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

recap

What a whirlwind of a weekend.

First, Thursday afternoon: I find B, luggage and all, at Penn Station and after much hugs and much chattering we hail a taxi for the Washington Square Hotel. Arriving at a very 1920's esque style hotel (that boasts of having had Ernest Hemingway as a frequent visitor) we checked in and then B and I and our many bags took over our art-deco room. Dinner was at Karavas, a neat greek place in the Village and then around midnight being the nerds that we truly are we loaded up on blankets and pillows and headed down to Rockefeller Center to camp out for the free John Mayer concert at the today show.

Oh, but wait. My life is ruled by the principle of Murphy's law, is it not?

And so, much to our surprise we discovered (at around one o'clock)- thanks to some dear Russian friends we had made- that no John Mayer wasn't performing in the morning but instead Enrique Iglesias was. Those two words were enough to have me and B running for the hotel.

Friday: We wake up at 12:30 and seeing as how neither of us are much of morning people, we take our time getting ready before heading to Times Square and lunch at Stardust, shopping at Macy's, and a walk along Broadway to see the mannequin exhibit. Then a quick change and dinner along Restaurant Row with the sweetest little old Italian man as our waiter, and on to Promises, Promises with Sean Hayes (ohemgee) and Kristin Chenoweth. Hilarious show! Amazing numbers! And some of the funniest lines I've ever heard were delivered out of Sean Hayes's mouth.

One Saturday Morning: (do not even try to pretend you didn't just sing that to the old cartoon tune) Up around 10:30 (a bit more respectable time) we grabbed lunch at Grey Dog, delicious as usual, and headed for the Village for a relaxing day of shopping.

One Saturday Evening: So retract my statement about Murphy's law. At least for the moment. As B and I finally found our way to the Magnolia Bakery in Grand Central who else should be there as well but Joan Cusack filming an episode of Law and Order SVU (look for me and B in the background of the episode whenever it airs!). So fun and interesting to watch them film the show. After our television debut (ha!) B and I headed up to the East side for dinner with M and E and then an awesome concert by Duet. Then a few midnight snacks in the form of leftover cupcakes later we passed out at the hotel.

Sunday: We finally got up and did some touristy stuff! Central park (where we took pictures with the Balto statue, don't even pretend you're not jealous), the boathouse, and the Met, Sunday was full and fun. And then some. A couple of Chinese delivery boxes + the first season of Mad Men and an extremely comfortable hotel bed ended our night in a lazy fashion. And there the weekend was over far too fast.

This morning we had breakfast in the hotel restaurant which was very reminiscent of a speakeasy and made me wonder if at one time that was exactly what it was used for. Three suitcases and one taxi later, B is sitting at the airport and here I am writing all this before I forget it. It's strange having people from home come up here. So out of the background and places that I connect them with, it's like for a weekend neither Mississippi nor New York exists and we're in some strange loop where time stops and there's nothing but us, and sketchy delicious Chinese food, and the box set of Mad Men but then Monday morning and housekeeping and the world knock on your door and remind you of the life you have outside that nice vacation weekend. It was wonderful having B here, showing her all the places that I've come to love but it also made me miss home and Oxford and made me so ready for next year. It's going to be an amazing and wonderful year, and I'm absolutely positive about that. But it's also been an amazing and wonderful summer, that is fading by much faster than I wanted it too. There's so much left to do and see, but New York will always be here and there is so much comfort in that thought.

Love to all! (especially B!)

-Mandy

P.S.- I just now realized I haven't update since Monday of last week.

Quick recap, Tuesday was dinner and chatting with S and then a wonderful free concert with S.B. thanks to his connections at work (he works for Sony). I'm a new found fan of the band they just signed (Progress in Color), though I'm not going to lie- the name could use a little work. Then Wednesday I attended the Philharmonic in the Park with S which was perfect! It was a beautiful and cool night and so much of New York was gathered on the great lawn of Central Park sitting and eating and listening to the sounds of the Philharmonic while the sun set behind us, silhouetting the New York skyline and framing all the concert goers in a beautiful purple light. The music matched the night, and it was without a doubt one of my best evenings in New York.

just in case you were wondering

Hello all... I'm terribly sorry, but there will be an absent of Mandy from the blog for a bit because B is in town!!!!!! However, there will be much to write about come Tuesday.

