Damn Yankees

I will preface this post by saying I'm not a Yankees fan. I never have been, and you can't be a fan of any other MLB team (AL or NL) and be a Yankees fan. In fact, I'm a Loyal Royal, even though it's the hardest job in major-league baseball.


That said, it was very cool to be at Yankees' stadium on the Thursday before the last game ever in the stadium. If you're a baseball fan of any sort (fair-weather or otherwise), it was hard to not be a little nostalgic.


This Yankee-hater sums it up pretty well.

They Say It's Your Birthday

Turning 25 has come and gone. Nope, don't feel any different than I did last week, so in case you're waiting for something grandiose to happen when you hit a quarter-century, I wouldn't hold your breath.

I will miss 24 a bit, though. After all, I moved to Portland a day (two days?) after I turned 24, then I moved to New York 11 months later. I think I'll remember 24 as one of the best years: I fortuitously re-connected with an old friend and made some fantastic new ones. And I discovered a part of the country that will always be special to me. It's amazing how much can happen in a year, huh?

So it's kind of daunting—and exciting—to have had such an incredible year, filled with so much, and to look to the year ahead and wonder what it holds. Chances are, though, I will not be moving to a brand-new city all alone. That I hope never happens again. If I go anywhere (Austin, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, San Fran, Paris?!) I'm dragging one of you with me!

Now, onto the festivities. I am pretty damn lucky because I've only been here a month, yet I had about 15 people show up to my birthday party. In the rain. All the way to Brooklyn. And on debate night!

Trader Joe's is my savior. I honestly get a little tingly in there. Only $33 on food (including fruit, cheese, crackers, chocolate, bread, and hummus), and $15 on five bottles of wine (three-buck Chuck is incredible) and I was set.

If only I had money, and this would have been caviar.

Those five bottles of Chuck turned into this dangerously yummy sangria:

It's easy: wine, brandy, OJ, sprite, sugar, and fruit. You're done!

Then Jes showed up with dessert. That girl. She's amazing!

Frosting is a hard job.

Sara approves.

I agree.

I swear more people than these three came to the party; apparently I just stopped taking pictures after the sangria set in. All in all, it was fun to have had a Brooklyn birthday. And seriously, who knows where I'll be at 26.

High Fructose Corn Syrup Good for You??

Michael Pollan is probably so appalled.

Apparently the Corn Refiners Association is claiming that high fructose corn syrup and other artificial sweeteners are not bad for you at all.

These ads are so ridiculous. Why is it so hard for people to eat real food?

Traipsing around the East Coast

It's been a few days. Sorry 'bout that. I'd give the same, lame excuse (things have been nutty), but I'll spare you that.

I've been in the city a month. Still freelancing, still unemployed, but now I'm in this odd rut of trying to pitch stories and get more jobs--in other words, I'm doing a TON of work for no money. So, I'm resorting to getting some sort of baby-sitting job or something to make ends meet. I'm reverting back to a high school existence. Can you tell I'm thrilled about it?

That said, I did make it down to DC this weekend for a good friend's and old co-worker's wedding. And, praise be, I'm off the wedding hook until 2009!

Thank you, Megabus, for your grand $38 transportation.

And thank you Hotel Monticello for transporting us back to the 1700s and waking us up with these nice mules:

Georgetown's M Street is fantastic. I'd never been down to DC before, so I was thrilled both of the friends I was with were up to making it into a mini-vacation. We shopped (window shopping, of course) and ate. A lot. Crabcakes, shrimp, beer, yum!

Saturday morning, we got up (not early; I was sleeping on a real bed and was reveling) and then decided to traipse around the National Mall to see the monuments. A quick nervous moment when the parking garage attendent lost our keys but we found them and were on our way.

Again, I'd never been to DC, so my inner nerd revealed itself quickly. Lincoln, Jefferson, Roosevelt, oh my! I geeked out. Next time: museums. Watch out.

That's me in front of Mr. Obama's new house for the next four years.

Sandy and me Washington Monument-ing.

