Hold my hand and sing me a song...

Remember that one time I completely abandoned my blog for like 6 months? So...that was cool. I'm back now.  Here's what you missed:

• I have officially moved to Harlem. I was really stressed about the moving process, but it ended up working out quite nicely. A dear friend of mine helped me bring a load of clothes and books on the subway, and then I took the rest of it in an Uber. I had like 3 boxes, one dresser and a few garbage bags of stuff.. The whole move cost me $43. It felt like a financial win. 
• Over spring break, I purchased a dresser from an antique store for $25 and repainted it. It resides in my room and makes my heart happy every time I walk into my bedroom. I enjoyed fixing it up so much that this summer I decided to start additional projects. Thus far I have painted a nightstand, TV stand, dresser, trunk and a mirror. It's strange to me that I've stumbled upon this little hobby in my late twenties. It feels so random but I'm ever so grateful for finding something that calms me down after a hard day, gives me a creative outlet and only has to please me. 
• I've been in the market for new glasses frames. I feel a change in the wind in that department. I tried on some funky patterned and colored ones. The sales associates often times tell me I'm too white to wear the ones I'm trying on. Haha I want to tell them a joke about how hard it is being white but I don't feel like that would go over well. Haha At a different store, the manager gave me his card and ended up sending me creep balls texts about what he actually thought about me while I was in the store. Some things need to be kept to yourself. Just because you think perv thoughts, doesn't mean we want to hear about it. In summary, so far  my favorite frames are red. 
• Back to unwanted male attention. Recently when I get followed, I tell them my name is Penelope and then provide an incorrect phone number. It turns out telling fellas on the street that you have a boyfriend doesn't necessarily deter them. So now I just lie about who I am and crap like that. I figure it's the closest I can get right now to being Sydney Bristow. 
• I made Tim Riggins brownies today and ate three of them. That's a fat joke. It's also a promotion for how delish those brownies are.
• In order to pass medical clearance for my new internship, I had to get a few vaccines. I went today and brought a dear friend with me for moral support due to my excessive levels of pansy-ness.  I asked if he would hold my hand and sing One Direction songs to me. He did hold my hand but hates One Direction...So instead he would sing phrases that he felt described the band members, "sometimes I can't bend my knees because my pants are too tight".  I loved it. 
• I bought a really cute couch over the summer. It's darling. We're currently in the works of redecorating our apartment. As soon as the living room is complete, we intend to have a housewarming party. I've been watching a lot of Friends lately and now can't stop thinking about how badly I want a tight group of friends in my life here in New York. There will be preliminary casting for my own personal Ross, Joey and Chandler during upcoming parties. I can't wait. Haha 

Now my eyelids feel like they weigh 80 pounds so I'm going to go unconscious now. Until next time,

Mal

Breaking down a break up

Let’s talk about break ups.

There is nothing flattering about a break up.  Best case scenario, if you weren’t head over heels for the person, a break up can be managed with a wee bit of frozen dairy, a chick flick (although, I’ve been known to use an Adam Sandler film and that worked just fine), and maybe a few sappy love songs.  Within a weekend and a few nights with your friends, your heart should be on its way to being mended.

However, what blows is when you really love the person.  Those break ups are even hard for Ben and Jerry to cure.  It doesn’t help that, as I previously mentioned, there’s nothing flattering about this process.

Crying.  Tears, running makeup, runny nose, and no one has an attractive cry face.  Then there are the crying sounds, eyes get blood shot, my face gets splotchy.  Just my oh my, as if I don’t already feel terrible, let’s have my face explode with fluids, colors and noises.  That sounds fun.

Humpty Dumpty.  Never has that nursery rhyme ever made sense.  Am I right?  But alas, in a break up, you relate to that sad, little nursery rhyme character.  Something about your state of being feels shattered and unfixable.

The fetal position.  You know the only time that being in the fetal position doesn’t sound pathetic?  Correct, when you’re actually a fetus.  An ultrasound pointing out your cute little profile and button nose, that’s adorable.  Yes, in that scenario, bring on the fetal position!  It’s not hot as a full-grown adult, finding comfort being curled in a ball during your morning shower or in your bed listening to nothing but Sam Smith.  As a side note, I’m obsessed with his music lately.  That man understands love and heartache…which makes it really awkward to enjoy his tunes both in the best and worst phases of relationships.  Thanks Sam.

Speaking of music, I totally get Tom Hansen from 500 Days of Summer.  After his breakup with his girlfriend, there’s a brief scene where he hears a song in the elevator that he used to listen to with her and out of nowhere he yells, “I hate this song!”  haha It’s both hilarious and so so sad.  But yes, I had a similar moment on the subway.  A subway musician was singing and playing the song “How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You”.  I felt like the grumpy version of Will Ferrell from Elf.  I just wanted to yell, “No it’s not!” and make the music stop playing as soon as possible. Haha Again, hilarious and pathetic at the same time.

