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This was the story of my entire weekend…sick in bed. I had to nix my trip to Boston at the last moment and spent the past three days curled up under my comforter, watching days switch to evenings and eating Oreo cookies. 
One of my co-workers suggested my sudden sickness was because this week was particularly busy for me. On Thursday I began my new job (in addition to my internship M-W) and by Friday afternoon I was feeling very dizzy, and my body was flipping from hot to shivering cold! I tried toughing it out, but only make it through 3/4 of the work day. 
It’s different working five days in New York versus in North Dakota or Minnesota, because here I have a 45 minute commute on both ends of the day. I start each morning walking a mile to the subway, take the train into midtown Manhattan, work 9-5, then do the same routine home — only a little more exhausted. It’s a marathon, and it really wears a person down! I don’t know what I’d do without my weekends to decompress. 
The one bright spot of the weekend was going to the grocery store and stocking up on sale-priced Häagen Dazs ice cream. And eating it in bed.
xo
j

Manhattan Maps and Other Approved Thoughts

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Near the top of my favorite things about New York, aside from the randomosity, are the happenstance instances where you meet strangers. People that you have never seen in your life that approach another with casual fearlessness for the sake of a two or twenty-minute exchange.
I have never experienced this perplexing proximity as much I have in this city. Maybe it’s due to the densely-populated area, or maybe I just look friendly enough to talk to. On multiple occasions, and especially at coffee shops, unfamiliar faces have taken a seat across from me and struck up a conversation about anything from iPad cases to the US Postal Service. It’s fascinating. 
A few weeks ago, I was sitting at a coveted two-top table at Starbucks on Astor. The place was packed, and it took me a good ten minutes of hovering before I moved in. I turned on my electronic devices and tuned out — momentarily. Several minutes later, someone had spotted the empty chair across from me and envisioned a big “FOR RENT” sign taped to it.
I looked up. A well-groomed woman, probably in her 60s, was mouthing something to me. CAN I SIT HERE? I nodded in agreement, too polite to say no. She had long, slick white hair and Ray-Ban aviators, and tugged along a shy cocker spaniel. 
“Ellen,” as I soon learned her name, wasted no time putting me to work. “Is that an iPad? I don’t even know how to work one of those things. Can you tell me what the weather is in Santiago, Chile?”
“Sure.” I plugged in the information and relayed to her that it was eighty-something degrees.
“What about the weather in March? What’s the weather like in Santiago in March?”
It was a roundabout way of telling me that she was going on a cruise with her girlfriend, a free cruise at that, and before that vacation she’d be going to London for such-and-such. 
Before I could get in a word, the conversation segued to the prior activities of her afternoon, where she stood in line at the post office for an unreasonable amount of time. Dissatisfied with her service, Ellen took it upon herself to document the whole lousy experience, perhaps for authorities, or maybe just for her own satisfaction. She pulled out her cell phone, the Blackberry that she’d told me five minutes earlier she had no clue how to use, and stuck it in the curmudgeon postal worker’s face. She snapped a photo to the screams of, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU CAN’T TAKE MY PICTURE!!, then, as she put it, realized that carrying through with her scheme meant that someone was probably going to murder her later that night. So she stopped.
All the while, I nodded and smiled, and Ellen could read what I was thinking. You probably think I’m crazy! I shook my head and laughed, telling her that I was just happy to be talking to someone. And I was. After talking about her dog, her home in East Hampton, and her struggle to overcome the gender inequalities of the film industry in the 1980’s, Ellen ran out of words for herself, and asked me what I was doing. What are you, a student? Yes, kind of. At Cooper? Right across the street? I shook my head ‘no,’ and she bombarded me with YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE TO COOPER! IT’S FREE, a statement I found to be about as effective as, “YOU SHOULD HAVE EATEN THE PRIME RIB FOR DINNER SIX YEARS AGO. IT WAS DELICIOUS.” Mentioning school was a good lead for Ellen to talk about how much money she’d donated to various organizations, so I listened more.
By the end of the conversation, I could see that Ellen felt she’d made an impression on me (which she did), so she dropped her credentials (she’d produced a few PBS documentaries) awards (an Emmy) and social contact information. Ellen was now my “friend!” What was more, Ellen offered me a small job — no questions asked — pet-sitting her cocker spaniel (“Bella, she’s a rescue”) while she was on her cruise in Santiago.
Things like this happen every day in New York, and there are Ellens everywhere — people just looking to connect with the world, or talk about their life, or learn about someone else’s. Connecting in a real-world situation outside of social media, the kinds of interaction that another stranger told me last week, “we’re afraid to do.”
So, I am embracing the awkwardness. Loving the exchange. You never know what you’ll get.

