she's a native new yorker

Last post from the city of dreams. the city of heartache. the city of wishes. It's been an amazing summer, and I'm so grateful I got to spend it here. I've met some extraordinary people and made some amazing memories. It was an incredible journey and I will miss this place, these people, these times.

Love to all, one last time.

-Mandy

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion...

-E.B. White

airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars (i could really use a wish right now)

I debated heavily this morning on whether it would be a Breakfast at Tiffany's morning. You know what I'm talking about, I would throw on my black dress, coif my hair, stick on the oversized sunglasses and hop in a taxi- saying in a sweet mid-atlantic accent, "Tiffany's please." Then I would pull out a danish from a brown paper bag and eat my breakfast staring into the one place in the city that always makes sense. The place that belongs.

I'm still very near to doing it.

Waking up this morning surrounded by friends on the second floor was more than I could hope for at the beginning of this summer, and so much more than I expected. Ask anyone who talked to me before I grabbed that flight up here and the one thing I feared was being alone this summer. And while I have no idea how it happened- I know that that fear never came true. It's strange being able to establish real true friendships in a city so dispersed and foreign, where people are out there for number one and number one alone. But I know that I did. I'm not sure if it was the desperate hugs to people last night, clinging on for dear life, as if a minute more of proximity would postpone the fall and school and responsibilities, or waking up to a note pinned on the wall entitled to "my Rubin family", or the fact that people sought me out- looked for me to say goodbye- that I'm feeling so warm and fuzzy right now, I only know that I am. It says something about the human condition that within a few months kids-barely on the verge of adulthood can form such bonds and connections in a place that while not discouraging it, by no means, encourages it either.

I'm still debating on Tiffany's.

This week was filled with last minute memories shoved into a solid couple of days, desperation to make the most out of my final time motivating me forward. There was Tuesday dinner spent with Margaret and time after with Emily and her at the apartment, then Wednesday supper with Kris and a forty something blocks and 8 avenues covered walk back to the apartment where I took in my city, from the city walker's view one last time. And Thursday was incredible. (Know that mixed in with all of these days, are final moments at Rolling Stone- with fellow interns and bosses)

Thursday came... and went. My final day at RS, my FINAL night in Rubin, and my final outing with the gang. RS was busy- a good busy, where I was working towards a goal, something I could see finished and made relevant and meaningful. Dinner was delicious, burgers and fries at Jimmy's, with step sitting and people watching after. The concert at Madison Square Garden was epic. Spoon was amazing and clear, the band's talent and passion absolutely undeniable. Arcade Fire however was the greatest show I've ever seen live. And I've seen quite a bit this summer. The ability for their performers to switch instruments throughout songs, to start over (yes I mean start a song completely over) when they realize- hey it's a live show we make mistakes too- and their capabilities, no their skills at performing live made the show one of my top five nights in New York. Getting the adrenaline going with "Ready to Start" and keeping it up throughout the set until finally ending it with their third encore playing "Wake Up"- where the crowd instantly lost it, thriving and dancing to the music and lights and confetti- guaranteed Arcade Fire a spot in my best concerts ever for years to come.

Afterwards I grabbed Kris and we headed down to the village for one last night with the gang. To list everyone who was there would be listing out my summer friendships. This night was the night I was trying to force last Thursday to be, only without any need of advancement or encouragement or arrangement on my part. There was music, and dancing, and pizza (of course there was), and friends, and chatter, and it was an amazing end to a summer.

I've decided against Tiffany's. Tiffany's will always be there- waiting patient and sure for those moments you feel you don't belong, those moments where the mean reds come angry and stern on a Sunday afternoon. But today. Today, I don't need Tiffany's. I am home- as close to a home as I could find for the summer. There have been a few regrets and a few things I missed out on. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't. But at the end of the day this summer was all that I hoped for, but if I'm being honest with myself, it was so much more than I hoped for, expected, dreamed.

So thank all of you for joining in on this journey with me. I know I can be trying at times but I tried to be as faithful and honest to the blog as I could be, so here you go- my second to last post.

The final comes in the morning.

Love to all- as always, and especially to my dear New York friends.

-Mandy

"... I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it."

-Truman Capote

The Beginning of the End

I know, I know. I've gotten so spotty about blogging I apologize!