Then there’s the isolation phase.  Yes, everyone wants to run to your rescue and help you.  As I mentioned, that’s useful in a breakup that’s not so bad.  In one that really hurts, I, personally, don’t want to be smothered with well wishes and told how great I am.  Nope, kindness makes me emotional and hurting over a break up is all the room I have for emotion right now.  (To help illustrate my point, one time in France, I had cut my arm on something and it was bleeding a little bit.  A stranger noticed and went out of his way to find a cotton ball to clean up my arm.  I thought it was so sweet that I got all teary and nearly cried.  Yep, from being gifted a cotton ball.  Imagine the results of people saying nice crap to me when I’m hyped up on Sam Smith and dodging subway singers.)  While I’m sure it’s hard as a spectator, there is something oddly satisfying about the isolation phase.  In some senses, I don’t want everyone to cheer me up and tell me I’ll find someone new.  I just want to be able to mourn the loss of someone important to me.  It is, in fact, sad.  So I want to give myself permission to be sad about it for a bit.

The next phase is, you guessed it, also not flattering.  I find it usually involves some sort of embarrassing and/or unhealthy behavior.  I’m sure some people drink mass quantities of alcohol.  Because as much fun as the phase was when you felt the hurt, in this phase, you don’t really want to feel anything at all.  Since alcohol is not in the cards for me, one of the ways it can present itself is by shopping.  I’ve also been known to binge date after a break up.  Yep, creating some ridiculous profile, go out on mass amounts of dates, be amused if they are excited about you, then go home and block their number because you really aren’t available to care for them anyway.

Slowly but surely, you’ll recognize that this isn’t working for you.  As much fun as it was relating to a broken egg, there’s got to be a way to collect your pieces and try to put yourself together again.  Stand up in the shower, put some make up on, work out, call a friend, make plans for something you’re excited about, etc.  

With any luck, you’ll be able to remember the happy times in the relationship, the unique qualities that person had that you appreciated, inside jokes, making each other bust up laughing, kind words that were spoken to one another, big ol’ bear hugs, and those damn good kisses.  Yes, while you have successfully made it through a lot of pain, you were also lucky to feel a lot of beauty.  As much as that song blows sometimes, it really was sweet being loved by you.  And as wonderful as that felt for a time, imagine being able to feel that again someday and being able to keep it.  Now that is something to get out of bed for. 

Plump, chubby, meaty thoughts...

Yesterday at my field placement I had a client mention previous social workers that had worked with him.  He mentioned the one before me who was chinese and spoke fondly of his relationship with her. The woman before her, he said, "Was a bigger girl, like you."  His comment caught me off guard a little bit.  You see, while I'm well aware that I'm not a stick figure, I suppose I didn't necessarily see myself as a bigger girl.  It has lead me to a series of thoughts that I thought might be meaningful to write down.  And perhaps, just perhaps, they might be of some use to someone else.

Part of the reason why he and I view my size differently is because he's probably comparing my size to previous social workers--in which case, I could quite possibly be larger than them.  I, however, compare my size to previous me. You see, only a few years ago, I used to be a hefty version of my current self.  I was going over the weight difference in my head and I hadn't realized until this week that I'm 50 pounds lighter than I was 5 years ago.  Fifty sounded like a big number.  I suppose it's weird to think about because I don't necessarily feel like I look drastically different.  I enjoy going shopping more and I'm more comfortable with my body but I don't feel like I look like a completely different human being or anything.

Every now and then I reflect back on what it felt like to be that size.  Random memories are very vivid for me.  For some reason, I can picture very clearly the walk from our high school out to the seminary building.  It wasn't a far walk on the sidewalk, up a few stairs and you enter through a pair of glass doors.  While there's nothing particularly noteworthy about these doors, I remember very clearly how much I hated walking up to them on my way to seminary.  I just didn't like my reflection and having to walk up to these doors and be reminded of what I looked like was awful.  I made an effort to avoid all reflective surfaces.  It made me angry and frustrated to see what I looked like.

People compliment my hair every now and then.  It's always nice to receive compliments and feel like there's something lovely about you.  What people maybe don't know is I have, perhaps an odd attachment to my hair.  I remember being in high school, being a bigger girl and feeling like the only thing that was pretty or unique about me was my hair.  So as silly as it may sound, it feels like my hair got me through some hard times.  haha My hair didn't have a size or a weight, it was just my hair. It made me feel special at a time when I didn't think there was anything else special about me.

