West Village Weekends and the End of Week 4

I did not make it rowing on Thursday. Oh No, I ended-up working just late enough to miss it. That's alright though, I was able to go down there with G. and plan my rowing for Sunday. Friday I made my way down to G.'s house in the West Village to cat-sit for the weekend and I spent a luxurious evening relaxing and catching up on True Blood.

Saturday I woke-up in a panic, feeling sure I had a ton of work to do, but no idea what it was. I crawled out of bed and decided to organize my day. I needed to work on my EWI website, write my blogs, go sandwich ingredient hunting and make a million phone calls. I decided to start-off with the website. After watching several YouTube tutorials and reading several articles I decided that I must either be retarded or missing a vital piece of information. Fuck-it! I will try to learn a thing or two from my mom's computer tech husband while I am visiting them this week.

Off to search for the perfect sandwich! Unfortunately, I was not feeling great and had no interest in the damned sandwich. I soldiered on though! On my way down Bleeker I was stopped by an old woman sweeping her porch, we made small talk for a while before I went on my way. Just a reminder that in New York you are never alone, it is a city of neighbors instinctively bound together by the close quarters and hardships. We are all in this together.

I made my way down Bleeker to Murray's cheese shop where I procured a lovely Manchego. Next door at the Italian shop I purchased some smoked ham. I couldn't resist the urge to stop by Lobster Place next door to window shop their fish. Oh the smell! The heavenly aroma of fresh fish is one of the loveliest things on earth. The polar opposite of the rank smells I encountered down in Chinatown. After my fish-sniffing break I decided to go check-out the Citarella's on 6th Ave. Once again, I found myself taking in the smells of a fabulous fish market. I passed on the fish and purchased only a pear and a bottle of Fiji water. On my way out I realized that I had forgotten to buy the specialty sea salted butter at Murray's, so I trudged back over. I still had not found my cranberry walnut bread, so I gave up and settled for a loaf of challah on the way home.

Back at the house I sliced the challah thin and spread the divine butter on the outside. For a sauce I mixed organic honey and spicy brown mustard, topping the sauce with slices of fresh pear, ham and manchego. I experimented with a truffled honey, but the taste of it nearly gagged me! For my taste, the woodsy and sweet are not a pleasant combination. I grilled the sandwich and it looked beautiful! Despite my flimsy appetite and low expectations, the sandwich was fantastic. Sometimes when you know what to do and you have the right elements, just going through the motions is good enough. I ended my evening sacked-out in front of the tube, going to bed anticipating my rowing adventure.

Sunday was gorgeous, 75 degrees with a cool breeze and bright blue skies. I headed over to pier 40 in high spirits. I decided to take pictures of the water front on the other side of the Westside highway. It reminded me of the relaxed beauty of the Santa Monica boardwalk. Me being me, was blissfully unaware of those around me, seeing their forms as just part of the pictures I was snapping. I put my camera away and crossed the street after the light changed, glancing up at the men who had been in my shots. Low and behold one of the men was an actor from Law and Order out for a stroll with his new baby. Ugggh! I felt like suck an asshole! He must have thought I was some crazed fan snapping pictures of him! I have a history of this type of faux pax. I was hungrily walking downtown looking for a place to eat, when an overfilled bagel caught my eye, as I neared the overflowing bagel I happened to look-up and see the bagel's owner, none other than Leonardo DiCaprio. Ugggh! I was mortified at the thought that he must have interpreted my hungry gaze as being for him, not his meal. Oh well, I suppose my unawareness must be a cosmic joke to keep me humble!

I arrived ready to row! I begged out on the 5 hour row to Brooklyn and was assigned the "short trip" crew. We were set to go down to the Statue of Liberty and back in around 3 hours. Apparently seamen, no matter their geographical location are a strange lot. The unlikely crews consisted of waspy couples, hippies and that strange breed of middle aged white men looking to redefine their masculinity. None the less, the weather was beautiful and I was ready to climb aboard.

My first indication that things may not work out as I had hoped began when I gazed down at the dock and realized the bobbing was making my head hurt. I ignored this fact and climbed down to our ship. The first hours was lovely, the wind blowing a light mist over our warm faces. My crew of 4 rowers and two skippers were getting along famously. All that began to change as we passed the financial district and passed into the New York Harbor. By the time we made it to Governor's Island, I was not feeling well at all. The rest brakes we took, where we simply let the boat bob around made matters even worse. As we passed the Statue of Liberty, I was in agony! My head was screaming and throbbing and an intense bout of nausea was growing by the minute. I swapped out with the extra rower and spent the remainder of the trip clinging to the sides of the boat praying for land. I though about jumping overboard and swimming for shore. Anything to get off that fucking boat! But my fear of the disease infested waters of the Hudson kept be aboard. Needless to say, I spent the remainder of the night recovering.

This week I certainly had a new NYC experience, I worked-out every day, I tryed a new recipe, wrote, pushed myself by attempting the website and went out with my EWI group. It was fairly successful week.

I am headed to Colorado this week for a girlfriend's wedding and I plan on taking advantage of my mother's kitchen to test out a pulled pork recipe! Hopefully, I will be able to channel the heart of the experiment while I am there, seeking out friendship, adventure and passion every day. My life is shaping up, and hopefully I am getting closer to finding my destiny.

Sandwiches and RFPs: Just Another Thursday in Paridise

I think I left off yesterday musing about my next new recipe. I have now gotten in the mindset that it must not only be new, but also hard! I am setting aside my overachiever antics this weekend and going for simple and well thought out.

Sadly, the last dish that actually inspired me was a sandwich. It was an unexpected pleasure, bursting with satisfying flavor. I plan to source my ingredients from the specialty shops in the West Village and create something similarly simple and perfect. I love sweet and savory, so I am going to find a hearty bread....

Ugh, the Boss from Hell is in full-on bitch mode this morning. I am working on a marketing proposal with my friend Gus because the completely inept marketing manager is on vacation. After working hard on it all morning, Boss Lady comes in and shits on our efforts. She has spent the remainder of the morning in her office screaming at everyone from her co-op board to a sub consultant, who wouldn't want a glamorous job like this?

Back to the sandwich. I am going to go to a specialty cheese shop, try to find a beautiful, smokey ham and some fresh pear or apple. It will be fun to hunt for ingredients and to create something simple and well crafted. I also may make a new dessert. My main objective this weekend is to settle into my West Village home-away-from-home and write and create a website.

Well, I had better get back to this proposal that we will most certainly not get. Off to rowing on the Hudson tonight! Hell, if my biggest problem is a crappy job and bitchy boss, my life is pretty great! Thank God I'm in New York where the time between work hours are filled with magic and possibility.