All my love.

-Mandy

the highline photos (words further below)

The Highline

Today I found my favorite spot in New York. Throughout the summer there have been multiple vying for the top placement, from the shaded benches by Washington Square Park where I can hear the jazz band play to the stone steps of Union Square where the skaters come at night to the boat pond at Central Park where you can sit on a hill and watch the soothing sails of the boats below you. These were the parks that were in the running. Then there were the other not so conventional spots such as the dark corner of The Grey Dog where you can get the best grilled cheese in New York or the cool second floor lounge of Rubin where I can sit in the a.c. and chat with friends. But no, while all of these are great and wonderful and special in their own ways- my ultimate favorite spot in the city was discovered today.

The Highline.

Converted from an old elevated railway station, the Highline runs along the lower west side of Manhattan from Gansevort (right below 12th street) to 20th street, but will eventually run the entire length of the southernmost part of the rail from Gansevort to the West Side Yard in Chelsea. The railway was abandoned in 1980 and throughout the years tough wild grasses, shrubbery, and trees began to build up between the rail slats. In 2004 city funding was portioned out for reconstruction of the line to a park and in October of 2009 the Highline was officially opened for public use. Preserving many of the natural plants that had sprung up the Highline was turned into an elevated garden of sorts, with wooden and rock pathways running from end to end amidst wildflowers and all sorts of beautiful plants. All sizes and lengths of benches are spotted intermittently throughout the Highline and resting on those seats are as many a variety of people as I've seen anywhere else in the city, from artists and poets to tourists, families and lovers. Nestled in between the Hudson River and the Meatpacking District up to Chelsea, the Highline offers a unique view of New York. Above the city, you can truly see the beauty of its architecture that is sometimes lost when you are among the buildings themselves. With the river on one side and the city on the other it is possible to see how New York isn't fighting against nature even if it is built out of "neon and chrome". It is actually possible that New York with its skyskrapers and towering buildings is an extension of nature. An island of metal littered with beautiful parks and surrounded by waters of a deep heavy blue the city itself is a work of art. And the Highline allows you to see and realize this. It is a soft spot in a town of rough angles and raw edges. And it is without a doubt, my favorite place.

After discovering it today, I bought some delicious gelato (my first since Italy) and stretched out on one of the warm curved wooden benches and thought back to a marvelous weekend.

Saturday, K and I ventured uptown to MOMA because we discovered it was something we both need to check off our lists. She is one of the best people to visit a museum with. Not only did she remind me of student tickets, she then asked if it was cool if we wandered the museum on our own and met up at a certain time. I've never been brave enough to ask people I go to museums with this same question, but I loved her for it. I've always felt that going through a museum with someone was a bit like having them read over your shoulder, an awkward uncomfortable feeling where you aren't sure if you should mention what you know about this certain artist or the technique that was used in that specific painting and hate that you feel hurried in the women photographer's room because they seem really enthused about getting to the Jackson Pollock exhibit. So getting to go through MOMA on my own was an unrequested but appreciated treat. There was so much to see I could hardly breathe, and I hate feeling rushed in museums so I granted myself time to see it all- from Andy Warhol's soup cans to Helen Levitt's photos of New York to Van Gogh's "Starry Night"- the musuem, just like all museums, contained to much for me to take in and ponder over in one day, but no worries I have a lifetime to come back and see more, and the exhibits change so often that there will always be something new to consider and fall in love with.

Then Saturday night I headed uptown for a fun night with E and M. I really love being old enough to not be the "6-years-younger" baby sister any more. I mean obviously nothing I do can catch me up those 6 years, but as I get older the differences between M and I shift and change to much more relatable things. It's no longer, I'm thirteen and have braces and she is nineteen and has rush, but problems and trials and joys that seem so less distant than they did at thirteen. And its a comfort to know that the more I grow the smaller that distance will become.

