Happy anniversary to me! I’ve been in NYC all by myself for one week.
Do I feel completely at home here? No.
I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
There’s so much to say, but so little __________. Time, energy, motivation?
I’ve been told to stop by my school on Monday to POSSIBLY find out if I POSSIBLY have a classroom. I’m hoping that I’m not stuck with a wobbly cart on squeaky wheels to navigate between classes, but we’ll see. Getting a classroom would give me a purpose, as I have no real obligations in my life right now. I could potentially ride the subways all day long and explore the city, but I’m trying not to spend a lot of money. People watching is nice and free, but I don’t feel like doing it everywhere all by myself.
Today has been a good day. I returned to CompUSA yet again to return the range expander I bought yesterday. Once I rode the escalator upstairs, I saw a Chinese woman arguing with a surly worker behind the counter. I was rooting for the customer, because the worker was popping her gum and swiveling her over-hairsprayed ponytail to punctuate her screams. (Very New Jersey, I think). I asked another customer in line if this was the returns counter. He laughed, nodded in the direction of the argument, and said, “You’d think so. Look at this!” It actually wasn’t the right place. Fortunately, I returned my range expander with no problem. I was far away from Miss New Jersey.
My train of thought derailed once again. If you are wondering about my new digs, let me say that I got up on Tuesday morning, looked at a third apartment, and took it. I now live on the Upper West Side, on the cusp of Morningside Heights. The location is great - I have my bank on the corner, a Ben and Jerry’s a few blocks over, lots of grocery stores everywhere, a post office, copy shop, jazz bar/lounge, etc.
A few days ago, Sam asked how I planned on dealing with all the attention from New York men. I replied that I hadn’t had much. Sometimes when I walk by I notice that suddenly a bunch of guys start saying something in a foreign language in a way that suggests they are talking about me, but who knows? Or a guy said, “Wow, she’s cute,” under his breath but loud enough to hear when I was in the 125th St. station. At the Columbus Circle station, an old, foreign man, exclaimed, “Look at Blundie!” (Yes, “Blundie,” not Blondie. It was cute). But that was it. In past times in New York, I’ve been approached by very forward men, so I know they’re out there. I just tend to think that I don’t go to the kinds of places where these men thrive. So far, I’ve spent most of my time in the city at the library, CompUSA, or Ben and Jerry’s. These are not places where lecherous men do their work.

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.