It's A...

So did we or didn't we decide to find out?

The short answer: we did. But how we got to that decision wasn't quite as short.

We got to the appointment and, as expected, the ultrasound tech asked if we wanted to know the sex. I still hadn't made up my mind, so I asked if she could write it down for us. (Quickly adding that we weren't doing one of those trendy gender reveal parties, we just weren't sure what we wanted to do yet.) She said she'd do us one better: she'd print us a photo and type it on that.

She told us to close our eyes, and I intently listened for the number of keystrokes as she typed. She put the photo in an envelope, we wrapped things up, and then we left.

We decided to grab lunch, and continued to sit on the envelope, asking each other all throughout the meal, "What do you want to do?" "I'm not sure, what do you want to do?"

We both were hedging, but I think Jay was just being sensitive to my indecision, since I knew he wanted to find out from the very beginning. Finally we realized, who are we kidding? and we opened the envelope. And? It's a boy!

Of course, we would have been happy either way, but before we opened the envelope, both of us had talked about how we had a "feeling" it was a boy. (What's more, one look at the sonogram photo of the baby's face, and you could tell it took after its father.)

Now admittedly, I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn't be buying cute dresses in the near future, but at least now the two of us can focus on coming up with some names, and I can focus my worries on things like this...


...instead of things like this:

Gender Bias

Admit it: Everyone has one. Even you. Which is why I need your help.

Next week, we go for the 20-week ultrasound where we can find out the baby's gender. Jay wants to know. I am unsure.

Before I got pregnant, I was adamant about not finding out my future baby's gender, thinking of the in-the-moment reveal as one of life's truly great surprises. But you can be just as surprised when the ultrasound tech tells you, Jay argues. (He's always so logical. I hate it.) But now that I'm approaching that moment, I'm not so sure where I stand. It's like when I was shopping for a wedding dress: I thought I wanted cap-sleeved lace, but wound up with strapless silk. Point being, you never really know how you're going to feel until you get there. Which might be where my new-found ambivalence on the matter comes from.

That's not to say I want to know now; I'm still intrigued by the idea of not finding out. But with no nursery to decorate, and the fact that we are having a really hard time agreeing on names, you could argue that the logical thing to do is to find out. But you could also argue that there is something really great about not being logical about it -- probably one of the last times for a looooong time that we'll be able to ignore the reasonable choice and just see what happens.

So. My question to you...

Do we find out, or do we not? Deadline for responses is 7 p.m. ET Monday. 

Photo: The Mielke Way

Can We Kick It?

Last Friday was my birthday, and can you believe the baby knew to get me a gift? (Actually, are we really all that surprised that my kid is on top of things?)

I have been saying since the start that aside from my now-huge boobs, there have been very little outward signs that I'm pregnant. In fact, I've often said how I wish I could be like Tom Cruise allegedly was when Katie Holmes was pregnant with Suri and get my own sonogram machine, just so I could make sure the kid is still in there. (S)he has been that chill.

But on Saturday night, I felt something. Like a bubble popping. (Gas, maybe?) But then I felt it again as I lay in bed Sunday morning. Yep, that was definitely a kick. It was exciting and cute, and a very welcome sign of life. (S)he was really kicking it on Wednesday night, and Jay got a feel. (You can't beat the smile on his face every time the kid makes an appearance.)

So, it's starting to feel real -- finally. Though I'm still in a state of disbelief that this is actually happening. Even though I literally want to bury my head in the sand every time someone says, "You're halfway there!" I'm pretty confident that when the time comes, we'll be able to kick it together.

Your Burning Baby Questions, Answered

Since the baby news broke, I've been fielding a lot of questions. Herewith, are my answers:

1. How did you find out you were pregnant?
This requires a little back story. A few days before we left for a vacation with Jay’s family in Hilton Head, I had gone in for some blood work with my doctor. They called pretty quickly and said I needed to come in. After some back and forth leaving messages and whatnot, we finally connected during a drive back from the Tanger outlets, where I had just scored a $400 Coach bag for $140. (Sorry, had to brag about that.) I said I was on vacation and anxiously asked, "Why the urgency? What did the blood work show?" "You’re pregnant," the nurse said, seemingly as shocked as I was about to be. "Whaaat?!" was my reaction, and I immediately pulled into the first parking lot available. Jay was with me, and from the big grin on his face I could tell he knew what the nurse had just told me. She said it was very early, about 4-5 weeks, and that I needed to be very careful, and I needed to come in first thing when we got home. Yes, yes, yes, I replied. We hung up, I articulated to Jay what he already knew, and we got out of the car to celebrate. I then made him drive home, where I proceeded to worry about all the things I had done in the last few weeks that you’re not supposed to do when you’re pregnant, like eat cured meats, drink, and go through the x-ray scanner at the airport.