Come Sunday there was lunch and church and 7-11 free slurpie searching with two new friends, G and E, and Shutter Island movie night in the lounge and one more night spent on a cool couch. And before I discovered the Highline today, I went to lunch with a sweet college friend Marion, and her dad and sister.

And just now I got back from the cafeteria and running into J, J, and W (my friends I made Friday!) and from the sounds outside my window it sounds as if New York is in for a storm and I don't think thunder and lightning and rain has ever been more welcome than this moment. There's something magical about a summer storm, and I haven't had one yet.

Here's to hoping there's a storm.

-Mandy

No, New York Times, God ain't dead

Sorry blogworld, I have neglected you lately, but this is to make up for it.

So Wednesday night was one of the most refreshing nights I've had in New York. Redeemer Presbyterian up here does an RUF style college summer bible study and so on Wednesday I hopped the 3 train and headed uptown. After a quick phone call with W (I love you! Good luck with your surgery on Monday sweetheart!), I buzzed the Kellers and was let in to a very nice, homey apartment. It's the first place I've seen so far in the city that has a backyard, how incredible is that?! I wasn't really sure what to expect from this bible study. Having heard Tim Keller preach before I knew that his son would be just as good and passionate and knowledgeable but I wondered what the other kids at this bible study would be like. When all had arrived, about thirty or so, we went around and introduced ourselves. The kids range from New York to L.A. to Bangkok, and I knew that this would be different that any bible study I'd been to before. And I was right. Down South everybody assumes if you're at a bible study you're a Christian or you at least have knowledge of what you're studying and its a very like here's what we read, here's what we learn, how does this apply to us? Which is wonderful and great and how I learn things of course but up here it's extremely different. You don't assume anything. And people ask questions. I mean really ask questions. It's the first study I've been to wear the leader hardly talked. Instead we all posed deep, thought-provoking, and sometimes uncomfortable questions. Then we looked at the passage we were reading and pulled at our knowledge of other passages we knew to try and answer our questions and we had to realize that some of our questions were unanswerable. I loved it. I love that doubt is almost encouraged up here. That through the questioning and the doubt and the disbelief you actually find faith and encouragement because you're not just on cruise control with the schedule you keep but you're constantly challenged in a city like this, your beliefs, your faith, your humanity at times. But by digging deeper and asking the tough questions you actually find Jesus and God in the most unexpected but welcoming places. As I was waiting in line for a sandwich yesterday two men in front of me, one older, one younger were discussing how to do business in a city like this while keeping in mind God and your obligations and duties and desires to glorify Him, it was one of the most encouraging things I've ever heard, and these were two complete strangers to me. And no Elton John, no New York Times, God is not dead, not in this city, go look and you'll find Him- in more places than you might think.

Wednesday night and Thursday night were both spent once again in the air conditioned second floor- I swear it's the strangest feeling. Surrounded by a ton of kids, all of our lives crossing at this one moment, all of us preparing for the next step, this is the generation that will control the nation when we're adults- some will be the Wall Street tycoons, others the publishers, some in the government, others will the bankers (trying to fix what our parents did)- and for one night we all cross paths in a small, dark, cool room desperate to get some sleep. Thursday was a long day at work, but with a fun project, and then free dinner with the roommates at the coolest restaurant. A night out with the girls. Then came Friday morning and I did not want to wake up- the theater room was so cold I could have lived in that room all day. But instead I got up, got dressed, got yogurt, and met up with M at Bryant Park to get ourselves some free Chicfila sandwiches. It was the most delicious thing I've ever put in my mouth. These sad, sad Yankees don't have a Chicfila (I know, crazy, right?). But some promotion thing was going on so I hightailed it over there to get M and me a free sandwich and Dr. Pepper. Then we headed to the park to layout and chat. But one of the best parts of the day was when I accidentally ended up at Herald Square and discovered this exhibit on Broadway between Herald Square and Times Square where famous designers have painted, designed, or sculpted these incredible mannequins and have placed them like a massive runway show all the way down Broadway. I walked the entire length, Starbucks frappe in hand, and marveled at the design and beauty and cleverness of each one.

