“This is why we are writers”

After Margarita Wednesday, during the perpetual struggle to figure out why the bill isn’t adding up correctly… Mel: “This is why we aren’t math majors and we are writers. WRITERS.” I’m hoping the waiters three years from now will also understand when we tip poorly. Hey, maybe if people had time to read newspapers around here we wouldn’t all be without work, eh?

I bought a new digital voice recorder yesterday. I needed to do an interview and frankly, I probably could have borrowed one from the mag office but I’m really into office supply stores, and I hadn’t been to one in awhile. I popped into both Staples and Office Depot and it felt good. Like a bubble bath after a really shitty day. At Staples I was shocked by the outrageously priced Sony digital recorder, so I left indignantly only to go to Office Depot and find the same exact prices. Depression set in and I got conned into buying said outrageously priced digital recorder as well as a protection plan. Because I’m clumsy and I’m the type who needs protection plans.

Japanese bbq short ribs… hello hello.

Angela and I went exploring through St. Mark’s yesterday for some Japanese. It’s funny because I will do two hours of Yelp research to save $3 on a manicure and then go on buy a $5 cup of chocolate molten cake, which is exactly what I did. And it was the best cup of chocolate molten cake I have had to date. In our drunken-with-dessert state, against better judgment we waved lamely at the cuties who run the Dessert Truck. Tres awks. Maybe we shall make it a weekly affair and by the end of the summer I will have them flinging free bread pudding my way. I WISH. Either way I have decided they can cater my wedding. If not be in it.

My rapidly melting ice cream over chocolate molten cake,
sprinkled with pistachios and sea salt.

Last night my internet died out of nowhere and I realized how truly, mind-bafflingly dependent I am on this thing called the World Wide Web. I sat around clicking in a desperate panic and trying to refresh my browser. Then I attempted to steal our neighbors’ internet, restarted my computer several times and waited around patiently before resignedly giving up at 1 a.m. I was at a loss as to what I should do with all the hours before my normal bedtime so I read a book. Such a foreign concept.

Mel and Alex at dinner. I made fun of Alex for her blinding whiteness.

Too cheap to eat but I guess I’ll drink.

Today was pretty successful. I scored some freebies, in the form of both cosmetics and alcoholic beverages, which are definitely among my top five favorite things. After my surprisingly productive workday, I met up with Mel, Catherine and Alex for Margarita/Mojito Wednesday. Like I said, we’re pretty terrible with the alliteration, despite being writer-types and all. I had a carrot cake cupcake at Crumbs (who said I wasn’t amazing at alliteration actually…), which, sad to say, did not hold a candle at all to Cafe V carrot cake, the one thing that I miss unbearably about San Diego.

Cupcakes, yo.

One of my roommates who works at Morgan Stanley just got home (12 AM). This is the first time she’s been home since… last THURSDAY. I’d figured she was staying over at her boyfriend’s, but he called on Sunday looking for her. Seriously, my finance-wannabe friends. Keep your soul. On the bright side she is tiny. I probably would be tiny if I didn’t have time to eat, much less come home. They pull all-nighters and power nap in the hospital cots at work — the lifestyle sounds like a hellish, permanent finals week.

This is why I could never, ever be someone who doesn’t wake up and love what she does every day of the week. I don’t ever want to come home exhausted without feeling rewarded more than monetarily in the work that I do. My mom always says everyone has to do shit they don’t like. Well just like I refused to take AP physics and refused to take a major that required math classes: I refuse!

Being an full-fledged adult seems horribly depressing. Both my roommates and respective boyfriends are doing some stressful last-minute packing sessions for their mini-vacations. We college students take for granted these long stretches of lazy days on the couch, we really do. From now on I will revel in every moment I spent on these joyful cushions. Starting now.

I have a half-day tomorrow! Stephen’s coming on Friday and he wants to max out the day with touristy activities. I have yet to see: Brooklyn Bridge, ground zero, Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Madison Square Garden, the Met, the MOMA, etc. etc. etc. I remain incredibly uncultured. (I have however hit up more food spots than I care to name.) I haven’t been taking pictures because it’s just weird to in New York. Maybe we’re just vain in California, but people don’t whip out their cameras at every restaurant and every bar and every club. I realized the other day when Judy or someone whined about not seeing any pics that I hadn’t been taking many photos so I made it a goal to bring out my camera, embarrassingly touristy or not.

That and my time here just seems endless. My roommate C, who’s in a super serious long-term relationship (AKA wedding bells in the horizon) said to me: “I don’t know when you graduate, but I might be out of here soon…” like the reality of me coming back and moving in and living the DREAM is within reach.

Being here, living here — it’s confirming what I think I knew but was afraid to be sure of. I was afraid I was in love with an imagined lifestyle, the painted picture of glamour that Hollywood offers, of some kind of crazy daydream that I made up in my mind about how Things Would Be in New York. I had great expectations, but they aren’t being fulfilled in that mind-blowing OMGSOFUNILOVEMYLIFE way, which is what I think people think. It just feels right. It’s like when couples go on their first date and know they’ve met the person they’re going to marry. I’m two and a half weeks in, and I’m as sure as I’ll ever be. I’m a little in love, and I can’t imagine being anywhere but here.

I’m a very practical, consider-the-future type person, so obviously I have encountered one major obstacle with moving to NYC — I fully intend on marrying a Silicon Valley tech geek, so this long distance thing might not work out so well. But like I said, pastry chef is always a backup option.

Me and my hubs are gon’ live out of this here truck.
I gon’ write real good, he gon’ bake real good.