Wednesday, March 3, 2010
by Amanda.
You know how people sometimes like to sleep where George Washington slept?
Or eat where Al Capone liked to eat?
Or see a movie where Pee-wee Herman busted a nut?
Well, I don’t have access to those famous spots, but uh, I have a catsitting gig for a few weeks. I’m subletting my apartment while I’m in another neighborhood Will and Grace-ing it up with a good friend. (I’ve lived alone for almost four years now, and I’m really excited to have a temporary housemate).
The apartment is a one-bedroom near Central Park North. I can sublet it on a daily, weekend, or weekly basis from March 8 to March 26 for $150 per day. This is way nicer than a hotel room and more affordable.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
by Amanda.
The Northeast has been pounded by snow in the last few days. NYC is no exception, though it hasn’t endured power outages or NBA-sized snowdrifts or anything.
Not like New Hampshire or Vermont or those other places that currently look like white blobs from space. Now those are hairy-chested states that can open beer bottles with their teeth!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
by Amanda.
NYC got something like eight inches of snow today. School was cancelled, shops closed, sidewalks salted.
I could’ve worked from home like many of my co-workers, but there’s something you may not already know: Precipitation does not kill me.
While many people apparently chap walking two blocks from the subway to the office in cold weather, I don’t. I also manage not to slip on slush, fall through a subway grate, and freeze into a giant popsicle to be nibbled by rats.
Perhaps it’s my unattractive down coat?
Or maybe I’m just one of the chosen.
Monday, February 1, 2010
by Amanda.
My phone rang as I tried to shed the winter layers of puffy down coat, hat, scarves (yes, it’s so cold I’ve been layering two), and fleece zip-up. I wouldn’t have answered, but it was a college friend I’ve been playing social media tag with for a few days.
“Hey,” I said breathlessly.
He laughed. “Uh, hi. Is it a good time?”
“Yes! I just walked up three flights, and I’m taking my coat off. But yes!”
“Three flights?” He asked. “You moved from the old place?” He meant the tiny, ground floor studio on Central Park West. “You loved it there.”
“Did not.”
“I thought you did.”
“I loved it, because I had to,” I reasoned. “I’ve moved on.”
Here’s a question from Anna:
Monday, January 25, 2010
by Amanda.
Space is at such a premium in NYC that you have to figure out innovative storage solutions. Like keeping your winter clothes in a kitchen cabinet or storing things in the oven. Preferably not the forgettable, flammable kind.
I once dated a guy who lived in the East Village and had to wash his dishes in his miniature bathtub. It worked, because the bathtub was in the kitchen anyway.
And you could roll down the sloped floor to the miniature toilet, which was older than his parents.
I’d shower on the fire escape for an apartment in that neighborhood.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
by Amanda.
There’s nothing too unique about my NYC story.
I visited for the first time when I young and impressionable and barely giving my training bra a workout.
Like many people from small towns where everyone knows everyone (and probably also that person’s brother and no good cousin Petey), I was blown away.
This city full of bustling strangers, culture, both history and the future, this is where I’d live someday when I grew up.
Maybe by then I’d have boobs, too.
Here’s a question from Luisa:
Thursday, January 14, 2010
by Amanda.
New Yorkers have a reputation for being unfriendly. This isn’t news to anyone.
And that stereotype? Sometimes true. People are busy and gruff sometimes. Many come here to “make it” in some capacity and only look out for themselves.
I moved to NYC with exactly zero friends or family members waiting for me. I didn’t worry about loneliness, because I’ve always been independent and to put it nicely, blunt.
But even the snarkiest introverts need someone to love them. I mean, especially those types. A cactus needs sunshine. You get where I’m going?
Here’s a question from Lisette:
Monday, December 28, 2009
by Amanda.
How does that story go?
Some woman was attacked back in the 1960’s. It was night. Summer probably. She screamed from the streets and many people heard the commotion and looked out their windows.
And they didn’t do anything. They watched her get killed.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
by Amanda.
Last night, a blizzard hit NYC.
Growing up in Texas, I could only imagine what “blizzard” meant. Snow falling cold and hard as bullets. Dagger-like icicles. Winds that cowed pipes and power lines.
Then I moved here with a down coat and a few sweaters, bought long underwear, and waited for snow.
When the first blizzard hit, I was wearing pointy-toed boots with three-inch stiletto heels. I hadn’t been tuned in to the news enough to hear the b-word, or else I’d have stayed in and kept a snow vigil.
Monday, December 14, 2009
by Amanda.
When I broke up with Cade, he left my apartment without hugging goodbye, walked down Central Park West, and disappeared.
For months, I’d look out for him as I walked around the Upper West Side. We didn’t live all that far apart - my feet must have covered his tracks myriad times. Then he started working at an office downtown near mine.
But we never saw each other again.
