“A car is useless in New York, essential everywhere else. The same with good manners.” --Mignon McLaughlin

I'm sorry I haven't been updating my blog as much. I just...haven't wanted to, to be completely honest with you. I was gonna come up with some stupid excuse about not having time or not having any interesting stories, but I just really didn't want to write for a while. BUT turns out a few people actually read this blog, so I'm gonna try harder to update it. And sorry about my last post being all bunched up like that. For some reason, blogger hates me and refuses to space my paragraphs apart. C'est la vie.

So, hmm, I have a lot to get through. And I'm gonna go fast so try to keep up. I'll start at The Local Store where I work. Everythings going great, but there have been a few rough patches. Remember Grim? Well, I've decided that the name is a little harsh so I'm changing it to Grim Bunny. She kinda reminds me of a bunny. That is when she's not telling me how stupid and "retarded" I am (That is her word of choice usually. Well, that and the phrase "--before I stab you" i.e. "Get out of my way before I stab you!"). See, that is the essence of Grim Bunny. She's kinda like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She has two split personalities: one is sweet, nice and very cool AND the other is...not so much. The change comes swiftly and suddenly so if you're not prepared (like I wasn't) then you might end up getting a little pissed off or depressed (like me). It all started when I lost the key to the gate that we open to go downstairs. I honestly don't know what happened to the key, but I was the last one who saw it so let's all just assume that I DID lose it. Grim Bunny did not like that, obviously, so she ripped me a new one and for some reason, every thing that came out of her mouth throughout the day just seemed like she was picking on me. I don't know, I was probably just vulnerable and irritable (who isn't when someone is telling you that you're doing something wrong), but I just fell into a funk and couldn't take it. Apparently, almost everyone else who works there has gone through the same thing. Every single person, from K then Ken and even FrenchE, tried to console me and told me not to take it so hard. I guess I just have to take the bad with the good. Who can complain about the one person that they dislike when there are so many other people that you love to be around? I really love working there, I really do. And ever since the incident, Grim Bunny has been extra nice and really fun to hang around. At this point, I'm just waiting for the next trigger for Grim Bunny's fury and wrath. Cross your fingers for me so I won't be the target of it.

As for my co-workers, I have some awesome co-workers. But they are really really...FLAKY. Oh my lord, they are flaky like buttery croissants fresh from a French bakery. Oh yes, they are flaky. Let's start with K. A few weeks ago, K wanted to join the Queen and I for dinner at a Korean restaurant. But she didn't come. Or call. Or text. The next time I saw her, she told me she had to work that night and had to turn off her phone. I gave her a hard time, but eventually let it go and asked that at least next time for her to text or call telling me that she isn't dead. That's not too much to ask, is it? So, she asked me if I wanted to go to a haunted house the night before Halloween. After much reluctance, I agreed. Two hours before we had to go, she even called me to tell me that she was getting ready. But three hours later, I got another call from her telling me that she didn't want to go anymore and that she was going to go get drunk with her friend. At this point, the Queen wondered how I could keep my composure when my friend kept flaking out on me. K is a busy girl and I was just happy that she actually called this time so I let it go. She even asked if I wanted to get lunch some other time. I agreed, we set a date, and she even agreed to trim my hair (after seeing my split ends). When I called her the day of, she told me that she was too tired to make it for lunch since she had just woken up so we rescheduled for dinner. But she didn't come. Or call. Or text. And I haven't talked to her since. So, yeah, I know K is busy and that her schedule is pretty unpredictable. But three strikes man. THREE STRIKES.

And then there's Ken. Ken is one of the nicest guys I've met here in New York. But more importantly, he doesn't creep me out, which I must say a lot of guys I've met here have. Anyway, he's funny, sweet, and kinda...weird. He's four years older than me but sometimes acts four years younger. Those would be the times when he pretends to stab me or karate chop me. Like I said--weird. But guys are like that so I let it go. And like any other guy, Ken loves to play video games. He owns Guitar Hero (which I looove) and so we made plans for me to kick his ass in Guitar Hero. The day of, he texts saying that he has people over so I can't come over. This was actually strike two for Ken since he had also agreed to come with K and I to the haunted house before bailing like two minutes before K. I know that's only two strikes, but I feel like K's constant flakiness has made me extra sensitive to flaky people. I mean, come on! That's a total of five times that I've been flaked on in the past like two weeks. And I work with both of them. So, I've decided to only hang out with people who WON'T flake on me. And they do exist. I swear. As for K and Ken, I'm pretty reluctant about ever making plans with them again because I'm pretty sure they'd flake on me again. I'd bet money on it. But unfortunately, no one would probably take that bet. On a happier note, I've made plans with Happy Elf for this Friday. And I'm going to make plans with The Girl, Carolina Foodie, and FrenchE if my schedule ever lets up. "See, I have other friends! Friends who will make time for me in there busy schedules! So, take that K and Ken!"

