Oh Blogger, Where Art Thou?

My grandmother called while I was curled up on the couch in last night’s pants watching “Pretty Woman”, and I realized that I had not spoken with her in almost two weeks; long enough for one uncle to pass kidney stones and a brother to return to college. I also realized that I had not blogged anything in ages, and the Monty Python calendar on my bedroom wall still shows November 2005. Time sure flies when you’re under 30 and unemployed.

Blooddite Erin Coe organized a Ladies’ Night a little over a week ago, and I found myself seated in a circle with a handful of other newly-graduated journalistas discussing What We Did for the Holidays, What We Are Up to Now, and, of course, the dreaded What is Our Next Step.

Whereas Anne and Rachel have managed to land honest-to-God writing jobs (Anne for a law newswire, Rach for her hometown paper in Massachusetts) the rest of us are mostly freelancing and choking the tri-state area with resumes and earnest cover letters. I took a step back (and a sip of my vodka cranberry) and realized just how scarily grown-up our socializing has become. Most of the girls had just gotten off of work, and so were dressed in an array of skirts and khakis (except for I, the fact-checking-from-home bum, who was decked out in a stunning display of Clearance-Rack Gap.) Rather than dishing about guys in the department, or groaning over an upcoming story due for such-and-such a professor, we were earnestly discussing current events, the job market and our short and mid-term goals. Though we are all still enamored with the quirk and dazzle of the city – where last call isn’t until four a.m., and even then you can STILL find a slice or some Chinese – the faintest grumblings of frustration are beginning to crack our youthful party-girl foundations. We want jobs. We want stability. We want a washer and dryer inside of our apartment buildings, and some even hinted at live-in significant others and backyards. At the same time, there is this definite need to flash and make a difference while we still can; to tell that untold story, to visit that exotic country, to continue dating and sharing misadventures, to make our way to that next whiskey bar ...

Before our quarter-life crises reached full throttle, however, the conversation moved on to the Fox hit “24”, which Rach dubbed “the nail-biting, armchair-gripping, don't-ask-questions-while-you're-watching show, starring your favorite hero and mine, Jack ‘Nerves of Steel’ Bauer,” as well as how much better Jennifer Aniston looked during the first three seasons of “Friends” when she still had curves. Another round of drinks was ordered, and the world shifted back to more familiar and cheerfully-flakey territory. For a little while, anyway. The prospect of having to get part-time jobs at Starbucks or temping as data entry clerks is becoming a more terrifying possibility as we hold out for our big breaks.

So I have lost the past couple of weeks trolling job websites when I haven’t been fact-checking for Sally Tusa, former wonder-editor of mine at iVillage. Well, she’s still an editor. Just not mine – until the recent freelance fact-checking she so marvelously gave me.

I did dust off some interviewing duds and applied for a full-time position at iVillage last week, but that is still up in the air. There is an opening for a production assistant on the web page, and while it may not exactly be the shoe-leather-burning, world-changing daily reporting job of my dreams, it would be a great opportunity to learn how to put together stories on the web page, to make contacts and to have health insurance. Unfortunately, I’m not sure whether I was actually able to convince the interviewers that I would be really happy working in production as opposed to editing and writing, but at least the interview was a good experience to learn and to grow from, so I can only do better on the next two or three hundred. Or so I told myself on Wednesday night as I sipped my Guinness in East Village and watched Rachel kick Saruk’s ass in Connect Four.

So, life for the recent N.Y.U grads has been an eclectic mix of relief and anxiety, success and temporary setbacks, moving on and moving out. Rach just recently left us for Mass., Vanessa is in D.C. working with NPR, Ashley is on her way to California, and the rest of us are conducting the cost-benefit-analyses of remaining in the city now that the grad school safety net has been unceremoniously yanked away. Every day, I’ve made sure to look around and appreciate just what I have had in living here; just to be prepared in the event that I have to leave. I skated with hometown buds Andrew and Will at the Bryant Park ice rink while it was still there last week, and it was absolutely beautiful. Bryant Park is just a few blocks away from Times Square, and it offers spectacular views of the Square, the New York Public Library and the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. While my Texan cousins were in town, I took them around Midtown, Broadway, the Village, and Soho. We went to the top of the Empire State Building and ate at Joe’s Pizza (my absolute favorite – best, best pizza in the city.) Rachel hosted a couple of “24” parties in her apartment before she moved out. Mike and I discovered an absolutely insane bar, The Blarney Cove, (thanks to Ashley) where the bartenders – upon learning we had just finished at N.Y.U. – made us pound two glasses of champagne and kept the shrimp and shots coming – for free – for the entire night. Katt came out to visit this weekend, and we had a great time celebrating Morgan’s birthday at Zum Schneider’s in the East Village, where you can order a liter of beer in a ginormous glass mug that makes a very satisfying CLUNK! when toasting. And finally, roommate-Monica and I have begun running the Reservoir (1.5 miles) in Central Park on a regular basis, and although my out-of-shape body groans and hurts and the wind off the water is freezing, I can’t help but take in the views around the park and marvel that I have actually had an opportunity to live here.