Week Four Hump Day

Yesterday was filled with the usual madness from my Boss, perhaps a bit intensified because she missed having her whipping-girl/ lap-dog around for two whole days! I did everything from crawling around on my knees (in a freakin' skirt) picking up papers she had thrown to editing and revising a proposal for a new client. Ahhhh the life of an assistant in a medium sized, failing company, ain't it grand? After work, the EWI group met in Queens for authentic Thai food.

Sripraphai was not as close as I thought it would be, so I ended-up 20 minutes late walking through some very unfamiliar territory! As I approached the restaurant, I knew it must be good. There was actually a crowd out front waiting to get inside. Everyone else had arrived and begun order deliberations. I am quite unfamiliar with Thai, so I left it up to them to pick-out a feast for us. The service was just perfect, and probably by accident! The dishes came out one-by-one, allowing us to sample tapas style. I took pictures and passed the dishes. We had a great time overall, and time flew by us as usual. The food was just not my taste. It wasn't bad, but it just did not excite me. I thought I felt this way because I had not had "real" Thai, but now I know it is just not my flavor profile.

The beef curry was quite good, but the most amazing thing I ate all night was a tiny bite of squid in the fried watercress salad. That squid had the perfect texture, easily pulling apart with a fork, and the brightness of the flavor shocked me. It had a light, crisp, sweet flavor that was bigger than the bite itself, it felt exactly like a summer meal should. It was sunshine and running through the sprinklers. This may sound over-the-top, but in a meal filled with bold, spicy, heavy dishes, it was a breath of fresh air. The worst dish of the night was a fish dish I mistook for eggplant. I only realized my error when I scooped it onto my plate and a bone popped out. It did not taste much better than it looked, but I suppose I have never been much of a catfish person. All that aside, it was a truly satisfying meal.

I find that it is not merely food that makes a meal fulfilling, more often it is the quality of the company you enjoy it with. Food can be a solitary comfort, but as with wine, it is better with friends. The dinner I prepared last weekend was good, but not perfect. The meal itself merely melted into the experience and the laughter and that is what is remembered, that is what keeps you full. Last night was like that. I enjoyed the adventure of it all, and it is a pleasure to share experiences with people who are as passionate about them as you are.

Our little group is growing strong, everyone is dedicated and excited to build something together. I need to get ahead of it all before it runs me down! We have a new member event in two weeks, and nothing scheduled before due to the holiday. This weekend I need to hunker down and try to build a website.

This is the first time I have had a need for new technology, as I am quite resistant to it! That will be my push this week, perhaps no dinner party, but I will research and try to build a website to house my baby! If the leader has no vision, the movement will surely die. With that in mind, I need to make sure I stay focused and keep us moving. I may go see Erin in Brooklyn, and I am going to try to follow-up with Cherida to set-up a meeting with her sister who lives here. I have a special game-plan for my new recipe of the week, but that will have to wait, I am being summoned to make milky oatmeal for Boss-lady, thank God it's Wednesday, tomorrow is mini-Friday, Friday she leaves early.....

The Saga of The Pulled Pork Quest

I have been on a mission for the last five years, ever since I heard the siren's cry of the southern specialty know as pulled pork. I tasted this delicacy for the first time back in 2004. Prior to this occasion I knew barbecue as dry ribs and store-bought hamburger patties and had little interest in it. That all changed when my dear friend Bear decided to take me to lunch at a little shack called "The Rib Doctor-Bodacious BBQ". The sign sported a very happy looking pig, the irony of this happy animal who was certainly unaware of his position as main course was not lost on me. I ordered the large pulled pork sandwich platter with baked beans and french fries.

The beans were not the strange mushy mess you get out of a can, they were robust and sweet and full of flavor. The pork, oh the pork, it was like no other pork I had ever tasted. It was smoked to a crisp perfection, dry and yet moist with fat at the same time, and the sauces were there to add to the flavor, not as the sole source. I was hooked from the first bite.

After moving away from Kentucky, I was determined to find this culinary delight elsewhere. I soon discovered that there were many bad barbecue impostors out there! In Memphis they boiled their meat and served it drenched in a mediocre sauce. It was nothing like the perfectly pulled masterpiece I remembered! In Denver the meat was similar, but of a lower caliber. In Atlanta I encountered "chopped pork" with a sickeningly sweet, vinegar based sauce that disappointed me greatly. I ended up finding a few contenders along the way. Daddy Dz in Atlanta made a mean pulled pork sandwich, complete with rich backed beans and potato wedges (my scientific standard). I also encountered a near replica of the Rib Dr. at a barbecue festival in Alabama, the contestants were from Northern Tennessee.

Now that I am living in the North East, I have discovered too huge shortcomings in the culinary repituar of New York City: Mexican Food and Barbecue. The mushy, saucy, sweet mess they call barbecue is not only revolting but expensive too ! Granted, there are a few places I have not tried, which I have been told are pretty good, but so far it has been an unpleasant experience.

Which brings me to my recent trip to Fort Campbell. My girlfriend picked me up from the Nashville Airport with a glint in her eye. She told me she had a surprise in the car. I smelled the smokey goodness even before I saw the Styrofoam container! She brought me some leftover beef brisket, baked beans and cornbread. It wasn't pulled pork, but it was good! She was thrilled to have her BBQ buddy back in town and we were on a mission! Sadly, the fools who ran the Rib Doctor decided to move to an out of the way location and promptly when out of business, truly devastating news. We were determined, however, to go on an all out barbecue bonanza that weekend.

On the way back from visiting a school in Martin, TN we decided to stop at the first pig-emblazoned restaurant we saw. This so happened to be a place named "The Keg". Their restaurant was painted with a huge menacing looking pig, so we figured it had to be pretty good. Upon walking into the smokey establishment (oh yes, there are none of those pesky non-smoking laws in the south) I had my doubts. I smelled the fryer and not much else. Our pork sandwich platters arrived and I was thrilled to see nice dry meat accompanied by a large bottle of sauce and beans flecked with pieces of pork. Everything was better than the sad New York excuse for barbecue, but it was not the stuff of my long standing barbecue fantasies. The sauce was OK, but a bit runny, the beans had an odd flavor imparted by jalapenos which overpowered everything else in the stew, and the effect was overall sub par. I was full and overall pleased to be back in the land of the dry meat though, and I knew there was better barbecue to come.

The next day we decided to try a local spot called "The Old South Barbecue". In all my years there I had never frequented this establishment, and I figured it was due to my moral indignation at any business which proudly refers to "The Old South". I suppose my moral outrage has, at this point in my life, been overshadowed by my greedy culinary adventuring, so we went. The place looked like a shack and I feared for my life when using the bowed floor bathroom, but hey, great food often comes out of shanties. This was not one of those times. The meat had an eerie, slimy feel from too much fat, the sauce was runny and over peppered and the beans were lack-luster. Unfortunately for us, we decided that since we had paid for it, we were obligated to eat it, a mistake that caused us great abdominal agony for the better part of the afternoon.