Oh, I wanted to talk about my latest night at Cipriani's but I'm tired and this post is long so I'll just skip on to the pictures.

Spicy Chicken Stew

CLOSE-UP

The Queen and I have already come up with our own "thing" that we do every week. (The Queen never flakes on me and I love her for it.) This all started when we had Korean BBQ together. I took her to a Korean restaurant in Jackson Heights and IT...WAS...HORRIBLE. Ugh, the food was horrible, the restaurant was empty, and everything was waaay overpriced. It turns out that there is NO good Korean food in Jackson Heights. Instead, Jackson Heights has great Indian restaurants. (Go figure!) I was really depressed so the Queen offered to cook me Mexican food the next night to make up for the horrendous meal we had. She made enchiladas, her best dish, and they were amazing. I was surprised she cooked so well, but more importantly, I was touched by the fact that she cared about me enough to cook for me (which she doesn't do very often for other people). The loveliness of the Queen knows no bounds. I wanted to take a picture of the enchiladas, but I'm telling you, when she puts a plate of them in front of you, you can't think of anything (especially to get your camera) other than to eat them as quickly as is humanly possible. I even took some to work the next day and K, Ken, and Princess Fi all agreed with me. Man, the Queen makes awesome enchiladas and mind-blowing salsa to boot. I WANT MORE!!

Since I was so grateful for all her efforts, I offered to make dinner the next Sunday night. And I made spicy chicken stew. And it...was...GOOD! I even surprised myself! It was truly, honestly delicious. By god, I CAN cook! The Queen also enjoyed it but not as much as me, I must say. I ate three servings until there wasn't anymore left. And it was good.

Next Sunday, the Queen has offered to make her shrimp dish. And I am very excited. So, yes, "that" is our thing. Sunday night dinners, alternating cooking and dishwashing. The week after, I'm gonna be making curry. I make awesome curry. But tonight, with the leftover chicken I had laying around that I was gonna use for the spicy chicken stew IF K came to dinner (which we all know she didn't), I made my own deconstructed version of samgyetang. Samgyetang is a one pot chicken soup in which a whole chicken is stuffed with dates and sweet rice and boiled for a looong period of time. I don't like dates or sweet rice (and I don't think they add anything to the flavor of the soup) so I made mine with small pieces of chicken (to cook faster), potatoes, carrots, zucchini, and an insane amount of green onion. You can never have too much green onion. That AND I bought three bunches for a dollar and used an entire bunch for this one stew. The end product was quite tasty:

Samgyetang

CLOSE-UP

All Gone!

“This is New York and there's no law against being annoying." --William Kunstler

I am tired. Soooo tired. I don't know how these New Yorkers do it. I really don't.

So, on Wednesday, I come home from the bakery to find the Queen's missed call on my cell and a text message telling me to call her cause she found me a job. Weeks before, if you remember, the Queen had called her friends about any job openings. One of them apparently referred me to a waitressing position at Cipriani, a catering company that has events at their restaurant locations. He told me I had an interview on Thursday morning and that I could start working the same night. Excited, I asked for an hour off at the bakery (horrible, horrible idea) and I left around 10am to go to the employment agency fo the company. They hired me on the spot and gave me directions to buy my uniform ($105) and get my pants hemmed ($4) before the event at 4pm at their Wall St. location. I went back to the bakery (stupid me) to finish my shift AND THEN pick up my uniform, but an hour later, I get a call telling me that they want me at another location BEFORE 4pm. SO, I tell Grim that I have to leave early that day (this is after I'm late coming back from the interview) and I feel really bad about screwing up my schedule with such short notice, but I go anyway and apologize profusely. As I'm trying on my uniform, they call me again and tell me, NO, go to the Wall St. location at 4pm. "Okay, then I really didn't need to leave work early. Thank you." *grits teeth*

Two loooong hours later (plus lots and lots of walking around on an unusually hot day for the middle of October) I arrived at the Wall St. location and here are a few of the things I saw:

Trinity Tree

George Washinton Statue

Giant Flag

And this is cool. That is a traffic light that rotates and goes from green...