2. How did your parents react?
Because we found out so early, we were hesitant to tell anyone, but because we happened to be in Hilton Head with all of Jay’s family—who we likely wouldn’t see again until Thanksgiving—we decided to tell them. Having never done this before, we weren’t sure how to go about it, and so as we were sitting outside after dinner, Jay blurted out, "So Mom, funny story…" and reiterated the day’s events. "Jason, that’s not funny," she reprimanded him. (Even at 33, the use of your full name is never a good sign.) It took about 30 seconds to convince her that he was, in fact, telling the truth, and then all, of course, were joyous.

We got home on a Friday and decided to go to my parents’ that Saturday to tell them. Christmas is kind of a big deal in my family. We make an annual pilgrimage to Pennsylvania to cut down our Christmas tree, and my dad especially loves the holiday, so before we left Hilton Head, we visited one of those year-round Christmas shops where I picked up an ornament that had two snow people holding a sign that said "Best Grandparents." Once we arrived and settled into lunch, I gave a gift bag to my mom and said, "We picked you up something in Hilton Head." She opened it, and looked a bit puzzled. "Is this for real?" she asked. My dad, previously disinterested, asked to see what it was. "Really?" he said. For those of you who know my parents, you won’t be surprised to hear that my mom cried (happy tears, of course) and that my dad almost immediately made some reference about how he can’t wait to rough the kid up.

3. How do you feel?
Absolutely fine! I’ve had zero morning sickness, and aside from being a little more tired than usual in the first few months, there are no other obvious signs I’m pregnant. Four months in and this kid's been so chill that I'm pretty sure I could have been on an episode of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, or as Jay likes to call it, Oops I Crapped a Baby.

4. Do you have any cravings?
Not really. If anything, I’m eating more carbs than I normally would, but I can't tell if that's a true craving or me just easing up on my everyday low-carb diet a bit.

5. Any names?
A few. But nothing that really has us excited yet.

6. Are you moving?
Not for the time being. When we first found out I was pregnant, I still didn’t have a job, and so the idea of leaving our rent-stabilized place didn’t make sense. And now that I do have a job, it still doesn’t make much sense, mostly because every time we start looking around we realize what a good deal we really do have. Call us idealists, but we’ve done lots of research on raising a baby in a one-bedroom apartment (and have talked to people who’ve done it) and it seems the key is minimalism. And in case we have a crier, I intend to make our upstairs neighbor a lot of cookies.  Still, once the kid is more mobile, I’m sure we’ll be forced to rethink this approach.

7. Will you find out the sex?
This one has been an epic debate between Jay and I for quite some time. I’ve always maintained that it’s one of the few true times you will be surprised in life, so I don’t want to find out. His very logical rebuttal: But you could be just as surprised when the doctor tells you at the appointment. Touché. Given that we’re having difficulty agreeing on names and we won’t be moving (see questions 5 and 6) I’m beginning to come around to his idea, but I’m still reserving the right to change my mind at any moment.

8. But you just got a new job! Do they know?
They do. My current boss is actually a friend and so she was one of the first to know, and it rid me of that worry about when to tell a new employer when I actually did land a job.

I Got a Job!

It’s been 19 days since my last post, and as you can see, I finally have something nice to say. This job is one I’ve been striving for for a while now. It’s a big one, and while I’m not entirely prepared for it, I think I’ll be okay at it.  

What is this new job, you ask? 

Well, I’m going to be a mom. 

The salary is quite crappy—non-existent, actually—but I hear the benefits are amazing. 

Currently, I’m 15 weeks along and we’re due April 5, 2014. I’ve actually known about the little bean since August, and so hopefully all my faithful readers now understand my random bouts of bitchiness and anxiety-induced whining about still not having a “real” job. Thank you for bearing with me. 