Dating was an interesting concept for me.  I understood that in order to date, you had to be beautiful.  And beauty, from my understanding, was to be itsy bitsy in size and have a beautiful, acne-free face.  I grew up feeling like I just didn't fit that description.  I went through phases when I was really working on my character--I tried to study and develop Christ-like attributes or I set goals to notice and get to know the quieter people in class, etc.  I remember feeling frustrated at times, like no matter who I became, no one would see it or care if I wasn't attractive.

I moved to Paris for a study abroad when I was 20 years old.  It was the first time I got followed and asked for my number.  There were guys that thought I was beautiful and wanted to get to know me.  I found it so odd and intriguing.  Didn't they know I was tubbers?  They weren't supposed to pay attention to me.  This was breaking all of the rules that I understood.  Looking back on those pictures, it's almost the biggest I've ever been, but I didn't feel unwanted or painfully unattractive. In fact, I felt pretty in Paris.  It was a very new thing for me and I was scared to go back to Utah and not feel that way anymore.

Paris made me think that maybe the definition I had understood of beauty growing up wasn't true.  Maybe it really didn't matter if I was as tiny as the Olsen twins.  Maybe I didn't have to fit a certain mold to have value.  Maybe the right person would notice me and find me worthwhile regardless of my size.

I have an aunt that pointed out something pretty interesting to me.  She told me that she looks back on her wedding picture and laughs because she remembers feeling fat that day.  She said what was funny is she's never been that size since.  She laughed about how if only we could stop being so hard on ourselves in the present moment.  Who knows where we'll be in the future, looking back on this phase of our lives thinking, "you weren't doing so bad, you know?"

Through a series of events with different key people in my life, I slowly shifted my mentality from caring what other people thought about me to caring what I thought about me.  And perhaps more importantly, striving to have an accurate view of who am I and what matters.  Clearly in junior high and high school I didn't have an accurate view of my worth or value.  I was so certain that being attractive was what would get me friends and a boyfriend and give some sort of meaning to my life.  It sounds pretty ridiculous right now.  Over time, I learned that I wanted to strive to have a good relationship with God.  I wanted to talk to Him about how I'm doing, things I'm working on, struggles I'm having, etc.  I cared what He thought about me.  And that's the only opinion that I wanted to matter.  I knew that His love for me didn't change if my waistline did.  He loved me regardless of how many friends I have, what my grades are, if I made the dance team or if I do well in the next piano competition.  I wanted Him to be proud of me and for Him to love me.  I was tired of not feeling good enough for other people--whether or not it was true.  I wanted to get to a place where I no longer needed other people to think I was awesome or attractive or hilarious.  I just needed to know that God was happy with who I am and I wanted to be in a place where I was happy being me.  That's it.

So to my client who thinks that I'm a bigger girl, in some respects, you're right.  I'm not tiny.  I've definitely got some hips, thighs and boobs.  But you know what?  I'm okay with that.  What's important to me is that I make an effort to eat healthy, exercise and take care of myself.  I feel good.  And I feel pretty just the way I am.  I'm finally okay with where I'm at and how I look.  Are there girls that are prettier and tinier than me?  Sure.  There always will be.  But I don't see myself in comparison with them anymore.  It's never been helpful to compare things like that anyways.  What matters to me is that I can compare my current self to an earlier version of myself and see improvement--whether it be with weight, scripture study, organization, budgeting, time management, etc.  Do I still feel a need to continue to eat healthier?  Absolutely.  Do I think I can do better at exercising?  You betcha. But today, in this moment, I can be grateful that I've been worse off and the progress feels rewarding.  Today I'm going to appreciate how far I've come rather than be overwhelmed by how far I have to go.

I suppose my takeaway for those who are reading would be that we could all be a little less hard on ourselves.  Take a minute to look at your life and see what you've learned and how you've grown.  You'll always want to do better and that's a good thing.  But don't beat yourselves up and discredit all of the good that you've accomplished.  You've come a long way.  Be proud of that.

Alrighty then.  Pep talk over.

First semester at NYU, The kind soul that holds my hair back, Hunting for the first time

Oh my sakes.  It's 2015.  I haven't written since October.  And naturally, much has occurred since then.  So let me tell you where things are at:

I've successfully completely my first semester of grad school at NYU.  And it is still crazy to me writing sentences indicating that I am receiving academic instruction from NYU.  It feels like a dream and also completely preposterous at the same time.  But somehow it's real.  I really love my program.  My favorite class last semester was my "Human Behavior" course.  My professor was outstanding (and therefore I'm taking Human Behavior 2 from him this semester). haha We focused a lot on looking at how our experiences from childhood manifest themselves in behavior as we grow up.  My mind was constantly reeling in class as I looked at my upbringing and how so many facets of my life have formed me into this person that interacts and reacts to people and life in the way that I do.  It's fascinating.  

(This photo was from when I went to Hip Hop Nutcracker at Christmas time.  Aaaannnddd yeah, it was as fun as it sounds.)