...to red.

Okay, so once I arrived, it was literally chaos. There were soooo many waiters getting dressed, mingling, signing in, etc. I went down, got changed, signed in, and found the Queen's friend. He was supposed to help me out and work with me, but it turned out that I was assigned to a different table from him. I was a B waiter (there was two waiters to a table) and the A waiter was a guy who looked at me like I was insane when I told him that I hadn't been trained. He got nervous, which made me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get panicky. He tried to help me out by quickly going through the basics of serving food, but my self-esteem was shot at that point. Luckily, there were several new people who had no idea what was going on so I didn't feel as horrible.

Who really saved my ass was Miss S, the B waiter for the table linked to ours. She was so awesome. She explained everything we were to do and always kept an eye out for me, making sure I was on track. She also had to pick up a lot of my slack so I'm very grateful to her. Anyway, the night started with each waiter getting their assignment sheet. Then we all gathered around the supervisors for the night who went into detail about the sheets. Everybody then started moving toward the kitchen (it was literally a night of just follow the herd of waiters wherever they go sort of situation) and we ended up in back in the cafeteria (where we had gotten our sheets). Everyone was eating penne with peas in a sort of cream sauce so I grabbed a plate and scooped up the last few servings on one of the giant nearly-empty trays of food. Once everyone was finished, it was time for us to work.

All the girls were on duty to serve canapes on the mezzanine. I got in line with the rest of them and a plate of food was shoved at me with the statement "marinated salmon with capers." Once I reached the mezzanine, there was NOBODY there. There were like ten girls with plates of food just walking around the empty area for twenty minutes. Oh, how I should have cherished that moment. But of course, I was just bored and wondering when all the people would start arriving. There was a red carpet to the right and all the guys were lined up with champagne glasses near the entrance. A few people started coming upstairs and in a few minutes, I was down to only three servings of salmon (which signalled "time to get more"). After picking up the next dish (which I believe was "American caviar on a bliny"), I made my way back upstairs. And by the time I got there, it...was...madness. There were so many people, it was hard to move around. I would take a few steps, look around for a way out (when there was none) then just walk back to where I had been. Lots of people in tuxedos and evening gowns talking, laughing, and squeezing through the crowd. I felt like a sardine, but I still tried my best, offering food to people who would eye my tray with that look of "god, I want that, but I really shouldn't" and then tell me they didn't want any. Seriously, I have not seen so many look at food with such seriousness before. "If you want it, eat it!" Women are so funny when it comes to food, but that is for another post.

I went through a lot of plates. From "endive leaves with goat cheese" to "tuna tartare on a toasted baguette." Oh my lord, the worst was the "crab croquettes with honey mustard sauce." That thing weighed fifty pounds and I was struggling to hold it up for more than five minutes. I shoved that plate in front of anyone and everyone restraining myself from yelling "JUST TAKE IT!" with every ounce of my being. The event was held for the Fashion Industry Incorporated or something like that so there were a lot of celebrities. Afterwards, the girls were talking about seeing Gwen Stefani and Jon Bon Jovi. One of the guys was talking about how much he loves James Franco I think. I only saw Mary J. Blige, Tyson, and Emmy Rossum. I was too busy thinking "This is so f*&king heavy!" to actually care. Also, I don't get that star-struck with celebrities. Might be cause I just can't get myself to care. But then again, I do think I'd be pretty stoked if I ever saw Anthony Bourdain walking around. I love him and so does my mom. God, he's cool.

Anyway, moving on. After a while, it was time to start ushering people downstairs (they called it "inviting the guests" but whatever) and so, we started herding them, like sheep. And then it was time to serve the tables. B waiters picked up hot rolls while A waiters poured wine. Before I knew it, it was time to clear the table. Two plates at a time. TWO freaking plates at a time. The reason I'm pissed is because it is like a five minute walk to take the dirty plates all the way down to the kitchen. I guess it's not a big deal but I had been walking ALL DAY and my feet were killing me so I really DIDN'T want to walk back and forth, up and down the stairs, over and over again. Yes. But I did. Next was the main course. Two main dishes: lamb chops and sole and two sides: asparagus and risotto. The two A waiters served the main dishes while the B waiters did the sides. Miss S and I were to decide which one we wanted to do and silly me decided that since the risotto was harder to serve since it had to be scooped (yeah, I don't really get my insane logic either and oh yes, I was proved very wrong, very very wrong) so I CHOSE the asparagus.

