How New York City Has Taught Me The Best Lessons, And Why I'm Ready To Leave.

© Baron Von Fancy

Thanks to my Timehop (a new app that shows you what you did that day in social media 1 year ago, 2 years ago, etc.), I'm reliving that time in my life when I was gearing up for the big move to NYC. Two years ago, I was tweeting things like: "Just watched my favorite episode of Sex and the City! Can't wait to be living it in a few weeks! #soontobenewyorker" Don't get me wrong, my blind optimism is a quality that I, thankfully, like about myself, but it's hard to look back at these tweets every day and giggle. Two years ago, I actually thought that moving to New York would be a sitcom life. It could be that New Yorker attitude denting my armor of positivity after all these years, but regardless of the reason, this reality check is coming right at the time when I've decided to move back home to Virginia. That being said, I've enjoyed every second here endlessly. I can't speak enough about those picture perfect Saturdays where everyone is smiling and stopping aimlessly at street fairs just because they have the time. Or how sometimes, a beautiful subway performer will remind us that our underground (literally) talent is better than some stuff on the radio. And whenever I make it up to a rooftop, my breath falls out and I glance down at this city that so many people dream about. No wonder I thought my life was going to be a movie. And my first few blissful weeks here didn't help that idea.

I had been in the city for maybe three or four weeks. I had just nailed down my daily commute and was tearing through library books because my new shiny New York Public Library card was my first real proof I was a "New Yorker." I was sitting on a near-empty R train headed home from work. Still to this day, I'm convinced my life's love story will begin on a subway. I'm sure my roommates are tired of hearing me say, "I met my soul mate on the train again. Didn't say anything to him. Ugh." I'm reading some awful YA novel, when I notice this really cute guy keeps staring at me. I start to blush and my focus on my book becomes fuzzy. Strictly using my peripheral vision, I verify that this guy is looking straight at me. He's pretty cute, probably late 20s. He looks a little lost, but that's a common sign with New York guys. The next stop, the guy gets up from the bench and starts walking my way. At this point, I've read the same sentence over and over again and have begun formulating my response of "Oh wow. That's so sweet. My name is Alexis. Sure you can have my number!" As he's getting nearer I see that he's staring still, but with much more intensity than a flirty look. He stands right in front of me and says "I'm so sorry. I have to do this." I immediately look down and smile, and begin my rehearsed reply, when I see him pointing to something behind me. I turn around and I'm sitting right under the subway map. I see him trace the R line to Times Square where he then sees that it does indeed pick up the downtown 2 train. He smiles awkwardly and then goes back to his seat where he puts in his headphones and closes his eyes. I stand up and wait for the next stop, only to go into the car next to it out of embarrassment.

With the hindsight of two years behind me, I've learned an incredible amount. What I realized quickly is it's really hard to make new friends after you graduate. In college, you could meet someone at a bar and realize you took Intro to Biology together Freshman year and end up gabbing all night about your hot TA only to exchange info and meet up for wine that week. Some of my best friends in college are all friends of friends who mushed together in this lovely huge circle of family. In a new city, you have your roommates, any college/high school friends that went to the same city, and if you're lucky enough any family. Girls that I meet at bars aren't interested in finding friends out and the person who you talk to on the subway about the book you're reading won't follow up with an invite to a book club. Everyone here is content with their own world and they rarely extend outside of it. I may be generalizing a bit, but after two years and no "bar friends" being made, I've at least struck out there.

This could just be post-grad life, but I am much more aware of how I fit in the world than I was in college. New York is constantly asking you to choose who you want to be and be it proudly. Your choice of bar isn't just somewhere to kick back after work, it says so much more about you. Every weekend night I think, "what kind of person do I want to be tonight?" Inevitably, it becomes 1am and I'm still at the apartment getting ready and my choice of "person" ends up being my tank top and jeans wearing self, but the option to be someone different is there. I've learned who I am in the workplace, what motivates me to get off the couch and go run, and what neighborhoods I feel like I fit in best. When moving to New York City I figured I would just plop myself in here as is and they would have to respond accordingly. In actuality, I've had to adapt to this crazy city.  I'm a far cry from the hustling, outspoken Yankee everyone associates this place with, but it's definitely given me a strength I didn't have before.