I've already discussed how everything has felt full circle, and how fast my time here is coming to an end, but its the one thing dominating my mind right now. No matter how ready I thought I was to go home, I am not in any way ready to leave this place, to leave my friends, to leave this magic.

Friday night was filled with tears (yes, my own, gasp!) due to watching Charlie St. Cloud on my last night with Sarah, and whether it was because of the emotional content of the movie or because of the rawness of my own emotions I'm not sure. All I know was it was the first time I've cried in over two months and I disliked the feeling of the vulnerability, even if it could've been caused by a movie. After I calmed down a bit at Barnes and Noble, a marvelous place to forget your feelings, Sarah and I departed with a hug and a promise to see each other in a week- back in Mississippi. It is strange thinking of seeing her there, she became such a big part of what New York is, was, for me this summer and I can honestly say that my summer wouldn't have been near as wonderful as it was without having such an amazing friend to share it with. (Miss you S!)

Saturday was filled with train rides back to the village. Funny, how as soon as I move out, the only thing I want to do is keep going back there. I miss the dorm and the second floor and the people. Again, it was such a defining part of my time spent in New York that I feel as long as I can grasp tight and hold, that my summer won't slip through my hands and I won't be on a plane come Saturday. I hung out with Scott and Alex while they attempted to teach me guitar/ukulele (attempted being the key word here), then we ran out for a slice of dollar pizza and my mind couldn't help but recall back to the first day when I met Alex and his twenty minute monologue on the beauty of dollar pizza. Goodness knows we went there often enough for it to deserve a twenty monologue. Then as they headed for Brooklyn I headed to the chess boards to watch T play. After a game we left to grab a not-so-quick bite where we discussed the summer and the fall- how much we'll miss New York, and how nice it is to know someone in Oxford will understand.

Saturday night came fast and full of fun. Margaret and Emily and I, decked to the nines in our most glamorous 80's prom outfits headed to Webster for the Awesome 80's Prom, where we probably showed our true nerdish (or AMAZING) selfs as we danced, laughed, and rocked out to the prom of '89. Filled with streamers, big hair, neon lipstick, tube socks and Screech (Dustin Diamond) from Saved by the Bell, the prom turned out to be everything we had hoped for and more. I was even pulled onstage by the Emcee for a spin (and lift!) on the dance floor. It was my one last weekend blast with the sister before I head for home and it was truly perfect. With our fabulous dresses, goofy obsession with all things 80's, and lyrical knowledge of tunes that rocked John Hughes movies, Saturday night was a marvelous fit for Margaret and me, and a wonderful way to spend my last Saturday in New York.

Sunday came with a discovery of a new place. And an entry into the top five days spent in New York.

Grabbing the L train over to Williamsburg in Brooklyn, Scott, Jake, Adrien, Alex and I discovered what I like to call Fondren on crack. The area was artistic, and musical, and filled with friendly faces from the time we got off the train to the time we got back on. Thanks to an organization called the Pool Parties (who host free concerts all summer long) we discovered that Williamsburg was the place to be Sunday afternoon. Filled with colorful buildings and extremely neat vintage shops Williamsburg turned out to be an unwonted but special find. Only fifteen minutes from the city, it was such a neat escape. It was New York without the overwhelming New York feel. We rifled through flea markets and art shows to find the perfect gifts and souvenirs. Alex won the contest for the day with two miniature Hindu figurines bought for two dollars off of a street vendor, but not one of those that has his wares on a tarp on a table ready to run at the first sign of a cop. No, Alex bought these little models from a really cool guy and girl who looked like there own version of a yard sale. With no yard. After the shopping and the exploring the gang and I headed to the center of the Sunday afternoon festivities, a block party with the best mix of a playlist I've heard in ages, situated right by the waterfront. The block party came complete with free energy drinks, acrobats, hoola hoops, and dodge ball. Yes, I said dodge ball, it may seem juvenile and childish, and well, it is. And that's the glory of it. This dodge ball game was filled with a bunch of twenty-somethings jamming out to a mix of old school rap with indie and top forty and it was one of my favorite games of dodge ball I've ever played. After lazily spending a few hours there we headed back to a place we had spied on our explorations earlier. The Surf Bar. A wonderful little restaurant and bar that has its entire floor covered in sand. After a nice meal and even better conversation it was just like Jake said, "I forget we were in New York." With tiki torches, sand, surfboards, and framed photos of waves on the wall you would think the place was kitschy or lame, but instead it was so unique and quirky. One of my favorite finds in the city, along with Grey Dog, the Highline, and Pulse JFK. One super short subway ride back to Manhattan and an extremely encouraging church service, and a delicious trip to Pink Berry later I sat on the second floor lounge with the rest of the crew as we watched with baited breath the beginning of Shark Week. I don't understand the fascination, just like everyone else, but still I sat there mesmerized as the sharks bit the cameras and the seals and kept (like Fiona) my fingers crossed for a little bit of blood.

