A Reason to Celebrate?

In New York, there is always a reason to party, or at least meet for a drink.

A person moving in or out of New York is often regarded with a sense of celebration.

We've all received invites to "Come party with me on my last night in town!" or "Help me Welcome my friend to NYC". I even threw a "Five Year NYC Anniversary" party with Kenzie, Annie and Emilie a while back.

With the constant stream of people moving in and out of New York City, I shouldn't be surprised that people move in and out of my life in the same way.

Would it be odd for me to start celebrating transitioning relationships?

Could I send out an email saying:

"I met a really great guy last weekend and he just called, lets celebrate!"

or

"Its been two years since I cut off that destructive relationship... join me for drinks!"

Would that be odd?

Bookstores and Baby Powder

Sometimes, something as simple as a trip to the local bookstore can become an adventure, like one Saturday night when we dropped into Barnes & Noble to kill time before a movie.

As we rode the bookstore Escalators to the top floor, we were greeted by floating particles in the air and the distinct smell of urine.

We got in line and saw a manager in the corner with a woman who was speaking loudly as he glanced around nervously.

She had big curly salt and pepper hair, a tattered leather jacket and even though it was well after 9pm, she wore huge sunglasses over her sunken eyes. She held a small bottle of baby powder in the air.

"Ma'am, I'm going to ask you to leave" the manager said quietly.

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?!?" she asked wildly.

The manager stared at her blankly.

"DO YOU??"

"Ma'am I--"

She began to emphasize her words by whipping the bottle of baby powder, around as she spoke.

"I'm with the F-B-I!!!" she exclaimed.

The F! (powder) B! (powder) I! (powder)

By the end of the sentence, the manager was dusted with a fresh layer of baby powder. He sputtered and coughed a little, then he just walked away.

I couldn't believe I had paid 10 bucks for a movie, just to get a show at B&N for free.

Happy Valentines Day New York... I heart You!

It was a bitter winter evening when my friend Jay and I boarded the #1 train.

As we sat down, we immediately took notice of a group of Spanish speaking tourists who were in a jovial mood that transcended any language barriers.

As our train barreled uptown, they laughed and told jokes in Spanish. Their laughter was so contagious that we couldn't help but laugh too. Then out of the blue, one of the guys broke into a rendition of the song "La Bamba".

At that exact moment the train pulled into the station, the doors opened and a man entered carrying a guitar. He saw the tourist, who he did not know, singing and offered the guitar to him.

The tourist grabbed the guitar began to play and soon the entire train was singing "La Bamba" at the top of their lungs.

One of the other tourists whipped out her camera and began to film. She told us that she would post the video on YouTube and title it "1 train uptown".

A few months later I randomly did a search and there it was!

Unfortunately there is no sound, but one of my favorite New York Moments was captured and I can't help but share it with you.


I Heart NY.

Jump in, Jump out, Turn yourself about

When I was younger we sang a song that went:

"Jump in! Jump out! Turn yourself about! Jump in! Jump Out! Introduce yourself!!"

We would stand in a circle jumping in and out, then we'd take turns introducing ourselves and our plans for the future:

"My name is CeCe (yeah!) and I'm gonna be a model (uh huh!) for the rest of my life (for the rest of her life!)"

"Hey! Jump in! Jump Out! Turn Yourself about!...."

Sometimes it seems like the week before Valentines Day turns into a huge game of "Jump in! Jump out!"

Jump In:
The week before Valentines Day gives some of us the urge to jump into a relationship. I've watched my friend Steven research every spa, restaurant and diamond pendant for a girl he thought he was breaking things off with two weeks ago.

Jump Out:
Then there are the people who choose this time of year to decide they dont want to be in a relationship. My friend Kenzie has to deal with the anxiety that comes from her boyfriend choosing the week of Valentines Day to break-up with her last year. They got back together soon after, but the damage is definitely done.

Yesterday afternoon (two days before V-Day) my friend Ayanna sent me an email about the great lunch date she had with the new guy she's been seeing. She even mentioned that she could see herself falling for him, only to text me that evening saying she was "done with him".