This was outrageous! We had to take a day off though. We both usually eat a healthy diet, mine usually being primarily vegetarian and our carnivorous gluttony was wreaking havoc on our insides. My last day we decided to go to Jo's new standby, where the enticing brisket had originated. Still bloated from the weekend of gluttony, I soldiered on to Jack's in Nashville. The flying pigs on Jack's sign and the happy hog adorning its lawn gave me a promising feeling from the get go, and the smell that hit me upon entering sealed the deal! I ordered the jumbo pork sandwich with baked beans and it was magnificent! They had three different sauces: Texas, Kansas City and Tennessee, and they were all good. The KC was my favorite with its thick, sweet, smokey flavor. The meat was so tender and flavorful, it really didn't need a sauce at all and the beans, flecked with barbecue drippings were robust and delicious. Though still full from the day before, we polished off our plates and were filled with satisfaction. I don't know that it was the best barbecue I have ever had, but it was definitely in my top three.

I don't know if anyone will be able to take the Doctor's title, it was after all my first. Time has a funny way of elevating people and places to an epic stature that surpasses reality. I do know that my quest will continue, I am determined to seek out the greats of this humble art. I also plan to explore the origins and techniques in an attempt to unlock the secrets of this mysterious form of American cookery. Along the way I have had some damn near religious experiences and some utterly horrifying ones. Wherever there is a smoker and swine, I will be there to bravely continue in search of the perfect plate.

Chapter 2. Pulling My Own Pork!

I have always been a beleiver in the attage, "If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself", and I am a competitive bastard and beleive that, "Anything you can do, I can do better!" After the pork debacles in TN, I was inspired to try and make my own Pulled Pork. I had the perfect opportunity on my visit to Colorado. My mother had aquired a smoker, and I knew I had a pair of willing test subjects in her and her husband. I believe that science is the basis for art, meaning, you have to know how to do something the right way before you can put your own spin on it. Therefore, I consulted the man who basis all his recipes on scientific authenticity: Alton Brown. He had a recipe and I had the time and opportunity.

The recipe consisted of soaking a pork shoulder butt, also know as Boston Butt, in a brine of pickling salt, water and molassis overnight. The next morning I got up and we started the smoker, I pulled the pork out of the brine and patted-on Alton's suggested spice blend. (Interesting tip: if you use latex gloves while patting-on the rub it will stick to the meat better.)

Then into the smoker, 210 degrees for 10-12 hours. It was beautiful watching a thing so shrouded in mystery for me coming to life before my eyes. After 10.5 hours the meat fell away with a poke of the fork! I tasted it. It was so flavorful and robust, almost too much! The texture was perfect. As I pulled the meat and watched it become a familiar pile of shreds, I felt a sence of accomplishment, and a realization that this was only step one. I mastered the meat, but what about the beans, what about the sauce? This was an exciting chapter in the Saga of the Swine, but my quest is far from over....

From One Home to Another

I'm back in the NYC and it feels good. I spent the last four days back in Clarksville, TN visiting my dearest friend and it was great! I ate too much, moved too little, and came back much heftier, but it was good. My adventures did not cease simply because my location was less exotic. I mastered the homemade pasta, embarked on a BBQ quest, co-hosted a dinner party, wrote some new pieces and met some great new friends. Except for the workouts, I actually managed to complete most of my goals this week. It seems that my goals may be becoming part of my life rather than a temporary stretch.

I have struggled to let go of my home in the Fort Campbell area. After much navel gazing, I realized that it is a period of my life I cannot part with more than the place itself. Much of my sentiment is rose-colored by the passing of time, but this trip I was able to pinpoint the real source of my longing.

There is truly nothing to do in Clarksville. Even after extensive research, I came-up empty. What Clarksville has that New York does not is community. The diverse population of people from around the country, thrown together into one big messy army family, are a community like none I have met before or since. The simple pleasure of having these down to earth, interesting women over for dinner or out to drinks (albeit at the ever stylish neighborhood Chili's!) is an experience satisfying in a deep, pure way. There were no pretenses, no need to be anything but what you are. Laughter and conversation and dreams flowed freely. The freedom to be yourself and enjoy others who are simply themselves and who share some kind of common history is fulfilling. This is the element of life I crave.

I, of course, immediately thought of how to own this feeling again, how to find a way back into its comforting arms. DeShon could join the military, perhaps I could come back. It is a temporary fix, this is a fleeting dream. The military is transient, and whether you are done after 2 years or 20, when it is done with you, it spits you out and sends you back to the cold, alien world from whence you came. Even if I found a way back "home", the people would slip away, and eventually I would be right back out in the cold. No, that time has passed and now I am faced with the much greater feat of finding that warm embrace on the outside, in a place where people are not bound by blood and sweat and mutual misery.

So, I returned home to New York, and she embraced me in her formal way. The streets are friendly and familiar, people standing near me engaged me in conversations about their lives as though I was a dear friend, the men at my bodega greeted me like a long lost relative, and my tiny apartment beamed like a palace. Perhaps it is not this place that keeps me at arms length, but my own insecurity. Perhaps I need only be confident enough to be myself here and the warmth of that simple acceptance will appear. Its true what they say, you can't go back, but maybe, just maybe I can use familiar roads to lead me home again, wherever that may be.

Perspective

I am happy to say that I have not succumb to my brain aneurysm, or as it more likely is, my "receptionist ear" injury. I have spoken to my wonderful man who is my greatest fan and enabler, who has given me his blessing to come home and be a lazy sack. I feel much better and have been able to put things back into perspective.

I have always been a fan of the quantifiable; loving lists and calendars and graphs. I consulted with one such calendar to discover that I have only been house/work-bound 3 out of 7 days in the last 3 weeks. For a recovering hermit, such as myself, this is quite a feat! The perfectionist bitch in me is always finding a way to make sure my efforts do not go unpunished, but the calendar, like the scale, doesn't lie.

I have re-centered and am feeling quite pleased with myself, my calendar is almost full for August, my weight is down to an acceptable level, my girlfriends are no longer feeling neglected and my man is madly in love with me. If I can get my employment under control, I am going to be pretty close to perfect! You can't change you life overnight, but you sure can make improvements.

I suppose lately the desperate woman inside me screaming for change forgot one important fact: Destiny finds you, not the other way around. It may have not found me yet, but things are certainly heading in the right direction. Tomorrow is not just another day, tomorrow is hope and possibility and could be the day destiny finds me. Thank God for tomorrows and thank God for today.

Good Intentions

You know about the road to hell, well, the road back to my apartment is paved with good intentions as well. It is 5:55pm and I am sooo not going rowing. I am going to go with my friend Gus next week, but for tonight, I just want to run home and hide in my apartment.