One of my favorite examples that he gave is one from his personal practice.  He has a client he is working with that's 7 years old.  This little boy does have some severe behavioral issues, enough that at the age of 7, he's been kicked out of several schools.  Kicking, biting, throwing things, yelling, tantrums, etc.  Let's call this little boy Johnny.  So Johnny goes to see my professor for therapy and they work together to find out where some of these behavioral issues are coming from.  It turns out Johnny's mom and dad fight a lot.  Johnny has seen his mom physically abuse his father as well.  Sometimes Johnny's dad doesn't come home. 

My professor explained when a child sees this type of dysfunction in his parents, it's too horrifying of a thought to think that these stabilizing forces in his life are a mess.  It's easier to think something is wrong with you, the child.  That's much easier to digest than the thought that the people responsible for raising you, teaching you and keeping you safe aren't highly functioning.  The part I loved about this is my professor invited Johnny, his little sister, and their parents to a session.  Each member of the family was asked to make a lego tower, with each lego representing one year of their life.  So Johnny's tower was 7 legos tall, his little sisters tower was 5 legos tall, and his parents had multiple towers of legos.  My professor explained that Johnny is only 7 legos.  He's little.  He's a kid.  He shouldn't be responsible for the problems and issues of his parents that have multiple towers of legos.  He's a kid.  His job is to be a kid and play.  The people with the big towers have a lot of years and therefore need to handle their bigger issues.  

This example really resonated with me.  I loved the imagery.  I think in our own ways we can take on stress from people that have more "legos" than we do.  And that's not our job.  Our job is to deal with our own issues and carry the responsibility of the number of "legos" that we have, no more and no less.  Anyway, perhaps this is a random thing to share but it really helped me.

 

I was fortunate enough to travel home for Christmas this year.   Unfortunately, the trip was very short.  I didn't get to see all of the people that I wanted to meet up with, but thankfully I got to squeeze in a few quick visits.  It's such a mix of emotions traveling home.  For many years I felt frustrated in Utah and like I didn't belong.  I so looked forward to traveling abroad or getting out.  One of the elders in my mission once told me that I didn't seem like I was from Utah...and I took it as a compliment.  haha But I do love Utah and there are a lot of wonderful people there.  And it's a strange experience for me to come back to Utah and somehow feel right at home.  A place where I used to feel so out of place now brings such a feeling of peace.  I love being surrounded by the mountains.  I love how when they're dusted with snow, I could be outside for hours and never grow tired of looking over at them.  I love that I have memories in the strangest of places back in Utah.  The movie theater where my group of girlfriends and I finally got up the courage to ask a group of boys to hang out with us--and they later became our dear friends.  The spot behind Albertsons, that normally doesn't hold any significance, except it's where Ashlee parked her car for the parade one year and we watched the whole thing with snacks and AC.  It was brilliant.  And Kneaders, just because their french toast is the best thing that ever happened to human taste buds. haha

Something remarkable happens when I meet up with each of my friends.  They are from all different parts of my life.  High school, my Paris Study abroad, my mission to Italy, my time spent in Uganda, or even just from being assigned as a visiting teacher back in the AF singles ward.  Regardless of how I know them, this lovely rush of emotion fills me when I hug my friends after a long time.  Man, how I love them.  I love being on adventures and living in New York City.  But my heart is so happy to be home and in the company of people that know me, understand me and love me.  We've been friends for years and have seen each other through a lot of situations.  I so admire the people I've seen them become and my heart is so happy for the joy they have found as they've become wives, mothers, finished school, advanced in their careers, and grown as remarkable women.  I'm really the luckiest.  My friends mean the world to me. I feel like the most fortunate person on the planet whenever I'm back in their company.  

My brother Cody and Sister-in-law Aubry were very gracious to host us in their home.  It must be awfully chaotic having extra bodies in your home but as Raf said, "Aubry is like Mary Poppins." and she really is.  The woman can work a 12 hour night shift Christmas Eve, still manage to photograph the excitement of Christmas morning, make a trifle for my dad, bake dinner, look fabulous and go to family parties without sleep.  She's quite remarkable.  I love being around her.

My brother Cody is also fun to be around.  He has one of my favorite laughs in the world.  He's a lot of fun.  Cody and Aub also introduced us to a new version of the card game "Golf".  Let's just say we played a pretty good amount of Golf while we were there.  Thanks Code and Aub for letting us all shack up with you for Christmas. You were too good to us and it was so fun being with your family.

Now their three children are three of the sweetest, most adorable tiny people I've ever known.  Sadie has a cute little scratchy voice that told me she was going to be watching out the window on Christmas Eve. "I'm going to look for a wed light."  How come?  "To see if Wudolph is real!"  Mya's response was, "If you see it, wake me up."  haha I love them.  I loved playing with them and watching their eyes light up on Christmas morning.  Little Hayze has the cutest little run and melts your heart if he even glances your way.  They're such good kids.  I can only hope that my children one day will be as sweet.

