Category Archives: Current Events

I Love Inexpressibly These Streets of Boston

Wendall Phillips monument

116th Boston Marathon Finish line ”I’ve run the Boston Marathon 6 times before. I think the best aspects of the marathon are the beautiful changes of the scenery along the route and the warmth of the people’s support. I feel happier every time I enter this marathon.”-Haruki Murakami
MA State House“Boston State-house is the hub of the solar system. You couldn’t pry that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation straightened out for a crow-bar.”-Oliver Wendell Holmes
Holocaust Memorial
 ”Boston is a tough and resilient town. So are its people. I’m supremely confident that Bostonians will pull together, take care of each other, and move forward as one proud city. And as they do, the American people will be with them every single step of the way.” -President Barack ObamaBoston skyline

“The sea returning day by day/ Restores the world-wide mart;/ So let each dweller on the Bay/ Fold Boston in his heart,/ Till these echoes be choked with snows,/ Or over the town blue ocean flows.”-From “Boston” by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fenway Park

“When we lose at Fenway, we lose the sense that somebody sat here and watched Ted Williams hit.”- Bob Costas

Cambridge Harvard

“Harvard Square could feel like a party on a warm night, full of energy and privilege and promise.”-Geraldine Brooks in People of the Book

public gardenNorth End

“I love inexpressibly these streets of Boston over whose pavements my mother held up tenderly my baby feet.”-Wendall Phillips

Make Way For Ducklings

Here’s To the Ladies Who Lunch

“Here’s to the ladies who lunch–everybody laugh. Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch on their own behalf. Off to the gym, then to a fitting, claiming they’re fat. And looking grim ’cause they’ve been sitting choosing a hat. Does anyone still wear a hat? I’ll drink to that.”- “Ladies Who Lunch” from “Company.”

It wasn’t until I started waiting tables on the Upper East Side that I got a special glimpse into the world of the Ladies Who Lunch. When I was younger and just getting acclimated into the adult world, I used to think that being a lady of leisure would be The Life. Who wouldn’t want to spend the day shopping, meeting friends for a long lunch with cocktails, visiting the spa, maybe working out with a personal trainer here and there. That seemed to be the ideal way to pass the time.

Now, after spending a good part of a year amongst the Ladies Who Lunch, I’m not so sure I’d want any of that. In fact, I can say for certain, I do not want to be a lady who lunches. I’d rather be a Lady Who Works Very Hard and Starts Her Own Company than a lady of leisure.

For starters, it was a little hard at first to adjust to the way I was viewed as a server by some of these Ladies Who Lunch. After sharing the daily specials, I often wanted to add, “I’m not your little servant girl and you don’t need to feel sorry for me. I don’t envy you or your crying baby. I actually went to graduate school. I’m just looking to make extra money.”

Second, I didn’t know it was possible to have so many different water orders at one table. I’ll have sparkling water, but not I’m not sure what she’ll have. Or my favorite, one person would order water with no ice, another would order water with ice, a third would order water with no ice, but with a lemon, and the fourth water with ice and all of the bar fruits.

I quickly found that iced tea and Pinot Grigio were the two staple drinks among Ladies Who Lunch. I often marveled at how fast some of these women could suck down iced tea. Some days, it was impossible to keep up.

I’ve also never seen so many crazy strollers in my life. Where do people find these things? The latest strollers look more like monster trucks and less like efficient ways to transport babies around town. Speaking of children, I’m so glad my parents taught me never to scream or throw my food at a restaurant when I was young. That is something I will be sure to pass along to my children.

Finally, I would like you to know, Ladies Who Lunch, that none of you are fat. Not a single one of you. When you go out for lunch, you don’t need to split a salad five ways. It’s okay if you order your own meal. Also, feel free to eat a roll here and there. I promise it won’t hurt you.

My waiting tables days have ended and I must say, it’s been fun, Ladies Who Lunch! I appreciate all the life lessons you’ve inadvertently taught me over your chopped salads and glasses of wine. This is by far the most important thing I learned:

Words of wisdom from Countess Luann, my favorite real housewife of New York.