Today was rough. I woke-up this morning with the distinct feeling of an icepick being stuck in my brain at random intervals, this sensation did not improve. This alone is enough to set me on edge, but, of course, today was a very "hands-on" day for my usually innocuous boss. Oh yes, and her crazy was on full-blast. Getting her golf clubs picked-up took precedence over a legal contract, and I was lambasted for not knowing what the hell the contract was for. I not-so-kindly reminded her that I am not an architect or a lawyer, I just try to type the damn thing.

My paranoia is on full tilt today as well, I have nearly convinced myself that the pain in my head is a brain aneurysm. I have been on the verge of a panic attack all day, and I am finding it difficult to breath, even sitting down. I though rowing might be a good way to "get it out of my system", but I think another trip on the subway would put me over the edge. So, back to my hole.

I am not pleased with myself, the way I am weaseling out of my weekly list, but Thank God its Monday Night, now 6:05pm. I have a full week ahead of me to do better, and the worst day of the week is behind me! Oh shit. I just realized it's Tuesday, well, I suppose the above mentioned sentiments still apply, but my brain aneurysm theory is gaining steam. For tonight I will try to put it all behind me and push the guilt aside as I lose myself in Mad Men and vegetarian chicken patties. Tomorrow is a new day.......

Actually, fuck that! If I wanna curl up alone on my couch with frozen food and bad TV, that is my perogitive! The point of the experiment is to make sure I don't do that every night. It would be just like me to overshoot and fly to the other end of the spectrum. Ugh. I am going to see Jo this weekend, perhaps Kaitlin tomorrow, the EWI group on Tuesday, Gus on Thursday, I certainly can be called a hermit no longer. So FUCK you little voice, hmm, my brain anyurism is starting to relax, fancy that. Well, enough of crazy bosses and crazy Fi, tomorrow really is a new day.

Week 3

Yesterday was an improvement, I was feeling hopeful and focused and ready for all the possibilities the week had in-store! I made plans to go rowing on the Hudson tonight and I am so counting it as both a social event and an NYC experience. I also have an interview today. My cynical ass is not holding out much hope, but I figure it is good for me to get back in the swing of the interview process.

I am absolutely thrilled to be heading back to KY/TN this weekend! It sounds crazy, but visiting my best friend there feels like a homecoming. I suppose that all the places I have lived have a home-like quality. It is bittersweet to go to these places and see that they have all gone on without you. Though I long for places that were once home, the truth is, the only real home is the one your are in. You can't go back, that's what they say, and that is probably the truth, but desire does not bend its will to reason.

I am going to make my recipe of the week while I'm down there: Seared scallops with homemade pasta and a lemon butter sauce. Hopefully I will be able to keep up my workouts down there too.

I have been looking for clarity, looking for passion, looking for myself and my future. The one thing I have stumbled upon is love. It seems that in finding myself and building my life alone, I have been draw back to the man with whom I have shared the last three years. He sees me again and he makes me smile. The tentative side of me, the side that has been disappointed and hurt so many times before keeps saying "we'll see, is it all really going to be different?" But the other voice in my mind is eager, eager to love with reckless abandon, ready to dream, no matter how likely to fail, eager to believe in this man who I love so much.

I can see my future in his eyes, and it is beautiful.

Finding "The One" and Chinese Broccoli

Yesterday I was scheduled to go on my Chinese Broccoli Quest and I had a gift card for a clothing store and figured I swing by on my way to Chinatown. I have realized that though I am no longer looking for "The One" in the vast sea of men, as I already have a great boyfriend, that search has somehow transferred to clothing.

I have always felt most comfortable in "costume". When I was in high school it was bondage pants and punk rock band t-shirts, in the army it was my endless Baby Phat ensembles, now my inclination is toward vintage. I suppose those of us who are drawn to fashion, no matter what type, see it as a form of expression. It is a shorthand way of saying "this is who I am". Anyways, now when I look for clothing I have learned to avoid boxing myself in with rules. I pick-up what I am drawn too, and at this stage in the game, it always seems to fit my style just right. Some are contemporary versions of a classic piece, a mere nod to the past, while others are authentic vintage. Whenever I spend money though, it must be for something special, that piece that crys out "I am the One".

Yesterday I found a piece that spoke to me, but I felt unsure. Standing in line my intuition said to let it go. So I put the cream colored a-line dress back and headed downtown. On my way I began to feel regret. I blew-off these thoughts and decided to detour to my favorite secondhand store. Nothing there seemed right, and the pieces were just as pricey as the new beauty I left hanging on the rack! I suppose that like in love, letting something go can make you desire it that much more. I almost ran back up to the store to retrieve my lost love, but my good sense told me that I was already half way to Chinatown and going back to midtown east would be asinine. I know that I have a romantic relationship with my clothes, but taking it to the bad chick-flick, running-back-to-your-lover's-arms level is too pathetic for me. On to Chinatown! The dress could wait.

As I began my decent into lower Manhattan, the vibe began to change, the scenery unfamiliar and as the hot wind relieved only a fraction of my heat, I felt something very familiar. I remembered walking on a hot day, with a hot wind and a curious mind through the streets in Iraq. The pleasure of the wind's relief and the excitement of seeing things so foreign I could not have dreamed them up myself. The new, the unknown, the exotic; they bring out a primal satisfaction that nothing else ever has. As I walked and pondered this, I found myself on Bowery and Grand Street.

The first produce market I stopped at was no help at all, they had no broccoli and spoke no English. The next market was much more helpful, the woman sent me back to Grand Street. On Grand I came across the fish mongers. I love fish, I even considered working for a fish purveyor, but my God, this fish did not smell or look right! I was overtaken my terror as I moved amongst the stale fish and exotic sea fair, and I nearly lept out of my skin when I saw something move! It was only a bucket of small live crabs, but at that point I took my leave. At the next market I found my Chinese Broccoli! It was there in all its glory and for only $1.50 per pound! I bought two pounds and continued down Grand, who knew what other cheap glories I might find! I stumbled into an indoor market and saw the meat counter. Well, if the produce is such a bargain I wonder how cheap the meat is. 89 cents per pound. As I drew near the meat counter I saw the signs for the bargain bin steak, and then the smell hit me. The rancid odor of Grade D meat hit me like a murky tidal wave. I nearly hurled as I fled back out to the street. I suppose the take away here is: Chinatown is a great place to buy produce (I went on to get a bag of shallots for a dollar!) but one should not buy protein here under any circumstances.

I continued wandering for a while and made my way through the restaurant row that is Little Italy. I bought some cheese and headed back up to Union Square. I bought some wine and passed on some pathetically small artichokes at the farmer's market before heading back to get my dress.