And today- well today was wonderful.

Breakfast at RS with our sales and advertising heads who gave us excellent and much needed and not often heard advice, lunch at the apartment as I finished shipping out my bedding, and dinner at Kimmel with Scott (with a little bit of time laying out and reading at the park stuck in the mix). My conversation with Scott ranged from the shallowest of topics all the way to our belief systems and it challenged my faith and also strengthened it. Being from a place where most people either believe the same thing as you or put up a front that they do, it can be extremely enlightening, encouraging, and a little bit scary to finally have a true meaningful talk with someone you've come to care about. A talk where they ask questions, make assumptions, and debate you. A talk with someone who has a very dissimilar past than you, who doesn't know the history of what you believe and someone who has a belief system that you don't know the history of. I can't express my gratitude and wonder at the turn our conversation took over dinner. I feel if there's anything I've learned this summer in this city, something that I can be very grateful for it is this. That I have learned to listen to the opinions and beliefs of others without them having sway over my own faith and beliefs and opinions and without me trying to force what I believe upon them. That we can have open and safe conversations without judgement and fear. That we can truly listen. And I don't mean hear. I mean listen. And respond, and to know that if they don't necessarily agree with me- it's okay- the world is made up of diverse and unique individuals and it's something we should be proud of, otherwise our world would be a very boring place. But to also know that in a city that is trying day and night to make me a believer in myself, that is trying to sell me on the belief that it is my world, my ability, my life, that I can be humbled daily by the grace and mercy of the Lord and know that none of it is truly mine, and thank God for that fact.

I'm not one to talk about belief much or faith, but my conversation with Scott was led by him and he asked the questions and I was glad that in my first time talking with someone who I knew didn't believe the same things I did, I didn't shove it down their throats. That I could understand he is not me, I am not him. I was given this opportunity to talk to him, and that's what we did. We talked. And anything more that will come from that is not in my power, and it's a blessing to know that power lies with someone far greater than myself.

Sorry- I digress, but in recapping the day, these were my thoughts and I had to let them take form.

After dinner with Scott, there was second dinner (really more dessert) with Fiona and Sarah and Kareem and many others from the dorm and then on to the second floor where it was Youtube videos and pool and ping pong and mockery of the Bachelorette and so much more. This is the reason I keep coming back to the village. These are the people I keep coming back for.

And on the taxi ride home tonight- with the wind blowing through the window and circling my chilled arms and the music streaming from the radio- I knew, truly, how desperately I'm going to miss this place. The Chrysler building and Empire State both blinked their lights back down at me as I zoomed down the avenue and it reminded me once again of how beautiful and magical nights are here. The life and heartbeat of the city pulsed through the street, impacting the wheels of the taxi and reaching up to my own heartbeat, causing it to race in time with the lights across the East River. I was desperate for the cab ride to never end, for the yellow car to never slow down, the wind never let up, the music never stop, and the lights never go out.

I know they have to eventually, but not for a few more days. And the goodbye post won't come till then.

So to all my readers- whoever you are.

Good night, sweet dreams.

-Mandy

Movin on Up (to the East Side)

