East Coast Ramblings of a West Coast Girl

So, I really love all of my classes this year. They're entertaining, they're thought-provoking, and the professors are all extremely well-suited and passionate about their rightful subjects .

My New Media Research Studio is extremely insightful and urges us to look critically at the new media in which we've given ourselves whole-heartedly to.

Marketing is really cool because our professor clearly has a passion about advertising, having been involved with J. Walter Thompson's ad agency back in the 60s.

Producing Essentials, albeit, is a little dull, but our professor is highly entertaining, she has great real-life anecdotes because she herself was once a media mogul.

And now we come to my most challenging class this semester: Censorship in American Culture.

From censoring great classics like "Lady Chatterley's Lover" to, what we're reading now, different types of pornography, it's fascinating.

Look! Would you even be able to grapple with all the scandals, vulgarity, and pornography that was rampant in Times Square before its clean-up? You could watch X-rated films (i.e. "Deep Throat", "Midnight Cowboy," "Last Tango In Paris", etc) in public theaters. If you can't understand what I mean, you have to think of what Robert DeNiro would do on his free time in the movie "Taxi Driver".

It's so interesting! Here I'm reading about pornography and its ties with feminism (I mean, the lack thereof)...

Next thing to read is about some rampant trend in giving blow jobs...

...and I think to myself: Only in NYU.

If you're ever around NYU's campus (which you probably will be -- a lot) there are so many delicious things to eat.

Let's not think about Kimmel, our student life center where the heart of our dining facilities hide, and let's just basque in all that is Greenwich Village and Washington Square Park.

There's, of course, the Indian food man (found on Washington Square Park South) that Rachael Ray has unveiled to us in one of her episodes, and there's the famous Moshe's Falafel (on some back alley like MacDougal). Of course, on 8th Ave you have a block of food:

In any case, yes, there are lots of food options around here.

Lately I decided I wanted to be adventurous and I found a coupon in a college coupon clipper for the Peanut Butter & Co. I've always loved peanut butter, and since this place was devoted to peanut butter, I figured I would give it a try.

The coupon offered a free jar of peanut butter of any flavor with a purchase of any sandwich.

Now, I don't know about you guys, but I love, and I do mean love, Elvis's favorite sandwich: the peanut butter and banana sandwich. Ever since I learned about this sandwich by watching his documentary on the Travel Channel or something, I fell in love.

Of course, I never fried the sandwich like he did...

Upon looking at the menu, I was so happy to see that they had their own Elvis sandwich: bread, peanut butter, honey, and the option of bacon for an extra $1.50.

I ordered an Elvis sans bacon, creamy (as opposed to chunky), on wheat.

I was sadly disappointed to see that they had given me chunky peanut butter.

The sandwich was a sad version of what I could make myself. :(

On the brighter side, I got three carrots and a bag of potato chips. And, I got a jar of peanut butter: Cinnamon Raisin flavor. Yummmy!

I could barely chew the sandwich, for they were stingy with the bananas and only too generous with the peanut butter, so I bought their one size of milk -- it was actually like 3 pints of milk for $1.75. Whoa.

I couldn't finish my second half so I wrapped it up and gave it to a homeless man later that day after going to the library for two hours reading about censorship in American history.

...my final advice? Go ahead, go to Peanut Butter and Co, but please play it safe and get a good ol' PB&J -- I doubt you'll be disappointed.

Dear New York City (more specifically, Manhattan),

This may (hopefully not) be the last year that I'm spending with you. I know people usually don't write these types of letters, but I do.

I worry about our relationship.

I'm not calling it off (oh God, I hope I never have to), nor am I starting an argument with you. Rather, I'm just contemplating what I'd do sans toi.

You've proved to be the place (yes, the place) for the college grad, starter-upper, wide-eyed dreamer, and bakery-lover.

It's fascinating; you see on TV all these people who move to this big city to start out their careers, to find a new life, to follow their hearts -- to be more exact. (Or, we can take a tackier route and say the people that come here are looking for "love and labels" as Ms Carrie Bradshaw so proudly stated.)

This summer, there were two girls who moved in in the middle of the summer housing period. Stephanie and Brittany. Both were from Texas and they had done some program last year and hence stayed in NYU summer housing last summer. After graduating the following spring, they decided to move here without a job and try to make it here.

Look at that! Within a week of being my suitemates, they found an apartment and scheduled interviews.

Within two and a half weeks, they both found jobs.