 This trip was quite epic because it was the first time I agreed to go to hunting.  My dad and brothers are hard core hunters.  Growing up, we had an entire freezer that was pretty much dedicated to the meat from their kills.  And there was an extra garage nearby containing a shrine of their heads and antlers.  This year, I got to go along for the ride.  I'll be honest, part of the reason I was turned off to it all these years was because I pictured them wandering around all day, trudging in waist-deep snow looking for animals.  But nay, that is not how it worked.  We were all layered up, chewing on jerky (how appropriate), and looking out the windows of Cody's truck with binoculars for elk.  I didn't realize that it wasn't as freezing or unplanned as I had originally imagined.  We drove around, stopping to look through the scope for several hours.  Of course because my brother had a cow elk tag, we saw lots of bull elk instead.  Isn't that how it goes?!  They are such cool creatures.  It was pretty amazing to be in the mountains.  Cody shot an elk at 540 yards.  It was really impressive.  The hike over to it was a bit hard in the deep snow but it was good cardio.  :)

As we got closer to the elk, it was incredible to see what an incredible animal she was.  It was pretty cool to see almost a reverence that we all had for this animal.  She was beautiful.  Even as they were skinning it, I was in awe at how strong she was and how incredible it is how all of our bodies are put together.  I'm grateful my brother let me tag along for the experience.  I'm sure it's more fun with only guys, but it was really fun to see him in his element and how talented he is.  Later when we came back to New York, Raf and I were watching "The Walking Dead" and the characters in an episode wouldn't shoot a zombie that was 100 yards away.  Raf laughed and said, "Man, Cody makes these guys look like chumps.  He shot an elk that was 560 yards away."  haha And it's true.  My brother does make those characters look silly.  He's got hunting skills.  He really does.

It was a really fun break.  My parents and kid sister were also in Utah for the break.  I love them very much.  They do an awful lot for me.  It's always fun to get the family together as it seems sparse these days.  I adored the family time, catching up with friends, seeing their newborn babies, and not having any homework to do.  :)  Now it's back into the grind.  Classes have started and I'm back at my internship.  It's going to be another great semester.  I can already tell that these classes are going to push me but I'm really excited about it.  I think it will be good for me to continue to learn about myself as I delve more into this program.  As always, I will try to be good at keeping you up to date with the happenings here in NYC.  But, if I'm not on top of my posts, just know I love you and you'll hear from me soon.  Love from New York,

Mal

Roommates, Square Dancing, Musicals and fourth dates

Time has been passing quickly here in NYC.  I'm six weeks into school and my internship and had one of my midterms this week.  I figured it was about time to update you on a few little deets and tails.  

My internship has been pretty great.  I've established a relationship with some great seniors and it's so fun looking forward to our interaction everyday.  I have one client in particular that I'm very excited about.  He was initially described to me as the client that would be the most difficult, but I like him.  I think he's funny.  His hair is several inches long and he parts it and swoops it to one side.  He comes across as kind of grumpy but he always ends up making me laugh.  He can't read or write but he tells pretty good stories.  I've been talking to him about the possibility of me writing up some of his stories so he can have a book of it.  His dad used to write poetry and I thought maybe it would make him feel good to have a book of his writing, like his dad.  We'll see.

There's a little Italian lady that I adore.  She has memory problems and frequently repeats herself in things she tells me.  I was gone on Monday and Tuesday due to Columbus Day and Fall Break.  I really didn't anticipate many people noticing, and especially not the sweet Italian lady with memory problems.  But she did.  She put her hands on each of my cheeks and asked me where I had been.  She told me that she asked her husband if he knew where I was, if I'd mentioned I wouldn't be there for a few days.  So sweet.  Something as simple as someone noticing your absence is awfully thoughtful to me.

I have two roommates:  Macrae (who is in my phone as "Barbar Binks"...I dunno.  Hardly anyone is listed under their real name.  haha)  and Justin (who I call J-town or J-diggity).  Macrae and I share a room and sleep on a bunk bed.  While it's slightly embarrassing as a 27 year old lass to be back on a bunk bed, it's also been really fun.   Macrae and I met 7 years ago in Paris where we were assigned to be roommates.  Roommates were assigned alphabetically and since we are both M names, we landed in a beautiful home in Le Vesinet together.  She was incredible then, and that hasn't changed in the 7 years since then.  When I got sick a couple of weeks ago, we laid down the futon and had a Psych marathon and ate ice cream.  We fall asleep on our bunk beds talking about our latest dates and how unreal it seems that we live in NYC together and GET to fall asleep talking about our dating lives in the city.  She even finds fun free things to do in the city.  

