Check Marks the Spot

My last shred of self-control is barely hanging on for dear life while the rest of me is begging to bust out the scissors. The New Yorker inside of me is telling me it's okay to explode. The smell of coffee wafts through my mind as a reminder of what I want; I won't let up until I get it.


Sometimes it is better to push until things go your way than to sit and wait while you are trampled. I may not be the boss at either of my jobs, but I feel that I deserve respect for the amount of work I contribute to each company. On the weekends, I enjoy working so much that it almost doesn't feel like work at all, but so far at this new job during the week I feel like I am fighting my way through each day. Now, there is nothing wrong with working hard and clawing your way to your goals, but there is no point in putting in that kind of effort when you are not compensated for it in a timely manner.


The first of the month looms near and I am broke. I owe my Dad money for my cell phone and insurance, I owe it to my credit score to pay off that stupid card before it goes into interest, I will most likely owe the mechanic money to fix my car (if they ever figure out what is happening to it), and--most importantly--I owe my savings account a sizable deposit. Not to mention that this month is Christmas and I have not even started my shopping.


At this point, I feel that I have put forth enough effort in rectifying this situation as is reasonable, yet I am not content to sit back as I am screwed at every turn.

Keep My Feet on the Ground and My Head in the Clouds

I'm selfish.


...and I'm okay with that.


Sometimes there is no other choice for me. I am constantly put down for my desires because they are--to my family--a little "out there." They just can't understand why I love my city so much. They won't even give it a chance. It kills me that they actually think all the criticism is helping me--or helping them convince me.


There is no way it ever will.


If anything, they are making me want to push harder and leave sooner. I don't understand the logic that putting me down for going for my dream will accomplish anything but bad feelings. It's like they have no idea who I am anymore... and they don't want to try to find out.


My mom has this fantasy about me that I will marry rich and live in a house with a white picket fence. I will have little girls and drive them around in an SUV. I will constantly wear an apron accompanied by a smile. Except in my version my smile is fake and it's not a fantasy... it's a nightmare.


In my dream, I break that mold-- big-time. In my opinion, some of the most successful people are the ones that break the rules. Sometimes they don't follow the instructions on the package and sometimes their lasagna turns out burnt because of it. Well, I'm willing to eat burnt lasagna every once and a while to make it to my goal.


I know there are still a lot of steps to take and I'm not afraid of the journey. You have to walk before you can run, right?


...well, in my case, you have to crawl before you can walk; you have to walk before you can run...


You have to jump before you learn how to soar...

From Country to City

The bloodhounds creep in from all sides, but the rabbit is not afraid. They slowly and carefully inch in on the rabbit as its head darts back and forth looking for a way out. Once they have overtaken it, they plan to use it for their separate purposes.


One hound will eat the hind legs hoping he too will have the speed and agility that the rabbit once displayed. One hound will eat the rabbit's tall ears hoping to gain the elusive perception that the rabbit once had. Another hound plans to take the rabbit's beautiful fur coat and wear it, hoping to gain the warmth the rabbit once enjoyed. Still another plots to take the rabbit's brain so that he may have as much knowledge as the rabbit did. The last wants to steal the rabbit's soul--perhaps to replace the one that was lost long ago.


All are bearing violent intent just to get what the rabbit has. However, the bloodhounds still lack the speed, perception, warmth, knowledge and spirit that the rabbit will maintain as long as she is still alive.


The rabbit quickly darts between the legs of one of the hounds and escapes the dangerous circle. She spots what appears to be a small hole not far away and jumps inside. Warm inside the hole, she laughs to herself because she knows this is not just a hole--its a tunnel. She burrows through the dirt as the sounds of the howling dogs become more and more distant behind her. As she continues to run--tired and dirty--she begins to question herself just for a moment...


She starts to slow down--only for that moment--until she sees a small beam of light peeking through the other end of her tunnel. She knows in her heart she has almost made it out, so she takes a deep breath and runs as fast as she has ever run. Within moments, she bursts through the dirt and into the light.