I was filled with anxiety, would it still be there? I rushed into the store, right to the rack where I left it, no dress. I frantically ran to the dressing room and looked through the discard rack, nothing! I flew back to the dresses and to my horror, I saw several women with the same dress I wanted, in bigger sizes, but still I clearly have good taste! There were "big girl" sizes left, but my perfect size 4 was gone! Angry and defeated, I started down the stairs. I decided to stop by another shop on my way out. There I found a sexy little pencil skirt on-sale. After my purchase, I decided to give "The Dress" one last shot. I walked over to the rack, began hopelessly looking through, and there it was. The One. I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest, never wanted to let it go again! Exhausted from my day of adventuring, I checked out and wandered back home in a half-heat stroked stupor.

Needless to say, I did not have the energy to tackle my new recipe of the week: homemade pasta with seared scallops. I settled for two perfect slices of margarita pizza.

Today I made the sexy stuffed artichokes for the dinner party and spent the rest of the afternoon watching a "Dirt" marathon. Yes, this week has not been a picture of success for me. I am finding myself diving back in to trying-on different lives through hours of television voyeurism. I am lost, and not doing much to change it, and I am so tired.

I worked-out very little; went-out but made no real connections, ate pizza instead of expanding my culinary horizons, and wrote with little talent or passion. On top of it all, I was a wretched, snarky bitch at work. At least I made it to Chinatown! I went through the motions, but lost sight of the goal. This experiment is about finding myself, molding my life into the one I want to live, finding the direction to take my future in. Perhaps it is a good thing I got an extension. My dear D. will not be back until the end of September now, so I suppose having an extra few weeks to change my life is a good thing. Ahh, how things can change in a week! Just 7 days ago I said this was too easy! 14 days in and I am crawling back into my hermit shell, well, the show must go on! I am off to the EWI dinner party in less than and hour and I am so tired I am considering spending a small fortune on a cab. If I have learned anything so far it is that everything can change in an instant, so tomorrow is a new day, a new week and a new opportunity to get my shit together! Here's to a new day!

Strike Two USPS!

Ugh, well I just sold two books on Amazon for $13 a peice. I sent my intern to the post office to ship them media mail. These cock-suckers tell him the book, one book, is too heavy for media mail and charge him $9 bucks. FFFFFFFFFUCK! So let's see, I made a whopping $4. SHIT SHIT SHIT. The point of Media mail is that weight does not matter, it is slow! I have sent crates of books that way. Huuuuh. I am trying to stay positive, but at this point I just want to slam a martini and cry, cry, cry.

Hitting a Wall

Just when I was sure that things couldn't get any easier, week two went and knocked me on my ass! I have been missing postings, missing workouts and feeling utterly exhausted! I kind of feel like I am failing, backsliding this week.

To get some perspective I looked at my calendar from the last two weeks.
During week one: I was pretty good about working out, I started a food group, had drinks with my co-founder, the first meeting of the Foodie Club (EWI), the Cannoli experiment and a good Trader Joe's run.
This week: I have missed workouts several days, my blogging has been inconsistent, I am trying to plan the next EWI meeting on Sunday, I had dinner with Gussie, am having drinks with her tonight, went to the CUNY mixer and a Freelance class, I'm walking to Chinatown tomorrow and attempting to make homemade pasta and scallops on Saturday night.

I guess I have been busy, but it just doesn't feel as good. I wonder why. I am house sitting in the West Village this weekend, and that apartment always inspires me to write, hell it inspired me to start The Experiment, I think writing and re-focusing will be good. This experience is meant to push me, propel me, inspire me into the life I want and create some clarity as to what direction I should let my future take. I am feeling pretty lost and a little beaten down this week, but I guess I am still following the goals.

My wonderful, amazing boyfriend sent me a nice surprise in the mail: casino winning from Vegas. He was so excited to give it to me and to hear my reaction. Someone decided that they needed the money more and stole it right out of the sweet card, stuffing the mangled greeting back into a priority envelope. To hear the hurt and disappointment in D.'s voice was almost more than I could bear! It's just money, it would have been a really nice perk after the pay cuts and frustrations this week, but I am really trying to not let this upset me. I know it always comes back in one way or another, but for some reason it makes me so so sad. I have been ugly and bitter at work this week, and that makes me sad. I don't know what to do with my life and that makes me sad. All the joy of The Experiment is taking a beating this week and I am desperate to get it back!

It is my life and I choose passion and joy and adventure! That is my mantra and no one can take those things away unless I let them. I am going to continue to chant and push on through. I still have two and a half days to meet my goals for week 2 and to take back the smile that is rightfully mine.

Week 2, Day 3

Whew, I missed writing yesterday because I was at the CUNY freelance writing workshop, and then in a meeting at my office getting my pay cut. I have some catching up to do!

Ok, Monday evening I reeeally did not want to go to the "meet and greet" at the Graduate school, but I did. It was interesting. I left just as torn and confused as to which direction to take with my life as ever, but I did find it informative. Oh, I also re-weighed myself and realized that I had in fact lost 3 lbs last week.

Tuesday: I went to Pilates and then hiked over to the school for the Freelance workshop. It was really interesting. I feel like, if I can get motivated, that would be the best place for me to start trying to get my work published. I can't help but think that even after going to graduate school I would have to start off the same way. I know that I would rather work for a magazine than a newspaper, I want to write editorial or features, not do reporting. I guess I am slowly figuring out a few things. I really am not sure about school, but I have a year to figure it out!

I arrived back at work a hour before our scheduled "mandatory staff meeting". When the hammer fell, I gotta give my boss credit, she did a really good job. The pay cut sucks but she made it really hard to get super pissed at her, in that meeting. My measly pay is getting cut 10% now, and if things don't get better, another 20% in a month. Thiiiis is not goood! I figure for that type of salary I could be doing something fun! Hell, I could work in publishing or at the page program at NBC! I know it will all work out for the best, God always has my back. My friend and I decided to go back to her place and have a few glasses of wine in honor of the pay-cutting and then she took me out to a great dinner of Burgers and roast chicken with my best friend, french fries! (I thought it was amazing, but I also had not eaten all day and was tipsy, so who knows)

After dinner, I wandered back up to Midtown East from her home in the West Village and called my man. We had a bit of a quarrel the night before, but he tryed calling me all day to apologize. He promised me we would be the fairytale couple we where when we first met when he got home. I hope he is right, for better or worse, he is my best friend!

Now it is Wednesday morning, I slept through my alarm, so no workout yet. I suppose I have conquered a few weekly goals so far:
-Social Outings
-New Connection (kind of, I actually did not meet anyone I am going to stay in contact with, hmm)
-Workouts so far
-Writing-I have some really great new ideas
- Dinner party scheduled for Sunday
- New Recipe to try Saturday: Homemade pasta with scallops in a lemon butter sauce
- New NYC: Explore Chinatown in search of Broccoli
- Pushing myself: ?

