Pulling back you see it all, down here so laughable and small.

I'm just so thrilled to see that the world has finally caught onto the correct spelling of "Alison."





(Also. I loved that I wandered across this advertisement at the tail end of my sweatiest run to date. I don't need no stinkin' Harbor Fitness. I gots some legs, an iPod, and glorious weather on my side.)

Lovin' would be easy if your colors were like my dream.

I arrived at work with a mind full of "I hate tourists" rants. Mostly because it's raining. And New York City sucks in the rain. And tourists should not be allowed the awesome responsibility of navigating Times Square with umbrellas. And it was a rough weekend, overflowing with cheap, sleazy people who seemed hellbent on making my days nothing short of torture.

(I would like to interupt this regularly schedule blog post for a late breaking Life-In-The-Hospitality-Industry story: one of my coworkers just witnessed a woman peeing. In the middle of the hotel lobby. That's right. When the security guards would not allow her into the lobby bathrooms, as they are for guests only, she dropped trou in the middle of it all, popped a squat, let loose, and finished with a "Guess you should have let me use your toilets!" Wow.)

So ignoring the fact that some people are just plain ridiculous and it's my job to stand here, smile a-blazin', ready help where it's needed, I bring you my latest amazing tip. Now. In my 5 months as a concierge I have received: loose change. A $100 bill. A $50 check. Business cards a plenty, of people who like my personality and want me to come sell their mediocre products. A bottle of wine. A gyro. A cannoli. Offers of leftover pizza. Hand-written thank-you notes. Compliments. Hell, even insults.

But today's tip takes the cake.

Money does not make the world go round. But kindness does.

Also.

Afterthought to my previous post - IF I do have kids, they will definitely be the kind to doodle Gershwin lyrics in sidewalk chalk.

That's all.

Gonna ride this merry-go-round and dance like the night is never ending.

I can't help but pray that a child did this. Should that be the case, this picture restores a little of my faith in the future of the world.


Speaking of children, my Granny just asked me when she could be expecting some great-grandchildren. Now. I had hoped to be spared this conversation, for numerous reasons.
1) The obvious. I'm not married. Hell, I'm not even close. Now, thank GOD no one in my family has started to harp on this subject. Because if (ok, when) they do, I shall be forced to scream, curse, and probably throw (soft) objects at their heads.
1a) Both my parents were married to other people before they found each other. Should they ever bug me about marriage, I'll gladly remind them I'd prefer to never suffer a divorce and just wait around for the one who will be right all along instead.
1b) Ok, I got nothin' but I was told you can't have an a without a b.
2) I'm second in line on my Dad's side. Go bug Lexie.
3) My mother had me when she was 32. She was 41 when Evan was born. My father was 36 and 45, respectively. This buys me at least 6 more years. Done and done.
4) You don't get to ask for great-grandbabies. Parents get to ask for grandchildren. Maybe. When their kids have been safely and happily married for at least 2-5 years. You're welcome to remind me of this when I'm 75. Promise.

Whenever anyone sees me with children, they ask if I have any. My knee-jerk response is always "NO! I'm only 25!" And then I take a beat and say a silent prayer for the fact that it is 2008 and not 1908.

And THAT is how I feel about that.

You could drive a person craaaazy.

So I wasn't feeling well. Thankfully work was slow and my bosses, benevolent, so I was allowed to leave work early. I made it home safe and sound, donned my favorite hoodie, brewed some tea, chugged some OJ, climbed under my comforter, and prepared myself for all the good tv I missed this week.

And by "good tv," I do of course mean the two shows which make me squeal with oh-so-guilty delight, American Idol (don't you dare judge me) and The Office (shut up, you love it too).

Bad idea, y'all. My poor, overstimulated, sleep deprived pea-brain is not equipped to handle both my imaginary boyfriends in so short a timespan. Hotness overload. Insufficient shame capacity. System has crashed.


Yum-Oh.

Now I know that everything's alright. If we stay between the glow, and the light.

How to Have a Good New York Night
by A&E

1) Start with a deliiiiiiicious meal of sushi and wine. (Bonus points if it's free. Ours was.) Enjoy the company and conversation so much that you forget to take pictures. Remember to start documenting the fun over green tea.