She lifts up her sore paws and wipes the remains of the dirt--the reminder of her troubles--out of her eyes. She looks up and smiles realizing the light isn't from one light alone, but from many that burn together.

Vanilla Smoke and Longing

The children had wet, dirty hair. They had been playing in a dirty and particularly unattractive fountain. The fountain has statues of dirty children that are depicted playing in its dirty water. In some respects, I prefer the statues to the human children--they are much less annoying. The children only served to prove once again to me that I am not nearly ready for children. Those children--with their wet, scraggly hair--made me almost loose my appetite.


An old woman sat at the edge of the fountain drinking her smoothie like it was actually a healthy choice. Little did she know, it was full of sugar and sorbet. She watched the children tenderly although they were obviously not her own. Despite her age, she sat swinging her nylon-clothed legs off the edge of that ugly fountain.


There was a middle-aged man further away from the fountain and for some reason he was shading himself under an umbrella while already in the shade. He clearly belonged to a large group of the children; they kept running up to him--wet and loud--and bothering him. If he was left to babysit, he was not doing a very thorough job at it. I watched as the children ran further and further away as he turned his back and entered the chinese restaurant nearby. He was inside as two of the dirty little boys jumped atop a ledge and were running across it in their wet shoes. As the older boy jumped off, the younger one followed. He walked back out and sat down with again with that pointless umbrella.


A couple walked by: a man with tattoos and a woman with piercings in all the wrong places. They both looked foolish in their "rebel-garb."


I was neither interested nor moved by anything I saw. The buildings were contrived--the shopping center common. I did not find the children cute and I did not find the old woman endearing. I definitely formulated that the man was a horrible babysitter and the couple looked ridiculous.


However, nothing moved me. The one thing that moved me this afternoon was the smell of smoke wafting off a woman's cigarette as she walked by--not because I wanted one--but because the smell of a vanilla cigarette made me think of where I wanted to be: New York.

Lost in the Fog of my Thoughts

Although it has previously seemed much easier for me to identify what I want in life, at this moment it seems like it is definitely clear what I don't want. The long hours involved in working two jobs seven days a week have taken their toll and all that is left of me is a shell. At times I feel somewhat sucked of my spirit and drive and wonder if it is really worth the paychecks to push myself so hard. It is very clear to me that I don't want to work at either of these jobs for the rest of my life. I don't want to be stuck doing things that I'm not passionate about. I don't want to put in countless hours and be pushed everyday to do more and more tasks that in no way feasibly fit into one day.


The amount of push might be surprising enough, but what is more surprising to me is the amount of negativity. When I arrived here a few weeks ago, I was easily recognizable as the only ball of sunshine left in the place. I immediately noticed the surplus of raised voices coupled with a feeling of urgency so thick that you could almost see it hanging in the office air. Everyday I walk in at 8am and wonder why I'm here, knowing that I don't belong.


It takes a certain type of person to handle an office job like this and I'm a little unsure I fit the mold. Yes, I'm driven and I get along with many different types of people, but my sense of independence seems to be what is getting in my way. I may take direction and work to complete my large task lists, but I don't do well when I feel someone is disrespecting me or belittling me. Don't get me wrong, I have already made many friends in this office and they are certainly very strong people, but I will never be able to take what they take lying down. My personality obviously gets in the way to the point where something will eventually have to give.


I'm unsure what I should do with these thoughts, but I guess for now I will just internalize them. I can only hope I will make the right decisions and eventually reach my goals.

Internal Gridlock

It's an awkward feeling when your little voice inside--your "gut-feeling"--starts chiming in at the most inconvenient of times. As of this very moment, a meeting is being held about me and I'm not allowed to be included. At this same instance, my gut has decided to speak up.


Interestingly enough, while there are formal negotiations going on about my standings, there are informal negotiations taking place between my gut and my brain. I'd like to know who is right and to tell you the truth depending on who I ask, the answer will be different each time.