The asparagus came on the heaviest serving dish I have ever attempted to carry on one arm. I literally felt I was carrying a giant rock on my arm which threatened to break off at any moment if not get burned off first by the intensely hot dish. OH MY GOD, IT WAS HEAVY! I don't know how everyone else did it cause I was seriously ready to give into the weight and just drop it on the guests. It was sooo painful that I actually screamed at the guest I was serving "WATCH OUT! THIS IS HOT!!" with a voice that boomed across the table and scared a few of the guests. Damn, my arm is still sore. Miss S, who is like ten inches shorter than me, carried her dish of risotto with grace and calmness and served it like a pro. I just looked on in awe. Well, not really since I couldn't think about anything while that thing was crushing my arm. We cleared plates, refilled waters, and then it was time to serve dessert. I lined up for the zabaglione cake while the A waiter served coffee and the other dessert, fruit tarts. At that point, I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing so I just stood around looking confused while Miss S served sugar and milk as well as petit fours to both of our tables. I'm really sorry to her for making her work twice as hard, but she wasn't annoyed at all and kept reminding me that "it was my first night." She was really awesome. If I see her again, I have to buy her something nice or something. She really deserves it for being so nice and cool.

And then, it was over. I followed Miss S downstairs to the changing rooms and we were done. I got changed, signed out, and got on the subway home. I was incredibly exhausted. I got home, took a shower, and slept. For about five hours before having to get up and go work at the bakery the next morning. K, who works three jobs AND is younger than me, asked me how things went. I told her everything and she felt bad for me, but to be honest with you, I felt worse for her! I seriously don't know how New Yorkers do this whole having more than one job thing, but it is killing me. Slowly. I don't think waitressing is for me, but I'm thinking of continuing it just until I make back the cost of my uniform. Urgh, I have my next waitressing gig on Monday. Wish me luck. I'll need it. So much of it.

"One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years." --Thomas Wolfe

Okay, get comfortable cause this is going to be a looooong one.

This weekend was one of the most eventful weekends I've had since I got here, second only to my apartment-hunting first weekend here. Remember The Girl Who Ate Everything? (From now on, I'll just call her The Girl) Well, she invited me to go have dim sum at the Ocean Jewel on Saturday with her friends and obviously I did. This is what followed:
There was sooooo much food. Fried food, meat and seafood food, food wrapped in other food, etc. For close-ups, go to The Girl's blog. She takes awesome photos. (Didn't I say that already?) I know my pictures suck, but hey, you should be glad I even upload pictures alright?! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to take out my cheap, dinky, hundred dollar camera when The Girl takes out something like this:

SHA-BAM!

Look at her camera!!! It's bigger than her head!! It's like a camera machine gun for god's sake! I rest my case.

So, yes, I have no idea what each dish was called. I can't even remember what everything tasted like, but I can say that everything tasted pretty good, hot, and fresh. Very interesting textures, tastes, and flavor combinations. I'm totally open to going to get dim sum again very soon, so in case The Girl is reading this, which I doubt cause she's sooo busy (and popular I must say), I just wanted to put that out there. And oh yeah, cause she's so busy, my post will probably be up before hers. (Take that The Girl Who Ate Everything!)

We went to a Korean market afterwards called Assi Market where the girls picked up some snacks and drinks. One in particular, who I will call Hot Bottle (from something she told me about herself), was browsing the frozen meat aisle picking out pig snouts and oxtails. She's quite an interesting one if I do say so myself. Both Hot Bottle and The Girl write for a food website called Serious Eats. So unlike the eight of us who had to pay for our meals, they got reimbursed for their eating. Seriously, who else is totally jealous of their jobs? They get paid to eat! Let's move on before my head explodes.

And then we went to the Flushing Mall which sits across from the Ocean Jewel.

We looked around the stores, window-shopping mostly. I like the pictures of the string instruments cause it reminds me of that commercial where all these inanimate objects have faces. Do you know which one I'm talking about? I love that commercial. Anyway, we left the mall and went to get boba tea. I got a green tea iced milk boba tea (wow, that's long) and we all ended up sharing shaved ice. The boba tea was okay (I don't really like boba tea that much) but the shaved ice was pretty good. And cheap too! Aw, I love Chinatown cause everythings so cheap.

At one point The Wandering Eater joined us (she has a fabulous blog as well with amazing pictures) and we went to get duck buns. She had one and so did The Guy (I call him that cause he was the only guy in our group of nine girls) who shared with The Girl. Aw, their nicknames go together just like the duck bun they shared together. I have no idea if that made any sense. Moving on.

