Category: New York City

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      

WTC

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The other night it was beautiful in the city — nearly 60 degrees — so after work, I decided to go for a walk. A long walk. I had no destination.

From my building on East 32nd, I walked south. I walked for three miles, until I reached the World Trade Center site. By that time it was dark, and the hustle of the day’s workers had headed home. There was a silence that suspended over the area.

The last time I visited the WTC site was in 2006. I remember a fence with flowers scattered about, and I could look down into the barren pit where the buildings once stood. Crews were at work — as I imagine they had been for five years at that point — and nothing seemed real. I remember looking around and seeing the Wall Street sign, and thinking that I was in a movie.

Even though six years have passed since my last visit, it’s still hard to see progress, and even harder to grasp the concept of a plane flying into the towers in the very air that I was looking up at. While the people around me, those workers that undoubtedly passed by the WTC grounds every day, seemed immune to the scene, I was once again struck. My mind played an imaginary tape of 9/11 as I walked the surrounding streets. The buildings that hug the block of land that once held the towers stand tall, almost protectively, like they lost two brothers.

The memorial rests on one plot; I didn’t get a chance to visit. The new WTC tower is on the rise. It’s shimmering and growing into the sky, some complete, yet quite skeletal. Pinned to a wall near the base is an American flag. There is nowhere to go but up.

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I woke up this morning and it was pouring rain. Someone on the street corner was having an intense shouting match with another person, while people on the street stopped and stared. There is really no such thing as silence here.

Misty Monday

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A rainy day in the city (wait…wasn’t it just snowing yesterday?!) and an exhausting one at that. 
I’m spent.
Empire State Building in the mist. The outline of the building can barely be traced in the sky.
Little Chinese restaurant seen in Williamsburg while running a work errand. I love the character: “Chinese Food to Take Out.”

Returned from running around the dreary city to find Dunkin’ Donuts and hot chocolate for the office — !!!
xo
j

Spaces + Places

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A few quick shots from today —

This is what I wake up to every morning. White. My room is all white — white walls, white ceiling, white curtains, white doors and white fixtures. When I first arrived, my uncertainties caused me to the link all the surrounding white to an institution, but as I’ve grown comfortable, I associate this white place with refreshing warmth.

This white room makes me feel safe. I can come here at any time and it’s all mine. I can look out the window and see all the neighborhood happenings, of people walking dogs and pushing strollers and listening to music. I can crash here with warmth and silence after a long day. 
I was just thinking this evening of the first feeling I got when I entered the room. A while back I showed how a room tells a story about the person that inhabits it. I love that a person’s physical and mental presence can be felt in a space, even if they are not physically present, simply by the objects in the room. I will never forget the feeling upon entering my grandparents’ old house and seeing the coffee table — it always had a game on it, and always a game that Grandpa would play. I still get chills when I see the coffee table with a game on it, even after it’s been moved to a new room in a different place. To me, that coffee table holds part of Grandpa’s story, no matter where it is.
But this room — when I entered this room, I couldn’t attach it to anything. All of the white left a void, all clues erased of who the former occupants could have been. There are the typical nail holes on the wall, and spots of red wax indicating a candle’s burning. Other than those clues, I’ve been left to wonder.
I’ve been creating my own story for this room of mine. Sure, I don’t spend a lot of time in it, but it is something for me: my first place in New York, a spot of independence, and a home far away. I don’t think I could ever forget the events of the night I got here. After sitting in the lobby at the airport guarding my suitcases and waiting for time to pass, I took a cab here. I felt too sick from the long cab ride to feel any excitement. After a half hour, the cab dropped me off at my place. Perched atop my suitcase on the front stoop in the cold, I waited to be let in. Twenty minutes passed and finally I was relieved. 
I began unpacking my things — slowly, with some uncertainty. Could I make it here? I tried not to get too comfortable. All the things left in the room — the bed, the lamp, lampshade, and nightstand — they were all white, too. The bed was stripped bare and I realized I had nothing to sleep with. I absorbed my new surroundings for a while before turning out the light and falling asleep in my coat, covered with a towel in place of a blanket. Here I was.
There is a certain philosophy about rooms that I have learned over the past years from frequent moves. That is, it is easier for rooms to hold feelings than possessions, as feelings are better to carry. They are steadfast and lightweight. They withstand time, distance, weather and can be kept safe in your mind. I brought 38 pounds of my life with me in a suitcase to this place and have picked up a few since. But I also gained the most liberating sense of freedom from having so little! That feeling is what I will remember.
Finally,
I visited the Pier today in Brooklyn Heights. It was so cold, but so beautiful. One of those moments where it hits you…I’m here!

love,
jc

An Object of Beauty

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I’m currently reading Steve Martin’s book An Object of Beauty. I like to dig it out during my morning/evening subway rides from Brooklyn to Manhattan, biting off a few short chapters at a time.