One thing’s for certain, though: this wasn’t unplanned. It’s something Jay and I had discussed, and part of what I hoped would make 2013 my year. When I lost my job in February, we talked about putting our plans on hold, but we ultimately decided there’s no time like the present. Like the chorus in the prolific Jimmy Eat World song “23” goes, you’ll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time. And if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that trying to control Life and make it perfect is no way to live. Mostly because Life won’t let you live that way. 

That much is evident based on how Life bestowed me with this great gift but at the same time didn’t give my stress levels much of a break. (Welcome to the rest of my life, right?) I will elaborate on all of it in a later post answering some FAQs I’m quite certain a lot of you may have, but for now I’m intent on keeping things positive. (And if you’ve got a Q you'd like answered, feel free to throw it at me in the comments.) 

Now the pragmatic among you may be wondering what, in fact, I plan to do to earn money now that we'll have another mouth to feed. Until very recently, I had these horrifying visions of myself being a pregnant woman on unemployment, but Life finally decided it was time to cut me some slack and I’ve been offered a full-time job at the place I’ve been freelancing at for the last eight months, which I’ve gleefully accepted. Hooray! So I guess, technically, I now have two jobs. (When it rains it pours, the squeaky wheel gets the oil, and whatever other apropos clichés I can throw at this bit of news applies here.) 

Thank you all again for your patience with my whining as of late, and for your emails and notes of support. I promise that for the time being, the tone of this blog will change for the better—mostly because Life finally seems to be headed in the same direction. 

Yes, I’ve Been Avoiding You

Frankly, because I have nothing nice to say, and even I’m tiring of my incessant whining. Things are, sadly, pretty status quo. I did go to the physical therapy school open house, and I could get excited about the chance, if it weren’t for figuring out how to go to school full-time and be able to earn a living. Suggestions are welcome.

So you know that cliché advice, if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all?

Well, I’ve decided that I won’t be blogging until I have something nice to say.

We’ll see how long this silence lasts.

Almost (But Not Quite)

So I got my first job offer in seven months. And then I didn’t.

Feeling low-balled by the salary offer—which came in about $9,000 below what I said I was looking for—I tried negotiating, which the hiring manager wasn’t interested in doing. And so that was it.

Now this job was far from my dream job, but still it was something—but someone gave me a great piece of advice about not wanting to start a job already feeling undervalued, so I’m trying to take comfort in that. But while I keep telling myself, something is coming that will be the right fit for you, it’s getting harder and harder to believe.

In the meantime, I have my open house for the physical therapy program to look forward to next Monday, and there were brownies in the kitchen at work, so at least I don’t have to spend money to soothe my damaged ego with some sweets.

There’s always a bright side, I guess.

How to Get Out of a Bad Mood

Yeah, I'll own it: the past few weeks I've been a bit of a bitch -- to my husband, my family, to strangers on the street -- and often for no apparent reason other than I feel like it.

It's not cool, I know, and I try my hardest to stifle it, but sometimes it gets the better of me. I'm not dumb enough to think that purposefully hurting others will make myself feel better, so I'm not sure why I let myself get away with such antics. Just because parts of my life suck right now doesn't give me license to act this way. Plus, it makes this blog -- purported to be about beauty and comfort -- a total trick. There's nothing beautiful or comforting about the way I've been acting.

So I set out to change it. How? By turning to the Internet. (Much like that kid in the most recent Google commercial.) Here are a few gems I found. (Sorry, did that sound bitchy?)

• Do yoga
• Listen to relaxing music 
• Start a blog 
• Spend time with people who make you laugh

Well, I've done all those things... I go to yoga at least once a week; I'm currently listening to some David Darling, and all it's doing is making me wish I was at a spa; um, hello! -- blogging right now! -- and finally, my husband, who I see on a daily basis, can be quite funny (most of the time).

And as I'm sure you can gather, none of these "tips and tricks" have worked. So short of asking my doctor for some Lexapro, I'm at a loss of how to get out of this what-feels-like-a-month-long funk.

I wonder: How do you get out of a bad mood? 

And it doesn't need to be beautiful or comforting advice. Who knows, maybe what I really need is to punch someone in the face.