Turn Yourself About:
There are also the singles who spend this week running in circles trying to find a date for February 14th. This week I've gotten emails and a phone call from guys I dated in the past and havent heard from in a long time. I didn't bother replying to the emails, but I indulged the phone conversation which eventually turned to my Valentines Day plans.

A quick scan of the always entertaining Craigslist personals also proved that a Valentines Day date is a top goal for many New York Singles.

As for me, I'm not sure where I stand. In the back of my mind I thought that maybe Crick would come through and make some much needed plans with me, but he didn't and I'm okay with that. I could have taken the bait and had a V-Day date with a past beau just for the sake of having one, but I know it wouldn't have meant anything.

I think what's more important to me is the introduction part of the game. I just look forward to the day I can Jump in, introduce myself and confidently add "for the rest of my life" at the end.

A Brief Note On... Leggings

I always thought that:

1.) Tights are not pants, they should not be worn with short tops.

Most of the time you can still see through them to a degree, so they are best paired with a dress or mini... not a T-shirt.

Last fall I was shopping for shoes and the girl who was helping me had on tights with a t shirt, I could see her underwear right through... it was very awkward.

2.) Leggings are technically pants but probably should not be worn with short tops either.

The legging style is great, but the top you wear should cover your derriere. This morning, I saw a girl on 8th avenue with holes in her leggings right on the bum! If she had on a long sweater (perhaps cinced at the waist with a belt) this could have been avoided.

As my friend Emilie pointed out to me, short tops with leggings are okay if you are under the age of five. I will agree with that.

So, to all women over the age of five, lets do our best not to abuse these leggings trends.

"This Place is Dead"

This weekend I was invited by my friend Rachel to a birthday party for a male friend of hers at a lounge in Tribeca.

By midnight a crowd was streaming in, the DJ was spinning and people were dancing. After apple martinis compliments of a photographer I had been dancing and chatting with, I excused myself so I could track Rachel down.

I saw her sitting on the other side of the bar laughing with the birthday boy as he held a bottle of champagne.

I walked up as Rachel said "C'mon, lets dance".

"Okay" he said as someone waved him over "actually, game a sec, I'll be right back..." he trailed off as he made his way across the dance floor.

We stood there talking for a while when Rachel grabbed my hand. "C'mon lets see who's here" she said.

We pushed our way through the crowded dance floor and bumped into my photographer, he had another guy with him.

"Do you girls wanna dance?" the photographer asked as his friend eyed Rachel approvingly. I turned to Rachel who eyeballed the photographers friend, said "No, thanks" and yanked me past them. I turned to give my photographer an apologetic shrug.

We weaved through the clusters of people near the bar, a few guys tried to get Rachel’s attention by touching her arm, but she just kept walking.

As we made our way back towards the dance floor, I turned to ask her a question but she was focused on something. I followed her gaze to one of the plush couches where the birthday boy sat with two girls, one of them was chugging from the champagne bottle.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "Lets go, this place is dead"

A Brief Note On...Eyebrows

Let me start by saying, I understand that eyebrows can make or break ones look. I have a standing appointment every two weeks to have my brows threaded by a wonderful girl named Rani. Even the best smokey eyeshadow can be ruined if its framed by a bushy unibrow...I get it.

But this morning, as I was headed downtown on the 2 train, I looked up from my book for a moment and caught a glimpse of a woman leaning on the doors, with a mirror out, tweezing her eyebrows.


Yes, the bright flourecent bulbs of the New York subway reflecting on the windows of the train doors may shed some light (pun intended) on your less than perfect arches. But the subway is a place for iPod listening, reading the news paper over a strangers shoulder and begging for change.

The subway is not a place for grooming!

One Singular Sensation

My phone rang the other night and it was one of my married friends.

“So, listen,” she said “my husband may have to travel on Valentines Day so I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and we can make dinner and drink champagne or something.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, and then we caught up a bit.