I love stumbling into things. It makes the discovery so much more wonderful when it's unplanned and seems to have just dropped in your lap to make your day that much more special, like the entire thing was planned out for your personal benefit alone. Another thing I stumbled upon yesterday was three new friends. They were playing music in the park for fun, some kids who had just graduated or were still going to the New School in New York. Just some really friends kids my age playing in the park for fun. These guys were so talented (studying music at the college) and you could tell they loved doing just what they were doing. Playing for a bunch of strangers who paused, listened, and days were a little brighter by their music. We bonded over yogurt and New York and then a woman who writes for AOL came and interview the boys and me in turn about street performers (who knows maybe it'll go online!) and then we parted ways when I ran into C and SB and decided to grab dinner. But once again, that small encounter and fun conversation and new friendships just dropped in my lap and made my day even more special. Then I came back and changed clothes (I had jumped in the Washington Square fountain, amidst bikinied women and shirtless men and half-naked children all desiring a break from the blistering heat and I needed to get out of my clothes) and then met up with L, R, K, and H to go out. It was fun, it was chill, it was just what I needed. And now it's the morning and it's sticky in here and I need to do laundry yuck!

It wasn't a very poetic or pretty post, but it was my past few days, so enjoy. I promise the prettyish will come back. Eventually.

All my love.

-Mandy

Hot Chocolate and 102 Degrees

It is is hot.

I know I have started multiple posts with this line, but none of it was true until now. Even in the blistering Mississippi summers I never knew heat till now. Because if I was that hot in Mississippi there was a.c. or a pool or a sprinkler, anything that could cool me off. But up here, if I want to escape the miserable steam that envelops me when I open the door to my room and causes me to immediately strip down to a tank top and shorts, my escape comes in the form of an air-conditioned second floor lounge with a pillow, a blanket, and 100 other dorm kids throwing a huge "You can't stop the heat" slumber party. Not gonna lie- as awful as it may sound, it was kind of fun, very reminiscent of First Pres. lock ins from back in the day.

So last night was fabulous! (pre-slumber party and sleeping on the floor) Since S was sooo kind as to get me a ticket for Shakespeare in the park minus having to wait in the uber long line, I had a good amount of time to kill after I got off work and before the performance at 8. So what do I do, you may ask? Take myself to dinner. And before you start sympathizing with me or just thinking I'm a total nerd, please know that I wanted to do this. I was not stood up in anyway as the poor waiters thought that I probably had been. I had a pink (rare color for me, I know) skirt and a new top on, had tickets to see Al Pacino and Jesse L. Martin in "The Merchant of Venice" and was very glad to get off of work since I stayed late to finish a project. So I splurged and took myself to the boathouse where the salmon was delicious and they used real silverware and real china and all the busboys and waiters kept stopping by my table to chat, since they thought I was lonely, but all I could think about was how nice and warm and full I felt. I love eating at the boathouse, they have this massive wall of windows leading out to the porch on the water and you can see all the couples in the little rowboats and the tourists taking photos on the steps leading down to the lake. All around me were a strange mix of people, families on vacation, friends on a night out, couples having anniversary dinners. Sitting by myself at the little table I could eavesdrop on the different conversations and languages and accents and I wondered at their stories and what they were saying. After excusing myself from dessert I decided to treat myself to one more thing I've always wanted to do, I road in one of those little buggies that the men bike throughout the park. Directing my driver (that sounds so odd) to the Delacorte Theater, I arrived in style and on time for one of the best performances I've ever seen. And after the play and a quick hello to S, I headed back home to the heat and humidity of the dorm, refreshed from my night out.

And now, regardless of whatever the thermometer may say outside, I am freezing in this igloo of an office trying to warm myself up with a hot chocolate from Starbucks and getting ready to go to the intern lunch with the editors of Rolling Stone's website.