So look at those great life lessons I've learned. Why would I leave with all of these opportunities and dreams waiting to come true? Along this road of introspection, I realized a pretty big thing--I have no clue what I want to do in my life yet. Because I've had the option to "be so many people" here, I don't know what it is that makes me, me. I ran to New York four days after I graduated and never figured out who I was post-college. Whenever I leave to go home or visit a friend somewhere else, I feel like I'm taking off a mask and can relax and be myself again. I'm a lost theatre major, who has no idea where she'll end up. And that's okay with me. But in the most expensive city in the country, you're not allowed those opportunities to step back and figure it all out. You've got to have something to pay your rent, you've got to be someone worth talking about to the published photographer you meet at a bar. There's a fair chance this is stemming from my own personal insecurities, but if I can't feel comfortable enough in my own city, why am I there?

In the past two years, I've held a slew of different jobs ranging from 40-hour a week salary to nannying. I've lived uptown and downtown, been treated to liquor at a table-service only nightclub, and sipped $2 PBRs. I've been all over the map and tried to experience everything I can in this city. I even ventured into Williamsburg once and managed to not complain but every half hour or so. My point is, is that there are things I've learned about myself here that I couldn't learn anywhere else and I want to take all of these beautiful lessons I've learned home with me. I feel like the past two-years have been a crash course on what would have taken 4-5 years to figure out at home. If I had stayed at home after graduation, I would have regretted not moving to New York  for all of my life. So how much can I complain about wanting to leave? I know I'll appreciate this time in my life more than I understand now. At the very least, my standards of restaurants have skyrocketed, so that's the first thing I'll have to figure out.

This has been the most incredible ride. I've been lucky enough to surround myself with unbelievable people and made stories that I can tell to my kids about "that crazy time I lived in New York City." I gave New York my best shot and tried my hardest to be the happiest I could here. I admire the people who can do that, and am so happy they found the place that makes them tick. But for now, I'm going to saddle up on my porch rocker with some iced tea and listen to the bullfrogs croak me to sleep.

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IS "Bossy" Really That Bad?

This being my first commentary on current news, I'm timid. But I guess that's fitting, and probably why writing this will be easier than if I was labeled "bossy" growing up. 

Sheryl Sandberg is a well-known feminist writer, public speaker, and COO of Facebook. A few days ago, it was released, via Facebook naturally, that she wanted to start banning the word "bossy" as a word to tell girls who take charge to 'shut up.' After drafting some famous and confident females, her video became viral and all of the sudden my newsfeed was filled with girls rallying behind this cause. At first, I figured it was a women's empowerment movement and if Beyonce backed anything, I'd be on board. Once I looked into it, I realized that I didn't totally agree with her message. 

I grew up in a suburban southern town where friends were the most important thing to an elementary school girl. I was more of a follower back then, and always seemed to surround myself with strong girls as friends. Whenever it came to group projects or recess games, I would listen to everyone and go wherever they needed me most. Granted, that usually led me to the playing the outfield in kickball, but if that's what they needed, I'd suck it up. To my memory, I was never called 'bossy' in middle or high school. I gravitated towards girls who were strong leaders and supported the hell out of them. I'd hear them being called bossy, and immediately defend them. So why am I not supportive of this message to defend and protect girls being called bossy, just as I used to back then? Well, sometimes I think the term was justified.