One night, she had heard there was free square dancing in Bryant Park.  Naturally we showed up, got free hats, and laughed our faces off dancing with 800+ other people.  They had a live band, there was an announcer who would teach you the dance and shout out the steps over the bands music.  It was hilarious and so much fun...and free, which my pocket book appreciates.

 J-town is pretty funny.  He asked me to go shopping with him once.  We hit up H&M and he let me pick out clothes for him to try on.  It was fun.  He asks Macrae and I to help him pick out his clothes for work, and every now and then we climb out on the roof (from his window) and chat while eating a bit of shake shack.  It's my first time living with a boy.  It's been a pretty funny experience.  It's been fun though.

My dear friend Diana came into town and we got to see Pig Pen Theatre Co perform a musical that they had written and performed in.  It was so creative, funny and sweet.  I'm in awe that these seven men are about my age, each play musical instruments, sing, write plays and act in them.  Overachieve much??  It seems absurd that so much talent can reside in seven charming men.  But I'm not complaining.  Not at all.  It was so fun to have Diana in town.  She is one of my bestest friends from DC and I love that she's not too far away that we can't see each other every couple of months.

Macrae is incredible.  She submitted tickets to the lottery (which essentially puts you in a drawing to win broadway tickets for 20 bucks).  She won and we went to On The Town, in the third row.  It was so well done.  It's so fun to get wrapped up in the music and dancing.  I was raised in a family that loves musicals and it's nice to have a friend to go do these things with.  It was such a wonderful evening.

If you follow anything about my activities in New York over the last two years, you might have noticed the occasional trip to Levain Bakery.  When Macrae first moved here, she hadn't tried their cookies from heaven yet, so I figured it would be as good a welcome as any.  We each bought a cookie (or two) and went to a nearby park to people watch and talk about our disbelief that we live in NYC together after 7 years have passed since we spent much time together.  It's so random and I love it.

It just so happened that the weekend where Diana came up, wasn't very spaced out from the weekend that I was going down to DC.  The reason for this is because Diana and Laura had planned for me to join them for a movie premier and they bought a ticket for me months ago.  I had gotten pretty sick before the trip and nearly didn't go.  I went to the doctor on campus and after prescribing me medication and saying that I really needed to rest, she asked, "What are you doing this weekend?".  

"Umm...I'm supposed to be going to DC."

She just looked at me in silence, sighed and then said, "Please rest." haha

The weekend passed all too quickly.  I got in late Friday night, we went to the movie Saturday and hung out a little bit, then I left Sunday after church.  Diana asked me what I would like to do in the time we had after the movie.  Well...I have some runs in some of my colored tights.  Perhaps a trip to Target is due.  I'm a big fan of colored tights and have a preferred brand by now.  We meandered through Target and when we got to the wall of tights, I just stood there for a minute. haha It's odd that such an odd location could be a happy place for me.  I decided on a really dark green and then we jokingly tried on these pajama onesies....and then had to buy them.  What choice did we have?!

I'm doing well.  Things have been really busy and I've especially been a bit of a stress case around midterms, but I'm doing well.  I'm really fortunate to have some really good friends in my life that are a wonderful support and company as I figure out this fun, crazy phase of life.  I have some pretty hilarious date stories.  Perhaps for a later blog.  My current favorite, however, is a gentleman that has taken me out four times now.  He's pretty wonderful.  My roommate and I were talking the other night about how cute the third date rule is.  You know, don't kiss until the third date.  Well this guy is so darling.  We just had our fourth date, and it ended in nothing but a couple of kisses on the forehead.  Nothing more.  Oh my heart, how I loved that.  As a girl who's felt a bit run down and rushed in the dating scene at times, there's nothing more wonderful to me than a guy who will take it slow.  The simplicity of it means the world to me.  Perhaps as time passes, I might talk more about this one, but for now, I think that's plenty.  I don't want to get ahead of myself or overshare.  I'm happy here.  I hope you're happy where you guys are too.  Love you from NYC,
Mals

Field Placement, Boxers and Shaking it

Today has been a really rewarding day.  I was on campus from 9:00am-8:30pm.  Yep, I was in class or in the library or taking a quick break in Washington Square Park before going back to the first two.  It's been a crazy day but so satisfying.

I love my classes.  It's the most wonderful thing to be truly interested and enjoy every single class that I'm in.  Normally, in undergrad work, there are some required courses that you just have to muscle through.  But I really don't think I'm going to have to muscle through any of my classes.  The lectures are interesting and I'm not constantly watching the clock counting down when I can leave.  It's precisely the confirmation I needed that I'm studying the right thing, in the right place with people who enjoy the things that I do.  It's lovely.

