Beautiful Catasrophe

A hundred times have I thought New York is a catastrophe, and fifty times: It is a beautiful catastrophe. Le Corbusier

I know I've written about my love-hate relationship with New York City many times in this blog. Today I'm in the beautiful catastrophe frame of mind. There are some aspects of the city that are so unique and unexpected that remind you of the amazing-ness of all that goes on in a city so large.

But every once in awhile I see, hear, smell, or do something that reminds me of the uniqueness of a life lived in NYC.

The other night it was the bicycles whizzing past me as I crossed 23rd Avenue. This morning it was realizing I am going to see a movie that hasn't opened in the rest of the country and probably will never open in my hometown. Last week it was watching the scene in Elf where they showed the reporter on NY1 - yes, it's a real channel.

Yes, this city is loud, dirty, expensive and obnoxious most of the time, but every so often a moment comes along that reminds me I am living what for most people only ever remains a dream and that I should be thankful for this opportunity.

New Yorkers are often characterized as being neurotic. After living in this city for the past year, I can see why and am worried that I am becoming the same.

I never feel enough of anything in New York City - pretty enough, smart enough, rich enough, etc. I am continually battling feelings of inadequacy and it's starting to make me crazy.

I'm forgetting myself.

Gone is the girl who used to be so social. I feel completely unmotivated to pursue any of the things I used to love. I've become lazy and feel restless.

Sometimes I feel I have become someone I don't recognize and I miss the me I used to be.


New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer.

Henry Miller

¡Acción de Gracias Feliz!

This year will be the fourth Thanksgiving I've spent away from home. Flying home for the holiday is too expensive and too exhausting so I usually save that for Christmas. I usually don't mind missing out on Thanksgiving since a majority of my cousins only make it home for Christmas as well and I'm not a huge fan of eating turkey. Spending the holiday away from home has given me the opportunity to experience many Thanksgivings that have been memorable for different reasons.

My first Thanksgiving in Boston was celebrated with GMCA classmates. We had a turkey cooked by a Californian and an Italian complete with spinach pie made by a Greek and Korean egg rolls. Yum!

I've helped make - for the first time - a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for foreign classmates who had never experienced Thanksgiving before.

One year I celebrated in Brooklyn with another friend and her entire family. We spent the entire day eating, playing board games and watching football. And last year I celebrated with a turkey in a bag and Ben and Jerry's Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream.

This year I again plan to return to the home of the original Thanksgiving but will be celebrating with a Mexican fiesta, which is anything but traditional. Taquitos and margaritas will be on the menu with the most traditional thing being the pumpkin brownies I intend to make.



Celebrating in Boston is almost like going home for me, but I did feel a touch of melancholy the other day when a co-worker asked me if what my plans were and then proceeded to tell me about all her family coming to celebrate with her.

I will miss fighting over the pumkpin pie and I will not get to laugh with my cousins about the year that Grandma brought the plate of Kraft Singles to dinner. I will miss my Aunt's delicious stuffing and won't get to meet my little cousins who visit the other sides of their families on Christmas.

But on the bright side, it's only twenty-three more days until I leave for Iowa and get to celebrate Christmas with them all.

Boston Bound

It was being let go from a temp job working at a computer engineering firm that motivated me to go to graduate school. Breaking into the PR field back home hadn't been easy and I was not ready to job hunt again. I realized there was so much more about the field that I was interested in learning and I decided that this was my opportunity to do something about it. I started applying to graduate programs in the Midwest and, on a long shot, randomly applied to Emerson College in Boston (the school I had only recently discovered while working in London) and Columbia University.

I never thought I would ever get into ether of the two East Coast schools and started seriously considering attending UNI or even UNL. Big surprise, I was rejected from Columbia, but I also got accepted into all the other schools I had applied to.

Crap!

I hadn't counted on that. I figured my decision on where to go to school would be made easier by the fact that I probably wouldn't get accepted into many of the programs to which I had applied. This presented a whole new problem. I had too many options.

Should I play it safe and stick close to home or take a huge risk and go somewhere I had never been and knew no one?