As far as I always understood, the term bossy always meant something negative in my mind. It meant that someone was being domineering, rude, and aggressive. Even the dictionary's synonyms for the word are: overpowering, pushy, and tyrannical. Whenever I heard the word, it was because someone (usually girls) were making others to feel small so they could take authority. I never looked up to the leaders of my class and said THEY were bossy. The girl who got better grades than the boys, the athlete who climbed the rope higher, the girl who was sweet to everyone, they weren't bosses--they were leaders. People will always misuse words to hurt other peoples' feelings, but that doesn't mean it becomes synonymous with the positive action. I don't even think the words leadership and bossy are close to the same realm. 

I have babysat a lot in my life. With that experience comes an incredible insight into how little girls (and boys) grow up. I see that small things can make a big difference in patterns of behavior and that other big issues can go unaffected. Chloe was a 3 year old who was supremely spoiled and enabled by her parents. They let her get away with everything and it was incredibly difficult to deal with, especially when it came to simple things like cleaning up. She would berate her little brother (an adorable 2-year old with the cutest smile you've ever seen) and pawn off all the tasks she was supposed to do before snack time. I would constantly say, "Chloe, you're being bossy right now. Maybe you should HELP him clean." Since the rise of the "ban bossy" I've thought back to those times where I called this adorable little girl bossy. But then, I realized her reaction to it; she feared the word. That word kept her in check so many times because to her, she never wanted to be bossy. Just like how people don't want to be "insensitive", "close minded", or "negligent" in their adult life, "bossy" was the enemy to a 3-year old. But, whenever she grabbed her brother's hand and walked up to a new group of kids on the playground, she wasn't being bossy, she was being courageous. Bossy IS a negative word, and by banning it, we're only allowing it to be filled with other negative words. What are we going to say to girls who are being mean and overpowering when they take the lead? Bratty? Awful? Another, more offensive, b-word?

Since my days of a wannabe 7th grader, I've found strength in myself. Slowly, I started standing up for myself and my feelings more in my life. When it came to ideas and plans, I started taking the lead when everyone else said "eh, I don't care." I also don't let myself get bossed around as easily. It was a long time coming, but I think the best way to be a leader is to first follow. If anyone ever called me bossy nowadays, I would sit and shut up. But not because that person is limiting me, it's because they're keeping me in check. In the same sense of saying something was rude, bossy is just another word to let someone know that you may be taking things a little too far. I don't think anyone is going to start a "ban inappropriate" initiative because it's limiting people from "being candid". Sometimes, we need things that keep us on our mark and help everyone get along.

In no way am I saying that women shouldn't take charge or that all leaders are bossy. I just think it has to be done in the right way. Ask for opinions, let other's shine, be flexible and really listen to what people are saying. The best leaders are those that don't even come across like they took the lead. Let's take the word and transform it into something more positive by taking out the domineering quality to it. Bossiness can exist, but definitely in a better way. In a world where mean girls rule the halls of high school, why ban a word that may give them some hindsight to take the lead gracefully and with respect. Malala Yousafzai, the Pakistani woman's rights advocate and winner of the 2013 Nobel Peace Prize, puts it best, "You must fight others, but through peace and through dialogue and through education." 

Maybe someone who has never experienced this word firsthand isn't the best opinion. Even writing this now, I feel like I'm asserting myself too much into the debate-- just my timid nature again. I just think that instead of extracting a word out of our daily speech, let's focus on using new ones. A strong and confident woman leader is inspiring, encouraging, a role model. Even now, the word bossy is getting desensitized. Tina Fey proudly titled her book "Bossypants" and we've all sang a verse of Kelis' "Bossy". Keep it as it is, or start making it into something else. But out of all the words that have become part of everyday vernacular, can't we focus more on some overtly offensive ones? 

I feel like even now I'm being bossed into thinking a word is bad. To all of us followers, I say we stand up for ourselves for once and keep the mean girls in check. But what do I know? I'm stuck out here waiting in the outfield...