It wasn’t until I was hanging up the phone that the thought crossed my mind.

What if I had plans?

I look at my parents and the other “grown-ups” in my life, those with a marriage and kids and they all have a token single friend; the friend who’s always around to babysit or who is up for a girl’s night out at the drop of a hat.

Am I becoming that person?

As more and more of my friends get engaged, married or couple off into domestic bliss with a partner, I am trying very hard not to ignore the faint sense panic that washes over me sometimes.

I mean, I would hate to look up one day and realize that I am the only single person I know.

Waiting...

I arrived at the bus stop the other night with no question that the M7 bus would come. When an M10 pulled up, I waved the driver on with confidence. Though its route wasnt a straight shot, the M7 bus with its many twists and turns, would eventually take me exactly where I wanted to go.

So I waited.

Another bus came, an M10, I could take the M10 most of the way and with a brisk walk, reach my destination, faithful that the M7 I needed would soon be there, I shook my head giving the driver permission to go on without me.

I began to wonder what the delay was.

When yet another M10 bus stopped to let passengers off I contemplated getting on but didn't.

Knowing there was something that would give me exactly what I needed and take me exactly where I wanted to go made it hard for me to settle on a substitute. It made it difficult to consider another way, an alternate route.

As the minutes ticked by, thoughts of doubt began to trickle in. Has the bus stopped running? Am I at the wrong stop?
I walked out into the street to see if a bus was in the distance. The streets were empty with not even a taxi in sight.

I came to the bus stop with the intention of waiting for the M7 until it came. What I didnt realize was that i had a subconsious timecap on the busses arrival.

Sometimes the test of faith isnt believing something will happen but how long you can hold on to that belief and how open you are to the way it will take place.

Eventually I took the M10 and walked the rest of the way to my destination, I got to where I wanted to go just not the way I intended.

A first sip....

The first time I had wine I wasn’t particularly impressed. From then on, I would have a glass here or there but it was nothing I craved. Drinking more than a single glass of wine was not something I did.

Then, around the time I turned twenty, I had a glass of wine that changed my life it was a Cabernet and it was amazing.

For the first time in my life I wanted a second glass.

All this time I thought that I wasn’t a wine person, but it turned out I had just been drinking sub-par wines. It was then that I began to explore the types of wine that suited my palate.

In the same way that I went so long drinking a single glass of wine and never wanting more, I am the queen of first dates. I go on first dates all the time but when a guy calls for a second, I’m not interested.

Looking back, I suppose I could have forced second glasses of wine, but wine is meant to be enjoyed not suffered though so… wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?

I recently encountered the dating equivalent to my Catalyst Cabernet. I went on a date with a perfectly aged, full bodied, man with nutty overtones and he suited my palate perfectly.

Even after the first sip of wine there is always more to be discovered; an infusion that you didn’t notice before or combinations of food that bring out flavors you didn’t know were there.

All I can say is that the taste of my first date is still lingering and I can’t stop thinking of having second glass.

Get your kicks

In the city, when the stores close for the day metal grates are brought down over the glass windows for security. Today as I was leaving the gym, I noticed three boys huddled up against one of these metal barriers yelling and kicking at something.

I almost reached for my cell phone, assuming a helpless kid was being jumped, but before I could two of the boys jumped back and I saw that no one was there. One boy was left still kicking violently, he jumped back and began to stomp when I realized... they were killing a rat.

Time Stamp

As I walked along 125th street today I made my way through the vendors, shoppers, native new yorkers and tourists that flock to Harlem daily. I'm not sure which category the long haired girl with pale skin fell into, but as she passed through the crowd she flipped her hair over her shoulder she said,

"I wish I could be black for an hour"

An older black woman whipped her head around and her eyes met mine, "Did you hear what she just said? Did you hear what she just said?" she asked incredulously"

While the woman seemed offened at the statement, I remained perplexed by the idea of being black for "an hour". Could a person experience what its really like to be a different race, gender, sexual orientation or class in one hour?

Maybe that's why she put a time stamp on it.