I agonized over the decision, asking everyone I knew for an opinion. As the time to put down a deposit drew closer, I found myself still unsure of what the "right" choice was for me.

The day the payment was due, I made a split second decision and chose Boston. I had to give it a shot. I had never dreamed I would get in and I took getting accepted as a sign.

Besides, it was just a one year program. If I hated it, I could move home in a year.

I announced my decision to everyone and got many shocked reactions. First, that I was going back to school and had made the decision to do so so suddenly and secondly, that I was choosing to go so far away.

I never gave my decision a second thought until a friend of mine looked over the course Web site and asked me if I was really sure that I wanted to be a part of a program that intense. I had been so excited about going back to school that I hadn't even taken time to really digest how much of a change this was going to be.

Stay tuned for part two.

Adventure of a Lifetime

For over 40 years, BUNAC has been providing students the opportunity to live and work abroad. They offer programs to the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. BUNAC helps you obtain a work visa and provides support in job and flat hunting once you reach your destination. They also arranges social outings once you arrive in the country to help you make friends and really experience your temporary home.

The following excerpts came from my journal I kept while in the UK:

Upon learning that the work visa for the Britain programme was only eligible to University students for for those who had graduated within the past six months, I knew it was now or never. I started talking more and more about the possibility of doing the programme and before I knew it, I had talked my college roommate and two of my best friends from childhood into going as well.

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Thursday, February 6, 2003:

I awake early to say goodbye to my mom and sisters before they head off to work and school. I also want time for one final repacking of my suitcase to make sure I have everything I could possibly envision needing for the next six months. I begin to cry as I tell my mom I’m not really sure about my decision anymore.

She hugs me and says,
“You’ve always been my adventurous one and I know you’ll have a great time. Go and have fun.”

It’s a bitterly cold morning. The first snow of the season had fallen the night before and I could see my breath as I step out the front door. I struggle with my suitcase and wait for Melissa to arrive. Around 8 am, she and her dad pull up. My dad and I hop in the car and we all head for Des Moines and the airport.

We get on the plane and as the flight attendants begin their speech, I realize there is no turning back. I take one last look out the airplane window at sun shining on the snowy expanse around me and then buckle up, not knowing that this would be the last time I would see the sun for about a week.

Friday, February 7, 2003:
We arrived into London on a direct flight from Chicago O’Hare. It’s 7:30 am and the plane touches down on the runway at Heathrow. It’s gray and rainy outside and, at 50 degrees, considerably warmer than the weather had been in Iowa when we left.

We collect our luggage and head for customs. The customs officer requests to see our bank statements, work visas and return tickets. He demands we explain the BUNAC scheme to him and once we have satisfactorily convinced him we are only there to work temporarily, he grants us entrance to the country.

We are now residents of the UK for the next five months.


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So much happened in those five short months that I could write an entire blog just about London. But I will fill you in on the one key detail you need to know for the rest of my story to make sense.

I ended up finding a job as an Editorial Assistant for Britain's largest independent publishing company while abroad. I was so excited as I set up the interview. I had always been interested in the publishing field and was excited for an opportunity to work in a place like this. My excitement grew once I got to the interview and learned the position would be working on a supplemental directory for PR Week, one of the biggest titles in my industry.

How great it would be to work on something related to my industry. It would look very impressive upon returning home and trying to break into the PR field.

My role on the directory was researching appropriate listings and helping get them ready for publication. One of the sections of the directory was education - a listing of all communications and PR programs in the States. A few schools stood out in more than one category and this was where I first became aware of Emerson College.

We enjoyed every minute of our life in London and before we knew it five months had passed.

Leaving the UK was bittersweet. There were things from home I had missed and of course I was looking forward to seeing my friends and family, but there was so much I was leaving behind as well.

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The entire ride to the airport I tried not to cry. As we drove out of the city, I watched the row houses passing by and reflected on everything that had happened since we first rode in on the Airbus. That gray, wet February morning flashed back to me in snippets. It seemed so long ago, yet I could recall is as if it were yesterday.

My thoughts turned to home and the US. I wondered how much had changed and, more importantly, how much I had changed since leaving.


