You've got to have priorities

"OUCH! OOOOWWWWW!!!! HELP! HELP!!" I yelp from the kitchen just after attempting to (not so smartly) catch the gigantic utility knife I was just using to slice through raw zucchini like it was butter from falling onto the floor.

"What? What happened?" I hear Brent call from the living room.

"HELP!" I yelp again while trying not to look at the blood that had spurted out from my index finger while groping for the paper towels with my left hand.

[About 10 seconds later]

"What did you do?" asks Brent from the doorway of the kitchen.

"I cut myself! I don't want stitches again!" I squeak out while trying not to feel too faint-y at the sight of the blood that rises up from the 1-inch cut right after I wipe away the blood that had just been there before that.

"Not for that!" Brent says, laughing while he goes to get some gauze and tape.

After he fixes me up, I catch my breath and eagle-eye it in case he's wrong about the stitches and it bleeds through the gauze. A few minutes go by, and I think of something.

"Hey, Brent?" I ask from the kitchen.

"What?" he calls from the couch about 10 feet away from the kitchen where he settled back in to watch TV.

"What took you so long to come in here?" I ask.

"I had to find the pause button," he replies matter-of-factly.

"WHAT?" I say coming out of the kitchen to look my dear husband in the eye.

"But they were doing a special on [Tennis star Andy] Roddick!" he says.

Wait... you were actually just being nice?

When I first moved to the city, I knew exactly one person: Brent.


And since his job requires him to work 25-hour days during the week, I'm on my own quite a bit Monday through Friday.


And since I'm a social person who needs friends, one of the first things I did when I moved here was hop on Craigslist to find a book club. That was an awesome idea, and something I'm still enjoying every month.


But since I need basketball in my life (that's right - NEED) I found this amazing charity-based social sports league called Zogsports, and was lucky enough to be placed on a team of great people. This is where it's been especially apparent to me that guys living in New York are quite different than some of the guys I've been around in the Midwest.


Now I know I'm generalizing, but it just seems that guys from where I grew up have their own agendas and are always striving to prove something, whether that be that they CAN get that girl's phone number or they CAN drink their buddies under the table, etc.


So when I talk to guys here, I've found myself surprised on more than one occasion that a nice conversation with a guy ended at just that: a nice conversation. They didn't end with them trying to get my phone number or asking me out or anything. What? They were just talking to me for the sake of having a conversation on the train or at the bar? It's not something I'm used to, and especially being the married woman that I am, it's a refreshing and pleasant change.


Which brings me back to the guys on my basketball team. We have been together for several seasons now, but this summer season, I'm the only girl on our co-ed team. And while the guys treat me like one of the guys on the court, off the court, they're always asking me if I'm OK (I have to play every minute of every game, which in the heat outside gets pretty rough sometimes) and always tell me how well I'm playing. They've even gotten to the point where they don't ask anymore before grabbing my always-too-stuffed bag off my shoulder so they can carry it for me.


And before I felt comfortable with the city, one of the guys always rode the subway or bus home with me even though he lived more than a half a mile uptown from me. And now, even though I'm comfortable with finding my way around the city, the guy who happens to live around the corner from me always walks with me down to the "scary gym" in a more deserted, outskirt area of Manhattan.


And I feel sad that I still catch myself feeling incredulous that they're doing all of this for me because they're truly nice guys and not because they want something from me except probably my friendship and company.


What I'm not amazed by, however, is that New York is still throwing curve balls at me: I'm always discovering some new, fun place or event to shake up life!

Almost winners

The first three weeks of my NYU publishing course was dedicated strictly to magazines. For three weeks, we students learned about all aspects of magazine publishing from professionals who work at magazines ranging from Esquire and Men's Health to Seventeen and Vogue.

During the course, we were split up into 10 groups of 10 people charged with conceptualizing a magazine. During our magazine's infancy stage, it got ripped to shreds several times. (Apparently a green magazine for rebellious hipsters who care about recycling and neighborhood revitalization efforts doesn't work so well. Not my idea - trust me!) Our magazine instructor - who always seemed to give us the opposite advice as all the other industry professionals - actually told us that she lost sleep over worrying about us and our concept. Nice way to give us that extra vote of confidence!