So I am half way through my week and I am still in the planning stage, but hey, I still have four more days to make it happen!

Wrap-up of Week One

Quite a start if I do say so! I worked-out almost every day and lost 4 lbs, gaining 3 back over the weekend :..( I tried a new recipe and now know how to make Cannoli shells, if not the filling. I had a party, went out for drinks, met 10 new people and have been writing every day. I said yes to life this week and the results have been staggering. I am not losing site of my other goal though, trying to figure out my next career move. Though I am embracing life now, I always keep one eye on the horizon.

I suppose I should talk about the party. It ended up being nine of us in out strange motley crew! We have two paralegals, one lawyer, two finance guys, two lucky ladies in publishing, one gal whose job I just can't remember and Me. We are all in our mid to late twenties/ early thirties and we love to eat. I would say 7 out of 9 love to cook as well, though no one has a culinary degree. We all find our passion for the edible to be our salvation from the mundane realities and disappointments of our lives. One of the lovely publishing girls came up with our name, a name that falls just shy of pretension into the silly and ironic: Eating With Impunity (EWI for short)!

We EWI members sat and drank ten bottles of wine, laughed and shouted, and finally ended-up at an after party of sorts at the finance guys' loft. We were there to see the space and help him make fried risotto. K my co-founder, began snapping pictures and it was a great time! Looking at the pictures, I saw that I loomed about the other women. At first feeling quite amazonian, I began to smile. There I was with my pearls and red lipstick, boisterous and larger than life: I felt just like Julia! It didn't matter that I did not look petite or the thinnest of the girls, I was channeling my hero, a woman who was loved and adored for her vibrance and not her dress size. I probably sound a bit foolish, seeing as this "amazon" is only a size 4, but it is all relative, and this is New York!

My how things change! One week ago I was house sitting in the West Village, trying to figure out how to make my life more passionate, more full of laughter, more full of people and parties and new experiences. I shot for my eight weekly goals (I so hate that it is not a more rounded number, like 10!) and I tried to approach everything as an adventure or a story. It has been a bit exhausting, but strangely easy. Who knew my experiment would begin working so fast! I am well on my way to the life I want right now, but I am still in the dark about what to do next, I guess you can't expect to have it all in only one week.


Week One Goal List:
1. Daily Workout- 6 days
2. New Recipe - Fat Free Cannoli
3. New Writing- Blogger Article: cooking and cunnilingus
4. Dinner Party - EWI party
5. Social Event - Drinks with K.
6. New Connection - K. and the EWI's
7. New NYC Experience - Hell's Kitchen Flea Market
8. One Yes instead of No - I honestly don't think I made this one this week

The Cannoli Disaster

After a long, successful day of shopping at the vintage flea market, I returned home to conquer the cannoli. Or so I though....

I suppose I started off with the wrong attitude, I was a bit tired and honestly just wanted to get it over with. I was not even in the mood for cannoli. I google a recipe and started with the dough. There were several variations, so I randomly borrowed from them all for my convenience. Baking is a science so I was rather sure it would not end well for me. I felt quite accomplished as I kneaded the flour into a dough-like form. "If this works, I will be quite impressed with myself", I thought.

While the dough "rested" in the fridge I prepared the oil for my fried cannoli and heated the oven for my baked cannoli. Then I turned to the easy part; the filling. All that goes into the filling is ricotta, vanilla and powdered sugar.

I guesstimated on the powdered sugar and began to mix it into the cheese. I tasted it. It was too sweet, grainy and quite watery. Hmmmm. I remember the vanilla! Better flavor, but still not right. Fuck it! I added in some fat free cream cheese, thinking it might thicken things up and cut the sweetness. Hmmm, no cigar. Oh well. I didn't have anymore ricotta, so I threw it in the fridge and hoped it would firm-up.

Ok, now for the cannoli rolling. I took out the bowl of dough, broke off a hunk and began rolling. It was a total mess, flour flying everywhere. I cut my circles, re-rolled them into ovals and wrapped my cannoli molds. Two in the oven and two in the fryer. Low and behold it seemed to work! The fried cannoli's became golden and slide off their molds! I nearly burned the baked ones, but they came out alive!

Well, after about 8 of them, I had had it with the cannoli experience. Though I love to cook, not knowing or believing that my recipe will turn out makes my patience run quite thin. I threw the cannolis and paper towel covered cutting board into the fridge and collapsed onto the couch.

After watching the Soup, I decided the cannoli's were probably cool enough to fill. I pulled out my pastry bag, a plate, the shells and my filling. The damned filling had not gotten any firmer. Oh well, if ready the Julie/Julia Project had taught me anything it was to just finish the damn thing and get on with your life!

I scooped runny spoonfuls of the wretched filling into the pastry bag, where it thankfully eked out slower than I could spoon. I filled my first cannoli. It was ugly, but ok. With the next squeeze of the bag, all hell broke loose. That is if hell is half ass cannoli filling. The runny blob had escaped from the top of the bag and ended up all over my shells and me. After cursing and wiping/licking-up the mess, I proceeded to fill the rest of the shells. I thought perhaps I could coax the dreaded filling into staying put if I garnished the ends of the cannoli with chocolate chips. The greedy white mess pretty much just gobbled them up. Sighing, I put the whole mess of them in a tupperware and threw them in the freezer along side the massive quantity of left over dough.

Another Tivo'ed episode of The Soup later, I felt I was up for a taste test. Who would win, baked or fried? Would the shells be as gross as the filling?

God had mercy on this over-zealous, fat-reducing cook. The shells were great! In fact, the baked shells were even better than the fried! They were crisp and flavorful and almost made the filling edible.

I re-checked the filling recipe to see what possibly could have gone wrong with such a s

imple dish. There it was, my simple and fatal oversight: "drain the ricotta well using a cheese

cloth". No wonder it was a runny mess! I had thrown in the entire package, dripping with cheesy lactate. Well, now I know. My dear friend Gus pleaded with me on Friday to not throw them out, no matter how bad I thought they were. She thinks I am a picky perfectionist and is dying to try them. Well Gus, six runny Cannoli are coming your way Monday morning, Bon Appitite!

Day 5

Yesterday was interesting. I was a bit more bitter at work, thinking about our eminent pay-cut meeting and unfruitful looking for other jobs on craigslist, but other than that, it was a pretty good day. After the weekly Boss-induced Friday heart attack (She waits until her bus to the hamptons is departing and then finds important things to work on, while I work like crazy to get her packed, out the door and at the same time finish typing the document she is working on), I made my grocery list and headed to meet my fellow type-a foodie.