I Feel Like I Owe You an Explanation

So I know I’ve been kind of vague lately about my life plans and “rearranging my blocks” and whatnot. I’ve been hedging on revealing exactly what I’m thinking about doing because, well, you know how once you say something out loud that means you actually have to follow through on it? I’m a little scared (and sad) to have to follow through.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about making a complete 180 on my career, and going back to school to become a physical therapist’s assistant. It’s a two-year, associate degree program that I could complete at a community college. It’s obviously a complete change from what I’ve been doing for the last 10 or so years, but given how dire the job search has been I’m feeling the need to pursue a profession that’s more sustainable. I could go into a long tirade about how journalism today isn’t the journalism I signed up for in college, but I won’t because the only people who really care about that are my fellow writer friends who are feeling the same sting of the changing—and more often than not—declining landscape.

So why become a PTA? Three reasons: I could complete my degree in a year or two, make a decent living, and it’s a much more transferable skill to a city other than New York. Physical therapy is something I’ve been doing personally, and to great success, and I like the idea of a day-to-day that’s more active than just sitting at a desk all day. But I’m only mildly interested it. It’s certainly not my passion in life, and definitely not in the way that writing is (was?).

And since I’m being honest here, another reason I’ve been hedging on making this transition is because I feel like I’m giving up on something I love. I liken it to the feeling I got when my high school boyfriend broke up with me before he went away to college. I knew it was the logical thing for him to do, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t sad about it. (For the record, this is a metaphor. I love my husband, not my ex-boyfriend from 15 years ago.) The thought of leaving writing and editing behind truly makes me sad, to the point where if I thought about it long enough I could probably shed a tear over it. Maybe.

Some folks have been quick to point out that even if I do pursue PTA school, I don’t have to completely give up writing—I could still freelance, after all. And blog. But it’s more than that. It’s this notion I have that I’m “giving up,” and I’ve mentioned before how I don’t like it when Life beats me.

And so...

I wonder: Any advice for me? Do I pursue PTA school or continue in the manner I’ve been in?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday

Starting in September, I begin working a full work week. That's right, Monday through Friday, five days a week, just like the rest of you working stiffs.

Which means today was my last Tuesday to myself. (Due to an upcoming Labor Day vacay, I'm choosing to work next Tuesday.) And I'm really bummed about it. Tuesdays have been my day to either act like a housewife doing laundry and cooking dinner or to act like an Upper East Side socialite meeting friends for lunch and getting pedicures (as I did today). On Tuesdays, I actually could be the free-spirited woman Mick Jagger sings about in "Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday" and do whatever I wanted.

And that has been beyond helpful to my sanity over these last few months, where my life and career seem to have been stuck in limbo. Not having to run errands after work or on Saturday meant no frustratingly long lines at the post office, always having the big washer available at the laundromat, and my pick of the freshest produce at the grocery store. It also meant plenty of time for job hunting, freelance pitching, and blogging with no interruption (or guilt, as is the case on the days when I am on the job, getting paid by the hour). Plus, it's been incredibly rejuvenating for my weekends, which could now be completely dedicated to more time with my husband, family, and friends due to the lack of aforementioned errand-running.

But just to be clear, I am by no means bemoaning the fact that I will actually be making more money, at least for the month of September anyway, when the gig is up. And hopefully, should I actually land a job in the meantime, it will be a nice segue, rather than an abrupt thrust back into reality.

Still, my experience really makes the case for a four-day work week, which multiple studies have found increase productivity and worker satisfaction. If I'm ever a boss, I'm sooooo implementing this.

Photo: Print Company

I wonder: What would you make of a four-day work week? 

The Cover Letter I Really Want to Write

Dear Sir or Madam or HR Manager (I never know how to address these things),

I am applying for the job you posted but understand it is probably a waste of my time. I will spend hours customizing my cover letter to you only to hear absolutely nothing in response.

My experience will meet close to every one of your requirements, but for reasons unbeknownst to me, I will not be called in for consideration. I know this, and yet I still try, in the vain hope that maybe this time I will get through the stack of applications filling your inbox.

Though truth be told, maybe it's partially my fault. I've gotten lazy as of late, copying and pasting pieces of previously written cover letters into one Frankenstein-like document. But really, can you blame me? I'd like to meet the person who isn't a little beaten down after seven months without a steady job, and certainly not due to a lack of trying on her part.