When I went to the book store to look for a book, I couldn’t make up my mind. I am so out of the loop as to what’s good and what’s mediocre that I often rely on the New York Times Bestseller seal of approval to guide my way.
I read the synopsis on the back cover of An Object of Beauty, and immediately knew it was the book I needed. The story is about a young woman named Lacey who, like me, is living in New York City. The story is set in the early- to mid-90’s and chases Lacey around the city, where she works for Sotheby’s. Initially starting out working with the forgotten artwork in the basement, witty Lacey works her way up the ladder in the art dealing world and gains the respect of gallery giants. The story starts to build when she makes her first $7,000 off a cunning art sale, moves to an expensive flat and begins purchasing expensive works. I’m about one third through the book and eager to know how her life continues to unfold.
Anyway, Lacey is so intriguing to me because at the beginning of the story, she’s barely getting by and garners little recognition. But once she realizes that everything is in front of her, and she merely has to say the right things to the right people; that she is capable of doing what no one expected of her; and how to apply herself amidst opportunity; she soars.
Lacey gives me a lot of hope, because right now I feel that I am sifting through forgotten works in the Sotheby’s basement, hoping to strike a land mine of wealth. There is so much opportunity here, it’s just a matter of time before I can hopefully climb to the first floor and see the light…
I am happy to start somewhere, and I’m happy it’s here.

View of Manhattan from Manhattan Bridge during a taxi ride home. I love evening cab rides where you can sit and enjoy all the pretty lights.

xo
j

Weekend Wrap-up

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My mom asked me today if I was lonely. I didn’t think about it very long before I responded, “No.” 
There is too much to discover here to be bored or lonely. Not to say that I don’t miss the people and familiarity I left behind — I do. I have just been so absorbed by this new place and to feel alone. The city has kept me company!
It was an extremely lazy weekend. I got tons of sleep and poked around the neighborhood. Hopefully next weekend is more eventful as I get a jump-start at finding events to attend…
Bleecker…always reminds me of Simon and Garfunkel.

Walk home from the subway station.

Park Slope drugs.

Fashion statement in Park Slope

Pizza & PDA at Roma Pizzeria.

love,
jc

Week in Review: Geographic Familiarization + More

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Greetings! I’ve officially wrapped up my first week in NYC and am heading into round two! Week one was a mix of terror and delight, but I must say the overall impression that New York City gives me is WOW!

How did I make it through my first week? For starters, I learned which neighborhoods you DON’T want to get on a subway to, and the general directions that most trains travel. A few things I’m trying to be proactive about:














  • Learning the subway system. As I mentioned in my previous post, I had quite the debacle during my first few days out. Last week I met up with a college friend (who coincidentally also was my hairdresser in Fargo…convenient much?) and being super cautious, left a half hour early to meet up with her in the event that I got lost. Well, guess what? I got lost. After stepping on the wrong train (on the wrong LINE, too) I was tugged into a carousel of subway dizziness. It was frustrating to say the least, and a great learning experience. I’m never going through that again! (Don’t quote me on this.) The rest of the week was smooth as far as subway rides go, and I’ve managed to let go of my “personal bubble” I always felt entitled to. “Personal bubbles” do not exist in the subway world. You grab on to that greasy, lubed-up pole, plant your feet and hold on for dear life. Accepting the fact that people are going to rub against you (and they may not be pretty, showered people) comes with experience.
  • Acquainting myself with the districts of Manhattan and Brooklyn.

    • One of the greatest things about NYC (from what I’ve garnered in a week) is the DIVERSITY. It’s beautiful. One moment you’re in the bustle of business people, the next you’re walking next to a hippie through the East Village, there’s a person to your right speaking Chinese and one to your left with a British accent, and the next minute you’re walking past a row of Korean restaurants and listening to a Brooklyn girl have a baby-daddy argument on the phone. You never know. New York is a great way to culture yourself! 

I enjoy the puzzle-like geography of the Manhattan districts, and am currently trying to commit them to memory so when I look at my coordinates, I know what neighborhood I’m in. Little things make sense once you think about them: SoHo is South of Houston Street, while NoHo is north of Houston. Yesterday I ran a work errand on West 23rd — the heart of Chelsea! Can you guess where the Upper West Side and the Lower East Side are located!? Right where they should be! Thank you, common sense!