The goal for the next four weeks is to figure out how to stay here while keeping my career ambitions and integrity intact.

The Texans Take Manhattan

The Doyle Cousins (Amanda, myself, and Raymond) reunited for the first time in eight years


I got the call during the middle of last week, and I knew the moment that I answered the phone that it had to be Amanda Cadjew. What other young woman with a Texan accent would be calling me from Grandma's cell phone?

We had a large, 50th Anniversary Party planned for Grandma and Pop-Pop this past weekend, and for the first time in almost a decade, the Doyles (some now renamed Qualls, Cadjew and, of course, Pesce) came out of the woodwork for some good times. Amanda brought her boyfriend, Tanner, with her, and she wanted to know if I would mind showing her and Tanner around the city on Friday. Of course not! I love this city, and any excuse to do the silly, tourist-y things that I am supposed to be "too cool" for is a welcome one.

And when I heard that Raymond would be joining us (he's a Marine; I haven't seen him since he came back from Iraq ... ) well, saying I was ecstatic is the understatement of all time.

We tried to keep the planning loose, because we all know what happens to those plans best-laid - and we actually managed to cover many hot-spots in Manhattan by day:

Ray, Tanner and Amanda


Looking downtown from atop the Empire State Building

Times Square

The boys abusing a fertility statue in Soho

The Washington Square Arch in the heart of NYU's sprawling campus

...but THEN we came to the bar...

and my evening plans were ultimately lost in a fog of beer pong and 25-cent drafts (not necessarily in that order) at Pat O'Brians on the Upper East Side ...

Mid-air shot


Me with Rugby-Jackie

More pictures to come
(or "TK" as we say in the journalism-biz)

For my next trick ...

Of course, my last day at The Observer would be both manic and tedious, with a dash of anticlimactic.

We had three fact-checkers on board yesterday – two seasoned vets (Erin Coe and I) and one newbie (Willow, an N.Y.U. student on the Cultural Reporting and Criticism track) – but what we really could have used were 10 Über Fact-Checkers and a flamethrower. Alas.

Stories were backed up, and it seemed that as soon as I finished checking a piece, there were two other fact-checking drafts and an edit at my elbow that needed to be dealt with. There was just no keeping pace. Add to that the incessant rain and everyone ominously sneezing and coughing with oncoming colds, and you get a 12-hour last day that was less merry than mundane.

There was … one … silver lining.

I unabashedly took a few minutes out from doing what I was supposed to be doing and checked my email (scandalous, I know) and in my Inbox was a response from one of the editors of The Battery Park City Broadsheet. I didn’t really have time to read the email then, because another stack of stories was suddenly unloaded onto my desk (talk about going out with a bang … today my wrist is killing me from clutching-red-pen-too-long Carpal Tunnel’s) BUT I DID notice there were several paragraphs to this email, so this obviously was not a rejection. I checked my final hurdle of stories wearily but with a smile on the inside nevertheless, and Erin Coe and I did grab that beer. Funny side note: My soul mate just may be a stocky lad in a red Stanford sweatshirt. Moving right along …

Long story short – tonight I’m going to a meeting downtown of the Community Board 1's World Trade Center Redevelopment Committee with one of the Broadsheet’s editors, and will write a 400 – 500 word piece on a specific item on the agenda regarding the safe deconstruction of the Fiterman Hall Building, on Broadway between Barclay and Murray Streets, which was damaged on Sept. 11, 2001. Covering the Redevelopment Committee may go on to become my steady beat. More importantly, though, covering the Redevelopment Committee as a steady beat will also bring in steady money – not a lot, particulary since they expect one story a MONTH to come from this, but still - this will be the first time, ever, that I get paid directly for a freelance article. And that is a point of some pride for me.