This is strange. I'm having this really odd, full circle type of moment, as I sit on M's couch after hauling my two overstuffed suitcases, and a taxi-full of stuff I've collected over the summer up the stairs to her apartment. I cannot believe it's been two months. It has zoomed by, and yet in some ways it feels like I've lived here forever. The friendships and the memories I've made up here have absolutely been ones that are more than mere summertime laughs and hugs. And this week has been just as chock-full of them as the rest of the summer has. After my wonderful Monday night, my Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays continued on in the same amazing manner. Tuesday night, (like I said before) thanks to O's wonderful connections I got to be third row to the live filming for Fuse of Maroon 5, and my fifteen-year-old self was melting as Adam Levine serenaded "She Will be Loved" to the sold out crowd. And the greatest part of it was that even though Maroon 5 may be cheesy and so middle schoolish, O and I were dancing up a storm in our seats because they are awesome performers and know how to woo an audience, and in the words of O, "Hell, it's live music!" Then I headed back to the dorm and then back out I went to Wicked Willy's with K, J, H, and J for karaoke. Yes, I said karaoke, now please stop laughing. We all were terrible as we sang (ironic) "This Love" and it was amazing and fun and ended the night perfectly as we raced each other across Washington Square Park, laughing from the arch to the dorm. After another night of chatting and me crashing on the couches in the lounge it was work and luncheon with H.R. (very helpful), and then back to the dorm and to dinner with the roommates. Since R left today it was our last night together as the roomies and we did dinner at Piola then hung around just talking about the summer and next year and all. It was a good final night, very cool and casual and fun, without being sappy or ovely emotional (things I can't handle). We all left with promises to visit each other, and promises to meet up in New York again one day.

Then there was last night.

My last night in the dorms. After a longish but funnish day at work filled with random outings, and cotten candy eating I headed back to the dorm to pack till after multiple text messages from friends I abandoned the packing for a couple of games of pool on the second floor and then dinner at Weinstein. Then a quick outfit change and a bit of packing later we all congregated to J's room for music and hanging before heading out to the west side for some awesome music and dancing. It was everybody (skrew letters, it's the end of my time here and this blog isn't just about me anymore- I've made too many friendships and relationships for this thing to revolve around me- I apologize if it annoyed anyone while I was writing the blog, but there were reasons for it). Kareem, Jurgen, Rachel, Jordyn, Kris, Scott, Alex, Liz, Kelsie, Adrien, other Alex, Ryan, Allykon (sp?) all came out and then after random street singing on our way back to the subway (scottie doesn't know, anyone?) and my half busted lip later (Jurgen's elbow doesn't know where to go when he's hugging) we headed to dollar pizza for a late night snack and then back to the dorm for more late night chatting and my last night was spent on the second floor lounge surrounded by friends and swiped vending machine cokes (oh those kids) and I fell asleep in the middle of all of their talking about life and the summer and Jersey shore.

This morning was relaxed and cool with a trip to the spa (a nice little present from Mom) then I bumped into Kareem and had lunch with him (my final!) at Kimmel. It was so different from the first lunch there, when I sat alone looking out onto Washington Square Park wondering who I would meet this summer. The walk back was filled with random bumping intos (Ryan, Jake, and Jessica) and like I said, it was just so full circle, as I walked past some Cameron Diaz movie being filmed across the street and back into the dorm to finish my packing.

One awful taxi ride and two flights of stairs later, hear again I sit on Margaret's couch reveling over this city and its people and the impact its had on my life and my self.

But now its time for me to get a bit settled in for my last week. There's movies with Sarah tonight and possible meetings up with the Rubin crew later, then talks of a trip to Brooklyn or the beach are in the works for the weekend and I have the Awesome 80's Prom with Margaret and Emily tomorrow night. So basically it's looking to be a good weekend, and a good last week.

Love to all- especially my dorm buddies, who knows maybe I'll just come back and crash one night this week!

-Mandy

P.S. Sorry for how sporadic posts have been lately, if you can't tell been a little busy, but no worries for those who read the blog you'll be updated on this, the final week.

Empire State of Mind

So yesterday was sort of epic.

It started out with an early early morning exploration of the city with T. He and I went to Columbia University and (pretending to be students) walked all throughout the campus, which was beautiful and old. Unlike NYU, Columbia actually has a real campus that comes with bricked buildings, fabulous statues, trees and a quad. They also have a Journalism school that was founded by Joseph Pulitzer. Yeah, that Joseph Pulitzer. I made T take a pic of me standing in front of the entrance. I've realized now I have way too many dreams and plans, I want to go to school at NYU, Columbia and in Boston, I want to do Teach for America and live abroad. I have no idea which of these crazy paths I'll end up taking, or if it will be any of them, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that that's not my last visit to Columbia. Then T and I went to Columbus Circle, grabbed some coffee, walked around and chatted, then headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge.