Someone like my mom would tell me to use my head and not to give up or throw away opportunity.


Someone like my best friend would give the advice that for some reason that little voice is always right--even if it seems like you are wasting opportunities, there will likely be better ones waiting along your next path.


Who do I choose? My gut or my head? It's a pretty hard decision to make when I know there are separate negotiations going on right at this moment. I guess I just have to keep tuning in until someone wins me over.

Crossroads and Road Blocks

Upon making the decision to move our office, my boss promised me a raise in my hourly wage and a pretty dramatic increase in hours. After working my first week, I have now begun to get the hang of waking up at the butt-crack of dawn. However, I was just informed that I am not currently employed with the new office as of yet and therefore my hours will be cut back down to what they were at the old office. Consequently, I now actually make less than I did before the move.


The culprit?


...gas.


So here I sit, problem-solver that I am, trying to think of my next move. I wish that voice in the back of my head would yell out the right thing to do, but for some reason, I think its asleep.


When I got the message, I immediately called my second job and informed them of my new availibility. I'm just so frustrated! I feel like the world is always trying to hold me back.


Well, you know what, World?!


I WON'T FAIL!

A New Yorker Trapped in SoCal Part 2

My office job just moved from 5 minutes from my house to 25 minutes; well, 25 minutes on a good day. Southern California traffic is so... moronic. Everyday at the exact same time, as if coordinated by the masses, traffic comes to a stand still as the exact same place. Guess who hits that moron traffic everyday now? Yours truly.


Solid proof that I was born to be a New Yorker:


Instead of acting retarded or high like everyone else while stuck in traffic, I yell. I yell like a true New Yorker does. I tell people how idiotic they are. I ask "Why?" and "Really?" over and over. I say things like, "Honestly! Everyday?!" This is what my morning commute is like on a daily basis.


Now let's examine Kylie in a different setting... New York.


The morning rain is softly addressing my apartment windows as if the two have been friends since birth. My alarm goes off with a nice gentle tune and I gracefully roll over and stretch my arms over my head. It's pretty chilly, but it's okay, I'm wearing long johns.


I make my way to my tiny little apartment bathroom as I rub the sleep from my tired eyes. It's another beautiful day in my city and it's time to get ready for work. I take my time putting on my makeup and doing my hair--since it's nice and rainy, I'll keep my hair straight today. I select an appropriate, yet fashion-forward outfit from my large collection of Theory clothes and slip on my favorite gray boots.


My morning cardio consists of my walk down the stairwell and to the subway station (hopefully it's only a few blocks from my place.) I slide my card and wait for the next train to come speeding towards me; it arrives with a delightful gust of wind--I hop on.


From this point until my stop I have time to read one of my New Yorkers or just relax with my zen breathing techniques. ("Breathing in, I am aware that I am breathing in.")


I arrive at my stop and walk out to greet another day at work.


Notice how painless this process is? Notice how there are no moronic weirdos braking for no reason? Notice how there is no possible way for a subway to get stuck in traffic and therefore cause it's passengers to revolt with a horrible riot?


This morning on my way to the office, I was the riot. Yes, I am a one person riot people.


For all of the people who cause traffic on my commute:


...


Thank you.


Thank you for only serving the purpose of making me realize how much I need my city. All I can do is work myself to the bone to get where I need to be... and with two jobs working 7 days at 65 hours a week--I will get there.

Just Try and Stop Me

To be honest, I can count the number of people that support my move on one hand. To count the number of people opposed to this, I would have to be some freak with millions of fingers that holds the Guinness World Record for the most things counted using body parts.


As to be expected, my mother is the mayor of I-Hate-New-York-Town. Literally every time I mention New York (even in a conversation with someone else on the phone) my mom finds a way to blast my beloved NYC. Now, for some people this would be discouraging; however, I'm a strange sort of creature. Don't get me wrong, it hurts that my mom is the most non supportive of my dream, but her constant negativity only serves to push me closer to the goal. Being told that I can't do something just makes me want it more. I want to prove to her that I will not only get there, but I will make it there.


