A Rock and a Hard Place

At work we have these huge rooms with rolling racks where we keep clothes. Lots and lots of clothes. One of my fears is that someone rolls one of them while I'm in between racks because they didn't know I was there.

Basic.

I love a good challenge. I strangely enjoy working hard. (I'm actually beginning to think that I enjoy being scared. It's the adrenaline.) One effective way to get me to do something is to tell me that I can't or that I won't. There's something incredibly satisfying about proving people wrong.

Sorry, I'm losing my point.

Sometimes, however, the best things and your finest moments happen instantly and effortlessly. When something is just right, it seems to usually happen the first time.

Instinct. A friend once told me that your instincts are little signs from God. I believe it.

Not Just a River in Egypt

Bethesda Fountain, Central Park, September 2011

I still keep my metro card in my wallet.

I haven't changed "current city" on my Facebook.

I've kept my NYMate and HopStop Apps on my phone.

I'm still signed up for Living Social Midtown.

Weather.com is still defaulted for NYC.

I just like to keep them as little reminders.

Or maybe I'm just in denial.

25 is the new 22

It's one of my new sayings. I'll tell you why.

Twenty two is around the time you finish undergrad, which used to be when most people would begin their careers.

Then the economy happened, and now post grad education isn't just for doctors and lawyers anymore. Everyone's doing it. Either that, or Teach for America, or Peace Corps, etc. I make my case here on our generations postponement of real life.

After all of that, we're around 25. NOW it's time to finally begin our careers, with all of those other really adult things to follow.

So don't feel bad, if you're 25ish and not where you thought you'd be when you were dreaming about adulthood as a kid. On the former Life Timeline, we're only about 22.

For my friends who just can't stop.

"It's one of those moments when I think, yeah...It's all worth it. And my life is how I want it. Right now." -Kristin Goodman, a friend from Parsons during finals week her last semester


We all strive for success. How you define what success is, well, that's up to you. For me, that road towards it began when I discovered the things that I am most passionate about; when I started to formulate this big picture. It wasn't forced; it never is. All of a sudden, it seems, you get this "Aha!" moment. Then we realize that all the little moments in life were leading us in the right direction all along. Life just needed us to realize it.

You may not always love that particular thing you're doing, in that moment. No one likes waking up at 6 in the morning then staying at the office until 11. No one likes staying at school until 1:30 AM, then taking the train back to Jersey and getting home by 3, then having to be up by 7 to get to class on time. No one likes running on zero sleep. Or working 7 days a week for basically nothing, and some times for literally nothing. We don't like putting ourselves in situations that are so incredibly difficult and seemingly impossible that we wonder if we're gonna come out of it alive. We don't love that feeling of being close to failure, but know that if we push a little harder, we're closer to achieving that sometimes seemingly allusive dream, even if it's just a little.

"Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want something badly enough. They are there to keep out the other people." -Randy Pausche, The Last Lecture
Like I said, we may not always love that particular thing we're doing, in that moment. What we do love, is knowing that we're taking steps, and it's all towards making sure that big picture is just as awesome in real life as it is in our heads.

That, and we're just crazy. Passionately, undeniably crazy.

Parachutes

Whenever we are developing a new standard color, we send out a yard of nine different types of fabric to a dyer: cotton, chiffon, charmeuse, cdc, georgette, sweater, knit, velveteen, and cord.

I was cutting the corduroy first. It was folded up, but like the way you'd fold a paper fan. It was quite the cumbersome task. It was on the floor, and the measuring tape was taped to a shelf which was about two feet off the ground, and that lug of fabric is not easy to maneuver. And you also have to remember that my arm span is just under 5". (I know that because remember that trick as a kid, when you found out that your height is your arm span?)

Anyways, I was just finishing up the cord and about to put it away. As I was trying to fold it back up to put back into the box, the entire roll just starts unraveling. It felt like it was in slow motion. I was trying to salvage the bulk of fabric, but it was no use. It was dunzo. It was like sitting under a parachute the way we did when were in elementary school Fabric all around; over my head; just completely surrounded.

Trying to find a starting point, all I could do was hope that no one passed by and see me engulfed in that sea of corduroy.

I Don't Wanna

Living in New York, sending in that rent check was one of the most painful experiences that I dreaded each and every month.

Well, I discovered something that was nearly or just as horrible.

My boss came back from NY with retail samples. BCBG, Adam, Rebecca Taylor, Elie Tahari... I had to tag, photograph, and cut swatches from the back of each garment.

I had to cut holes out of these perfectly new, mostly cute, not cheap, designer clothes.

It was torture. I felt guilty with each agonizing snip. And hated every single minute of it.

My heart breaks a little just thinking about it.