I've had two days of field work so far.  It's a pretty large Senior Center out in Brooklyn.  I take the subway there three days a week--the commute is about 45 minutes.  When I got off the subway for the first time, I felt like I got off in a different country.  The community is highly populated with Orthodox Jews.  The signs to the stores are written in Hebrew, all of the little boys walking to school have shaved heads except for two long ringlets hanging in front of each ear, etc.  It was strange being a minority in a completely different way than I'm used to in Manhattan.

This week, my supervisor just wanted me to mix and mingle with the seniors.  It's been really chill and a lot of fun to meet so many active, bright, positive and hilarious people.  I have been amazed by how many people come out every single day to this place.  A couple hundred elderly folk come early in the morning (some even get there before we open at 8:30) and stay all day.  The center is huge--complete with a gym, karaoke room, pool table room, card game room and a massive room with a big dance floor.  Yes, every day at 1:00pm they have a huge dance where all of the seniors break it down.  It's hilarious and adorable all at the same time.  The chinese seniors get way into karaoke and I can hear them in my office when they're singing upstairs.  I can't even be mad about it because it's so funny.

It's quite an interesting mix of people as well.  As I had mentioned, many of the seniors are from China who come everyday.  There's a smaller group, but a solid group of about 20 that are Italian.  Other than that, they're mostly born and raised in the area.  The dynamics between the groups is quite fascinating to watch.  Many of the Italians have expressed frustration that back when they came to this country they had to learn english and it really bothers them that so many people live here (and come to the center) and don't speak english.  But more than that, it clearly stops them from getting to know each other when they can't verbally communicate.

A couple of my favorite moments so far:

• The little old gentlemen are so classy.  I was noticing yesterday that every single one of them comes wearing slacks, a button up shirt and nice shoes.  Not one was wearing jeans or a t-shirt of any sort.  Such classy blokes.  The ladies, likewise, usually have a skirt and are dolled out with necklaces and earrings. 
• One of the gentlemen is born and raised in Brooklyn.  He was telling me all about his boxing years when he was young.  He said, "People talk about Rocky.  Rocky who?" He almost instinctively pulls his arms up in a defensive boxing position as he reminisces about the good ol' days.  My favorite detail is when his eyes lit up and he asked, "You wanna know what they used to call me?  ....Punchy."  I died laughing.  What a nickname.
• An Italian lady and I are have cute little friendship so far.  She's adorable and always gestures for me to come sit next to her when she sees me--she often makes her husband move. haha She raves about her husband.  It's so fun to hear.  It didn't take me long into our first conversation to recognize that she would repeat details to me-things she must talk about often, but didn't remember telling me.  I chatted with her, trying to understand the severity of her memory problems.  She looked at me and went off on how amazing her husband is.  "I don't remember things all the time.  My husband is so good to me.  He tells me not worry about it.  If I forget something, he said to ask him and he'll tell me."  Adorable.  I can imagine that days and years of hearing the same thing over and over again must get old, but he's so patient with her and always acts like it's the first time.  I'm obsessed with them.
• From what I've noticed, only in the dancing portion of the day do they all intermingle.  The Italian men will go ask the cute little Chinese women to dance.  I love watching their cute little wobbly bodies partner dance like they're young and spry.  There's something so beautiful and sweet to me about their resilience.  Surely they've all had hard times and deep sorrows, but they look at you through their weathered faces and still have beautiful and warm smiles.  Their dancing is no different.  They're still upbeat and happy.  A lot of times you'll even see two italian women or two chinese women dancing with each other due to lack of male partners.  It makes me so happy.
• One of the Italians was a founder of an Italian newspaper out here.  When he found out I speak Italian, he told me he would bring me a copy of the newspaper.  Sure enough, Tuesday morning, he walked up to me with a newspaper and said I could keep it.  Small little gestures like that are so sweet to me.  It was so thoughtful and not required...which is what made it so darling.

I'm really happy.  Life's not perfect.  I'm certainly stressed about school and all that I have to do this year, but I'm very thankful for the people I've met so far.  I'm learning a lot and feel so blessed to be here and continue my education in a field that, come to find out, I truly love.  It's so nice to have moments like this.  I figured I should probably write it down while it lasts.  Love you.  I'll write soon.  Mal

First week in NYC, Rainbow Room, the happiest grafitti

The party I wrote about in my last post was in the Rainbow Room.  I didn't know what it was before, but apparently it's a really big deal.  It's a fancy restaurant on the very top floor of Rockefeller Plaza.  It has some of the most breathtaking views of the city.  It's been recently renovated and we were under strict instructions to not take any pictures while there.  The room is not open to the public until October and they don't want the new design leaked. haha Especially because the event that we were attending was supposedly taking place in December when the rooms new look would already be revealed.  Normally instructions to not take pictures don't phase me and I just do it anyway (but stealthily) but since someone had pulled strings to get us into the party, I didn't want to make him look bad if I got caught.  Therefore, the only photo I can provide you with from the evening was on our way out after the party.  But stayed tuned New Years Eve because...I'll be in the audience of the show and you can get a glimpse of the room then. :)

I love where I live.  I love meandering through Times Square.  Every now and then I'll make sure to walk home through it just because I know that one day I won't live in New York anymore and I want to remember it as my walk home.  It's incredible.