All this combined gave our group a sort of black sheep reputation. However, because we were bashed so many times, we were forced to revamp - and thus improve - our concept. FiX magazine became a magazine for young hipsters who keep up with the latest trends in the indie scene - including music, art, and fashion. They're the influential cool champions of change who march through the world and turn everything upside-down - for the better. Need a FiX? Get yours.

Nevertheless, because of how much negativity surrounded our concept from its conception, when the magazine awards ceremony rolled around, all our group wanted to do was get it over with so we could make a beeline for the room in the back of the classroom - the one that held appetizers and a bunch of crates of wine from Trader Joe's.

We weren't surprised when they announced the winner - that group was awesome. They created a magazine dedicated to military families, which was really cool. But then the instructor said that she had another announcement. There wasn't a runner-up because she didn't think that term was fitting. Instead, she said that there was a group who she wanted to call the "almost winners."

"And I know everyone will appreciate this," she said. "FiX magazine."

M jaw hit the floor. At that moment, no one was more surprised than our group - proven by the fact that none of us actually went up to get our award because we all were in this weird sort of shock that we were chosen to win an award.

Well, we almost won.

Even though what she said seemed ridiculously condescending (Really? Everyone should really appreciate the fact that our group could actually come up with something great?) she meant it as a compliment.

Besides, it gave us an excuse to take our prize - a bottle of Trader Joe's wine taken from one of the crates in the back room and wrapped in a bow - and begin a many-hours-long celebration of toasting to "almost winning."

That celebration took us to the basement of a seedy bar in the financial district, the beer garden in Battery Park, a dog-friendly bar/birthday party at a bar in the East Village, a rooftop/house-warming party in the East Village, and - because at that point several of us had been drinking for six hours and could hardly walk - a bar across the street from the rooftop party where I met an out-of-town friend and became the last woman standing from our celebratory group.

Need a FiX? Get yours from us - we're almost winners.

Where's the closest place to go for a drink when you desperately need a study break?

Arrgh. The only thing more insulting than sitting in a classroom for eight hours is spending nearly as much doing homework afterward. And tonight is no exception. Then my phone buzzes and I see it's a text message from Janine, one of my best New York buddies:

Jun 17, 2009 9:24 PM: "We happen to be downstairs at lincoln park if you want to come for a
beer!"

Hmmm, stay here and study more or throw on flip-flops and walk no further than downstairs to accept a glass of free beer from a pitcher surrounded by a bunch of friends?

Gotta love literally living on top of an awesome bar!

One year married to the man I love

It's crazy for me to look at the wedding photos hanging on the wall in our living room and think that it happened an entire year ago.

But today is Brent and I's one-year wedding anniversary.

We have nothing to do today except enjoy each other's company at home in shorts and T-shirts because we celebrated our anniversary yesterday. I made reservations at Aquavit, a romantic restaurant that served Scandinavian food. I enjoyed meatballs with this amazing, sweet cranberry sauce while Brent chose the chef's special of nine different mini portions of their fish and meat dishes. We both also enjoyed wine and after-dinner cappuccinos to cap off the wonderful, quiet evening together.


On today, our actual anniversary, I only had two requests. The first was a tradition - eat the top of the wedding cake, which our wedding cake lady kindly re-made for us so we wouldn't have to eat year-old cake. Brent readily agreed to this one, mostly because our wedding cake was truly delicious!


The second request was that we watch our wedding video, which is something I would like to do every year because who really takes time to sit and watch their wedding video? Brent was not so enthusiastic about this request, but humored me until our relatively old DVD player started acting up and not playing the video correctly. Then he was done, but it wasn't until we watched the ceremony highlights and the toasts from our reception!


Nonetheless, it was an amazing evening to celebrate and remember one of the happiest days in my life: The day I married the man I'm head over heels in love with.


Happy Anniversary baby.

New York City in the "Twilight" Zone

How I know this Twilight/Tru Blood/Vampire Diaries/vampire thing has gone too far:

Today's AM New York supplement was called "vAMp New York" and included stories about local vampires. Really.