10 Things Someone Can Expect To Learn In the First Year Living In NYC

20130208-023409.jpg On Tuesday, I celebrated one year of living in New York with my two dearest New York friends in the comfort of my Manhattan apartment. Moving to New York City was such a great decision that I decided to honor February 7th, the day I moved to New York, the same way as I do New Year’s. It just so happens that my one friend moved here on the same exact day, so this gives the day added meaning. I couldn’t imagine my New York life without these two friends, so it was only fitting that they came over for dinner. Seasoned New Yorker brought over his cheese biscuits and Fellow Newbie brought this amazing list written on loose leaf paper entitled, “What Someone Can Expect to Learn in the First Year Living in NYC.” Without further adieu, here are 10 things someone can expect to learn in first year living in New York, as told by Fellow Newbie:

train10. The most disgusting things in the whole word can be found on the trains of the NYC subway system.

9. It is inevitable that within your first NYC year you will scream, not yell, not talk loudly, but scream profanities such as “F*ck you!” and “You’re an a**hole!” to a taxi driver.

8. You will realize that hell actually does exist on Earth and it is located on 3rd Avenue between 76th and 77th streets.

7. It is a guarantee that on a day you are walking the city streets with a slight smile on your face, appreciating its greatness, feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride that you actually live here in the amazing city of New York, a semi-truck, cab, or local driver will honk their horn with such a loud prolonged persistence that you will contemplate murdering them.

Times Square6. By the end of your first year, if not by the end of your first month in NYC, the mere thought of having to go anywhere near Times Square makes you want to kill yourself.

5. You will learn that the appropriate and only acceptable attire for women of the Upper East Side is as follows: yoga pants, oversized sweatshirt and/or t-shirt that droops exposing shoulder, unbrushed bed head looking ponytail, aviator sunglasses, a stroller, a coffee, a nanny, and a fake, half-assed man-eating grin that screams, “I’m a rigid c***.”

4. It will become apparent that those women who trudge around the city in heels are nothing more than mere masochists. You will learn that flats are not only appropriate but less of a health hazard. Wearing heels, you are destined to fall on your ass if you hit the wrong pothole, step on a grate, or get shoved by a fellow passerby.

3. The phrase, “Ugh, I need a drink!” will be spoken daily, often before 11 am.

2. You will being to truly contemplate if you can be in a relationship with a gay man. The only men in the city are homosexual and you will inevitably find yourself lusting after one, mentally envisioning your life together regardless of your lack of desired gender.

1. The desire to shoulder check, shove, or hit people with your bag will become an ever-growing rage as people enter and exit the subway.

More importantly, in our first year, hopefully you have the luck to land a truly amazing friendship. One that can withstand the trials and tribulations of the city that will bring you up when you are down, that will laugh with you until you cry and one that will always remind you are not alone in this big city, that will walk or run through this adventure with you, never letting you feel defeated.

Hopefully you find a Sonja.

Happy Blogiversary To Me!

cheersToday marks my three-year blogiversary. Quite a milestone, if I may say so! I’d actually forgotten the exact date I took the plunge into the blogosphere until today when my WordPress account prompted to renew my expiring domain name (something I have to do annually).

Three years ago today, I bought my own Tweetupdomain name and started a blog so that I would have writing samples for potential employers. Little did I know that blogging would catapult me into a completely new career path and take me into the uncharted waters of tweet-ups and other social media/blogging-related meetups. Not to mention the countless people I’ve met virtually and in real life thanks to this medium.

I don’t think I ever thought about where blogging would lead me or what would actually become of this blog. I simply just wrote in hopes that someone, at least–if not solely–my parents, would read, enjoy, be entertained, and be challenged by what I wrote.

breakfast sandwichMy first blog post was about a sandwich. I’m a woman of many words when it comes to the foods I enjoy, so it’s no surprise that food posts have made many appearances on this blog. I’ve shared family cooking traditions, expounded upon my own food obsessions, and even passed along a recipe or two.

classroomAnother thing I’ve loved about having this blog is that it’s been a great forum for creating dialogue on social issues that are important to me such as education, health care, and the latest happenings in local government. Facebook and Twitter rants don’t quite do it for me.

I raise my glass to you, Prince William!

Then of course, there’s the lighter side. That’s the great thing about having a blog called Ramblings, I can write about whatever I want. Conversation starters for the socially challenged, gushing over my literary crushes, reflecting on an old celebrity crush, requesting to work for Saturday Night Live in a cheeky cover letter, lamenting the death of romance, ranting about Comic Sans. One of my greatest joys came from solving the age-old mystery from my youth about the disappearance of the other Cinnamon Toast Crunch bakers.

