some photos

nyc's heros.

god bless america. land that i love. stand beside her. and guide her through the night with a light from above.

the inside of Tavern on the Green. These stained glass orbs and mirrored walls were added when LeRoy something-or-other's family took over the resturant in the 70s and sunk $7 million to remodel the place.

I call this "old woman and small dog." This was taken on St. Marks Street (8th Ave) in the east village. its funny to see old women who dress like young hipsters, what with their wrinkles and purple hair. a few buildings down, a man who was almost compeltly blacked-out in tattoo ink (literally 95% og his body was filled solid with ink) sat easting a sandwhich. he looked at me like I was weird in my kakhi capris.

a nice skybridge somewhere in midtown. you know how i love infrastructure.

This pet can afford better transportation than me.

(on the upper west side)

Catching up ...

[tuesday] 05 30 06
I also was finally able to get Internet access today! Turns out the school changed their minds and are letting all summer residents get Internet access. It only make sense, doesn’t it. I took today to familiarize myself with the East Village and also checked out Washington Square briefly. Today I wandered for 7 hours before coming in, just to drop off some things to lighten my bag.

That short stop home turned into an awake-nap, my version of relaxing and completely vegging before the next move comes. In this case, that next move was Molly’s parents taking us out to a swank dinner at a restaurant called Tavern on the Green in Central Park. It was originally the Sheepfold for Central Park until Robert Moses, famed park comminser and badd-ass on NYC from the last 1920s-1940s moved the sheep to Brooklyn and turned their house into a resturant. I love how EVERYTHING in New York is a repurpsed building. Anyway, the resturant was VERY nice and the food was delicious. Mostly, it was nice to visit with Molly and her folks.

There were also two groups at the restruant, and the hostess asked if I was a part of both of them when I walked in. Funny mistake. The first was a speed-dating circle. Molly and I decided that we should try speed-dating in Manhattan one night just for shits ande giggles. I could tell each of my guest during the 5-minute interview “I’m happily dating right now, but if you tell me who you’re interested in here, I’ll talk you up for him/her.” I figure speed-dating admission is usually $10 and it includes free drinks as long as you stay, why not? I’d have to find a group of bisexuals so little speech would make sense (you know, so I get both guys and girls at my table)… it’s a possibility.

Eventaully, I meet up with the other ASME interns living at NYU at a bar around the corner (on 3rd Ave btwn 13th and 12th) called Bar None. I hit it off really well with a few girls, so that’s good … others, not so much, but not really bad vibes anywhere.


[monday] 05 29 06
My friends, Dave especially, say I stare at people a lot. If he’s right, the New York is perfect for me. Everyone stares at everyone, men and women alike. Like I’ve always tried to tell them, it’s not rude or sexual or menacing. It’s just curiosity. When I “stare” at someone, I’m really just trying to figure out a story to fit the face. Then I start wondering how the hell I think I can create this person’s story by simply looking and judging the book by it’s cover. I’ve learned a lot about staring at people. For one, shoes don’t need to match the clothes, just be comfortable. Second, most of the beautiful women, the tall and skinny ones or the colorful and exotic ones, are foreign. Most of the beautiful men are not white. Is that because one is attracted to what one is not, or simple because when side-to-side with the rainbow of the world, the Caucasian male just isn’t that good looking, like a dandelion to a wildflower. And as much as I stare at people, people are staring at me just as much.

