If you can read this, you’re spying on me…

24 08 2008

After hopping the East River again, I’ve landed north of 14th Street (which is a first), on the eleventh floor of my brand new dorm. It doesn’t quite feel like home at the moment (I almost sound like Josh). That is, Maria and Emily haven’t moved in yet and I’ve put off unpacking because I’m half sick and half in denial. It’s like my body craftily plotted and enacted its revenge for being forced to work nonstop all summer. As for the view from my huge windows? Not bad – the Met Life Tower surrounded by apartment buildings as far as the eye can see (which, in this case, isn’t very far because several apartment buildings are blocking my view).

According to Wikipedia, it was the tallest buildling in the world from 1909-1913.

According to Wikipedia, the Met Life Tower was the tallest buildling in the world from 1909-1913.

Oh, there’s also a poster in a window across the street that reads: If you can see this, you’re spying on me. It makes me think about how many people could be spying on me right now, what with my blinds open and desk light on, while I awkwardly blow my nose and type this entry. Then again, I’m sure I’d be watching my neighbors if I were staring out my window and someone’s light happened to be on. Voyeurism: every New Yorker’s favorite pastime – it’s like live reality TV!

Anyway, I’m going to bed in a last-ditch attempt to sleep off this sickness. Welcome Week officially starts tomorrow, meaning much of downtown NYC will be aflutter with fresh(men) faces as anticipation floats in the air like allergy-inducing pollen. As a rising junior, my plan consists of the following: avoid thinking about my future career while memorizing these new avenue names (Lexington, Park, Madison, Broadway, 5th) and enjoying the remaining days of summer vacation.

Update: some Spybusters (?) dude posted what I wrote about voyeurism in his security blog as the “Quote of the Day – A New Yorker Ponders…Surveillance.”  Internet microfame, here I come, ha.





Should I Quit My Second Job?

30 07 2008

Lately, it’s been difficult for me to keep up with blog posts . Between my two jobs, I work almost 60 hours, six days a week. Which basically means I spend what little free time I have trying to maintain my friendships and preserve some semblance of a social life. And while I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, that happens to be exactly what I’m doing – because this summer is far more stressful/exhausting than I had originally planned. And I have yet to go to the beach, which is just wrong.

This is from last summer.  Note the yellow polka-dot bikini.

This is from last summer. Note the yellow polka-dot bikini and the smile on my face.

Sure, I’m making a good deal of money, but I don’t even have the time to spend it on anything but food. Or, rather, I blow an obscene amount of money on an adorable onesie from In God We Trust (see below), just to make up for my lack of shopping all summer. Then I proceed to rationalize the purchase to death – I’ve settled with the conclusion that I deserve to spend my hard-earned money however I please, though I’m trying to ignore the fact that I could’ve bought myself an iPhone for the same price.

It's this design, but black & navy blue instead

With all that said, I’m deciding whether or not to quit my restaurant job as a hostess and cocktail waitress. I love my internship and the restaurant is only making me too exhausted to function during the day. This past week has been far more stressful and full of what I can only describe as bullshit. Maybe it’s the ugly and rebellious, screw-authority side of me that only surfaces when I get scolded for insignificant reasons or reprimanded for things I didn’t do. Or maybe I just resent the job because it has taken over many nights which I could’ve spent with my friends, or at home in New Jersey with my parents. And no matter how good the pay, I have no pressing need to serve creepsters their glasses of drunk (on the rocks) or to explain to strangers why they can’t have an eight-person table for a party of three.

I’ve taken on jobs the way I eat at buffets – by piling spoonfuls of different dishes on one plate without considering that I won’t be able to finish the whole mess even if I tried. I’m beginning to realize just how much my time and sanity are worth. Which is to say I can’t be the Little Engine That Could(n’t Say No To Work) anymore.





Old Places, New Memories

21 06 2008

This week is NYU Gallatin‘s Summer Orientation. As an Orientation Leader, I’m living in my old freshman dorm until Thursday. Flashback, much? My room is a single this time around – a far cry from my low-cost triple freshman year (I lived on the top bunk), and an even farther cry from the loft apartment in Brooklyn which I’m sharing for the summer with 4 close friends (partially pictured below – think the REAL RealWorld Williamsburg). Anyway, I had to turn on my music to kill the silence here and to muffle the creaky/creepy noise coming from what I imagine to be a huge machine/generator somewhere outside my window.

It’s strange to think that two years ago I lived just one floor above where I am now. It still smells the same (in a reassuring way), if that makes any sense. I neither smell the same nor am I the same person. I guess this post has turned into an expression of nostalgia. I mean, it’s the kind of nostalgia I feel when I walk around campus or other areas I know well – the content kind. It’s the sense of familiarity that stems from my countless memories and experiences of a certain place/park/store/building.

I’m suddenly so exhausted from today’s twelve hours of training that I literally can’t keep my eyes open. If I keep writing, I’ll more than likely type something as I’m losing consciousness (which, as I’ve learned several times, reveals awkward things about my subconscious). As Orientation goes on, I’m sure I’ll have more to say – that is, if I’m not even more drained of energy and deprived of sleep. For now, though, I will be crawling into my bed of standard-issue, dingy white sheets. Hot.

(photo taken by Don Xavier Polistico, roommate/bestfriend)