Perhaps the biggest laugh for me is in realizing that Snooki has provided my blog with the most traffic. Thanks to the post I wrote about her publishing a novel, there was always a spike in traffic to my blog on Thursdays just before Jersey Shore aired. Thank you, Google image search!

So, what’s next? What will the next three years bring? More of everything, I hope! For starters, it’s time to get back to a more frequent blogging schedule. Second, it’s time to get more personal. Perhaps throw in a bit more about my own life, only the interesting parts of course! Lastly, I really want to take a look at how I can engage foreign readers. Within the last year, WordPress started keeping stats on clicks by country. It’s really cool to look at the map of top views by country for my blog:

Screen shot 2013-01-25 at 9.47.56 PM

People from Myanmar have visited my blog? Not to mention Albania, Egypt, Mauritius, Australia, and India. It blows my mind! If only I could get this visitors to speak to me and share their stories. The possibilities would be endless. I would love to find a way to foster an international conversation.

We’ll see what’s happen. Here’s to the next three years and beyond!

Champagne toast!

Champagne toast!

It’s My TV Show and I’ll Cry If I Want To

Mindy ProjectI have a hard time getting into the weekly ritual of watching TV shows (with the exception of Downton Abbey), but recently I got into watching The Mindy Project. The show’s created and written by Mindy Kaling, who played Kelly on The Office (and actually started out there as a writer). I’ve always found her to be entertaining and it’s nice to see someone other than a white woman take the lead role of a show for a change. The show is funny and sustains my interest long enough for me to be interested in what might happen next week.

Do you really think this would have been your girlfriend in real life?Keep dreaming, Jerry.

Do you really think this would have been your girlfriend in real life?Keep dreaming, Jerry.

What really intrigues me about the show is that Mindy Kaling created the show,
wrote many of the episodes, stars in the show, and named the character she plays Mindy. Kind of how Jerry Seinfeld played Jerry Seinfeld in Seinfeld and Larry David is Larry in Curb Your Enthusiasm. I’m always intrigued when actors keep their own names in fictitious shows, as if they are playing out their fantasies in this fictional shows. Isn’t that the point, I suppose? That way, you can always make sure that you’re never without a hot date. Funny how these leading actors are never without good-looking people on their shows. Mindy’s boyfriend on the show is a darling and it seems that there is always a hottie just around the corner. Jerry Seinfeld was always taking out babes on Seinfeld and Larry David’s wife on Curb was a total babe. That’s the nice thing about having your own TV show, you can tweak your life in whatever way you want.

That sounds nice. Maybe I will start penning some scenes for The SJ Whipp Experience, starring me as Sonja. I think I have enough interesting stories to sustain a TV show, but what tweaks would I make to my life in my new TV show?

Maybe The SJ Whipp Experience would be a period drama wherein my character would wear crazy layers of petticoats and host scores of suitors in the drawing-room over tea! Or maybe my show could take place in a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail and I could hunt for buffalo with my rifle (or the space bar).

Take a look at my TV boyfriend. Isn't he *so* dreamy?

Take a look at my TV boyfriend. Isn’t he *so* dreamy?

No, I think I would keep much of my life the same. I’d keep the story in New York, with the same roommate, same friends, but I’d move to the Village. A move to the Village would mean a bigger bank account, which would mean I’d wear more fur-lined accessories, more pairs of shoes, a fireplace, and a small dog. My metro pass would never run out and from time-to-time, I’d have a driver pick me up. You know, so that I could sleep in on some mornings before going into The Studio. Of course I’d have a hunky boyfriend, but he wouldn’t really appear that much. Only in key moments, I wouldn’t want him to steal the spotlight. He’d totally wear glasses and he would have an amazing library. But other than that, I think I’d keep most of my life the same. Of course the show would end five minutes early so that you’d all be forced to listen to schmaltzy music while the credits rolled. You wouldn’t even notice though, you’d still be in stitches from the final scene.

Enough about me, what about you? If you were the star of your own TV show, what tweaks would you make to your life?!

