To Summarize…

Sep 18, 2009 by     No Comments    Posted under: Thousands of Stories

Time in Manhattan: 1 month
Day Jobs: 0 (Unpaid Internship: 1)
Lovers: 0
Auditions: 0 for 3
Friends: 2
Weight Gained/Lost: + 5-10
State of Mind: Still optimistic

I have now lived in Manhattan for an entire month. Though I have accomplished a lot, it still feels like I have gotten very little done (or I at least have very little to show for myself). What is great about NYC is that, despite my lack-of-luck for the time being, there will always be another job or another role to submit myself for in an hour. Unlike Boulder, the weather does not change every five minutes, but the opportunities do. And that is something with which I can get on board.

With this said, we will now take the time to segue to

“Why men over 50 love me”

This is a phenomenon that has always plagued me but has never been more apparent than during my time in the big city (ha, I say the big city like I am from a some small mountain town with no electricity – which, I am not). Well, for whatever its worth, it is flattering. I can only imagine it has something to do with the fact that I do look like a thing out of the 1970’s.

Perhaps this reminds them of their haydays, their times as a bachelor, their glory years. Or maybe its because I know who I am and, apart from my physical appearance, I am 100% in love with the type of person that I am, what I believe, and how I live my life. This older gentleman at Whole Foods last night approached me and started talking to me about women who are beautiful but who have so grace. I am assuming, to my benefit, that he was suggesting that I do, indeed, possess grace. He said, “Beauty without grace is like a hook with no bait.” We proceded to chat for a bit of time until he pulled out a medicine pouch and things got weird. !!! I digress…

Men come to me for the strangest things. I am either a best-friend or that young girl who can save you. And I just want to say, though I do possess talents unnumbered, I cannot save you. I would love to be able to save you. But, I am working on being able to save myself for the time being. And its overwhelming: these men who want me to take care of them like a mother and a savior – I am either ignored by the people to whom I am attracted or I am fauned over by the ones that think they need me. Yet, again, I digress…

This man, from the Whole Foods, immediately recognized that I am a “dramatist” as he called it. He said that it exudes and not subtly. But, after much chatting, quoting of Emerson, Wilde, and Thoreau, he left convinced that I will definitely make it here. With no question in his voice and a direct and intentional stare he says: “you will make it here.” And that was the end of our encounter. He left me with this one specific quote lingering in my braind:

Always do what you are afraid to do – Emerson

This is my new philosophy. It changes day to day but for today, it is the goal. What do I have to lose? I am an artist with no attachments and I am in a city that I love. I have no money but I have family and friends who love me, believe in me, and will catch me if I fall. And I have men – lots and lots of older men who, for one reason or another, want to take care of me and make me feel safe. I will keep them at an arms length but their words I will take very deeply to heart.

And now we segue to subsection 2:

“The Miss Anorexia-Nervosa Competition” – an update

I am sitting in the Starbucks at 81st and York. I applied to be a Barista here and I come in daily to sit and blog and submit other job applications. I always want to ask if my resume has been seen or trashed or whats the deal but instead I just sit here for hours and dream about other things that can and will be, someday. Yet, today, an interesting thing happens. Its friday afternoon and school has let out for lunch. A large group of pre-pubescent 12 year old girls flock into the store, get yelled at management for not buying anything, and pollute my pristine fantasy life. I cant help but overhear their conversations.

These little girls are all very wealthy – to say the least. Er, I rephrase, the little girls have parents who are all very wealthy. I hate middle school children, by the way. After completing the school tour of Hamlet I did with the Colorado Shakespeare Festival’s Education/Outreach program in the spring of this year, I have had a distaste for sassy 6th graders and their gossip and image issues. Which brings me to: The Miss Anorexia-Nervosa Competition update.

One says to the other: “you can eat this, it only has 70 calories.” !!! And the other responds: “No, I am fat. I need to lose some weight.” Um, these girls are all 4 ft. They dont have any shape to them at all. And none, by any standard, would be considered even remotely above average let alone overweight or, dare I say, obese. Gasp. This bothers me so much because – I think these thoughts every day. I, however, have gone through puberty, and I am no longer the twig that I once was. And I remember thinking, at their age, the exact same thing. Why is this? Why is it that all women in the United States cannot look into a mirror and see what is actually there? Why is it that French women can eat bread but we cannot? Why is it that I am a vegan and I walk everywhere and I cannot consider myself among the svelt? And yet, I digress…

All of these little bitches: CONTESTANTS for my compeetition! Add them to the one woman I saw on the subway (or could barely see because she would disappear behind the support beam – which was wider than her biceps. You could see through her skin, though. Somethings remain transparent. Also add the woman I saw outside of this same starbucks drinking an iced tea. I assume that this was a weekly meal. She, however, may not be elligilbe for this competition because she was accompanied by an older man who appeared to be some sort of recovery counselor or physician (and not a lover or sugar-daddy). You could tell that she was trying intently to convince this man that she does in fact eat. Iced tea, my friends, is not food.

Beauty without grace: hook without the bait. What sad and malnourished fish must occupy this island.

– Emily