She was not there when I arrived or after my first glass of wine, and I began to wonder if I had fallen victim to some deranged internet predator who would make plans with people and then stand them up! Well, she actually called the bar, God-bless her, to let me know that she was on her way. She turned out to be a total doll! I would assume close to my age, classic style, pretty and hates her job as much as I hate mine. To steal the line: "I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship!"

The Foodie Club party is on! There are several different directions it could go, more cooking or more eating, celebrity chefs coming to speak ect. OOOOH! I just had a great idea! I can't blog it here though! If we can find a way to turn this club into a business, we could both escape our silly starter-jobs.

After drinks I staggered down to the Trader Joe's and Food emporium and drunkenly spend a small fortune on food. I am all set for the Cannoli challenge though! I also agreed, just this morning to meet a friend of my mom's friend to discuss law school, a yes I would normally have said no to: Check. All I have left to do this week is to actually make the Cannoli and to do something New Yorkie.

Let's see where life takes me today!

Though my job is on the rocks and there are no new prospects in sight, though I still have no idea what to do with my life, perhaps with passion as my compass, this may turn out to be a great year!

Faux Cooking in a Fast Food Nation

I was reading a post on the blog Bitten and one from the New York Times about the effects of the recession and of food television on the amount of home cooking in America. It seems that there has not been much of an effect at all. Instead of eating-out, people are "taking-out" from grocery and convenience stores. Prepared foods that simply need to be eaten or heated.

This is an interesting phenomenon. I saw an astounding commercial the other day for a family sized microwavable lasagna. It seems that people now equate baking a frozen pizza or zapping a pre-made pot roast as cooking! I admit, I use pre-made pizza crust and gasp! frozen vegetables, but I take the time to craft a healthy meal that requires cooking or at least the combination of ingredients with these convenience foods. What happened to creating a meal? Have people in America really forgotten how to cook?

I suppose I began slowly, making salads and quick pastas in my first home, but I quickly fell in love with the craft. It was my desire to lose weight and eat healthier that got me started. It costs me as much to cook as to go out. New York groceries are nightmarishly pricey. The satisfaction is so much fuller though.

Creating and then consuming, rather than just eating is a truly nourishing experience. I wonder what it would take to convince people that it is worth the extra time. I find that coming home after a long day, stopping at the market and then cooking dinner is the best way to wind down. It is the transition from work to home, into a state of relaxation. All the irritations and frustrations can be forgotten as you focus on the task at hand. Maybe people would need less therapy if they simply came home and engaged in the natural and fulfilling acts of baking or sauteing!

As I wrote earlier this week, the most natural pleasures we have are food and sex. Well, the preparation of food is foreplay for eating. After indulging in a meal artfully prepared and lighter than the fried crap you can heat and eat, there might just be enough energy and relaxation left over for a romp in the bedroom. Perhaps this is the secret to the infamous French sensuality, the true enjoyment of food and sex and life. Not always quick and easy, but richer and more beautiful.

Day 3, Morning 4

I was able to check-off several of my weekly goals last night! I have drinks scheduled for Friday and the Foodie club party scheduled for Sunday. Next week I already have an almost full calendar with the CUNY Journalism events. The main thing left on my list is a new recipe.

As much as I love to cook, making something new has become a drudgery. This is very sad. I guess it has been awhile since I was inspired by something I ate to the point where I wanted to recreate a healthier version of it.

I cook daily, but I stick with the simple things I can whip up and know I will enjoy. Last night was baked eggplant Parmesan, the night before was avocado veggie wraps, tonight will be leftovers from both. This weekend I want to make some homemade chicken or vegetable curry, but I need to find a new recipe or new inspiration to explore.

OHHHHHH!

I got it! I created a recipe for baked cannoli and have yet to try and make them! That will be my new conquest for the weekend! Haha!


So Far:

New Writing-check
New Connection- check
New Social Event- check
New Recipe- planned
Daily Workout- so far

I mean, I will review the full results of week one on Sunday, but so far this has been too easy! I think I may need to step it up! But I am getting ahead of myself, there is still the weekend with the first meeting and canolli battle to get through.

Day 2, Morning 3

Well,
Yesterday wrapped-up relatively drama free. My Neurotic boss started to make me a little crazy by the end of the day, but a little crazy is the best you can hope for in the glamorous world of Personal Assisting! Honestly, watching Mark on Ugly Betty re-runs last night made me see the humor in this silly job.

I was quite depressed about my employment for a while, there is no promotion potential because the executive I work for owns a company in a technical field I have no interest in, I don't make much money and I use almost none of the skills I worked so hard over the years to hone, oh, and my boss is an OCD, Bi-Polar Pack-rat.

Now, I just see the humor in it all. At least I get paid for wrapping gifts in miniature boxes, cutting-up her lunch if she is too busy to do it herself, and going on personal vendettas against anyone who erks her! I only wish she were as fabulous as Wilimina Slater or Glen Close! Or that I was working in a field as fabulous as Publishing.

As far as The Experiment, I tried to set-up my dinner party, but my attendees from work are going out of town. I have made a great move in the right direction with my online invitation to other NYC Foodies to unite. I even tried to contact Julie Powell through her blog to get her to participate. I doubt she will respond, probably thinking me a nut job.

I almost wonder if people we admire are destined to reject us if we ever get close enough. Perhaps heroes are made to live in our minds only. Like Julia Child's rejecting Julie Powell, and maybe Julie rejecting me. But honestly, I just think she seems like a ton of fun, so maybe she will come around eventually!

This morning I was thrilled to see that "avideater", the take-charge blogger from my post, has congregated 7 people in some online corral and they are ready to do this thing! I am not going to check-off my "new connections" for the week until there is an in-the-flesh meeting set, but things are looking good!

It is Wednesday and I still need to experience a new, uniquely New York, outing; try a new recipe, go out, and do one thing I am not comfortable with.

Who knows what the rest of the day or week will bring. Today, while I should be working, I will try to find a new museum or show or something new, cheap or free to get myself into. Not bad for 3 days in! I am even thinking about stepping-up my game and posting a new piece of writing daily instead of weekly! We'll see how that goes

Cooking and Cunnilingus

I realized the other night, after a positively spot on oral performance on the heels of a divine meal, creating a great meal and a great romp between the sheets are more similar than not. As I see it there are only a few reasons to do either: to satisfy someone you care about or to show-off. I know, I know; what about pleasing yourself? Well, hopefully you are not doing it unless you enjoy it, and if you are, then that is an entirely different subject. Truth is, most of us enjoy sex and enjoy a good meal, but if you are the one crafting and not merely feasting, then there is addition motive, thus the caring vs. showing-off scenario.