This calls for a celebration! Or, for washing a clean pair of professional pants and a shirt for tonight’s meeting.

If New Years' Resolutions Aren’t Quite Your Cup of Tea ...

I was invited to New Year’s dinner with Katt’s family on Sunday. (Katt is a roommate and best friend from college – in fact, she is the lass next to me in my profile-picture on this-here blog.)

Well – I had made an impromptu trip out to Eastern L.I. to Katt and Steve’s house Saturday night for New Year’s Eve (we did the city LAST year, see, and after a rather mellow and relaxing week at Home, I just did not feel like diving back into the metropolitan hustle and bustle just yet ... ) and Katt offered to drop me off in Manhattan on her way upstate to her parents’. Once in the car yesterday, however, she convinced me to just come along for dinner. I would be their excuse for leaving early – “We have to get Nicole home.”

We figured, upon arriving there at 3 p.m., that we’d stay four hours, tops.

Cut to 8 p.m., and we’re all getting our tea leaves read by her aunt.

Now, I’m not one who holds a lot of stock in psychics, horoscopes, or even religion(s). I had never really had my fortune told before (besides the occasional tarot reading in college) but tonight I decided I wanted someone to tell me what was going to happen in (what I am dubbing as) Double-Oh-Six. Let us just say that, what with the safety net of grad school suddenly pulled away, I have a growing concern for my future.

So –

I dumped a tablespoon of green tea leaves into a teacup (they looked like pencil shavings), added some hot water, and sipped the mixture slowly so as not to accidentally swallow any of the free-floating leaves. It tasted like Visine.

I drank until there was just a little bit of water left at the bottom of the porcelain cup, and then swirled it around a few times before turning said-cup upside-down on its saucer. While Katt’s aunt prayed, I turned the cup three times by its handle and made a wish. Then we picked up the cup. Most of the leaves fell out, obviously, and they piled into a garish green mound on my saucer. A few leaves had stuck to the bottom of my teacup, however, forming a handful of images that could tell a story/predict the future if one’s imagination was so inclined.

Katt’s aunt read the leaves while I took notes. Despite my original skepticism, I was caught up in the moment, and found myself getting really excited.

The first thing she noticed was The Number Seven, which obviously means good luck. Next, she told me she saw a letter “V” which means that whatever wish I made is definitely going to come true. [I will refrain from sharing my wish because I am a firm believer in wishes only coming true if you keep them close to your chest.]

It only gets better:

*I am getting a Letter in the mail this week, from a woman.

*I will be taking a trip by Plane VERY SOON, and the trip is taking me to EUROPE. This, frankly, is amazing. I have been dying to go to Europe for years; the most exotic place I’ve been to, sadly, is the Bahamas, which not only takes American money, but everyone also speaks English. There was Canada that one time, but we all know that Canada is really just the 52nd state (after Puerto Rico – forget Guam.) I need adventure!
I find it somewhat hard to believe I am going to Europe, however, because A – I’m BROKE, B – I don’t even have a passport, and C – BROKE!

*The most prominent picture/symbol in my cup was a perfect, long-stemmed Rose. This rose will be given to me by a gentleman; I am going to find romance very soon.
Thank. God.
It’s been awhile, and I am getting very frustrated. Emotionally, that is.
::cough cough::

*She saw the letter “F” and it’s romantically-inclined. I know nobody whose name starts with F. So, perhaps, this is Romeo.

*A Fir Tree was also prominent. Fir trees are symbolic of strength, what with their evergreen-ness and their deep roots, and are very positive. “A symbol of good things to come.” Excellent.

*She then freaked me out by asking if anyone I know has a house in the country. The last few weeks of school, actually, Blooddite-Nynka had been mentioning having a group of us go to his cabin upstate for a weekend. Anyway, with Nynks-permitting, of course, it appears that I am, in fact, spending a weekend in the country, because she saw A Country House. Sweet.

*She saw Bottles, hahaha. I will be drinking and having good times. How did she know?

*She then asked if I know a man with kinda long hair and a square face. As far as I can recall, no, I do not. Anyway, this gentleman either is in a band, or is the kind of person who WOULD be – very into music, he is. He has been admiring me from afar (or WILL be admiring me from afar if I have yet to meet him), and something romantic is going to happen. She is convinced that this is Mr. F of The Rose. She asked me if I liked music (yes) and if I hung out around the Village (yes.) “Well, keep going wherever it is that you go!” she said. Yes, ma’am!