Anywho, my resume is attached, and I hope to hear from you soon, though I won't hold my breath.

Sincerely,
Me

How Life Is Like Tetris

I was playing the game on my phone while on the subway the other day, and I had everything lined up perfectly -- and I mean that literally. I had my blocks set up so that the square block that was coming up to play next would give me a full-on Tetris. (For the uninitiated, a true Tetris is when one clears the game of all the blocks.)

I thought, Oh my god, it's coming. It had been so long since I had cleared the board (first time in the mobile app), I was actually excited. How would the game congratulate me, I wondered dorkily. With my next move, I will have set the bar for myself, which is equally exciting and frustrating in follow-up games.

So I moved the block into position, and swiped it down. It landed, complete with the sound of the game's trademark thump, in the wrong spot. One row off to be exact. God dammit, I exclaimed, ever so softly but still out loud on the train. I had blown it. I got cocky, and wasn't careful enough. I spent the next 10 or so minutes of my ride trying to fix my mistake, and while I made some inroads I never did get close to that full clear. I was legitimately pissed.

And then it got me thinking about how my day had gone similarly. I found out I had yet again come thisclose to getting a job, but got beaten out by another candidate. Like last time, I thought I had nailed this one, but when all was said and done, I came up short. One row off, you might say.

Still, I thought, the game isn't over. While writing an article about how to effectively re-enter the workforce, I interviewed one of the authors of this book, who said the following, which has stuck with me throughout my employment limbo:

I do think it’s really useful to understand the macro-factors that are hindering you, because that’s also what’s going to help you make better choices. One of the main principles we talk about in the book is the idea of "try harder." It’s advice that so many people give over and over again when you’re stuck, and trying harder is often the absolute worst advice you can give someone. When you find yourself putting more and more effort into something that’s getting less and less results, that’s not a signal you should keep trying. It’s just the opposite.

The point being, it may be time to attack your problem from a new angle. 

So I'm thinking it might be time for me to find a new way to organize my blocks in life. I have a few ideas, but they won't be easy, so if I'm really going to do it, I need to full-on commit. And that, my friends, scares me.

I just have to keep reminding myself the game isn't over.

Photo: The Neurocritic

I wonder: Have you ever rearranged your blocks in life? How did you do it? 

P.S. I'm on vacation next week, so any radio silence here doesn't mean I've fallen off the blogwagon again.

Two Years

That's how long experts say it takes a person to get over an unexpected, traumatic event, like a divorce or job loss.

TWO YEARS. 

That sounds so long. And depressing. (It's worth noting that death is not included in this estimate. Getting over something like that typically takes longer.) What's more, these experts say you shouldn't try to expedite or deny this two-year process because that only postpones the inevitable day of reckoning. "After all, it takes time to rethink all the things that may be disrupted by emotional trauma, such as one's living situation, finances, professional goals and—maybe most important—how a person sees him or herself," Elizabeth Bernstein writes for The Wall Street Journal. (Ed note: I had no idea the Journal did these type of touchy-feely stories.) "There aren't any shortcuts. 'The whole sweep of your life has to be reassessed and rewoven,' Dr. [Prudence] Gourguechon says."

Makes sense. But still. Two years? That amount of time shocked me. That's 24 months, or roughly 730 days. Talk about dwelling on the negative.

I guess the good news is that given my crappy year-and-a-half, I'm halfway done with the drama.

I wonder: Do you agree that it takes two years to get over a traumatic event?

2013 Was Going to Be My Year

That is soooooo not the case.

I had such a crumby 2012 that I was convinced 2013 would be great. It had to be -- it was owed to me. I started the year off hopeful, but by February, it was quite clear 2013 didn't think it owed me a thing. It started off with receiving some not-so-great-health news, followed by losing my job (six months later I'm still technically unemployed), then my cat died, the IRS came calling for a couple grand due to a prior mix up, and most recently my best friend moved to D.C. Now yesterday, I found out I didn't get this job that I really, really, really wanted.

Wah, wah. 

Sure, there have been a few bright spots, but by and large 2013 has sucked just as bad -- if not more -- than 2012. I'm so ready for 2013 to be over that when people ask my age, I reply 34. (I'm 33.) I don't do it on purpose (unless you're 20, who ever wants to get older?) but I think it just speaks to how ready I am to move on from this year, this age, and this phase of my life.

