Fighting Fashion Failure: Equality for Women in the Workplace

So I realize this may sound overrated or repetitive - I thought as much when CLS was pounding our eardrums with it day after day in a monotonous drone - but it's surprising how few women practice sensible fashion in the workplace.*  This isn't a commentary on how women should wear real diamonds and pearls, this is a commentary on how women in the professional setting should consider dressing like their male counterparts - in suits.  As boring as that may sound - and, as some may argue, sexist - this is a consideration of the disservices women are doing themselves by wearing flashy cocktail jewelry, dresses, and heels.

Let's start with a little survey of my experiences this summer and the striking number of fashion faux pas.  I have been to three very formal events attended by professionals from around the world who are in charge of some of the most important organizations in the U.S. and abroad.  These people are influential, powerful, and, at least by their titles and resumes, highly respected and well-regarded in their respective fields.  While the majority of these fashion flops were witnessed from attendees, some were committed by the presenters themselves.  Things I've seen "professional" women sporting this summer include, but are certainly not limited to: hot pink pumps, opaque tights under a business skirt, leopard print dresses and suit jackets, spaghetti strap dresses and tops, summer dresses, cardigans, earrings larger than dollar coins, and poofs.

This is not a petition that women be "restricted" or "restrained" or otherwise "limited" in what they wear, but being part of the professional world requires a consideration of the professional culture - especially how conservative it is towards fashion and how attire outside of that slim portfolio may give negative signals.

Consider, for example, that men have one option for professional and formal events: a suit and tie.  While this is an unfortunate matter for them when the weather is unbearably hot and the outfits otherwise generally stuffy, it is also convenient for them when they never have to consider whether the dress is "appropriate" or otherwise fits the definition of the party.  What does "cocktail cute" mean for women?  "Business casual"?  "Black tie"?  I admit that these issues may still not be resolvable in the cocktail party context, but they can easily be resolved in the business or professional world: don the suit.

As stifling as the button-down might be and as tiresome the pumps on your feet, the suit in the business context has generally acquired a sense of power, confidence, and professionalism.  More than anywhere else, first impressions are important in the business context.  To be honest, dressing the part may also bring that confidence into your stride and your attitude.  There is no reason to discredit yourself before you share your ideas.  There is no reason to allow someone to make preconceived notions about you simply by your looks.  As cute as the neon pumps might be, standing out in a crowd that values seriousness and responsibility as a beacon of color in a sea of black may not be the message you want to send to your potential employers and colleagues.

The business world has long tried to portray women as frivolous and flighty, giving them a bad reputation for not being able to handle high-stake problems or take themselves seriously.  There is no reason that your outfit should convey that or add to that misconception.  The next time you're picking out your business attire, do yourself a favor.  Get the well-tailored suit, fitted button-down, and sensible heels.  Show them its your brain they're after - not your flashy sense of fashion.

*This post concerns the business workplace and not those related to fashion or the arts where trust is built on your ability to dress yourself.  Regardless of what industry you're working in, the important thing is knowing how your appearance defines you in that context.

Time flies...

The (Learning) Curve
It's eerie how quickly law school descends upon you: all of your frames of reference are through one of the core classes that you're taking, your vocabulary takes a sharp turn toward Latin phrases and hints of legal jargon, and your days revolve around the cases that you've been reading. Suddenly you've picked up the names of big firms, a dislike for specific turns of phrases, and maybe even a preference for opinions by certain authors (Kozinski, Cardozo, Scalia...). But as the semi-monotonous pattern sinks in, I'm awoken with the jarring realization that we're closing in on the halfway point and we're about to buckle down. The fast increasing rate at which the words like "outline," "hypos," and "exams" have inundated conversation is sickening. And I find myself asking the same, old question: do we learn for the grade or for the knowledge?