Weekend Wrap-up: The Birthday Edition

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What can I say? It had to have been one of the most incredible weekends in the city so far. I was showered with love and happiness in celebrating my 24th anniversary of life on Friday, 10 Feb. The weekend festivities were accompanied by a special visit from a North Dakotan and included:

• Great views of the city

• A birthday morning at Ohm Spa on 5th Avenue, where I was treated to a relaxing hour-long massage, manicure and pedicure!

• A ride up to the top of the Empire State Building to see the Big Apple from a bird’s eye view! So cool.

• Strolls through Central Park and Times Square

• Treats, treats, and more treats!

• An afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History, where the likes of dinosaurs, and every other creature that has walked, crawled, swam, slithered and wiggled across the United States over the past millions of years can be found (not living, unfortunately)!

• Lots of walking without a destination, just to see what’s stumbled upon (my favorite kind of walks)

• Birthday dinner at a lovely Upper East Side Italian restaurant, an all-around classy experience
• Comedy at the Comedy Cellar, where much laughter ensued! Followed by a night out in Greenwich Village
* * * * *
It was a complete unforgettable day — and weekend. I am so happy to have experienced my first birthday in NYC, and also very thankful for all of the kind thoughts, cards and messages I received, and for all the people that made me feel like a trillion bucks as I transitioned to 24! You all rock.
Coming down from the exciting weekend won’t be easy, but things are gradually falling into their happy place here, and I have lots to look forward to…
xo
jc

Someone Else’s Life

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During a work errand today, I had the pleasure of delivering a few packages to a co-worker’s apartment in the East Village. I stepped into the building on 4th and E 12th and knew it was going to be something special.
I knocked and Melissa, a beautiful brunette, swung the door open to reveal a room of splendor. It was a cozy loft filled with charming mirrors of every size, artwork, antique furniture and unexpected embellishments. A thick, fluffy white fur throw was slung over a chair, and a wooden spiral staircase swirled up to a lofted living room. I could have been in a dream. She invited me in, and I silently rejoiced that I’d get to spend a fraction of time in her quaint dwelling.
We began unpacking the several boxes of framed prints I’d brought, and all the while Melissa commented on how disheveled her apartment was, and how much she had to do. When I asked her what the prints were for, she casually mentioned that Vogue Italia was coming tomorrow to photograph the space. She then turned the conversation to me, asking where I went to school. I couldn’t imagine she’d be interested in me, but I told her I’d come from Minnesota, and she seemed delighted, if not fascinated of my transfer. “I kind of moved here on a whim,” I explained. She responded with, “I’d kind of like to get out of here on a whim.”
What?! I had to think about it for a moment. Why would anyone want to leave this behind? Her gorgeous apartment in a snug Manhattan neighborhood, all of her collectables, everything so…
“I mean, I love New York, but…”
We walked back to her bedroom. I gasped. Giant windows stretching to the ceiling and covering more than half of the wall, looking down seven stories below. Book shelves tidy with shoes, art and momentoes scaled another wall top to bottom, with a library ladder for access to the upper shelves. Why would anyone want to leave this?
For those fifteen minutes that I was at Melissa’s apartment, there was a predominant thought in my head: How can I have this? And I found it so strange, so odd that she had exactly what I wanted, and desired to leave it to go elsewhere.
Which brought me to a parallel. The more I thought about Melissa, the more self-reflective and empathetic I became. I had a version of Melissa’s life, only in Moorhead, MN. While she was running a gallery and traveling the world from San Francisco to Istanbul, I was working at a gallery and traveling. While she was meeting artists and shaping her career, I was in school doing just the same. And when she wanted to get out of New York — to be somewhere else and see new things — I left Minnesota and did just that.
I suppose it made me understand, more than usual, that I have a great life. It may not involve a seventh-floor lofted paradise — rather, a fishy-smelling residence in Brooklyn — but it’s brought me somewhere to see new things.
Isn’t that what everyone wants?
—j

Savory Sundays

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What better way to spend Sunday than to roll to the Upper East Side with a friend, stroll around for a while and soak up the vibes of New York City?