The stories ran the gamut from local vampires protesting MTA's proposed overnight subway cuts to NYC hotels catering to vampires with blackout shades and by-request coffins to the hot new black and red makeup trends.

Living in the Twilight Zone, man.

Shut the hell up, I am TRYING TO WORK!!

SHUT THE HELL UP!!!! EVERYONE! WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP!?!?!?!?!


I swear that every single person in this ridiculously tiny-for-eight-million city is out to irritate me today.


It's freaking hot outside, and if the windows aren't open, it's as stuffy as my couch in my apartment. Yes, the air conditioner works, but since I'm not making any money anymore, I need to conserve some savings. Conserving energy and electricity is an added bonus of leaving the AC off.


Besides, I live on an island, so there's usually always a nice breeze I can capture with the windows open. And I like the windows open... in Ohio.


In New York City, every single freaking person who has a car has a horn. And I'm telling you that the stereotypes are true. I can count the number of times I've been the one behind the wheel in New York City on one hand, but I can still attest to the fact that if I'm at a red light and my foot hadn't slammed down on the gas a split second BEFORE the light turns green in anticipating of it turning, I'd get horn blasts from the car behind me and the car behind the car behind me and - just for good measure - beside me on BOTH sides as well. It's enough for me to say that I'll keep the times I've driven in New York to how many I can tick off on one hand, thank you very much.


Therefore, if I'm sitting alone at home on my laptop theoretically, oh, let's say trying to determine the point of view for my make-believe magazine's website to establish the connection between the print vehicle and the digital one, my concentration is out the open window because all I can think about is WHY ARE ALL OF YOU SO LOUD!?!?!


Horn blasts every few seconds is the norm. I get it. But apparently someone has locked a toddler in the front seat of a car across the street because all I've been hearing for the last it seems like decades is his joyfully playing with a toy that makes a loud noise: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Beeep, beep, beeeeebeeeeeep. Beep, beep, beeeeeeeebebebebeeeeeep, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...


To top off the car-related irritation is the fact that Best Buy is apparently having a sale on stereo systems because right outside my window is an intersection and, therefore, a light that occasionally turns red. Apparently the number of times it turns red is directly related to the number of cars tricked out with an eardrum-shattering stereo system that need to stop there. In the last 6 minutes, I've heard rap, folk music, hip-hop, rock, and - believe it or not - classical music blasting at decibels that have to be just under the amount that would shatter a windshield.


And OK, I understand that the homeless and jobless have to keep themselves occupied with the free time they have on their hands, but does that mean that they have to create a park band?? What is a park band, you ask? Well, a park band is a lot like a garage band except they don't have a garage to practice in. But like many garage bands, a park band is also exceptionally loud and tone-deaf. While garage bands are limited to the number of "musicians" that can fit in a garage, park bands can have a larger number of participants because they have an entire park for people to occupy. And though garage bands practice in such a way that really the only people who can hear them are in the household occupying the house attached to the garage and its immediate neighbors, park bands can share their "gift" with an entire neighborhood.





Hey Mayor Bloomberg - know those signs that say "HORN HONKING, $500 FINE?" You do? Really? THEN WHY THE HELL ARE WE IN A RECESSION?!?!?!?!? We'd be out of it in a single freaking Sunday afternoon if the police force would actually act on this "law!"

Sheesh.

What's going on? Are we in school?

I know it's what I signed up for, but man, I don't know how I'm going to get through all six weeks of school!

It's only the third day of my first week at the New York University Summer Publishing Institute, and I'm already exhausted and feel like I've been going to school FOREVER!

Sitting in the same chair in the same room for no less than eight hours a day listening to speakers and watching PowerPoint presentation after PowerPoint presentation doesn't exactly scream "stimulating!"

Now don't get me wrong: Publishing is 100 percent what I want to get into, and many of the subjects are interesting, but of course there are also the ones that are necessary, but dry, dry, dry! (Cough, advertising, cough. I don't want learn how to figure out how much advertising you need to keep a magazine afloat. Just let me write a magazine article, already!)

I'm thrilled I've been accepted but not sure how much my brain can take at one time!