If you've never walked across the Brooklyn Bridge (which I hadn't) you can't fathom how massive, and beautiful this piece of architecture truly is. It's just a bridge right? Wrong. It's over a 120 years old, but still in excellent condition. Connecting Brooklyn and Manhattan across the Hudson, it provides the greatest view of both boroughs that I've seen since I've been here. You get chills walking across the bridge, realizing what humans are capable of, the magnitude of what we've built. T and I crossed to the Brooklyn promenade and sat there and watched the sunrise over Manhattan. I've seen the sun rise over the Atlantic, behind the wooded peaks of the Rockies and the snowcapped Italian Alps, I've seen its first rays reflected in Louisiana lakes and bayous, and seen it change the hue of the deep forests of Mississippi to a summer's green, but that was the first time I'd ever seen one come up rising against the backdrop of an island of metal. With every beam mirrored back by skyscraper after skyscraper. It was incredible. Like I said to T, I didn't have a word for what I was looking at. It hadn't been invented yet. As I circled my arms around my chest, fighting back the early morning chill I realized this summer has been a dream. I've reverted back to the feeling on my first night here, and keep pinching myself to prove that I'm not actually in Jackson and will wake to find this has all been some extremely beautiful and haunting dream, just an imagined memory. But it's real, I'm here, I've experienced all of this- my summer in New York. What is it about this city that makes everything I do seem better, more special than they would be anywhere else. The city is a drug, a mind-altering, full out sensory experience that leaves you aching for more. And this was just Monday morning.

After getting back to the dorm, I crashed in the lounge till I woke up in time to shower, eat, and get a load of laundry done before it was time to head to the taping of Jimmy Fallon. Thanks to SB and his wonderful supply of tickets, A, J, SB and I all got to go to the taping of Jimmy Fallon. Guesting on the show were Kevin Kline, Chase Crawford (yeah I was five feet from him, go ahead gasp and scream- he's even cuter in real life), and Hanson (my nine-year-old self was soooo stoked!). And thanks to their need to have a few extra people be on the band stage, I got to stand DIRECTLY behind the drummer of Hanson while they performed, so if you go YouTube the performance you can see me directly behind the band. But I wouldn't suggest that because I look so awkward. I do not see a career in television for myself at all, and that is perfectly alright. However it was extremely cool watching the performance and seeing how the show was filmed and realizing that celebrities are actual humans- bit of an eye-opener. After the show and (I'm sorry) multiple calls to people to watch the show that night, the four of us headed to Central Park to see the Flaming Lips, the one thing I've had on my calendar since the beginning of the summer.

It. Was. Amazing.

The excitement in the park was tangible, you could feel it in the air, and see it on the faces of everyone around us. They know how to put on a show. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. Except it wasn't the ending (not completely). After the show I headed back to the dorm and hung out with everyone on the second floor and thanks to some help from R and K, I won my first pool game! Maybe not the most epic of endings, but it's the little stuff like that- just hanging with friends on the second floor or walking to the subway with A each morning that are the icing on the wonderful cake that is New York. (that sounded really cheesy didn't it?) Ha, oh well. Tonight should be fun, thanks to O and his wonderful job at MTV, I'm going with him to watch a taping of Maroon 5's performance.

Well, I guess that's all for now. The summer's slowly, scratch that, speedily winding down.

Love to all my faithful readers, and to any newbies!

-Mandy

P.S. Go listen to the Gaslight Anthem. I'm sort of on a hook right now.

where everybody knows your name

I've fallen in love. Not with a person, but with a city. And it's not New York. Gasp?! What could be this wonderful thing be to make our little indie wanna be girl trade in her braided headbands for stripes and sperries?

Boston.

I've heard people rave and rant over the city and talk about how they could visit New York but would have to live in Boston, but I always waved away there comments with the thought, you just don't know New York. I take it back. While I love New York and I could live here, Boston is an amazing town. Full of history and charm. The cobble-stoned city seems stuck in time, neither here nor there, but all at once in the past and future. In New York it's the nights I love. But Boston would be a morning town. Before the bakers and trolley guides and the students get to work, I can imagine the city full of mist rising from the harbor and the fishermen just undocking and slowly setting out to the sea. I'm completely torn. It was always New York, New York, New York after I got out of college, but now I have to consider Boston.

I'm completely torn.

New York is fast and fun and seductive. Boston is cool and ease and charm. A lot less tiring than the city, with a little less excitement as well. But you pick and choose, weigh the pros and cons, and toss a coin and decide.

But I still have three years and I'm jumping ahead much too far. But hey, that's what I do.