This all sounds more dire than I really mean it to be. In fact, recapping all of this, I kind of have to laugh (and believe me, I haven't told you everything). Oh, Life, that fickle frenemy. For all the crap it's thrown at me in the last seven months, it's at least shown me that losing your job isn't the end of the world, I'm stronger physically and emotionally than I've ever given myself credit for, and yes, taxes really are as certain as death.

Speaking of strength, I do still have one holdout hope for 2013: this is the year I am determined to do an unassisted pullup -- maybe even two. Trainer Chad keeps telling me he knows I have the strength to do it, I just need to get out of my own head and make it happen. Easier said than done, but I am hopeful.

Photo: CentralMass.org

Randomonium

Because when I did a Google image search for "random," this is what came up.

Aaaah, it has been sooooooooo long!

I've missed this blog, and even recently found out that I have a few dedicated readers who I've been disappointing with my absence. (Hi Emily, Katie and Janet!) My excuse? I've been busy. Even with only working part-time. (I'm always sort of blown away by how running a few errands can eat up an entire afternoon. How did I do all this with a full-time job? And at a startup, no less.)

But alas, today I have some time, and feeling inspired by my friend Ilyse, who recently started her own blog chronicling her adventures in her new home base of D.C., I made a point to write today. There's actually been a lot I've wanted to write about in the last few weeks (month, really!), but never managed to fully form thoughts about. Here are a few of those thought-provoking topics: 

5 Things Parents Need to Stop Saying to Non-Parents 
I've heard some of these comments, and always thought I was being overly sensitive in being annoyed by them. It's nice to know I wasn't.

Women Who Keep Their Maiden Names Aren't Necessarily Feminists 
I just like my given name, okay? It has a certain ring to it.

Temporary Jobs Becoming a Permanent Fixture in U.S. 
This one hit home, because being in a temporary gig -- as much as I enjoy its flexibility -- is stressful for a Type-A personality who always needs to know what's coming next. It's a bit frightening to me that this could be the future way of the workplace.

Are Suburbs Where the American Dream Goes to Die? 
I like city life, but there are elements of suburbia that I miss. Like Target. A patch of grass that's all mine. Driving. (Until I drive, and then I hate it.) I'm known to sometimes romanticize suburban life, and this news doesn't make me feel good.

And so that's it. Hopefully one day soon, I'll actually have time to read an article, form an opinion, and then write about it.

But until then, it's been nice catching up.

I wonder: What's been on your mind lately?

Enough Already

Yeah, I know it's been a while, but there's nothing like disgust to get one blogging again.

I saw something today that made me sick: Trayvon Martin’s dead body.

The photo, posted by Gawker, was allegedly meant to spark anger, not pageviews. The Root has a great rebuttal to this rationalization, and my cynicism in Gawker’s motives is why I’m not linking to it. (As if I have that many readers!) If you really want to see it, I’m sure you can find it.

I honestly didn't realize that when I clicked on the link from another story that that is what I would see. Though I should have known better, knowing how Gawker Media operates. My immediate reaction was to look away, scroll down so it was out of sight, and close the page. What his family must feel like, knowing this image is out there, open for commentary, I thought. 

The whole thing reminded me of another recent occurrence that involved a graphic photo. A man recently committed suicide by jumping in front of the elevated line in Astoria. The event got very little press, despite the fact that his body parts wound up strewn all over the street. At 4 o’clock in the afternoon. A time that, as some of my Astorian Facebook friends noted, children where headed home from school. Gothamist linked to some tweets that had images of the severed body parts on the street (which is a whole other outrage). My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked. Then I shrugged. It looked like nothing more than a scene from a horror movie. Yes, I was disgusted with myself for several reasons, but was most struck by my “meh” reaction. Had I become that desensitized to violence?

That image of Trayvon Martin showed me that I had not. Sure, I wasn’t prepared for it, and unlike the Astoria man, Trayvon didn’t choose to die. But by clicking to see either photo, what I showed was disrespect. If I need to see gore that badly, I should go see a horror film. And so the next time I’m confronted with a graphic image of a dead body, I’m not going to look at it, morbid curiosity be damned.