*She saw a Broom. “Obviously, this means you are sweeping the slate clean. Changes are coming your way.” No surprise – graduation and all. “New beginnings ... you may even be moving.” Oh? “This is a very good sign.” OK!

*She then saw a Man in Formal Attire – in particular, with a Top Hat. “He’s an emcee, he’s on stage ... maybe at a night club or something. Theatrical ... a speaker.” The only stage-person or theatrical person I can think of is Andrew.

*She then saw a Car. A rental car. I am going on a road trip! Yey! EXCEPT – right under the car was a Saw. So, apparently, whoever I go on the trip with, our relationship is going to be severed. Which she said was not necessarily a bad thing, but well – I dunno. Perhaps this is regarding the Blooddite trip to Nynka’s; this will be our last get-together before we all separate post-graduation.

*She then harped back on the Rose again. “It’s just so STRONG. From every angle.” Oh yes, she kept twirling the cup around and looking from different perspectives. “It is a PERFECT rose.” And it was! Even I could see it – a stem, a leaf, and a perfect rose-head.

*Now THIS was funny – she saw a Sneaker. Do I walk, do I run? Yes, I do both. I had JUST been talking to Katt earlier in the day about how, what with being out of school AND work, I was going to start exercising again to keep myself disciplined. In fact, I was going to start running in Central Park. “There is an Owl right next to the Sneaker,” warned her aunt. “That’s a warning.” A warning?! “Be careful where you run. Don’t run in any bad neighborhoods or bad places. Maybe don’t run alone ... ” The Central Park Jogger came to mind.
OK – note to self – join a Gym.

*To my utter amusement, she saw a Box of Popcorn and Two Movie Tickets. “Someone is going to ask you to the movies on a date.”
OK Mr. F – I wanna see “Brokeback Mountain.”

*She saw more Bottles. Haha. More inebriated fun!

*Back to the letter “F” again. This time she noticed Keys next to it, but in particular, Many Keys, and related to a house. Your guess is as good as mine. Or hers, ha!

*Then she saw two Cannons facing each other. One cannon means good luck. Two is better. And the two shooting toward each other – she harked back to the Romance again. The Rose, the letter F, two Cannons – “Romance is in the air, and it’s going to hit you all at once. A great convergence that will surprise you.” Oh, my.

*She saw a Second Man Performing on a Stage – this one thinner, without the top hat. Again, I’m in the audience, as I had been for the first guy.

*This one piqued my interest: she sees a Big Chair and a Desk. Like I’m being interviewed for a job or for an assignment (she may have been cheating slightly – she knows I’m a journalist ::wink::) Anyway, this desk is no ordinary desk, but a very big one with a big chair. “It’s very upscale,” she said. “It’s very significant. Whatever it is, don’t be intimidated – GO FOR IT!” Again – yes ma’am!

*This Desk/Chair/Interview was right by a Snowman. Of all the wacked-out things she was seeing, to her, THIS was the weirdest. She had never seen a snowman in someone’s cup before. “Do you know people who still do this sort of thing?” Oh yes, I told her. I’m rather playful, as are most of my friends – I could totally see us building a snowman. The more she looked at it, though, the more she decided the snowman was a time-keeper, and it was telling her this stuff was all happening in the Winter – as in, NOW. She surveyed the cup and nodded her head, as though seeing the big picture at last. The Snowman was by the Big Desk, and both were by yet ANOTHER Broom. Some change, some big change, is definitely coming, and it’s coming this winter. She saw another Letter next to the broom. Some Letter will come in the mail that will be the impetus to this change. “It is going to motivate you to move,” she said. “It is going to lead you to something else. The desk – this job or assignment – this letter is what seals the deal,” she said. “I see relocation, and I see change, and it is all good.”

*And, finally, (and anticlimactically) she saw a Covered Bridge. I am going on a quick daytrip with somebody by car.

I looked into my cup long after she had moved on to read Katt's future (looks like Katt is coming into some money - suuuweet - and she too is going on a daytrip, perhaps with me) and I watched as my soggy tea leaves dried up and curled into little gray curlicues. It would be pretty nice if some of these things came true. I have no real resolutions this year besides taking care of myself fiscally, emotionally and professionally ... but maybe Katt's aunt stumbled across my hidden desires/resolutions, after all. And for a woman who barely knows me, that's pretty impressive.

I'm looking forward to seeing whether I can make any of these predictions come true!

For now, I'm on to my second-to-last day at The Observer.