Unfortunately, my dad has decided to jump on the bandwagon and support the non supporters. Of all people, my dad is normally the most sane and encouraging, yet today he approached me and suggested I use the money I'm saving for New York to get a new car...


*CRICKET-CRICKET*


HELL NO!


First of all, although my car has turned out to be a total bucket for the past few months (dying while I'm on the freeway multiple times, not starting, etc.), I will only have to deal with it for another year. If I can stretch this thing til then, I'm fine. New York will be waiting for me with its wonderful Subways and I will embrace the fact that I won't have to drive in the crazy traffic.


Side Note: I HATE driving in California-- people think the road is theirs and act like total butt-scrapers. I am so excited to not have to deal with being cut off and blinded at night by people who have no clue what the difference between traffic lights and high beams is.


Anyway, my dad was the one who originally encouraged me to just not mention NY to my mom in conversation. He figured if I was going there, I should just make it happen and not torture my mom with the idea. Now I feel like he has given up on my dream and attempted to harness me down to SoCal just like everybody else. Well, sorry people, but that is absolutely NOT going to happen to me. I'm way to determined, way to driven, and way to THICK-HEADED to listen to any of those people.


A MESSAGE FOR THOSE SWIMMING IN DENIAL:
Say and do what you want, it doesn't change the fact that I'm going--and when I get there, I'll send you a postcard (if I can afford one). Just try and stop me; you only make me stronger. Thanks for the push...


Special thanks to the people who fit on my non-Guinness hands:
Aunt Deb and Uncle Mo: You have supported this from the beginning and I could not appreciate you more. Your advice is always welcomed and I know you will be the first to applaud me when I get to my tiny NY apartment. :)
Julio: Boyfriend, thanks for hopping on with the few, the proud, my own personal "Dream Team." I'm so excited to make the trip next year and show off my favorite place to my favorite man.
Jasmine: My best friend and the most adventurous of the group--you have never doubted my courage; you never wavered as you stood by my side for almost 15 years. I know that we both believe in each other and understand that we are two pretty unique individuals following our dreams. Only kids like us can make this kind of crazy shiz happen. I know you'll come visit me so I can show you my city like you showed me yours.
Mammo and Bampo: I can see that the idea of my being so far scares the be-jebus out of you two, but I know you love me enough to listen to my crazy ideas. Maybe you are doubtful that I know enough about being on my own to do this, but at least you give me ideas and ask good questions to make sure I'm somewhat on track. I love you and you are the best grandparents ever!


The people I love want to see me run with my dream, I'd rather them watch me fly.


Until next time...

Brooklyn Research Yields Promising Results

Dear Citi-habitats.com,


Thank you so much for not disappointing this little dreamer. Your locations in my price range are really cute and have served to convince me that living in Brooklyn would not be that bad of an idea.


-Your Happy Lil Journalist


http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=579739&scroll=1


http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=133422&scroll=1


http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=322935&scroll=1


http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=594992&scroll=1

Manhattan vs. Brooklyn Part 2

So I was working at my weekend job and I ran into a man who used to live in NYC! He talked to me for a little bit and started giving me the info he thought I needed to know about living in the city...


What I learned:
-Brooklyn offers nicer places for less money than Manhattan.
-Eating out is generally cheaper in NY than eating in. (Because the price of groceries is high just like the rent, you might as well get Chinese take-out instead ;))
-Brooklyn is actually closer to downtown than the Upper East and West Sides. Just take a quick trip across the notoriously dirty East River! Haha...


So he recommended I look at apartments in: Park Slope, Williamsburg, Prospect Heights, & Crown Heights...


Thank you, Stranger, for making this competition between Manhattan and Brooklyn a little more INTERESTING! I promise to check it out!