Also, I’m never reading Gawker again.

If You Can Make It Here...

I don't like to lose.

Today I read about the film Frances Ha, which tells the story of a 27-year-old woman who moved to  New York City to become a dancer, and is beginning to experience the hard reality that she's just not going to be one of New York's chosen ones.

It looks comically depressing, and also more relateable than any New Yorker would like to admit:


Sometimes, New York can be the perfect metaphor for life: you constantly have to adjust your expectations. The last graph of the review I read sums it up well:

It gets the spirit of New York exactly right: the constant striving, the reality that you'll forever be surrounded by people who seem more accomplished than you and the deep satisfaction that comes with making it here, even if you have to reconstitute your definition of "making it." 

Which got me thinking about my own definition of "making it." I have forever felt like "making it" in New York was just being able to afford to rent an apartment here, probably largely because in that sense, I had "made it." There was a brief period in 2012 and the beginning of 2013 when I felt like maybe I was destined for something more, but that's since crawled back into the hole into my brain from whence it came. And so I'm back to the small victory of simply being able to afford an apartment here. (Never mind that the place I've lived in for the last six years is rent stabilized, which kind of feels like cheating.)

Now, I admit that I have my moments of New York loathing, lately more often than not, where I wonder what the hell I am doing in this city that is so expensive, so competitive and sometimes so soul-crushing. Still, I am resolute in the fact that New York will not beat me. I refuse to let it kick me out, which I've seen it do to people, whether because they can no longer afford to stay in it, or because they can't find a job. Not me. When it comes time to go -- and that time will come -- it will be on my own terms.

And honestly, I feel as though when I do leave, where ever I wind up, only then will I have truly made it. Because really, if you can make it here, you truly can make it anywhere, because New York is like the boot camp that gets you into the Marine Corp. of real life.

She Likes Me, She Really Likes Me!

Recently, I had a pretty amazing thing happen to me, but there's a little bit of back story before I can get to the amazing part.

Before I got laid off in February, I was interviewing candidates for an associate editor job. I had an appointment set with one girl, let's call her Amy, when I got the bad news. I emailed her to let her know that unfortunately we no longer needed to meet, and I was sorry about that because I really was looking forward to meeting her. And I meant it. She had an amazing resume, and had written some really fantastic, well-reported and well-researched articles for a very high-profile publication. She was very understanding about it all, and said she would keep her ears open for me.

Just recently, I got an email from Amy. "I was just thinking about you and wanted to write to check in," she wrote, and suggested that we get together for coffee sometime.

Wow, how unbelievably nice, I thought. Someone I barely know is checking in on how I'm doing, and wants to meet up, with no ulterior motive. (As I'm currently just a temp, I can't do much for her job-wise, and she was well aware of that.)

So we met for coffee the other day, and it was great. We talked about my old job, the industry, and a little bit about life. It turns out I did have a few job leads for her, which I was more than happy to share because Amy truly is such a fantastic reporter.

Toward the end of our conversation, we talked about how nice it was to finally meet in person, and she said she wanted to reach out again because she got such a good vibe from me from our email exchange. I was flattered of course, and floored at her willingness to explore her gut instinct. How many times have I met people in passing who I felt like I could really click with but never followed up with for various reasons -- no time, I have enough friends, or just plain forgetfulness? It got me thinking about how many amazing people I could be missing out on because of what is essentially laziness (maybe peppered with a little bit of fear of rejection).

We left coffee saying we'd like to get together again soon, and I left thinking to myself how I was definitely going to do that again -- not just meet with Amy, but truly make an effort with the next person I feel like I connect with.

Because who knows? Maybe one day with this small gesture I could make someone's day just like Amy made mine.

I wonder: Have you ever gone out on a limb to meet a new potential friend?

Oof, It's May.

Well, hello again.

As per usual, I didn't intend for this extended absence to happen, but such is life. And I'm just letting life happen these days, remember?

Since I've been at my temp editing gig, I've been privy to lots -- TONS -- of free magazines, one of which is People. The mag recently started a "One Last Thing" feature on the last page of the book, where they ask a star a bunch of random, innocuous questions. Because I have nothing to report, but still wanted to stop by and say hi, I thought it might be fun for me to answer some of these inane queries.