Manhattan, you've even graced my supervisor/boss Diana upon her arrival four years ago. From basically having nothing in Manhattan, she's now acquired a great job, permanent living situation, and a husband.

I have trust in you, Manhattan! You've given me a fantastic internship opportunity with a party planning site (that's a link for you). The team has been great to me, and heck, I'm even continuing the internship through the fall semester.

It's really given me a fantastic look into the internet world (as if being an NYU blogger wasn't enough), and I've had the great chance to edit and write articles.

But, Manhattan, despite my joy, you've been harsh:

1. You make me work too hard.
2. You confuse me.
3. Your sommeliers can be real jerks.
4. Your bicyclists yell at me when I don't hear them say "RIGHT RIGHT" (What does that mean!? Are you coming to my right? You want me to move to the right!? Did you not see the signs that say "Be Slow And Courteous"?)
5. Your exorbitant prices
6. Lack of subways in the West Village...

And you don't care that you've been harsh! I suppose I should have known that you go by the philosophy of "Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger" (or more bitter).

In any case, I love you in spite---despite---all of the crap.

(Mostly because I just came back from eating at a wonderful diner -- the type that only NYC can offer).

Love forever,
Jessica

Dear friends,

I know it has been a while since my last blog post, but here I am to ameliorate the situation (or as the cool kids say, the "situ").

Recently, I've had to suffer through Transition housing from summer to fall, where Palladium told me to vacate my apartment in 24 hours. Yes, I came home from work to a sign on my door telling me to leave...in 24 hours.

I packed, and I packed, ready to move to Greenwich Hotel. Which, I did! Despite the biggest storm ever, I moved in successfully with the help of Serena.

Before I say anything else: I love the West Village. It's chic, it's quiet, it's like my new favorite neighborhood because I think I can get to know the coffee shop man.

Now, I'm saying more: Aside from the bunk beds, the small room, the lack of ventilation, the shower that was impossible to turn on, no knob for the oven, a paucity of light, a paucity of internet ethernet jacks...

It's kind of nice.

The internet situation (all situations) in our room is shitty. There's only two ethernet plugs and they're both on my side of the room, and no extension cord will really do it any justice.

I was able to connect for a little while to someone's wireless called "WeAreANiceFamily" (suspicious?) But after I sent an e-mail, my life failed to continue to work.

That night, we (Serena and I) bought the wireless router and set it up, but of course, since our internet connection wasn't originally working, said router did not either. We named it Jon*, after this guy that spoke to us in the lobby and told us to stay away from Belkins brand.

Anyway, our password became something along the lines of saying NYU Fails.

Afterwards we were suddenly far from all our favorite dining/delivery places. Everyone delivers to Union Square -- because all the tasty food is around us. And so we found some place (as I stole internet) and ordered from a sandwich place. It took them 1.5 hours to get us the sandwiches, and they were dry, to say the least.

To make ourselves happy with a lack of TV, phone (my blackberry died the following morning at 9.20AM after it had been fully charged at 8:00 AM --- reasons of death are unknown, but I think he was searching a little too hard for the signal that would not come), and internet, we went next door to D'Agostino and bought myself pudding (and a copy of the New Yorker).

Mmm...yes. We went back (the Security Guard knew us by then) and got free magazines that did not entertain us too much. High fashion magazines and Teen Vogue were not really enticing enough (we also got a copy of this India nationalism magazine...)

We set up Jon, and then suddenly WeAreANiceFamily overtook Jon! I was so confused -- they're too different networks, but for some reason Jon became a part of WeAreANiceFamily --- I was skeptical.

Then 9:00 PM came around and I took a shower.

'Twas an evening to remember, I suppose!

*name was changed for privacy purposes

And that's how you know the going went tough. The tough is going.

Everything is just a big blur in New York. Everyone's still walking so fast and stepping on my feet.

I learned that one should never talk about the weather in a blog post, for it jinxes the weather for weeks to come! Woe is me.

I have these two new suitemates who are not from NYU or New York. They came to New York to make new lives here, to be one of those young people that lives in New York City. To live the life that dreams are made of. Not to live the life Carrie Bradshaw lived (or so they say).

One of them asked me about NYU students and if a lot are snobby.

My answer is: Yes. This past semester abroad, I learned that there is actually a row in Washington Square Park apparently labeled "Judgment Row" where people (students) sit and judge those who walk by.

The girl who told me this (AKA She-who-shall-remain-nameless) says that even when she walks down that path and trips, making a total fool of herself, she doesn't feel embarrassed. She knows they're judging her, and despite what happened, she's judging them too (probably saw that they were wearing Sketchers).