After that, we went to another food court place with a bunch of stalls downstairs and got this noodle and tofu dish for $3.75. I don't know what it's called but it was good. Room temperature rice noodles with bean sprouts, cilantro (I think), and firm spongy tofu in a spicy, oily sauce. It went pretty fast, but then again, it was shared between like five of us. Did I mention it was $3.75? (Move over $5 subway sandwiches cause you just got your ass kicked by Chinatown) Everything else on the menu was like $5.50. So cheap. Sooooo cheap. I'm definitely going back to try...everything else. I just need to find out where it is. Hm.

After that, it's kind of a blur. There were Chinese bakeries, Bank of America (for me), Duane Reade at one point, during which half of the group decided they wanted some more food and went to Pinkberry for some froyo, and I think that's about it. I hope I'm not forgetting anything. If I am, just visit The Girl's blog to fill in the gaps.

And then it was time to say goodbye. (aw, *tear*) We all got on the subway to make our way back home. The Wandering Eater and Hot Bottle left much earlier so it was just the eight of us left. As you can see, I sat apart from the group cause I wanted to take this nice group photo (yay group photo!) but one is missing cause she was sitting next to me. I'm going to call her Romantic (she showed me her business card which had a little story to go along with it; very artistic and romantic, hence the name) and she kept me company for the short three or so stops before I had to leave.

Everyone was so nice and great, I felt for the first time that I really belonged here in New York with these incredible people. So, I just wanted to thank them all for letting me be a part of their group. I hope I can call them my friends cause they'd be such awesome friends to have, but it was only one day so I'm not quite sure yet what they are other than the amazing New Yorkers (except for two coming from DC) that officially welcomed me to the city.

I was actually supposed to be working on Saturday, but I took the day off to "make friends" so I was back to work on Sunday morning at the bakery. Here are a couple of pictures from the bakery that I took with my camera phone.

Oh, the espresso machine. The espresso machine. When I started working there, it was Me vs. the Machine. Everyday was a battle against this horrible, evil contraption, but fortunately, I have won the war. And now, I know how to make a latte. (Yay me!)

I officially became an employee of The Local Store as of Sunday! Princess Fi got my papers ready for me to fill out and gave me my schedule for next week. So, awesome!! And I must say, I really adore Princess Fi. She is one of the most amazing women I've met in my life. She sat me down and explained to me how she wanted me to follow my dreams here in New York and how she did not want the job to ever come between me and what I really want. She wanted me to know that all she wants is for me to be happy and content as long as I was working there and that she was always open to anything I wanted to say. Come on people, is she not amazing? I can't even use that word to describe her cause I've used it for so many other things. I feel I should create a word that I can use to describe how incredibly wonderful she is.

And I must say, I really do enjoy working there, even if it is so extremely early in the morning. All the people I've met working there are fantastic. I work weekdays with K (cause she's strong, quick, and independent) and weekends with Star (not really the most creative nickname but hey, she's a star). Ken (from his favorite streetfighter) comes in to make sandwiches some mornings and Carolina Foodie (and I so wanted to call her something else but it's totally inappropriate for this blog) like me is a newbie to the bakery. FrenchE comes in every morning to bake the goodies and keeps me company. The only real exception is Grim (the name is a little harsh I know but believe me, I don't intend it to be negative or hurtful) who owns the place along with Princess Fi. I partially call her that because she usually wears black and partially because of the way she makes me (and a few others) feel in her presence. I'm afraid of her, not because she's mean or evil or anything like that. She just is a little intense and expects a lot from the people she employs, which is a really good thing. Whenever I'm around her, I'm the hardest-working version of myself, and I'm really grateful to her for it.

Everyone has such a unique personality that it's so much fun working there with them. And everyone has been so nice, I really don't know what to do with myself. Maybe New York is my city and I've always belonged here. Who knows? I feel like I belong here now and that's a good place to be.

"There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless." --Simone De Beauvoir

For my one loyal follower (you know who you are), more random photos:

As I was walking around Manhattan today, there was a parade. An Italian parade. So I stopped, took a few pictures, and listened to the guy singing on the float in what I presume to be Italian. Sorry about the quality, I only had my camera phone today. I was finally at peace yet at the same time, incredibly excited cause, oh yeah, I think I just got a job.