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Why I Joined OKCupid And One Year Later Am Throwing In The Towel

It took me about four months of living in New York City before I heard about the normality of online dating. I'd always thought online dating was something that hopelessly single 40-year olds did to try to make sure they got married at some point. But here, it was just as frequent for someone to be meeting a stranger from the internet as it was to go out with someone they met at a bar. After months of meeting some pretty low-grade guys at frat bars, I figured I would give it a shot.

The first few weeks, I made sure my profile was the perfect balance of hilarious and adorable. I added my best recent pictures and tried as hard as I could to answer the questions honestly. I figured I'd get a few messages of guys that I wasn't too thrilled with, but was not prepared for the onslaught of "hey sexy u want to meet me for a drink 2nite? u are so fine." I mean who seriously responds to those, anyway?

Once I figured out how to weed through the snakes, I started talking to a couple of guys. At first, I was very intimidated to meet someone in person and kept telling them that. They reassured me that it was fine and we kept talking. After a week or so more, they began to get impatient asking if this would ever result in meeting in person. I felt pressure and was so unfamiliar on the protocol of online dating that I just ghosted away. I still feel bad about those guys thinking back on it now.

I'll definitely remember my first date for a while. It was a sweet guy who was into theatre and movies (as all of them started to end up being like) and was very understanding of my nerves. I called him out of the blue one day saying "I'm not sure if this is breaking the rules, but I figured I'd call you." He laughed and said he admired my bold move and if I felt ok with it, he wanted to take me out to dinner. I agreed and set the date.

We met on the street around the corner from my apartment. He told me that there was something we had to do before our date and it would only take a little bit of time. We got on the subway and headed into Harlem from the Upper West. We walked a few blocks and he said we were stopping at his friends' place. Walking in, I had no idea if I was walking into his murder den or what, but to my surprise, a little puppy ran up to me and I fell in love-- with the dog that is. He said he thought I would want to play with his friend's new puppy, and he was right. I could have spent the whole date there, but we had reservations at 7:30. We went to a Greek place near my apartment and had a nice conversation. He picked up the check (at least $80) and I immediately felt guilty because I knew I just wasn't into this guy. He walked me back home and I gave him a sweet hug goodbye. He followed up the next day and I told him how thankful I was but I just wasn't into dating at this point. He understood and I haven't heard from him since.

After that date, I realized that the full-blown dinner and drinks night was just too much for me. I went on this thing to meet new people, not get a ring. I think I let my screening requirements drop because the guys I met next were far worse. I met a guy for drinks a few weeks later who proceeded to get wildly drunk and yell at me for my vote in the Presidential Election. The next guy was a 28-year old still living with his parents in Jersey who tried to come back to my apartment after a breakfast date. One guy I met at his apartment in Astoria only to bond with his girl roommate and spend the whole night talking to her.

I kept taking breaks from it after bad experiences, and getting pulled back in by a cute messages. It seemed that I kept following this trend of meeting people who were exactly like me. I would see a profile and think "These are my favorite movies, TOO! I LOVE these books!" and think that was all I needed to go out with guys. I'd be on the dates and be bored out of my mind because there's not anywhere you can go when they already know everything you're going to tell them.

I did have one go at it that lasted into more than a quick meeting. A really sweet guy named Jeff came out of the blue. He messaged me over the Christmas/New Years holiday and I could tell we were going to get along based off of his humor. A few weeks went by before we were both back in New York from the holiday and he followed up and we made the date. I didn't really think much of it because I had been so busy coming back from vacation, and decided to quickly meet him on a Thursday night after work. We met at a dark wine bar on Broome and immediately clicked. We both had that horrendous form of humor that took jokes way past the point of being funny and our rapport was so quick; like we'd known each other for years. We did the casual leg touching and he was much cuter than I remembered his pictures being. He had to work the next day, while I didn't, so I was happy to end the date at 11pm, but he wanted to go to another bar. We went to my favorite shag dance bar near my apartment and spent the rest of the night laughing, dancing, and getting along really well. After that, we met up a few more times; once for happy hour, once to meet my roommates at our local pub, and once more for a daytime snack. On the outside, it probably looked looked promising, but looking back at it, I think I was just so surprised to find someone who made me laugh that hard, that I thought that meant more than just being friends. I felt like I was going on these fancy dates with a buddy and it started feeling weird. We still talk every now and then but I think we both realized that surprisingly, OKCupid can find you friends.