When creating a memorable dish, you need to layer flavors and textures to create interest. Take the seemingly boring hamburger. A succulent intriguingly seasoned burger topped with the finest condiments can blow your mind. Likewise, oral sex can be a “slurp and burp” (that was the grossest saying I could think of!) or it can be practically a religious experience. It can and must be catered to your partner’s particular taste.

Catering to people is something I am alarmingly good at, too good sometimes in fact. The truth is I need a muse. When I am alone I tend to cook basic healthy staples. The magic and variety usually goes out the window. I like the challenge of creating a meal with someone else’s particular likes and dislikes in mind. I prefer vegetables to meat and there is almost nothing I won’t eat, so my tastes rarely narrow anything down! Don’t get me wrong, I love food, love it, but I have a hard time bringing myself to create a masterpiece when it is only me I am cooking for. I also am one of those women who actually enjoy giving head. I guess there is something about doing something you are good at, exactly the way someone else likes it, that gives me a sense of satisfaction.

On the subject of head: I name my moves. Yes, I am a silly girl. But honestly when I am working my magic it helps to visualize. There are typical ones- corkscrew ice-cream cone and more exotic ones- the head nibble waterfall. Hey, the names could potentially help your silly man remember his favs and coach you on what he wants on an evening when you really just want to “get-in and get-out”. This theory hasn’t worked so well for me so far because the last thing he is doing is paying attention to my asinine names post-coital. They still please me and allow me to bask in the glow of my awesomeness a bit longer. Yes, I am a show-off, but I would also like to think that I am a caring, giving person; perhaps a hybrid of the two aforementioned categories of cooks and cocksuckers.

I forgot where I was going with this except that I gain the same carnal pleasure from cooking a great dish and giving a wicked blow-job. I have the same visceral passion for food and sex. These happen to be the two subjects I could go on and on about all day. I suppose that in these two arenas you must have passion and the only rule of thumb is to make it enjoyable. It is expression. Food and sex are art that must be shared, must be consumed to be appreciated. I am tired of people criminalizing these joys.

I think that the most natural pleasures in like are sex and food, and the most unnatural is money. Hell, we can’t live without food and we are created to come together with each other. Money is a means to an end, but it seems like it is the only acceptable obsession anymore. Hell, money in and of itself is boring. Yes, food can make you fat. Yes, sex can give you a disease. But to truly appreciate either you must respect it. If you respect food you will enjoy it without shoveling garbage in your mouth. If you respect sex you will be safe and respectful of your partner(s). Wars are not started over cuisine or cunnilingus. Perhaps if we embraced these pleasures more fully and openly there would be less repressed anger exploding around us. I digress, I did not start out to get all preachy, I just wanted to share my love for the “organic pleasures” of life and the connection I see between the two. Think about the art of it all next time you are whipping up a meal or taking your lover between your lips. Bon appétit!

Day 1, Morning 2

Well, Yesterday was the first day of my experiment. I overslept, so I had to take the PATH train from the West Village where I was cat-sitting to my midtown office. Workout missed.

I did however, walk the 50 blocks home from the Central Park baseball fields to my little place in Kips Bay, so I guess that will have to count.

I also found a new way of meeting like-minded food nerds, through foodie/ underground supper clubs. I reached out to a few over the Internet yesterday and we'll see what comes of that.

I feel like Day one was a success overall. I decided to force myself to maintain a blog, something scary and different for me. What can I say though, chances are no one will read this, which is both nerve wracking and freeing. I hate to be ignored or judged, but it I really should get over myself! Especially if I want to write for a living!

Well, Day 2 is starting-off a bit bumpy. I missed my beloved Pilates class this morning. In the interest of being more social, I feel I really need to get my workouts out of the way first thing in the morning, that way I can be free to go out after work if something interesting comes-up. Right now I am debating a lunchtimes pilates class, a lunchtime abs class, a tentative ballet workout after work, or getting off my ass and hitting the cardio machines right now! I am leaning toward now. Who knows what I could be doing tonight, though a voice in my head is still mocking me: "You know you will be on your couch watching Ugly Betty Re-runs and eating your vegetarian chicken wraps". Well, cynical voice, that may be true, but I will certainly be open to other possibilities and I we will see where that takes me.

The Experiment

August 2, 2009

I have been moving around my entire adult life. In the military and after, I have been searching for home. I have ended up, like so many before me, in New York City. I am approaching my one year mark and I still feel a bit like I am outside looking-in. being in a relationship can do this as well, you are comfortable in each other’s company and therefore do not venture out as much as you might if left to your own devices.

My boyfriend of the last three years is in Las Vegas, working on a television show for the next 5 weeks. After he comes home and starts making more money he is planning on moving out of our home and getting his own place. There is nothing wrong with our relationship, per se, but he feels the need to get out on his own. He has felt this way for awhile, but I am now amenable to this idea. You see, we don’t fight anymore. We get along great and truly love each other, but with the fights went some of our passion. There is nothing wrong, but there is something not right as well. He, being a man, wants it all: his own place and a devoted woman. This may very well work, but it also may not. His 5 week absence will serve as a good preview of what my life will be like having someone without the daily comforts of our shared routine. This brings me to my experiment.

Well, I am about to embark on an experiment to see if I can change my life and find out what I truly want in the process. You see, when you are in a relationship you tend to start thinking in terms of what he wants or what we want. You should, but in the process, I have forgotten some of the things I want. I am 25, a military veteran, a college graduate and an utterly lost executive assistant, I need to find out what it is I am still longing for. I don’t know if I should go to Law School to make the big bucks, go for a Journalism MA so I can write and get paid for it, find a job where I can meet interesting people and travel the world (does that exist?), basically what I should do to get from the life I am living now to the life I want. I am also lonely.

I have set several weekly goals for myself: one new recipe, 5-6 workouts, one dinner party, one new piece of writing, one NYC experience and one social connection per week. These may seem small and silly, but they all have purposes centered around my passions, and what better roadmap for life can one have but their passions? One new recipe: I love cooking, but typically only create grand meals if there is someone else enjoying them. 5-6 workouts: I am in New York and why not focus on getting thin and sexy while my time is my own (I also have gained a ghastly 8 pounds and need to shave them off)? One dinner party: this is a combination of my love of cooking and the fact that I promised some friends from work I would put it together, I am likely to flake-out on these types of ideas and that needs to change! One new piece of writing: If I want to be a writer, I need to write. One NYC experience: it is high time I start taking advantage of the magically city I give most of my paycheck to live in, also a great way to meet people. One social connection: I love people, but am terrible at making new friends, if I am to have the life I want, I must meet and foster new relationships. So, there it is. Can I craft a life full of friends, adventure, passion and excitement on the salary of an executive assistant in only 5 weeks, oh, and figure out what to do with my life? I am about to find out.

Week 1:

Game Plan- Check
Writing- Check