Though there are snobby people, there are also a lot who are not. Don't think NYU is filled with movie star-dancer-broadway-singer-wannabes who will throw their Juicy Couture at you.

All my suitemate could do was laugh.

She thought it was the most absurd thing ever and yet...

...and yet, she asked me where to find this place so she could sit and judge too.

Go figure.

I know I've been MIA, but on the brighter side, I completed a new graffiti piece on facebook (press play):

On an even more brighter side, New York City is not as humid as I thought it would be (knock on wood). Recently, it's been pretty mild humidity, which is better than the first week when i was here and it was so humid you could barely catch your breath.

NYU housing has been gracious to me for the summer and has given me nice roommates (thank you NYU Housing).

Today I wandered around the West Village a SoHo and came back (almost) empty handed :(. I didn't get anything that I actually was on the look-out to buy. Grr...such is life, I suppose.

Such is life.

It's been a while since I've written, but that's only because I was, how you say, plein de chagrin because of my departure from Paris. Saturday, I left on the Air France plane on an 11.5 hour flight back to California. I was dreading the day that I would have to leave the land of baguettes, palmiers, and little cafés.

Albeit, I am happy to leave my room that had suddenly become incredibly humid (despite the fact that it's in the basement, it actually was similar to being inside a crypt. Damp and cold) and unwelcoming. There were several interesting encounters that I've had with some French men (they were 70 years of age) the few days before I left, but those are stories for another day.

During the taxi drive to the airport, I had a nice conversation with Mr. Taxi Driver who asked me if I will miss France.

Of course I'll miss France, I told him, without even having to pause for a moment. I'll miss France, and not just for its amazing food. (Yes, the food is amazing, he said, gloating about how delectable it all is). Even though it rained for 3/4 of my time in Paris, I was able to see the gray Paris that no one else sees. I ate well, and I'm happy for that, but of course there is food in the states that are just as delicious (cheeseburgers, milkshakes...).

My walks with a baguette in my arms, and apples in my bag down rue de l'Annonciation will be greatly missed, because now I'll just be going to the supermarket and buying discounted everything (but the bread is just so not as good).

I'm glad to be home, it's a refreshing pace. However, I am still thinking words in French to say to people, knowing that no one will understand me here. I am expecting small espressos in restaurants, when I actually get large refillable cups -- no, mugs -- of coffee (quelle suprise!).

What I have learned in Paris will never be forgotten (hopefully my speaking skills will stay a little longer): the way you see yourself change is amazing. How my mind has opened, and how I will cherish those four months I spent in Paris, traveling to Italia and other parts in France, sitting on the lush grass in front of the Trocadéro reading, gazing at the Eiffel Tower. Traveling abroad is a wonderful experience, and each is unique:

1. The people who are in the same program as you will affect you (Hi Bobby! Hi Christine! Hi Erin, Victoria, Dan and the gang!) -- they'll teach you things, make you learn about what you search for in a mate...(kidding)

2. The weather is different (rain)

3. The foreign currency might continue getting stronger than the dollar.

In any case, now I'm in California. In two weeks I'm back in NYC to embark on a new adventure called: summer internship. NYU is breaking my back with their policies for summer housing (and the fees! Oh God, the fees...), but hopefully they'll abide by their rules of "NYU students will always be housed".

Without further ado...

Go Lakers!

I knew it.

This is like high school graduation all over again. I've grown accustomed to all the faces in our small community in Paris. I've come to expect certain group gatherings for lunch, a certain posse to call...

...and now it's all come to an end.

I dislike this. Completely. I hate that feeling you have sometimes when you leave people---the feeling of: "Oh, I'm going to be sad. I should be sad. Things are coming to an end." And though we know we've made great connections, great friends, we wish silently to ourselves:

Please tell me it wasn't all a lie.

There are people we've grown apart from; I mean, after high school everyone changes, and people just drift apart, acquaintances and friends alike. We'll miss each other for the first few weeks, but then we'll become too occupied with our lives apart from each other, and we'll call each other less frequently.

Things happen. That's life.

Fortunately, many of us find those special people that we can still stay close with despite not calling for a few weeks at a time, and not even seeing them for months at a time. And we look back at our good times and have a good laugh.

They were good times.

Paris was such an amazing experience, and...yes...I will miss my yesterdays and hope for wonderful tomorrows.