Take Off Your Headphones

ImageWhile going to the laundromat isn’t necessarily my most favorite pastime, I do welcome the allotted amount of freedom that doing laundry provides. This free time allows me to read to the paper, work on the Times crossword puzzle, listen to music, and tweet.

Today, I found myself in the chairs of the neighborhood laundromat reading the Times and blasting music into my headphones. A cool breeze blew through the somewhat stuffy laundromat as I read about a cheating scandal and an unlikely nude beach in Wisconsin.

Amidst my reading, I noticed that an older, tiny woman sat down in the chair next to me. All of the other chairs in the laundromat were empty, but the woman chose to sit directly next to me. I’ve often found that any time I’m sitting in an empty place, whether it’s a movie theater, a train, or a bus, people always tend to pick the one seat directly next to me. As soon as she sat down, she motioned to my headphones.

“You should be careful not to have those in your ears too often,” she said. “Take if from me, I’m hard of hearing and hearing aids are expensive!” I laughed and thanked her for the kind advice. I never much thought about the price of hearing aids, but I welcome any advice on how to save money. I took off my headphones and turned off my music so that I could open the door for a conversation with this woman. She saw the opportunity and we began chatting a little. Once the conversation ended, I returned to my paper to continue my reading.

As I paged through the paper, I noticed the woman peering over my shoulder. I angled the paper so that she could take a peek as well.

“They’re still talking about her?” she asked, referencing the article about Nora Ephron’s memorial service.

“Yes,” I said. “They just had a memorial service for her. They’re talking about who attended and what they said.” I turned the page and moved on to another article.

“That’s awful!” she said, referencing the next article I read about a brownstone in Brooklyn that collapsed.

“It stood for 150 years! Unbelievable,” I said. She began chatting with me about what it was like to visit her old neighborhood in the Bronx many years later when she was a case worker. The buildings were not as large has she had remembered and you could no longer get ice cream for a nickel at the local store. In fact, there was no local store.

She then pointed out another story that I hadn’t heard about–a story about a boat that capsized during the 4th of July fireworks.

“That guy should be held partially responsible for those drownings. After all, it was his boat!” I skimmed the article for the facts and found that the boat had been filled with many more people than its capacity and there weren’t enough life jackets. Worse, children drowned. Enough of that news for one day. I moved onto the Arts section.

“Is it supposed to rain any time soon?” she asked. I picked up the front section and turned to the back where the weather reports are printed.

“Not until Saturday,” I said, quickly skimming. Our conversation came to a halt when it was time for her to move her laundry from the washer to the dryer. I got up to fold my laundry that had finished drying.

As I began folding bath towels and t-shirts, I found myself next to the woman again as she was looking to put her laundry into the dryer. It happened to be just as I took a Wisconsin Badgers t-shirt out of the dryer and began folding. Her eyes widened with excitement.

“Did you attend Wisconsin?” she asked.

“I’m from there!” I said.

“I went to Michigan State. From 1953-1956.”

“Big rivals!” I said.

“My brother went to Minnesota,” she said.

“Another rival!” I said.

“Back in those days, there were only 14,000 people at Michigan State. So our professors new us. That was nice,” she said.

“Only 14,000 people back then? Wow,” I said.

“We went to the Rose Bowl. I didn’t even ask permission from my father. And in those days, there were no planes. We took the train. I can’t even remember if the band was there or not,” she said. The Rose Bowl! The Badgers have played in the Rose Bowl for the past 2 years so I’m no stranger to the hype surrounding the game and the travel plans involved. To think that this woman attended that game in the early ‘50s as a young college student and took the Union Pacific to get there and 60 years later we’re standing face-to-face in a New York City laundromat. Before this conversation, she was just a little old lady doing her laundry, but now, she was something more. A woman of the world.

I had finished folding my laundry and it was time to go.

“It was so nice to meet you,” I said. “Have a great day.”

As I walked back to my apartment, clean laundry in hand, I thought about how glad I was that I took off my headphones. You never quite know who you’re going to run into in this city and it’s such a treat when someone takes the time to talk to you and share their story. I’m also glad this woman took the time to look out for the wellbeing of my eardrums. Especially with the price of hearing aids being so high. I will be certain to take off my headphones more often.