I enjoy getting together with my fellow North Dakotan-turned-Brooklynite, Jenny, who I met during an  art history course early on in college. Not only do I like Jenny because she shares my name (she, too is just a Jenny and not a Jennifer!), but because she is genuinely sweet to the core. It’s also nice to have someone around that understands North Dakota without questioning, “North Dakota? Really?” before dismissing it as a figment of geographical lore.

Happy SuperBowl Sunday. I will not be watching the game, but likely leafing through yet another book (I’m on a roll!).

xo
jc

In Review: One Month in New York City

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Believe it (or believe it not), tomorrow marks my first month in New York. And what a splendid month it’s been! I now can say I’ve lived here (and more than in just a tourist sense). I’ve been reminiscing all day about what I’ve gained during the last 30 days. It turns out that this city has instilled within me a tremendous growth—more than I thought possible in month—and given me strength, courage and the audacity to perhaps, someday, leap to even bigger and bolder things.

To put my experiences into a bullet point list really does not relay the lessons I’ve garnered. They are embedded into my mind and most are feelings, not actions. Feelings are the emotions that surface when you see big buildings (awe), or when you’re riding on the wrong subway train (fear), or when you realize you are standing amongst thousands of strangers in Times Square, and you feel peace (happiness). Actions can be put into words: I walked here, or I ate there. Feelings are felt and registered, and not easy to word.

After spending many years in Minnesota, it felt that I was beginning to miss certain feelings. My life was compromised of a rollercoaster of stress and happiness, and there was little room for adventure. My world has since been cracked open and poured out —everything is spilling in front of me, and I’m again gathering what is important, in addition to the things I’m picking up here. I have let go of things—a car, a closet full of clothes, a big bed and all the creature comforts. Everything has been replaced, if not with something new, then with something scarier. To me, it only seems necessary in order to drain the greatest fears from my heart.

I’ve mentioned this story before years ago, but I often revisit the thought. I was alone on a walk one day in England, strolling through the streets of Oxford, when I was approached by a young man. He had a great big afro and by all means looked quite threatening. He began talking to me, and sensing my fear of him, engaged in a great conversation.

He asked my why I was scared. I have no recollection of my response, but he continued talking as we walked. He talked about God and life and his experiences. I remember none of it, except one thing that he told me: You can’t live your life in fear.


I have since been very aware of this. Life is filled with really scary things: people, places, and any combination of a scary person in a scary place. I am simply learning to weed through what is actually scary, versus what is a figment of fear in my head. The thought of moving to a new place, especially somewhere as big as New York, is initially frightening. Every day I am faced with hundreds of little worries that I’ve rarely experienced. Is that man on the corner going to snatch me up? Am I going to get hit by a crazy taxi driver? How do I get out of this shady neighborhood? Is someone going to mug me? When will I find a job? How am I supposed to find my way around this huge city? Do I belong here? 


The truth is, there is not a lot of substance to these worries, and I am merely going through a cultural adjustment that evokes panic. I would never intentionally put myself in a situation that I felt at serious risk, but I will recognize that being here is a risk in itself.

The risk is this: embracing the unfamiliar as a welcomed challenge. It is about being lost, being scared, and realizing that I am actually always where I need to be. It is remembering that no matter what, I am going to have a warm bed to sleep away the day’s missteps and to dream about the experiences I’m having. It’s about a beautiful balance of adventure and safety, and going out of my way to take steps on new ground. And it is always, always about growth — about personal reflection, and about my connection to other people and the world.

Now before I get emotional, I will say this: New York has made me feel immensely sensitive towards mankind. It brings to light people that are struggling, and people that are getting by and people that are all around enjoying life. To me, it is the world within a city. It has heightened every sense, of sound, of sight, of taste. It has opened up my life to acceptance of so many types that I would never cross paths with otherwise.

It has been a wonderful month — and not all wonderful in happiness, but wonderful in challenge and adjustment. In retrospect, it was one of the toughest months for me, but the silver lining is all the fear I’ve alleviated, and the little everyday obstacles that I’ve prevailed against.

There is so much left to understand, and to see; the city is truly my oyster. It’s all very exciting.

Take care & be well —
jenny