I spent the day walking around the city today. There’s a farmer’s market in Union Square on Mondays, Wednesdays, Sundays and some other day – maybe Saturday? I like sitting in Union Square at dusk. You can feel the trains below rumble. It’s just amazing to me that so many people are being whisked around the city underground, all day long. Damn, mass transit is so cool. I have to go to the NYC Mass Transit museum. Today, an old, well-dressed man with an eastern-European accent told me I look like an artistic person. He saw my camera and asked if I was professional, I laughed and said no, and he told me not to laugh, that I could be very successful as a photographer. He said he could tell just by the way my eyes were and they way I talked to him – as well as how I loaded film in the camera. He was a very kind man. I should have stayed and talked to him longer but I wanted to take some more photos before the sun went down. Too bad by the time I got up, after talking to him for 15 minutes or so, it was too dark for good photos—I could have talked to him longer. For a long time, he was the head coach at University of Pennsylvania and at some other schools whose name I don’t recall—he showed me his business card. Now he teaches private swimming and tennis lessons in Manhattan, which is why, he said, he knows so many people in town, including people in the TV and photography businesses. He told me not to let anyone turn me away or treat me poorly because I’m a woman – he mean in the business world.

I just met my roommate today. Actually, two of them – and they’re my suitemates to be correct. [name ommited] was here when I got back from picking up a way too expensive Indian food take-out buffet at Whole Foods ($11.98 for a 3” by 2” box!) She’s shorter with dark hair and was wearing black stretch pants and a black tank top. She seemed nice enough, but talked too fast and wasn’t enormously friendly. Her roommate, whom I also met briefly as she doesn’t really move in until tomorrow, [name ommited] seems like the more outgoing of the two. They’re friends at least from NYU and maybe from home as well as they’re both from Jersey. They normally commute to school but decided to get summer housing at NYU because they both work at a design house in Manhattan – yep, they’re fashion designers. This could be really fun or REALLY shitty. But I think it’s going to be at least fine.

I still haven’t found steady internet access and it’s driving me nuts. I’m the type who NEEDS to be an arm’s length from gmail whenever I feel like it. I have no idea how much is on my credit card and I have no idea where the closest Border’s Books is (there are plenty of bookstores near me, including Strand, an AMAZING store I spent over an hour in today) but I have gift certificates to Border’s and a budget. So that’s that). On top of it all I need to get to my email so I can go over my orientation schedule as well and figure out how to get there and where I’m going. I’m feeling good about riding the subway and taking taxis – I’ve basically spent the past few days wandering around Manhattan for hours at a time. Yesterday was dangerous — I walked into every shoe store I saw, hence my need to check my credit card balance.
I’m not so nervous about starting anymore. At all. I think it was just the “holy-shit-im-leaving” feeling that overcame me. Now I just need to work on that Internet thing …


[sunday] 05 28 06
I definitely think I’m tougher that I really am. Yesterday afternoon—the day before I left for a summer as a NYC intern—as I sat in my hometown theater watching the Tom “I-might-have-ate-placenta” Cruise in M:I:III, I started freaking out about today. About packing everything in two bags that weighed less than 50 pounds each (I didn’t make it. 11 pounds and $25 over). About not even having the slightest idea what to pack—do I have enough “professional clothes” am I going to stick out like a Midwestern farm girl, do I have comfy enough shoes? (no, no, no). About coming to NYC to work at a real, grown-up magazine. About leaving my family and my boyfriend (who is leaving for three years to go to law school on the other freaking coast two weeks after I fly home). About not being able to afford the trip (thank God my mother is fortunate enough to be able to help me out with the expenses. NYC positions definitely rule out those without money to spare). About not being able to keep up with the other interns. About hating my suitmates … and my roommate.

Yesterday my head was busier than Union Square, where I’m typing this at, is right now. But now that I’m here, in all the hustle and bustle, eavesdropping on people with thick accents and looking around at all the commotion around me, I’m ok. More relaxed at least. Maybe its because I was the first to arrive in my room and so far, no other girls have shown. Maybe it’s because I get a night alone, by myself, to gather my thoughts. I don’t remember the last time I had a night completely by myself, without my boyfriend or friends or family. That’s sad. But either way, it’s time to go back to the dorm room. It’s dark and I’m not yet New York enough to sit in Union Square through all hours of the night—and I hope I never am. That’d be stupid and dangerous. I’m gonna to to Walgreen’s and get some essentials then take a long, steamy shower. Bye.