Sunday, January 24, 2010

Eating, Praying, and Loving with an Empire State of Mind





I have officially been a New Yorker for 1.5 weeks now! The vibrations of the city are slowly, but surely, becoming transcripted into my cells. I am in the honeymoon stages of a fresh romance; one that seems a bit more sophisticated than the giddy one I had with Oxford.

I am enjoying this new business casual self I am wearing (I say this in reference to a discussion we had in our poetry class about how we sometimes literally feel as though we are "wearing ourselves"). It feels like an awkward cross between Whitney Port from The City, Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada, and Mary Tyler Moore. Oh, and Sex and the City (minus the stream of dates, hot clothing, and even hotter body).

There's just something about this place....

The week before I came here, I morphed into housewife mode and (successfully---who would've thought?!) baked pumpkin bread! It verified the fact that I am a walking contradiction: while I truly strive to have some type of career, another part of me is tickled when my family eats something I've poured my energy into. I love the idea of providing home cooked food most nights of the week.



My mom and I went to Elizabeth Gilbert's book talk for her new memoir, Committed. I was fortunate to attend one of her signings for Eat, Pray, Love, but I'd have to say that discussion wise, this talk was more entertaining. A woman from the audience asked her how she was so lucky to find love twice in her lifetime.

I relished her response:

"Love, as much as it is adoring, is also limiting. You owe the other person answers about what you're doing and when you're doing it. You can't just decide to take time apart without consulting with him or her."

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Out With the Old, In With the New (York)

Hip hip hurray for 100 pages!!! So close, yet so far.


Paragraphs:

And even though I was pretty sure that we would always safely stroll in the friend zone, I couldn’t bring myself to get over him just yet. So, I tried my best to tuck my hope away and found gratitude in our platonic friendship. Perhaps I was too influenced by Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, the revered Bollywood movie where two friends end up together after not seeing each other for years, but I imagined that, at the very least, Shawn would look back on me one day---preferably when I was dating someone wealthy and accomplished---and see me as “the one who got away.”

He has what my parents would call “classic Indian good looks” with fair skin, a sharp nose, and a defined jaw line. In a fitted, black and white striped crew neck shirt and boot cut jeans, he looks effortlessly handsome, in a casual, G.Q. kind of way. I envision him adding a black scarf to this outfit and, with a leather laptop bag swinging from his hips, sauntering through the plush green lawns of his Ivy League campus, contemplating over his next topic to write about.

Great; so now I know that he fell asleep right after we did whatever it is that we did, but still took the time to be a gentleman. I wonder if he has a cabinet of spare toothbrushes and pain killers for these occasions. Or if he has a chivalrous morning after, thanks-for-the-great-time routine of pancakes and coffee snob coffee that I’ve seen in some episodes of Sex and the City.