I’m Far Too Busy To Write This Blog Post

ImageLast week in the New York Times–or maybe it was the week before, I don’t know, I’m too busy to remember–there was a great op-ed about “the busy trap.” This piece highlighted what I’m sure all of you experience either personally or vicariously through chatty co-workers which is “self-imposed busyness.” These are the people who are always soo busy and can’t seem to find the time to do anything except work or take special classes or work some more. They’re the type of people you have to book months in advance just to have a cup of coffee with. They are addicted to being busy because they’re afraid of what might happen if they were not busy.

I am completely guilty of falling into “the busy trap.” When I’m not at work or working on something, I feel guilty. On days off of work, I constantly feel like I should be doing something to better myself–reading, writing, exercising, exploring the city, attending “events” (which are more of an abstract concept), spending time with dear friends, writing letters to penpals, reading periodicals cover to cover, networking, learning new things, cooking a recipe from Julia Child’s The Art of French Cooking. I never quite feel that it’s okay for me to kick up my heels and enjoy a good movie or spend the entire day at the beach. There’s so much else I should be doing!

Recently, I caught myself giving my friend the “I’m so busy” excuse for not being able to hang out more often. We’ve lived apart for so long and now that we’re both finally in Manhattan, it should be so easy for us to get together for coffee or a glass of champagne, or a walk through Central Park, a centrally located park between our respective Upper West Side and Upper East Side residences. She even pointed out that she walks by my apartment almost every day to get to her gym. However, I haven’t seen her in months. Why? Because I’m working and when I’m not working I’m resting and when I’m not resting I’m blogging and when I’m not blogging I’m eating and then I’m working late and I’m catching a drink with co-workers and blah blah blah and suddenly five months have gone by and—this is just ridiculous.

However, there are days when I don’t let “the busy trap” get the best of me and I indulge in my guilty pleasure  of doing nothing and when I do, it feels so good. Laying in bed until noon, eating a late brunch, watching movies, laughing. Why can’t this be the norm? There has got to be a way to find a happy medium between “the busy trap” and “the do-nothing trap.”

The good news is that there is a happy medium between the two extremes and that is finding work-life balance. The bad news is that I haven’t found that happy medium just yet, but I am working on it. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy I could just find this balance.

I Can’t Live If Living is Without You, Downton Abbey

When it comes to Downton Abbey, you’re either in love with it or you have no idea what it is. I fall into the former category. I cannot get enough of Downton Abbey. I love watching the show, I love chatting about the show with friends, and I love convincing people that they, too, should jump on the Downton Abbey watching train.

Downton Abbey came into my life on a lazy Sunday. I had no intention of leaving my bed and was therefore looking for something enthralling to watch on Netflix. Netflix suggested that I watch Season 1 of Downton Abbey. I had remembered seeing a lot of buzz about the show on Twitter (in part because I  wondered why so people were misspelling the word “downtown”) and was in the mood for a good British costume drama.

From the moment I saw the beautiful opening titles with the beautiful music and shots of Highclere Castle, I was hooked. Then, the show’s story lines began unravelling and I became obsessed. I can’t believe the heirs to Downton Abbey went down in the Titanic. Poor Mr. Pamuk. Why won’t Anna and Bates get together already? Why is Thomas made of pure evil? What is a weekend? How could Edith expose her sister Mary’s secret? Why do I have such a crush on Matthew Crawley? Will Matthew and Mary end up together? Between the scandals, the romance, the plotting, the costumes, and the scenery, I ended up watching the entire first season in one sitting.

Now that Season 2 has come and gone, I don’t know how I’m going to get my Downton Abbey fix. There are only so many times a person can re-watch the seasons. Already I’ve re-watched Matthew’s proposal to Mary a good 15 times or so. I could always print off the Downton Abbey paper dolls and come up with my own story lines, but I’m not 12. There’s always Vanity Fair‘s Downton Abbey trading cards. They might bring some Downtonian joy into my life. I even taught myself how to play the theme song on the piano, so a little more practice couldn’t hurt. But let’s face it, nothing short of watching Season 3 will satisfy my Downton Abbey cravings and Season 3 doesn’t air until January. Why do you make us wait so long, PBS? WHY?!