Boston was wonderful. Marg and I pulled into the station around five and headed straight to the hotel to meet up with Mom and Anne. Then we hit up Faneuil Hall for dinner and a walk around the market. Boston reminded me a lot of Italy. Strange I know. But just like in Rome where you would walk past a McDonald's and there would be a column erected in 300 B.C., in Boston you would walk past a Dunkin Donuts and there would be a state house built in 1730, which, in American terms, is ancient. At night the cobblestoned streets and markets reminded me of Florence, so warm and musical and romantic. On Friday we took the trolley tour around the city and then the train up to Harvard to walk where so many had walked before (how cliche is that). However I'm not going to lie Harvard was beautiful and Cambridge was positively quaint. We met up with our friend Adair for lunch who is married to the Boston Red Sox pitcher, and then window shopped along Normandy Street (the Rodeo Drive of Boston). But due to the lovely weather the Northeast is experiencing right now we cut the shopping short and heading back for a quick costume change at the hotel, then off to dinner and dessert and bed. Saturday was Paul Revere's house and the Old North Church and Salem.

Oh, Salem.

I'm not sure if anyone reading this out there realizes what a Taylor Family Vacation is, but I'm sure most of you know what National Lampoon's Vacations are correct? Well, we're the real live version of that.

Example A.) White Water Rafting down the Nantahala. Sounds like fun for all! Think again. The dam is released at 10 in the morning which is right when the lovely Taylors decide to get in their one man crafts and "duckie" down the river, amidst freezing cold, class four and five rapids, till Margaret- the oldest of the bunch- runs aground on an island and loses her raft. Sweet Anne, always willing to help, lands on the island and attempts to fit both herself and Margaret in the one man craft. That's right one man craft. As in, it doesn't matter how tiny Margaret and Anne are, they will not be fitting their two teenage bodies into that raft. -Meanwhile, Dad, Mom, and myself have all made it past the island, past the waterfall (directly after the island) and have stopped ourselves at the next rock to wait for the girls. Five minutes later and one lonely empty raft floating by and Mom and Dad are not in the best state of mind. - Back to the girls: After realizing there is no way to go down the river, or get off the island they both sit and wait to see what will happen. Thankfully some boy scouts on the land have noticed their dilemma and unlike the other twenty or so passers by have stopped to call for help. In rush the red-shirted rescue team to make a human chain and carry the girls off the island. In swoops the big bosomed Boy Scout mother to hug and blanket both my sisters to safety. In dives the awkward teenage boy to hand my sister one of her (two) lost shoes. "I found your shoe." (Sorry kid, better luck next time) And in goes the Taylor family to the suburban to head back to Mississippi, slightly defeated but with a wonderful story to tell.

Example B.) London. A wonderful cross the Atlantic, European adventure to spend some time as annoying American tourists and also to visit our cousin Patrick. It's March and it is HOT in lovely Mississippi. T-shirts and shorts and flip-flops attire the entire Taylor family from Sam to myself. We board the plane, we head to Detroit, (the first stop on the plane ride to London), and we head nowhere. The plane is stopped, not due to malfunctions, not due to overbooking, but due to a blizzard that is raging throughout Detroit. We are forced to stay the night in the motor capital of the world. In a blizzard. In t-shirts, and shorts, and flip flops. (At that time we had not had that many Taylor Family Fiascos and had not thought to bring a back up bag, we now know better and have an emergency bag that is filled with clothing, toiletries, first aid, extra cell phone batteries, and much much more) Holed up in a Holiday Inn for the night, we soon realize the front desk has run out of all basic supplies such as tooth brushes and tooth paste, also there is not a gift shop for us to buy an extra shirt or change of clothes. So Papa Sam and Anne decide to brave the blizzard, seeing as how the taxis stopped running from the hotel the time we got off the last one. They walk not one, not two, but three miles in the snow in their flip flops looking for a Walgreens, a CVS, anything. But sadly Detroit is incapable of supplying your most basic of needs when a blizzard hits. -Meanwhile- Back at the hotel, Mom, Margaret and I have decided that we would like to get some sleep while waiting for Anne and Dad to get back. But no, we can't, because it is the family reunion from Hell going on outside our door. They're all wearing lime green t-shirts. And there is at least thirty of them under the age of ten. And why they are not in bed? Beats me, but needless to say they are not, and have taken the lobby and the first and second floors (ours of course) as their playing grounds and the night clerk is much too amused by the goings on to bother with hushing any of the Boombox playing, "she hit me, no he hit me first" screaming, or the ding-dong ditching of hotel doors. And seeing as how all of the other hotel guests at the time (because honestly who wants to be in Detroit during a blizzard) are their respective families, it is only the Taylors who sit up through the night, teeth clenched till the next morning, where thankfully the planes are taking off. Then it's to beautiful Amsterdam where we feel like the Home Alone family with fifteen minutes to get from gate from gate, my mother literally throwing me over luggage carts since my short legs and large backpack had trouble keeping up. And finally to London, a day late, no sleep, and my cousin waiting for us at the hotel to hit the streets.