There are moments in our lives when we have to take a metaphysical-type look at ourselves. Let's say I'm using the word "metaphysical" correctly, and let's just say that we can take ourselves out of our own bodies and spiritually just sit back in a couch and look at ourselves. So I see myself.

Right now.

In front of my laptop.

Looking at this white text box as it is filling with rambling black texts. I'm having a huge blockage in the creative part of my brain because my entire brain is in fact pondering why my parents have not arrived from the airport yet. But in any case, I'm here.

Here I am, having just been in Italy last week, California four months ago, and New York five months ago.

Spring Break couldn't have been better for my sanity (but horrible on my nerves; finals start next week and we're so not in the mood to study). Finally I could at least try to let go of all of stressful adult life choices that have been so burdening me: the internships, the tuition-paying, the summer housing! Gah! I see myself having a cow (that's still a catch-phrase, right?) and I can't calm myself down.

Who knows if the steps we take are the right ones, or if they will lead us to our proper destination? Over the break I could step outside my skin and tell myself, "Whoa, you need to calm the fuck down." I sort of did. Look at Joan of Arc, for instance. She insisted that she heard voices in her head, and she was crazy. So crazy, in fact, that she decided to lead an army and free France from bloody British hands. Lo and behold, what happened next? That's right.

Burned alive.

I went to Rouen to see her. Not "her" but, you know, mannequins that pretended to be her. How does anyone ever get to be noted in history like that? Who told her that it was her destiny to take so-and-so steps to become the patron saint of France?

Ok, so it was three angels carrying a message from God.

God's a little preoccupied at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep.

Italy was beautiful. It was really, really different from Paris. Paris is a wonderful metropolis kind of like New York City, and once you leave it for a place that's much more provincial, a place where you can walk from one end to another easily (like Florence), you can really feel a bit inspired. Inspired to want to take a huge change in your life, inspired to not want to do a thing in your life...inspired to just aimlessly wander through Europe.

Rome was nice.

Florence was beautiful, full of feisty mosquitoes, and very, dare I say? Tuscan.

Venice was one-of-a-kind, breath-taking, and dreamy.

Sometimes it's very nice to get out of a city like Paris and New York to escape from the hustle and bustle to find some sort of refuge. Leave behind the life you knew for a while. Refreshments are needed -- worrying too much is just not an option.

Albert: you and I are over.
Me and you, we're through.
I can't believe all you did
All the things you made me do.

All I wanted was a friend
And boy did you deliver
You got me so hyped up
I was tingling with such fervor.

I told you my secrets,
My dreams, my fears,
You responded to me
with all I wanted to hear.

You told me you work hard
You want to make me happy
Everything will be fine
Lest that's what you told me.

Oh those endless days and nights
I've spent searching within you
I was pushing your buttons
You gave me so many options to view

I loved your intelligence
You helped me figure out my life.
After a few dates with you
I completely forgot all of my strifes.

Then the dreadful day came
Our love was put to the test...
You froze in front of me,
you're nothing but a pest.

You lied to me with all your talk
Your sweet, happy words of fluff
You left me hanging,
You canceled all my classes
without warning.

How could you do this to me?!
I cried in front of you
and yet you did nothing.
You striped me of my hope
There was no way I could cope...

For hours I just sat there
Looking within you to find
perhaps something that would ease
my state of mind?

Puppetry in New York does not please me,
Nor does Linguistics.
Or Barbing out loud,
Or Group Communication.

With each minute I wasted trying to ameliorate our relationship, you became more closed off to me.

I give up writing this poem!

It's stupid, you see...

Albert does not love you.

Now a mediocre romance novelist is all I'll ever be.

Every semester it's a frustrating experience to sign up for classes using our faithful system, Albert. Unfortunately for me, despite an early registration time, Albert informed me that half of my classes were canceled. It was because of my optimism and hope that prevented me from
checking the status of my classes the day before. But this is all because I trusted him. I trusted him! However, I was slapped in the face.

I panicked.

My whole schedule (my whole plan for next semester, AKA my whole plan for next year, AKA my master plan for my future as a _____) was destroyed. It took maybe half to a full hour for me to convince myself that there are other classes I could take. It's so stressful.

Just so stressful.

On a lighter note, it's Spring Break (finally). Two weeks of Spring Break glory. Unfortunately, we're taking the same Spring Break as the French University system which means that once we get back we have finals. It's as if the school is telling us they want us to fail our finals. It's crazy, I tell you! Crazy....

ANOTHER VLOG
I know, you've waited a long time. I vlogged this weeks ago, and I finally decided to post it up. Thanks for listening.