I guess I’m just going to have to come to terms with the fact that Downton Abbey won’t be back on my television for another 11 months. Instead of focusing on the giant void the show’s absence has left, I’ll instead focus on the joy the show brought into my life. I’m thankful for the time we shared and look forward to another season. In the mean time, I’ll just have to get some new hobbies.

Write Me When You Get To Liverpool

At the end of a visit with my grandma, just before we’d go our separate ways, she’d shower me with affection and leave me with a few words of wisdom. One of her favorite things to say before parting was “Skriv till mig när du kommer till Liverpool.” This phrase was Swedish for “Write me when you get to Liverpool.” It was something her mother, who emigrated from Sweden to Wisconsin at age 15, always said to her and in fact, it was what her mother urged her when she set off for America. At the time my great-grandmother set sail for America, the major hub for ships was Liverpool. Liverpool would have been the last city where she could have written home to alert her family of her whereabouts and general state of things before heading to America. “Write me when you get to Liverpool” was their way of saying, “Call me when you get there.” My grandma often used it in a “don’t be a stranger” kind of way. It’s stuck and I often say to people in my family, “Write me when you get to Liverpool” whenever they go on a trip.

As I’ve been preparing to move to New York City and saying goodbye to friends, I find myself using archaic sayings to people when we part. I don’t really like to say things like, “Goodbye, I’ll miss you” or “stay in touch.” At this point in my life, I am surrounded by people who I will always remain close with, so I don’t need to remind them to stay in touch, as we always will. I also don’t like sentimental goodbyes around the time of an exciting move. Sentimental goodbyes imply that something sad is happening and actually, this move is quite the opposite. Instead of sappy goodbyes, I find myself saying, “If you’re ever in Manhattan, look me up.” Like someone could grab a White Pages in Manhattan and be able to find me listed there. It’s also my way of reminding people, “Hey! You now have a friend in New York! Use that to your advantage.”

Similar to “look me up,” I also enjoy saying, “Drop me a line.” These days it’s fairly easy to drop someone a line via text message, Facebook, Twitter, and [insert your favorite social network here], but I envision the line to be dropped in the form of a hand written note. As if a friend in town would write me a note (preferably on parchment paper with the help of a quill) alerting them of their whereabouts and I would then meet them at some dark bistro in Manhattan for a drink and a meeting of the minds.

I’m not one for sappy, dramatic goodbyes. Instead, I prefer a simple “see you later” or “look me up” to remind my loved ones that really, nothing’s going to change except the distance between our respective houses. However, I do promise that I will write when I get to Liverpool.

We Tell Ourselves Stories In Order to Live

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live…We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the ‘ideas’ with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.” –Joan Didion, The White Album

I’ve been thinking about these words from Joan Didion a lot lately as I’ve been preparing to move to New York. While I’m incredibly excited to move into my new apartment in New York, the prospect of carving out an entirely new life for myself is a little overwhelming at times. I’m leaving behind the comforts of a job, health insurance, and my childhood home in search of new opportunities that I haven’t secured yet. At the same time, this is all incredibly exciting. I will be a resident of Manhattan, something I’ve only ever dreamed about. 

In order to maintain the excitement of possibility and to forget about the worries that surround moving to a new city with no job in tough economic times, I focus on the narrative. Instead of focusing on how I am plucking myself from a comfortable life and catapulting myself into a new city filled with unknowns, I tell myself stories about what my new life in New York could be like. It’s these little stories that get me through the day-to-day details of facilitating a move and the anxiety of not having a job or insurance two weeks from now. Here are some of the little stories I tell myself as I pack up my belongings and give away clothes I don’t need:

  • You can work at the Gap and work your way into the fashion world. 
  • You can nanny and be the next Mary Poppins for a family on the Upper East Side
  • Moving to a new city is like that time you studied abroad, but without the hassle of going through customs or changing your currency. 
  • Just fake it ‘til you make it. 
  • Give it two years and if you have a terrible time, you can always move back to Wisconsin and live in the country. 
  • All of the east coast is at your disposal: eat lobsters in Maine, visit old friends in Boston, eat clams on the shores of Rhode Island, pop down to Washington DC and say hello to your representative, check out North Carolina, gamble in Atlantic City.

Maybe none of these imagined stories about my new life in New York will ever come true, but telling them is enough to keep me plugging along on this new journey. Something will eventually pan out and when it does, I will be looking for a new narrative to keep me going.