Where Jenny saw Forrest again!

After our whirlwind National Mall tour, we scooted back to Georgetown, gorged on sweet potato fries at the Tackle Box (seriously, go there), and drove to the Holiday Inn in Leesburg, Virginia. Well to be more accurate, we drove there, passed the hotel, then after a "uh, I'm getting concerned we're going the wrong way," drove back again (when there are iPhones in the car playing Jon Stewart videos, we miss exits).

Quickest wedding preparations ever at the hotel, then we sped off to the b-ea-u-tiful Breaux Vineyards in Purceville, Virginia.

I'm a big fan of weddings at wineries.

The best Country Home staff there ever was.

A quick trip back on Megabus, and I was back in the city. A great trip.

This weekend: My 25th birthday. Yes, kids, it's true. I've been around for a good quarter century. But to be honest, I'm not feeling to keen on the whole party I planned for tomorrow. I'd rather just let it pass quietly--after all, it's hard to celebrate when you, uh, don't have a job, apartment, or otherwise real meaning for existence. However, drama aside, it should be fun.

Roadblocks

The Internet is down at my apartment ... no fix in sight.

I have to spend $2/visit in coffee each time I come to the neighborhood coffee shop to use their Internet without guilt.

My apartment is also a T-mobile dead zone. (In short, if you want to get a hold of me, be patient. I'll get the voice mail or email eventually.)

The economy is slapping me in the face every day. "Want a job? Ha! We mock you! Do you know how many other laid-off, unemployed, starving editors are looking for jobs?" it says, as another bank shuts down.

I have had 14 meetings/interviews in three weeks and not one job offer.

Every publishing company is in a hiring freeze. "We like you, your work is really impressive. We just can't hire anyone right now."

I'm so brain-dead that I submitted a copy-editing cover letter, which was addressed to the wrong editor. I claimed to be, "meticulous and able to work accurately on a tight deadline." Apparently not.

But ... I'm not ready to give up just yet.

Time for my soapbox

Where, oh where, do I Barack the Vote this year?


I live in New York, yes, but I don't have a permanent address. I'm still registered in Oregon; my driver's license is Iowa; and most my important mail is sent to Kansas.

Ideas?

All I know is that Sarah Palin is the most terrifying name in American history, aside from (or perhaps akin to) George W. Bush.

Gloria Steinem and Eve Ensler and Rebecca Traister from Salon sum up my thoughts on the issue fairly well.

Even Matt Damon agrees.

I can say, as self-described feminist, that I've never been more terrified to have a woman in the White House. She is the anti-feminist woman; and for people to so boldly (and horrifyingly ignorantly) assume that because I'm a woman, I'll vote for her is equally as terrifying. Are we really so transparent? Do people really think we're so thoughtless, such sheep?

But what's sad is that there are people who truly believe that this Republican ticket will be the best choice for our government, economy, and all-around quality of life. Please, please tell me why. I really want to know. Because I frankly don't understand, and I think that middle America is duped beyond recognition. These people are so brainwashed into believing this neo-conservative party and their lies that they can't even recognize insanity and ridiculousness as it continuously slaps them in the face.

With a McCain/Palin ticket, we'd successfully shoot ourselves in the foot as women--and as a country. Someone who tries to ban books from libraries (good god), shoots wildlife from helicopters, and doesn't understand the Bush Doctrine (and doesn't even know that the Bush Doctrine is something she should, in fact, know) will ruin us.

"I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression." - Eve Ensler

Please, just tell me why. I'm listening.

BITCH needs your help!

Your PSA of the day:

Bitch magazine, the feminist response to pop culture, needs $40,000 to publish their next issue.


They're an independent and nonprofit organization, something that lacks in today's mega magazine corporate world. Help them!

Good Luck, says the pigeon

A pigeon pooed on me yesterday.

I was waiting for a table at brunch with a friend. As I was standing there, splot!, a big blob of green grossness landed on my arm and purse strap. After standing there for a bit, appalled and slack-jawed, I bee-lined it for the bathroom and cleaned up, after which I enjoyed unlimited mimosas and a spinach and goat-cheese omelet.