But let me start at the beginning. The very beginning. The very beginning of last weekend. The Queen, and I just noticed that the nickname I bequeathed onto my roommate is very similar to that of another extremely important woman in my life (I apologize to the Queen of TV who has been and always be the first Queen in my heart), saw me down and depressed about my current unemployed state and couldn't take it anymore. Well, she had never really liked me talking about "if I find a job", but now she was ready to do something about it. To be honest, she just wouldn't take my giving up attitude anymore and called me out on everything. And I mean everything. Let me just say how amazing it is to live with someone who likes you but wants to push you to be the best you can be and the happiest you can be without taking any of your bullshit. And I had a lot of bullshit I was dishing out.

"Oh, but nobody will give me a job."

"I'm willing to do anything, but I don't want to work in an office or wear professional clothes."

"It's hard to get a job without experience."

"I'm never going to get a job."

She just let me rant and rave about how "the world was to blame" and how "I was really trying my best." And then, she knocked some sense into me. A giant boulder-sized wrecking ball of sense.

"Nobody's going to give you a job. It's not going to fall out of the sky. You have to LOOK for it."

"You're not in a position to choose what kind of job you want. You want to work? Then stop being so picky."

"You don't have experience? Then GET some experience."

"You've only been here two weeks. Let's see what happens in six months, and THEN you can tell me what you think."

She wasn't mean about it. She was just telling me the truth about life. "There's a lot of people out there that don't speak the language, don't have an education, and don't have any experience. But they find jobs. Do you know why? Because they NEED to." In other words, STOP COMPLAINING you WHINY STUPID girl. Well, the last bit was my own conscience, but still, it was the same overall message.

So, she put me into a chair next to her and started figuring out some options for me. She told me about her own job search and recommended job agencies. Looking online, she pulled out a list of temp agencies and told me to send my resume to them. But not before fixing my resume. She asked to see my resume and said "no, no, no, this is bad." I looked at her with confused, curious eyes and asked her to fix it, please. Faster than you can say "you're never going to get a job with this horror of a resume," the Queen "tweaked" my resume, making it more presentable, simple, and just better. I listened with eager ears as she called her list of contacts to see if there was anyone who could help me land a job. And finally, she gave me some advice.

"You have so much to offer. You have an education, you're a hard worker, and you want a job. You just have to tell the whole world that you're looking. You have to hold your head up high during interviews to show them that they would be lucky to have you working for them. You are you. And there's nobody else in the world that is you."

The pep talk had me inspired and ready to take another shot. The Queen breathed life back into me, and trust me, if you're around her, she'll do the same for you. She has so much energy, positive energy, and enthusiasm and passion. It's very very infectious. And addictive.

So, I woke up this morning with a list of places to see and I went on my merry way. But I felt different from yesterday, like all the hope and confidence was zapped out of me while I slept. However, I made a deal with the Queen that I would find a job in four weeks. (She made me make a schedule and a list of the things I would do everyday. She's like a bossy guardian angel in a way.) So, I went to a restaurant and filled out an application to work at Max Brenner's Chocolate Restaurant. My only friend from California, whom I met in film school, let's call her Happy Elf (because well, she's very cute like an elf and it makes you happy to be around her), referred me to the place. And come on, who wouldn't want to work in a chocolate restaurant seriously? But the guy interviewed me and he asked that question, that question that they all ask, "What does customer service mean to you?" And I gave my answer, which I swear to god is WRONG. I know, I know, it's not really a right or wrong question, but I feel like I'm missing the secret answer that experienced waiters and waitresses tell employers for this question that proves that they are in fact experienced. Or I might just be paranoid. Talk amongst yourselves.

I walked out knowing that I didn't get the job and feeling like a little bit more of my spirit had been chewed up and spit out. But I kept going. The Queen told me to keep going. So, I went to the next restaurant, a high class place that the Queen's friend had recommended. But once I got to the first location (there's like four), the place was empty. And I don't mean restaurant empty, I mean no tables, no chairs, no life. It was a barren ballroom. So, I went to the next restaurant, with the same name but different location. Turns out, that restaurant doesn't exist. Or it's part of an invisible world on the streets of Soho. Who knows? I was just feeling frustrated cause this day was starting to be like all the other days of failure. And I felt like I was going crazy visiting restaurants that may or may not exist.