Example C.) Dallas. Or should I go, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh (just hum the theme song to Dallas in your head as you read this post, or if you're like the Taylors, you'll have it on CD and be playing it in the background). A roadtrip, through Texas nonetheless, hitting up Houston and Dallas and there were others but let's stop there. See the sites, shop a little, get to know the locals (and without a doubt each other on that fun suburban ride). But wait, what trip through Texas isn't complete without a trip to SOUTHFORK!!!- most of you have paused, scratched your head, and pulled a google screen to figure out what the heck Southfork is. But wait, I'll enlighten you, it is where the TV show Dallas (which I have never seen an episode of) is filmed. It has a ranch house, a cheesy named restaurant, and a bunch of Japanese tourists. No I have not seen this show, no Anne has not seen this show, but ole Marg had and Mother of course, and as soon as Margaret put in that CD that has the theme song to Dallas on it Dad is pulling up the extremely long driveway to Southfork. Is there anything interesting to see? If I'd seen the show I'm sure, otherwise no. It's a bunch of memorabilia from some TV drama that aired before I was born. Oh but this is where the Taylor family Christmas card will come from this year. I was quite a looker in my white shorts, yellow tank, and braces sitting on the side of the pool. (A solid year for the Christmas Card to say the least) This wonderful half a day sidetrip to Southfork would be enough for anyone, but wait, there's more. We then decide to go to downtown Fort Worth to see the cattle drive (or the twelve cows who slowly walk down the street led by dressed up high school students) and ride the mechanical bull at Billy Bob's (hey at least I can say I've done it!). All of this was in the middle of one of the hottest summers Texas has ever seen. But hey, once again, there was a story to tell.

And now, if you've made it through this post this long give yourself a clap on the back because here finally is the point of it all.

Salem. (or example D) We were going to go to Lexington and Concord and see where the "shot heard round the world" took place, but due to the tours being booked for Saturday we decided to hit up Salem- the place where the witch trials took place (think The Crucible). After a beautiful ferry ride out there, past some of the most gorgeous New England houses I've ever seen and past the real Shutter Island, we land at the Salem dock, which is about a fifteen minute walk to downtown Salem. We are expecting a quaint, AG museum type of town, where the buildings have been reconstructed and the village looks the way it was when the trials were taking place. Oh no, Salem is a thriving little harbor town, and has become what I would refer to as witch and weirdo capital of the world (no offense if you're from Salem). After eating lunch at the Witch's brewery, we headed off to the center of town where we passed more than six houses specializing in palm and tarot card reading. After politely (I didn't want any bad luck thrown at me!) refusing the rather hunched up looking woman who wanted to know if we wanted to tour the witch's village, Mom, Anne, Margaret and I ended up at the graveyard memorial of the twenty victims of the Salem Witch Trials. Their real gravesites are unknown, but that's okay because the creepiest of all memorials has been erected next to what I swear is a witch's house, antlers around the door, moss on the wall, creepy faces peering out of curtains (and this isn't even October!). Then following the red line through Salem (something very similar to the freedom trail in Boston, only it's the witch's trail in Salem) we end up in the middle of a cobblestoned street where a reenactment of the arrest and trial is taking place. A woman in a period costume is being dragged away by two men. After gleefully watching for a few minutes, Margaret, Anne, Mom and I head on out to the Witch's dungeons, the one thing we've been told is worth seeing. It is a reenactment of the trial and then a reconstruction (underground, mind you) of the dungeon the victims were kept in, complete with wax figures. Well we are not really fond of being underground in dark creepy corridors where the only exit is three turns past a bunch of tourists and goth looking high school students, but we agree to go down and see the exhibit. Sad as it was to see how they were all kept, my mind was much more on hanging on to whoever was in front of me so that I wouldn't get left and rot in those creepy dungeons. Needless to say, the tour guide- thinking it was funny, hides under a blanket in one of the cells and then moves so that as we're looking into the cell the blanket falls. Four near heart attacks and one scream later we are in the daylight heading away from Salem as fast as we can towards the ice cream shop and the dock. Oh but the ferry won't come for another two hours. No worries, as long as we're off the island before sunset the four of us are quite happy to sit on the dock and eat our ice cream and wait. Some people go to the beach for vacation. Oh no, we go to the Salem Witch Memorials.

