. The only time that he referred to something in the past was to response to his frustrated running mate. So, if you’re still undecided, here’s about as basic as it gets: would you rather have a president who’s hung up on the past, or one who is thinking about your future?
Which means anyone who is already informed will just have to suffer?
The only reason most of these people are undecided is because the only time they pay attention to the nominees is during the debates. If this is where you’re getting all of your information, you might as well take a quarter with you into the voting booth and call it heads or tails.
The undecided voters interviewed on NBC last night want someone to spoon-feed them information. Their questions sounded like whining, “But he didn’t mention this,” and “They didn’t explain that,” “There weren’t enough details about whatever,” and on and on. I mean, educate yourself, people. Go to the candidates’ websites. I doubt you have. Sift through Obama’s rhetoric (http://www.barackobama.com/issues/), make sense of McCain’s proposals (http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/), and if all of that is too partisan for you, check the facts (http://www.factcheck.org/). Cut your losses, and make a decision.
If it wasn’t evident last night, these two candidates disagree on virtually every issue, which gives voters the advantage. If you’re undecided, in my opinion, it’s because you’re not informed –and watching three debates does not make you informed.
Twice now, in my yoga class, the instructor has paused and asked the students, “Where are your thoughts right now?” She says that everyone has a tendency to think about events in the past, or their plans for the future. The first time she asked, I came to class feeling agitated, tired, and annoyed. My thoughts were hung up on a tangle of frustrating events. Yesterday when she asked, I came to class feeling lighter, optimistic, and prepared. When she asked, I my thoughts were in the future, and my excitement prevailed.
It’s not hard to determine that McCain’s actions in the past two weeks are motivated by the fact that he has fallen behind in the polls. Is it possible that he feels annoyed? Agitated? Even tired of this long campaign to the White House? It’s no wonder that he is focusing on the past by attacking Obama’s former relationship with Professor Bill Ayers. It’s nearly impossible for him to focus on the issues when he can’t think clearly into the future. In the end, McCain is going to need a lot more than yoga to get out of this negative rut. His criticisms were clear last night, but were lost in his delivery.
Obama was riding high on a wave of optimism and recent success, so it came as no surprise that he was able to calmly articulate his plans for the future. The only time that he referred to something in the past was to response to his frustrated running mate. So, if you’re still undecided, here’s about as basic as it gets: would you rather have a president who’s hung up on the past, or one who is thinking about your future?
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