  • Seeking out great places to eat. I admittedly haven’t done a lot of eating out at this point, partly because my budget doesn’t allow for it, and also because I don’t know where to begin. I’ve been using Yelp to direct me toward a few places. Last week I had an awesome meal at a Brooklyn Tex-Mex joint right up the street called Gueros, and today I found a great pizza joint, Roma Pizzeria, in Park Slope. But I’m still seeking out good, cheap eats that won’t leave me sick.
  • Studying style.  Where you have a city of diverse people, you also have diverse style. One of my favorite things about walking the streets of NYC is seeing what people are wearing! I’ve noticed that New Yorkers always have on nice, practical shoes — it’s an investment. Not to mention the variation in hairstyles, colors, and the intricate layering of clothing items (simultaneously very coordinated and effortless). I hope I can take away something in the wardrobe department!
  • Getting out of my apartment. I didn’t come here to sit — I came to move, and to explore. When I was searching for a place to live, my requirements were: safety first, then a roof over my head and a place to sleep at night. I’m lucky to have found just that, and have a place to crash after a long day in the city. It’s best for me to just walk intuitively — to see a street and feel it’s a good one to walk down, feel the lefts and the rights and perhaps stumbling upon a gem. There is so much ground to cover here, I feel that sitting around is using up valuable time.

Speaking of things that get me out of my apartment…

I also began my internship this week with 20×200. I should first explain how I came across them, ended up in New York City, and now am living every day (or at least the past week!) like there’s no tomorrow!
My wonderful cousin Erin tipped me off about 20×200 back in November. I promptly applied for the position and received a quick response. After an intense Skype conference call interview in mid-November, I took a deep breath and hoped that all my years of thinking about how to sound professional might actually come to fruition.
A month passed, and my hands were still empty of an internship. My fellow classmates and I would bemoan the task of finding work, as we were all in the same, empty boat — something that made me feel better about my lack of success. I continued to apply coast to coast at anything or anywhere remotely viable, but always thought, “Gee, it’d be sweet to work with 20×200.” As Christmas approached, I was still empty-handed. I made plans to pack up my belongings in Moorhead and move to  my parents’ in Minot, half-expecting that I’d be there for a month at minimum. Finally, in mid-December, I received the good news. I quickly made plans to move to New York to work alongside the fine folks at 20×200.

If you aren’t familiar with them, 20×200 does a really wonderful thing for artists and collectors alike. They offer beautiful, original, limited edition archival prints at exceptional prices. What does that translate to? If you have $20 to spare — I know most people do — you can own a one-of-a-kind print that supports both the artist and the supporter of artists, 20×200! It’s (this phrase is my pet peeve, but I honestly believe it applies here) *the perfect gift* for practically everyone!



If you’ve never visited their site before, now is the chance to take in some fantastic art and think about which wall in your home each piece could and would look good on!

(End of shameless advertising.)

A few more things from this week:

Window display at Bergdorf Goodman on 58th and 5th…so creative, so inspiring, so incredible.
Designer clothing in the windows of Bergdorf Goodman. Fashion I could only dream of affording at this point!
Lighting up the sidewalks of East 57th Street

Paid a visit to Times Square at dusk to experience the lights come alive!
The Flatiron Building at Fifth Avenue, Broadway, and East 22nd Street, as seen during a morning errand.
Running in errand in Chelsea, I ran across the legendary Hotel Chelsea. 
This advertisement says it all!
From a quiet evening in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

This has been a week in review, live from Brooklyn, New York where I feel completely cozy and absolutely at home. Keep tuning in for more adventures!

xo
jc

Finding my Footing

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Well, I made it to New York! It’s really an unbelievable feeling to have this dream sneak up on me, tap on my shoulder and suddenly become a reality.

To start, I was lucky enough to find a place to stay. I’m currently in Brooklyn in the Prospect Heights area, living in an apartment with three other young ladies (whom I was not acquainted with prior to moving). I have my own little space and it’s all I need for now! As for the area,  it is a mix of tiny shops, coffee spots, restaurants, and the typical grocers, laundromats and apartments of a city — all with a worn-in feel of a well-used neighborhood. There are gems littered throughout; for example, I went to a taqueria several blocks up the street this evening and it was every bit outstanding, and found a neat cafe to grab a snack or coffee.

I have been somewhat struggling with the transportation aspect of things. While the New York subway system is every bit efficient and effective (as far as I can see), I am heavily relying on my phone to get me solid directions from A to B. On my first day out, I walked to the nearest subway station from my apartment (about a 5 minute walk), bought a metro card and proceeded to play “eenie-meenie-miney-mo” as to which platform I’d stand on. My first shot, I guessed wrong.

Now, I’ve used subways in some of the world’s largest cities — London and Paris — and was quick to catch on. But New York? Struggle. As I waited on what I was 33% sure was the right platform, my doubt set in. A man approached me and asked me if I was a teacher. A teacher? “‘Scuse me miss, are you a teacher?” I was the only white girl waiting for the train, so someone was going to say something sooner or later.

Tail between my legs, I retraced my steps and let go of my stubbornness. I asked for directions and was well on my way. Since then I’ve become a little more familiar, but encouraging myself to ride as often as I can to get into the swing of things.

In the meantime, I’ll be scouring over this:

See what I mean?

I begin my internship with 20×200 on Monday and am looking forward to meeting new people and learning new things! I am excited to be a part of something in this great city.

It’s so refreshing to be in a new place, surrounded by things yet to be discovered. This is the start of something incredible.

xo
j