After the ferry finally came we headed back to Boston for one last dinner and dessert and then it was back on the train to New York and to quite a fun Sunday night/ Monday morning.

But I have to go grab my laundry. Will finish post later.

-Mandy

a game of chess

It's funny who you end up being friends with in this city. I've met so many different and amazing people since I've been up here and not a single one of them is alike. It's fascinating and wonderful and is going to make leaving here extremely hard.

I didn't post yesterday because none of you would have wanted to hear my rant. For the first time that I can remember, I was homesick, truly awfully homesick. I'm the type of person who instead of missing home instead would rather take advantage of the opportunities that I've got while I'm away. Whether it's at college or camp or in the city, it's better to be occupied and interested than to stop and think about how nice home sounds. But yesterday was different, it was a feeling I've rarely gotten in my life and I'd prefer not to get it again. Don't take me wrong obviously I miss my friends and family but I just don't get homesick very often because I like to stay engaged in the world that surrounds me at that moment. But yesterday was different, which is why there was no post. Sorry fellas.

Anywho. Last night was lovely. After realizing that through no fault of my own (a first!) my phone would not work again until this morning, I jumped at the chance to have a night truly to do whatever it was I wanted to do. No texts or calls till the A.M. so I couldn't feel guilty about ditching on anyone or missing out on anything. So instead of taking the nap that I knew I should have I went to dinner with T, SB, and the Irish girls then went and watched T play chess in Washington Square Park. He's up here this summer writing a novel about the chess players that hustle people in the park and the craziest thing is he has truly been accepted into their little circle. These are all men who have been in and out of prison, some live on the streets but most in shelters, but they are all incredibly intelligent and witty. And for someone with a prison rap who can't get a job, chess is a better alternative than riding up and down subway trains begging. They all play wickedly fast and are extremely well-versed in the rules and ways of the chessboard, and I (with my rookie skills and knowledge of the game) can't help but be fascinated with the way their minds work, seeing strategies and plays four or five moves ahead of what's going on at the board, some of them can know ten moves in if they've won or lost and will surrender the king where I would have been still trying to capture the black bishop (they're valuable right?). Each of them have a unique history and have their singular stories to tell and T is brilliant for using these guys as the basis for his novel. Without a doubt it will be an interesting read.

After watching the chess game, and trying to understand the strategies that darted the pieces across the black and white board, we were both surprised by the Washington Square Music Festival descending upon us. It was a beautiful cool night, one of those midsummer evenings where the sky is purple and deep and you know it would feel like velvet if you could touch it. The band played all different kinds of music but ended with a song that (whether this is good or bad) I recognized from Moulin Rouge, though I'm sure it has some classical Latin name that would make me sound much smarter if I knew it. Alas I do not, but never the less it was a wonderful band and ended the night in an excellent fashion. Then T and I lounged around the fountain for a bit before I knew I had to get back and get some sleep.

And so far this morning has been a mix of copying, compiling, and (as A puts it) facebooking like a champion. Lunch today was with Jenny Eliscu and Rob Sheffield- two wonderfully hilarious contributing editors for RS, and who (of all the people I've met and heard speak since I've been here) have the jobs I dream of. They are both writers and Jenny especially, who is a features writer, was incredible to hear from- though Rob was cracking me up all through lunch- made me want to get out there and start writing.

My goal for this year- write more, write often, and write now. I can't let my insecurities about whether people like my writing or that it isn't any good or that I may be the world's worst interviewer (hopefully not) keep me back from at least attempting to write something worth reading this year. So I'm expecting all of you wonderful people out there to hold me to this, okay? Okay, good, glad we're on the same page!

Boston tomorrow!! May be a bit before I post again, so sorry!

Much Love

-Mandy