So here I am, and after my last OkCupid date this past weekend that felt more like an interview than a date, I've decided to throw the towel in. I've heard stories of it working out, I've heard horror stories of stalkers and sociopaths, I've almost been Catfished. A year later, and no where closer to feeling like this is a positive thing, I'm ready. I gave it a shot and went out on at least 10 dates. My final call is that, at least for me, it probably won't work. I put so much weight in the initial interaction with someone that being able to see everything you'd normally talk about on a first date in black and white online, defeats the purpose. What will we have to talk about if I've already read his 300 answered questions?

At 23, I have no idea what I want in a guy. I know what I'm drawn to physically, and some morals that are ideal, but I couldn't look at a checklist and create my perfect guy. I'd see books and movies I like and think that's what compatibility was. In reality, it's about someone introducing you to a hobby you never knew you'd like, or an idea that you'd never thought of before. Everything was spelled out for me and I could choose to go for it or nix it just based on a few sentences. Why would I give someone different a chance when the next guy already listed my favorite director as his favorite?  I know there's more to someone than their profile, but I'd rather take the blind risk of meeting someone on the subway and agreeing to a date after a 5-minute conversation than this. Now if only those adorable guys I eye-flirt with on the train would actually have the courage to ask me, I'd be happy to make the reservation.

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5 Tricks to Staying Sane in a 5 x 5 Kitchen

If anyone out there is stuck, like me, in a tiny kitchen in an over-priced downtown apartment, you'll understand how hard it is to cook a quick meal. If you have the added bonus of  roommates, forget it. After a lot of trial and error, I've come up with the 5 best ways to keep your sanity while cooking in a kitchen that feels more like the size of a supply closet. 

Shifts- There's a reason the phrase "too many cooks in the kitchen" exists. Whether you have a galley style kitchen, or a wrap around, the bottom line is that bumping backs while handling boiling ravioli never ends well. Work out "shifts" with your roommates for when each person can own the room. If one of your roommates likes to cook right when they get home, know you've got time before or after until it becomes your domain.

Timing- Don't we all like to imagine that at Thanksgiving dinner, the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and pie will all miraculously be done at the exact same time so nothing gets cold? We've all made that mistake before. For the most part, when your kitchen reminds you of a jail cell, it's best to minimize your time in there. Try to think ahead to what takes the longest (account for pre-heating and cooling) and shortest time and try to go in that order. Remember, that while water is boiling, you can always slice, mix, and set the table. Utilize every second in that box.

Recycle- This is where you start to get creative. Assuming your crawl hole doesn't have a dishwasher, know when it's okay to reuse appliances. You don't need three separate pans for pasta, sauce, and veggies. In reality, your meals will taste more cohesive if you use the remains for another step. Believe it or not, a pot can be used to soften veggies before the sauce, a skillet can hold about an inch of liquid, and always always save your bacon grease. 

Stations- We're going to use that first grade style of organization for this tip. Designate an area for prep (even if it is a wobbly table you found on your block), mixing, cooking, and plating. The last thing you want to do is put your beautifully grilled pork chop back on the cutting board crime scene where you murdered those tomatoes. 

Simplicity- As much as I like to think I can whip up a 4-hour roasted pork butt barbecue feast, you've got to be realistic. When your cutting space is the size of computer paper and your two burners are already in use, you can't make that 5-course meal for your pre-party Friday dinner. 

Hopefully, with these 5 little tips, you'll avoid the classic kitchen blunders. Just remember to always use oven mitts, because SOMEONE made tater tots.

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