-Mandy

P.S. Props to whoever in this office is whistling Bing Crosby's "I'll Be Seeing You." Loving the choice of song!

Another Post about the South

First, an apology. My last post was hurried and choppy and contained no real information other than what I did (sort of) for the weekend. So this is an attempt to make up for my lack of propriety with my last post. If I don't have the time to write something well, I shouldn't write it at all.

I never guessed that leaving the South would make me appreciate it. I expected to come up here and fall so desperately in love with the pace and sparkle of the city that I would swear off the South and not think twice about it. And yes, I have fallen in love with New York and the North and all its strange customs and interesting, diverse people- so different from the familiar faces in Mississippi. And I will one day live here, perhaps after college, perhaps later, I don't know the details yet, but if I know anything at all, it is this. I could not live anywhere permanently, if it isn't below the Mason-Dixon line. It has taken leaving the South to truly fall in love with it.

Having grown up in the South- surrounded by its soothing textures, the warm cadences of its voices, the beauty of its space- I now realize I took it for granted. I assumed that everywhere you went people took the time to ask about your day, your weekend, your family. That 'good morning, how are you' wasn't just a superficial routine, but a genuine question expecting and deserving of an honest response. I thought it only natural for men to hold open doors, or young people to give up their seats to their elders, and whether this is a generational thing or a regional one who knows? But I can't believe that common courtesy is something that can fade. The South is filled with tradition and a slower pace of living- in the past we have been cut off from the rest of America due to our history, culture, and geography- and this has left most Southerners with a sense of place. As my sister said only this morning, "To the rest the South is this mystical land, this mystery hidden within America." Our upbringing has not only left us with this sense of home and place but also with a sense of time. I have discovered that my version of time is what one would call linear. Instead of looking constantly ahead, we look back at our histories, around at the faces with us at the moment, and glance, unworried, ahead. And while our traditions have held us back and stunted our growth at times, they have also allowed most Southerners to grow with grace and a smile in a world that doesn't hold much value to such old-fashioned notions as courtesy and hospitality. One of my dear Yankee friends up here, noting the difference in he and myself commented that he doesn't think it will last. That the South has been isolated for far too long and that the pace of New York and L.A. will soon pervade its simplistic style of living and that the South too will become "modern". I disagreed fervently, countering his argument with the point that people come to New York and L.A. for the speed, the buzz, the excitement. But none of those types of people are going to go down South to "change" it. The South is the way it is because its inhabitants, from the ninth generation Mississippian to the newcomer, are living there because of its rituals and traditions and "yes ma'ams" and "no sirs". And while I love New York, and have (as I said in a previous post) been seduced by the allure of the dear, grand, ancient, and modern city and will without a doubt be back to make my mark, nothing aside from a region defined by its front porches, sweet tea, silver patterns, and "y'all" could be anything but home.

-Mandy

Happy Birthday America

I can't believe that my past two fourth of July's have been spent in NYC. Last summer it was all excitement and fireworks and BBQ with the sisters, and this was much more relaxed. Both were wonderful in their own different ways. Last years was picnics and fireworks on the Hudson, this years was lunch with friends and grilling out with M and other friends, and heat and laziness and movies. She and Him (I know, I know) sadly did not happen because of the 102 degree weather and over sleeping and friends forgetting. Things happen and I'm okay, because in all honesty fighting a huge crowd in this heat even for the amazing voice of Zooey Deschanel sounded about as appetizing as jumping in a heated pool (weird simile I know but just go with it). I always have this weird pressure I feel on holidays- Christmas, New Years, Birthdays- that I should be doing something or have to have an agenda, etc. but not today, today was long and warm and slow. A perfect holiday. Yesterday was full of parks, and pancakes, and pasta at a restaurant filled with swing music and dancing (courtesy of S and her parents!). And then some time spent with the roomies and the guys (an interesting, fun night) and now I'm lying on M's couch watching Donnie Darko (so much better the second time around). It's extremely difficult to type however while watching this movie so this post will just be short and sweet. Good night loves.