Maybe it's the part of me that has an obsession with Europe, but I am always captivated by street art.  In Italy, the street graffiti isn't really viewed as vandalism. At least from my understanding, they didn't seem to have the same purpose as ours does here in the states. They were poems for their girlfriends, grand gestures of their love, the designs and pictures were very beautiful and creative.  So I passed this gem in Little Italy and had to stare at it for a while.  I love it.

Back when I lived in Virginia, after a particular week when I was struggling with some things going on in my life at the time, I took an impromptu trip to NYC and decided on the bus that I would take pictures of everything that made me happy.  It was amazing to see all of the little things in my life that made me smile or laugh throughout the day.   So a few days ago, I was reminded of that when occasional things would make me do a double-take or backtrack a few steps to photograph quirky details to my day that I wanted to look back on and laugh.  Stuff like this:

Soo...I have recently discovered my fear of birds.  I didn't realize it until I moved to Uganda back in 2012 but it quickly became apparently that chickens freaked me out. haha So embarrassing. Another story for another time.  So when I was walking through Washington Square Park and saw this man (and a few tourists) drenched in birds...I started feeling a bit of anxiety.  How this gentleman and the two tourists standing by him could handle this quantity of birds in their space is beyond me.

One of the things that I love about New York City (and I hope never gets old) is you never know what kind of street performs you're stumble upon.  There are caricature artists, people who spray paint elaborate landscape views of the city on paper, people spray paint themselves metallic...that just stand there and ask for tips, and there are acrobatic/break dancing shows. The latter is what is pictured below.  This gentleman is some version of Captain Jack Sparrow was playing the drums while a friend got the audience jazzed about him running and jumping over a row of 6 people.  I've seen several groups around the city do it but I still find it amusing.  This city is full of so many fun, talented and entertaining people.  Sometimes you've just got to stop and watch.  So I do.

The food in New York City is an absolute travesty for any diet or health regime that you might think you're on. Eataly is one of my favorite places.  It has imported Italian food that I haven't seen since walking around the Italian market on P-days back on my mission.  In fact, I met up with a mission friend in Eataly and it was hilarious how we kept making noises when we saw food we hadn't seen in years.  You can't not make audible sounds at even the memory of what this food tastes like.  Italy just seems to get everything right...at least in the food department.  I found my favorite juice called "Ace" that I haven't had since Italy, and my word, I almost spent the 6 dollars to taste it again. haha But alas, I went around the corner and found this instead:

 It's the Nutella bar.  Yes, if you're going to go to a bar, make it one where mass amounts of Nutella is involved.  This place cracked me up from the moment I entered because it is lined from ceiling to floor with jars of Nutella.  My favorite part, however, was there was a Beauty and the Beast style ladder that rolled along the library of hazelnut goodness incase you needed one of the vats up high.  They make crepes and also put nutella in several types of pastries.  It's absurd...in the best way possible.

Oh, this weird, creepy Hulk baby is also a Little Italy find.  The huge ones amaze me because I don't understand how artists keep proportion on that scale.  I mean, this one is several stories high.  Maybe it's the part of me that wishes I wishes I still had Art class in the Louvre every Wednesday, but I love to stop and stare at these every now and then.  Even the stand point of how they keep it proportional is fascinating to me.  It's quite an odd concept to paint but...it effectively makes me stop in my tracks nonetheless.

One of my walk homes made me laugh when I saw this bloke:

 Yes, they have a "naked cowboy" (so just a guy with a guitar in his whitey tighties) who is well known in the Times Square area.  This "Naked Baby", however, was new to me.  He's frequently there.  Creepy mask, grown man diaper, a loud rattle to get everyone's attention and Nacho Libre boots.  I don't really understand how and when this person decided this was what he wanted to do for a living but...just wow. haha

Today I went out to Brooklyn with a friend.  We grabbed some pizza at a well-known place called Grimaldi's.  We walked out to the Pier in perfect timing to watch the sun set on this beautiful city that I now get to call home.  There are moments all the time that I look around and try to take in where I live. But tonight, in particular, hit me pretty hard.  It is so gorgeous.  I feel so lucky to live here.  It's a super crazy place to live and it's not everyone's cup of tea.  But I love it here.  It's my new home and very happy about that.