2) Decide that since you are in fact Elizabeth and/or Alison, McDonald's french fries are in order. Because, let's be honest. Nothing rounds off a meal of raw fish like some fried grease.



3) Laugh. A lot.




4) Though completely aware that you are absolutely stuffed out the gills, decide that NOTHING rounds off raw fish and fried grease like frozen whipped air. TASTI D-LIGHT, IT IS! Arrive to discover your favorite flavor. Rice pudding. Nomnomnomnomnomnomnom.



5) Pretend to be artsy and emo in the subway.



6) Walk the Brooklyn Bridge. Partially because you need to burn off some serious calories, but mostly because there aren't many better ways to see, appreciate, and love your city. Re-commence artsy and emo photoshoot.



7) Realize that this life? Yeah. Not so bad after all.

(Thank you.)

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

I need to fall in love with New York again. Lately it's just seemed so smelly and dirty and aggressive.

Yesterday, after an intensely "oh my GOOOOOOOD, why is this my liiiiiiiiiife?!" day, I got on the subway, iPod on, ready to ride home and marinate in the things that HAD gone nicely. I had just passed into a happier place of existing when I heard a lot of scuffling and mini-shrieks. I opened one eye just in time to see one middle aged man slug another. The locals vs. non-locals became instantly apparent, as the non dashed from the scene while the locals sat, unamused, wondering how long this would delay the train.

(I sat still.)

Is this how I am now? Has this city impacted me so much that I can't even be bothered to react?

I can tell already that I am driving at a panic attack if I keep up the way I've been going. It's time to draw on the words of wisdom from my newest favorite book and constant sister-in-support. Today, I will do what I can and control only what I may. The future is going to happen whether I stress about it or not, and plans, no matter how well laid, will always find a way to unravel. Plans. Unravel. I will not. I will enjoy whatever time it is I have left in this place. It's a harsh place, but an important one.

But for tonight, I will wear my favorite dress and enjoy sushi, good company, and a city I know I still love. Even if only for a few more moments.

Words to live by.

In my opinion, the best thing you can do is to find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think that the sun shines out your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.
(Juno)




True dat.

This is a once-a-year day.

It's Spring!
Really!
Truly!
Honestly!

I need a new fix, 'cause I'm going down

I've decided it will now become a mandatory weekly ritual to visit the Drama Book Shop and purchase exactly 1 new play per week. I feel like $7.50 is an acceptable amount to spend on something just for me. And the scripts will start to pile up. And my bookshelves will start to fill. And my brain, too, of characters and places and ideas. And sexiness will abound, all over my apartment. And it will start to be known as the Sexiest Place on Earth.

But don't worry. I don't plan to be a snob about it. You're all welcome to visit, whenever you feel like being sexy, too.

It's nice to come up with good, sexy ideas.

So come pick me up. I've landed.

A peak into the audition process. Headshot and sheet music at the ready. Waiting. Napping. Hoping. Etc.

Today was a good day. I didn't audition well. I didn't get a callback. But I think I finally did get a good, clear look at myself as a performer. And looking around the room at all the polished, well-rehearsed, attractive, limber people, I suddenly realized I'm not that girl. Thing is, this realization doesn't upset me in the least.

This is not me dashing my dreams and kissing my hopes goodbye. It's just that I've finally looked around, taken a personal inventory, and decided that this life, while full of remarkable things, isn't actually mine. I've tried it on now. It doesn't fit.


I know this post coincides nicely with yet another rejection and that there will be people who will read this and think I'm giving up because I have thin skin. I'm not giving up. I'm shifting focus. I've just come to realize that what I wanted to make me happy and what actually does make me happy are not the same things. There are things I've tucked in the background that need to come up front. Likewise, there are things I've been placing tremendous importance on that will need to take a back seat.

Seriously. Today was a good day.

When the melody seems tainted...

...it's the words that carry the hope.




Life Lesson #42: Talking is not the same as communicating.


I've been really selfish lately. On purpose, too. For awhile there, it just felt like no one else was living for me, so I might as well live for myself. But now my tired old logic appears to be playing cruel tricks. Hey, guess what? Nobody's ever going to care if you won't let them.


and I guess I might have made a few mistakes
but maybe that's exactly what it takes
to get a little happy in this big sad world
how many have you made?
and which of those have you laid on down to die?
(The Avett Brothers)

Yes.

(I wish I knew.)