The last place I visited was a bakery called The Local Store. It was tiny but cozy. And I went up to the counter and told the girl I was there for a job. She seemed nice (which is VERY un-NYC) and went to get someone else. This was very different from the very beginning I feel like. Every other place I went for a job, the people working there looked angry, miserable, or just bored out of their minds. And even though I was desperate for a job, there was always that little voice in the back of my head saying "god, do I really want to work here?" The answer was usually "no" but hey, I need money so I don't really care what I want. This time an older woman with red hair (and I love women with red hair) came out and asked to me come outside. She asked me to sit and started looking over my resume. I actually felt like a PERSON. Whenever anyone asks to talk with you one-on-one (which is like 20% of the jobs you apply for), they kinda have a few questions memorized that they ask everyone and don't really seem to listen when you tell them your answer. But then again, that could just be me.

She said, "You're from California? So am I." And I let out a huge sigh of relief. Someone like me! I can finally communicate without feeling like she won't or doesn't want to understand me. We talked and laughed. She, who I will refer to as Princess Fi named after Princess Fiona fro Shrek, told me that "People from California are nice to everybody and tell their life stories to people they don't know, but in New York, people are nice but in a different way. They tell people what they're thinking about right when they think it but they never tell you their life story." I'm going to remember that one. I think she was right because I started to tell her about my life story and how I came to NYC and how hard it is to find a job. And I think she felt sorry for me or she liked me or she's the most sympathetic, charitable woman in the world because she offered me a job. Sort of. See, I don't want to get my hopes up quite yet, but I really want this job. She told me to come in tomorrow to trail someone and if things work out, we can work out a schedule. So, I don't quite have a job yet. But I might have a job. And right now, I am soo happy I feel like I'm going to explode.

So, everyone in NYC! Visit The Local Store! One of the nicest, coolest women I've met in New York works there. And even if I don't get the job, I thank her from the very depths of my soul because she gave me hope when I needed it most, she showed me kindness when I was growing bitter, and she made me laugh when I had lost all humor. And if I can meet one person like her for every fifty people I meet, I consider myself a lucky girl.

This is a picture of a Hello Kitty fountain from the Museum of Modern Art. (Aw, Hello Kitty is crying. Weird thing is its staring at a giant bunny about the same size also crying. Hm, I wonder what Freud would say.) And so, this is where I'll end this post. I know, it was a long journey for you and me both. There was laughter, tears, and a whole lot of "god, I've wasted so much of my life reading this" but hey, this is my life and whoevers reading this has become a part of it as well. I finish with this last message. I do think that people from California and people from New York are different. For one thing, I feel like Californians are asleep, waiting to reach their goal, whether financial, career, or relationship. They're waiting for that moment when they'll finally be happy. But New Yorkers live in the moment, they search for happiness that is immediate and quick. I'm a film student who thinks working part-time at a bakery is a gift sent from the heavens. Not because I feel like it's a step toward my future, but because right now, that's where I am, where I want to be. While I was living in California, sleep came much too easily, and I constantly dreamt about where my life would lead, how I would get to the contentment at the end of the road. But now that I'm here, I live for the now. I don't want to wait around anymore. So, Californians, ask yourself this: What have you done today to make your day better than yesterday without thinking about tomorrow?

"As a city, New York moves in the forefront of today's great trend of great cities toward neurosis..." --John Lardner

"...She is confused, self-pitying, helpless and dependent."

So, my job search continues. I went on another open call today, a sushi restaurant this time. Same old routine of looking at resume, looking at me, looking unconvinced, and then sending me on my way. But today, I got really desperate. Really desperate. I begged them for the job, giving them this horrible, pitiful speech about how much I needed it and how I'd work harder than everyone else. It was quite an out-of-body experience. People always talk about dying, but I wonder how many people have experienced the death of their dignity. Sigh. But I still haven't lost hope. Can you believe that? There's still this small voice in my head telling me that luck is right around the corner. It's the same voice that put me on a plane to New York and told me "anything is possible." I just need to jam a pen in my ear and silence that voice.

Anyway, things aren't completely falling apart. Today The Girl Who Ate Everything responded to my email asking to be her friend. Oh, yeah, by the way, if you haven't already because you're lame, busy, or just out-of-touch with the world, you should totally visit her blog. It's one of the most awesome things you'll find on the web. Besides porn that is. And that's the end of my explanation. Going any further is like trying to describe, I don't know, Korean BBQ. You just can't. But once you experience you, you'll get it.