I was told that in some cultures, a pigeon pooing on you is a sign of good fortune. Let's hope this is true, because I have yet to catch a break here in the city.

I've interviewed for three real positions, and on Friday an editor got back to me and said that although I'd be great at the job, they had to freeze the position due to budget cuts. She said "no one is more disappointed than me." I beg to differ.

One down. Still waiting to hear about the other two. In the meantime, I'm freelancing from home and running out of avenues. In fact, the woman I was supposed to meet with today about a freelancing job broke her wrist, so no interview now.

I've emailed/contacted every HR department of every publishing company and sought out nearly every contact I know. It's hard to not get discouraged, and on Saturday I fought the "I just want to give up" feeling that inevitably rears its ugly head.

But then a good friend from Portland reminded me of my own advice: Do something every day that scares you, she said. Then, she so brazenly dared me to follow my own advice (imagine that!) and come up with a Bucket List of New York City (without the whole kicking-the-bucket as motivation). Every week I have to give her a digested version of one thing I did every day that either scared me, motivated me, or was out of my ordinary routine.

It's a challenge, but I'm not one to shirk from a challenge (how do you think I ended up here?). So here we go ... The Bucket List commences today.

And I guess it could be worse, right? I could be working for Lehman Brothers.

Just something I've been considering ...

I mean, really, how bad could this be?

I like cookies. I bake. It could be perfect.

Rachel freelances out of ...

I had my first true New York moment yesterday. I'd been waiting for it to happen. So far life here has been fairly simple: I wake up, work, get dressed, get on the train into Manhattan, interview, get on the train back to Brooklyn, work, and maybe get dinner/drinks later.

It's fairly uneventful and not at all glamorous.

But on Friday I went into the office of a magazine I'm freelancing for, and they're putting me on the Contributors page. I finally read what they'd written about me, which included: "Rachel freelances out of her home in New York City."

Yes, ma'am; that sure is what I do. When you put it in print, it makes it a bit more real, huh?

I Bit It

Yup, it's true. I bit it in the subway. Running to catch the F train at Rockefeller Center, my hot new patent, pointy-toe pumps got caught in my hot new wide-leg trousers. Down I went, and there's a little rub in my hot new trousers to prove it.

I wasn't even a bit embarrassed; just pissed that I'd probably missed the train. So I picked myself up and realized it was the V train I was running for -- the F train came a minute later and whisked me home.

See? These are the ups and downs of New York. One minute you're cursing the train and its many detours (then you get out and aimlessly travel five avenue blocks the wrong direction while talking on the phone); the next minute you're having chocolate and peanut butter fro yo with a great old friend, then on the way home, the train arrives immediately.

You love it here, you hate it here. That's the way it goes.

Today is really just my second full day in the city. I've been a traveling queen thus far. This weekend, I Amtrak-ed it to Hudson for a good friend's carnival-like wedding.

There was a juggler,



and a tight-rope walker,



And these clowns, too:



But mostly, it was the grandest party and the most genuine wedding I've been to. Best of all, I was reunited with the people that made me who I am (seriously). I wouldn't be pursuing a dream of working in New York if it weren't for the three kids with me in the bottom photo, plus many, many other people from Drake who I worked on DMAG with. Anywho, more spectacular shots here, please.

On the way home, we stopped at the Storm King Art Center for a bit of culture and nature, all in one!

Look how strong she is!

Look how tall he isn't!

Then, finally, I was home for Labor Day and enjoyed a lovely backyard Brooklyn BBQ, but didn't make it into Manhattan at all. Yesterday, I was up in Chappaqua (can we all guess what interview I had there?) and drove by Bill and Hillary's pad. Today, I finally went into the city for an HR meeting, but now have lots of work to be done from home. Tomorrow, another interview, and Friday another HR meeting (and two edit tests due somewhere in between).

Whew. There's a reason it's the city that never sleeps.