Soon we were in line to board our flight. I remember the stifling heat and thinking I would be grateful for the air conditioning on the airplane. Ahead of us in line was a large group of American tourists dressed in shorts and t-shirts. They were being obnoxiously loud and kept complaining about the heat and everything else. The British couple behind us commented on their rude behavior and I remember agreeing that they should stay home if they were going to complain about the differences.

Wasn’t that exactly why people traveled? If everything were the same as what you already knew, there would be no novelty or sense of adventure in traveling.

The line began to move and Melissa and I stopped for a moment to take in one last look of England before entering the boarding ramp.

“What are you thinking?” I asked her.

“That it will probably be a long time before I see this country again,” she said.

“I know,” I said sadly and we turned and entered the aircraft.

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In the days that followed, I tried to readjust to American life. I know that sounds weird, but returning home to me was a culture shock. England is very similar to the US, but it’s also very different. I wasn’t even gone for a very long period of time, but it was amazing how quickly and how much I had adjusted to life in England.

People kept asking me if I was glad to be home. Yes, I was. But also, I wasn’t. I felt as if my adventure had ended just as it was really beginning. I had taken a chance on something very few people ever even consider doing. I had done it…and done it well. I felt empowered and wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling or have to start all over again already.

“A mind that has been stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes.


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It has now been almost seven years since I moved back from the UK and sadly, it has been seven years since I’ve set foot on European soil. I’m sure much has changed and I still dream of going back and sitting on “my” bench in Regent’s Park in the Spring.

I’m frustrated that life since then has kept me from one of my great passions in life – traveling. But I also smile reflecting on my impulsive decision so many years ago to move to a foreign country.

You see, if I had never gone to London, I would never have heard about Emerson College and the Global Marketing and Advertising program to which I would eventually apply.

And if I hadn’t lived in London, I would never have had the courage to accept a spot in the program and move all the way across my country to start a new life in a city where I knew no one.

Love

She was never one to believe in love...mostly because she had always heard people make statements about things she had never experienced herself.

Now she is reconsidering everything she previously believed, yet is still trying to convince herself she doesn't believe. This time, not because she doesn't believe it exists, but because she believes that it doesn't exist for her.

Iowa State, Part II

I so clearly remember my first few days at Iowa State that I can close my eyes and feel 17 again. I wanted so badly to go to a school where I would just be one of many. I had no idea just how difficult that would be at first.

My stomach hurt every day for the first week or two of college. My friends at home kept telling me how much they loved college and I just didn't get it.

I was lonely. I had gone from having a constant large group of friends for the past 12 years to essentially knowing no one. I remember feeling so lost as I spent days walking around campus not seeing one familiar face.

The classes were fine. Honestly, compared to my high school, I thought most of my first semester classes were a walk in the park. There was a lot of work, but it wasn't hard.

I begged my parents to let me transfer to UNI second semester, to which they said no. They said I had to give Iowa State a year and if I still felt the same way, then I could transfer.

Am I ever glad they did.



Flash forward four and a half years later. It's a sunny December day and I have just put on my cap and gown and descended the staircase to meet my roommates and family before heading to Hilton Coliseum for graduation ceremonies.

I was so sad to be leaving Iowa State. I had lived in Ames longer than I had lived in the house my family currently lived in. I could not go anywhere without seeing someone I knew, which my family constantly made fun of me for.

I had gotten very involved in the Greenlee School my last two years and didn't quite feel prepared for the real world. I had made some great friends at the PC and it still remains one of my favorite jobs to this day.

I would miss Buck Burgers and celebrating birthdays at Hickory Park. I would miss tailgating and house parties. Most of all I would miss my friends and being able to call Iowa State "mine."

As I left Iowa State, I wasn't stressed out about entering the job market like most graduates. I had other plans. One of my college roommates, two high school friends and I were about to leave on an adventure of a lifetime...we were moving to London, England for six months.

We planned to get jobs, live it up in the UK and then I would return to Des Moines and get a job in PR. Well, as I've now learned, life never turns out the way I think it will and it was my move to London that made all the difference in my life.