I admire her, but mostly, I just like her. So, in an attempt to be more like her, I applied to a job as a food reviewer on a website (one of the many jobs I applied to today ranging from marketing associate to cafe cashier) and this was the writing sample I sent in:

My Ode to the Banana
By: Gloria Park

Did you know that there is an entire website dedicated to the gloriously yellow and delicious fruit called the banana? The site (http://www.banana.com/) contains interesting trivia such as: “One large banana, about 9 inches in length, packs 602 mg of potassium and only carries 140 calories.” Incredible. And yet, as soon as I see those familiar, ugly brown spots spread along the beautiful golden skin (much like smallpox, I would imagine), I stick my nose up in disgust and quickly toss the contaminated, uneaten bunch into the trashcan. It hurts me every single time, and if you knew my budget constraints and self-righteous attitude when it comes to wasting food, you’d understand that I don’t usually do this. But it’s true, I am a bit of a snob when it comes to my sweet mellow, yellow friend. Oh, how I delectably enjoy peeling a barely-ripened banana, biting eagerly into its soft but firm offering, and letting the perfectly sweet, aromatic essence melt in my mouth. Only a few days later and I find I can’t stand the thin leopard skin covering what has now become mushy, unappetizing, and much too sweet. The banana to me is the ultimate Cinderella, cursed to diminish in beauty after a certain period of time--which reminds me, I must replenish my supply.

"New York is a great city to live in if you can afford to get out of it." --William Cole

Okay, so it's day two of my new blog and I have a new resolution. (who cares if it's not New Years Eve yet, I make resolutions every single day cause life is short) I need to add more pictures to my blog. I look and skim the other, prettier blogs that mock mine with their fancy photoshopped images and subscribed followers and I say "oh, yeah, well...good for you!" Yes, I have never been fast at rebuttals or comebacks. In fact, I just stand there staring into oblivion for a few hours before I finally come up with the perfect response/insult/retaliation only to find that whoever it was doesn't care anymore and surprise, surprise--neither do I. It's not so much that I'm bad at concentrating as it is that I'm so very intensely focused on one thing that I can't focus on anything else. And usually, I don't get to choose what I'll be obsessing over for the next few weeks, so it's out of my hands really. I blame television personally. I have what has to be one of the shortest attention spans in the world. Alternating my days between indifferent boredom and stubborn, all-consuming concentration makes my life a rollercoaster ride from hell. And talk about easily distracted. I started this post with one idea in mind and now I'm talking about my bipolar personality. Let's move on.

I've decided that the universe doesn't want to me to work and get a job (hey man, it's in the stars, the cards, whatever, all signs lead here) so I'm planning to reserve all my energy to do nothing with what might most likely be my last few weeks in New York City. Yes, yes, the universe has kicked my ass and rather than fight back or throw in the towel, I've decided to go visit that vending machine in the corner, browse through the snacks, and just...see where that takes me. It doesn't make sense (I never told you I did) but that's the essence of me. Crazy, psychotic, sabotaging-my-own-future ME. So, I'm sitting here, drinking my tea, writing this blog that NOBODY is reading and just...chillin. Maybe I'll take a nap later. Ah, the possibilities are endless.

"The faces in New York remind me of people who played a game and lost." --Murray Kempton

Maybe that's why so many people ask me where to go. I mean, I'm a tourist myself, how the hell should I know how to get anywhere? And besides, I'm really quite horrible with directions so you really don't want to ask me where to go. I always go the wrong way. Always. (Remember my goal from my third post?) But I feel like people are afraid to ask actual New Yorkers because they're not easily approachable. I sure in hell don't want to bug the pissed-off looking people that ride the subways with me. I must look too nice. I have to learn to look like a real New Yorker. Three young guys came up to me and one of them asked "which way to go downtown?" I said pointing "that way to go downtown." If they had just stopped then, everything would've been fine. But nooo. Another one asked, uncertain, "but which way to Brooklyn?" I replied with "ohh, Brooklyn is that way," pointing the other way. (insert sound of extremely large sledgehammer hitting my head) I don't know why I said that, I honestly don't know. I should've said "Brooklyn IS Downtown" but I didn't. Because I'm stupid. And horrible. I feel sorry for the guys who listened to the crazy Asian girl who has no idea what she's talking about and leads them in the wrong direction. Fortunately, I didn't feel bad for too long because hours later, a young Indian girl came up to me in the same station and asked me "how do you go Uptown?" and I actually pointed her in the right direction. It was like canceling out the wrong directions with the right ones. I doubt the three guys feel that way, but hey, I need to sleep at night and irrational thinking helps me get through the guilt. Sorry, again.