-Mandy

a much needed update

As I was wandering around the East side Thursday, large orange headphones draped over my ears, I passed a couple taking a picture of an old brownstone. Tourists mix themselves with locals throughout the city, cameras hung about their necks ready to snapshot the next sight they see that has been detailed out in their city guides so this encounter really didn't phase me at all. But then I stopped to take another look at them. They had paused and were talking fast to each other, not the normal take a picture and move on down to the next attraction routine. The man was getting really excited, his hands gesturing up and down as the woman took another photo. Now I was curious. I waited for them to head down the street and walked up to the building- similar in shape, size, and color as every other one on the block- my eyes darting to all its edges and curves looking for something of value that made it stand out. A small plaque was to the left of the doorway's arch and I moved closer, reading the engraved marking, claiming this house as having once belonged to Mark Twain. What?! I stopped and looked to my left, realizing my dorm was immediately across the avenue. I have lived here for a month now and not known that this house existed? I'm such a literary nerd, such a wannabe writer, and I had no clue that down the street belonged a house where Mark Twain had lived, written, thought, entertained, and created. I peered into the window, just a regular home, there was a bookcase (Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer must be lining the rough wooden shelves), a chair (one of those soft leather kinds, good for curling up on rainy days), a couch (the print tacky and faded, but home like- comforting), and a lamp. How is it possible that people live in that house still. They watch TV, eat dinner, read books, put their kids to sleep, and walk the dog. It's funny how an ordinary thing like a house can be so transient, so motionless in time, unlike people. The lives inside of it run through and past, and if you could take a picture (one of those time elapsed photos that make the lights on the highway look like neon streams) of the house you would see it standing tall and stern amidst the centuries and the people inside would just be blurs, pale pink spots on a page. And among those spots would be Mark Twain, bent over a writing desk in the middle of the night- the New York heat seeping into his bones and thoughts- as he scratches out a masterpiece or a grocery list. One thing legendary and tactile the other disposable. It leaves you wondering about whether he could fathom that there'd be a plaque outside the house one day, and where the next plaque for the next somebody will go?

So I know its been ages since an update, so sorry, just haven't been around a computer much! But here's the rundown of the week. Thursday night I crashed at M's after going to Trivia night with her and H- we rocked popular culture and absolutely failed at sports movies (no Sandlot reference whatsoever? Come one!). Then after a wonderful night sleeping in an air conditioned apartment M and I went to Central Park to lay out. Then after a nice raid of her closet, I bid her goodbye, grabbed dinner at Kimmel and met up with K, L, and R for a fun night out. A bit of a shock when K and I got back to the dorm however last night. A girlfriend of mine from Ireland is sitting outside of Rubin with her sister clutching her hand. Bloodied napkins were wrapped tightly around her littlest finger and both of them had mascara streaking down their faces as they sat against the wall crying. I rushed over to them to find out what was going on, seeing as how they had texted me earlier to come hang out. S (the sister) shoves F's (the injured one) finger at me asking if I can hold it. So, on one of my more random nights in New York I sat against the wall of Rubin holding F's half sliced finger in place so that it basically won't fall off. After about ten minutes a guy friend of theirs took over the holding the finger in place situation so that I could go check on S. The poor girl is halfway around the world from home, her sister slammed her finger in a car and has blood gushing out of her hand, and she just got a phone call that her friend in Ireland has cancer. Needless to say all she needed at that moment was a shoulder, so I held her till the ambulance came. Thank goodness the doorman called one! After making sure that the girls were okay and were getting the help they needed I went back inside and hung out with SB and A for a bit before crashing. After a night like that it took me two seconds to fall asleep. (p.s. the irish girls ended up being fine, I talked to them a little later after the hospital and all)

And now I'm sitting here on M's couch with the smell of (yes!) pancakes drifting over to me. And with plans to go lay out today, dinner with S and her parents tonight at Swing, and then She and Him at Governor's Island tomorrow it's looking like it's going to be a wonderful fourth of July weekend.

-Mandy