I keep telling myself that nothing has happened that's worth blogging about, but, well, after answering these questions, it's just not true. I did discover Schmackary's after all. (If you're interested in reading the interview with the actual celebrity, in this case Sarah Chalke, go here.)

LAST FILM THAT MADE ME CRY
I don't cry often, but when I do, it's often about animals. So the last movie that made me cry was Marley & Me. I was home by myself and I tried stifling it, but once I realized no one was around to laugh at me, I balled.

LAST TIME I GOT SUNBURNED
On our trip to Puerto Rico. I slathered on the sunscreen but still managed to feel the burn.

LAST INJURY I SUSTAINED 
Over Christmas. I was doing a trail run at my parents' and I tripped -- bad. Real, real, bad. Full-on Slip 'N Slide action. I still have scars on my right knee from it.

LAST VACATION I TOOK
That would be Puerto Rico. Again. (Hmm... maybe this exercise isn't that interesting after all.)

LAST TIME I INDULGED 
Thursday. The husband and I went out to dinner in Hell's Kitchen, and on our walk home we passed Schmackary's for the first time. The smell was so intoxicating it literally formed a hook around our necks and pulled us in. I got the Peanut Butter After Dark, naturally.

An Inspiration Edition

Arianna Huffington, Star Jones and Susan Lucci

And, we're back.

Another unwanted (on my part, at least) extended absence. But today provides a much-needed break that allows for some time to blog. And while I don't have any deep thoughts to share, other people do.

I had the good fortune to attend the National Association of Professional Women's annual conference today, and a bevy of inspirational ladies were in attendance, among them Arianna Huffington (I got to shake her hand), Star Jones (she re-tweeted me!) and Susan Lucci (who I awkwardly asked for an autograph when I happened upon her in the ladies' room. She was very gracious).

The inspiration was flowing like good wine, and I came home feeling a little hungover, but in a good way, like when you were young and stayed out too late drinking way too much but the next day you couldn't feel too bad about it because you know you had an awesome time.

Here are a few of my favorite quotes, and I use the term "quotes" loosely because I was taking notes by hand and not on my best journalistic game.

Lesley Jane Seymour, EIC of More, on the changing media landscape: 
It's a different world. When I started as an EIC, I came in, did the magazine and left. Now I have to do TV, social...you can't just lock yourself in a room anymore and say "I'm going to do this."

Arianna Huffington on the same: 
It's no longer about talking, it's about listening. We used to consume news on the couch and now we consume it galloping on a horse.

Huffington on staying healthy: 
When I wake up after a good night's sleep, I'm ready to take on the world. Isn't that a great way to live life?

Huffington on Lean In: 
We also need to learn to lean back to reinvigorate. Because that's when you get your best ideas.

Huffington paraphrasing Rumi: 
Life is rigged in your favor. Turn stumbling blocks into stepping stones.

Huffington on how women judge themselves: 
If we can reduce the self-judgement we'd have so much energy freed up.

Monique L. Nelson, CEO of UniWorld Group, on what she would tell her 21-year-old self:
I'd forgive myself. Life happens. Either you can make it happen or it happens to you. I'd take things a little slower and not try to do so much so early. Eventually the environment took its course to slow me down.

Desiree Rogers, CEO of Johnson Publishing and the former White House social secretary, on the same: 
Don't allow people to tell you who you are.

Star Jones on the same: 
Place your health as a priority. I'm worth eating correctly, I'm worth exercising, I'm worth getting sleep.

Rogers on "having it all": 
It's a creation of my all. If I'm happy, everyone around me is happy.

Sara Blakely, founder of Spanx, on the best advice she ever received:
Failure is life's way of telling you you're not on the right course.

Martha Stewart on taking a break: 
You should never retire. You should never even use that word.

Stewart's random tip on my favorite snack: 
Cook kale chips on parchment paper to make them crispy.

Stewart on hitting rock bottom: 
I've never hit a bottom. It's just a bump in the road.

The exchange Star Jones re-tweeted me on! 
Star Jones: Where does the toughness come from? Martha Stewart: Um, just dealing with crap.

Stewart on her one regret: 
That I didn't have enough children. It's just a totally different way of looking at things.

Photo: me

I wonder: What's the most thought provoking thing you've heard lately?