Sink or Swim
Not that this idea is foreign to me (God knows how much over-exuberant force UChicago used when tossing me in), but that I've been hit full force in the chest with an ice cold bath I didn't expect would take my breath away again. I'm smiling this time (have I developed an absurd attraction to this feeling of utter senselessness?), but it's not to say that it hasn't sent my nerves into the same chaotic frenzy. Assigned a final brief for a nationwide competition when I've never written an outline, asked to conduct legal research when I haven't heard of half of the types of resources out there, and asked to properly cite something when I've never seen the thing in print. But all I can think is, not without a twinge of anxiety mixed with excitement: welcome to the rest of your life.

Head First
I've never been good with change, unpredictable, or impulsive, but here we are. I visited Philadelphia with Chavez this weekend. The campus was dauntingly bigger than UChicago's, but walking through the ivy greens and buildings, there was something that reminded me distinctly of UChicago, something I haven't felt here at Columbia. Maybe it was the fall smell in the air, the wind that finds its way through your carefully wrapped clothes, or maybe the buzzing excitement from everyone around me of being home. And I missed UChicago then, knowing a campus' secrets, having memories to fill the empty classrooms. I missed having a history to attach, myths to share. I missed knowing that I belong. As much as I enjoy it here at Columbia, I can't help but feel guilty for leaving UChicago. I wonder how long it lasts?

NYC: a running review

Wondee tasty thai with a student discount and an awesome $8 lunch special that comes with an appetizer and curry (rice included) Pour House conveniently local, filled with students, and pretty spacious, but the $6 beer doesn't do it for me Sezz Medi good pizza overall with a die for four-cheese pizza, but beware of sloping tables Lion's Head also filled with students but much more cramped, decent if you can grab a table Hungarian Pastry Shop amazing, fairly priced pastries and very friendly staff, just a look will convince you to return every morning until you've tried everything...at least twice Frying Pan a romantic/mellow air with an amazing view and some fun architecture (they're freaking boats and docks) Broadway Au Lait don't be phased by their name, they're not a French bakery, but their Mediterranean goods are more than worth a visit Hamilton Food Store Inc. strongly reminiscent of Hyde Park's once UMart sandwiches but with a lighter flavor, also includes an amazing collection of yogurt covered pretzels and other snacks Boat Basin with a similar vibe to Frying Pan, but the eatery is in a concrete circle with steps to the river, again a priceless view and some strong margaritas Shake Shack like Champaign's Custard Cup on steroids, I will never be able to consume a Snowstorm with respect again Fiddlesticks a fun bar with great music but sadly little space to dance, still workable Therapy a gay bar, not a gay club, so be prepared for the lack of dancing pinkberry my second time was even better than my first, not least of all because it was free

NYC: learning to swim

Thinking Like a Lawyer
Classes have started and we're reading cases as well as introductions about what law is, how it's created, and how it's applied. As nerdy as it may sound, I find everything absolutely thrilling. There's something to be said about the rather French-style writing that is apparent in the earlier opinions, but the presence of near mathematical logic is greatly comforting. It's strange to find that I have reverted again to a preference for that concreteness - sifting through the archaic language is dizzying. Despite feeling a little out of my nature with all of the historians and english majors surrounding me, I find myself clinging thankfully to the common sense that economics ingrained in me. I have yet to be cold-called in class, possibly due to my decision to meet my professor's eyes whenever I sense him lecturing at me, but I'm certain it's only a matter of time. People claim the first time is the worst - after all, once the initial humiliation passes, what is there left to fear?

The City that Never Sleeps
A great deal of Orientation was devoted to reminding us not to lose sight of ourselves and to remember to have fun, keep in touch with friends, and at least occasionally talk to our family. As depressing as that might be and as much as we ridiculed it, with even the first homework assignment, I can feel the burdening truth of it. It's not something unfamiliar, coming from the University of Chicago, but once more, we will have to try to have fun. It's another activity on our long lists of things to do. Constructive entertainment. Thankfully, it seems a substantial part of that comes from the people that you know. With a good group of spontaneous, adventurous buddies, this city won't ever tell you to stop. It's been refreshing seeing the streets busy until all hours of the morning, grabbing the much appreciated snack at 2am, and taking the rocking subway to arrive home by 3am.

Home Away from Home
My apartment here is a little further from campus than most of the university housing - a 10-15 minute walk to the law school. Though the uphill trudge can be somewhat brutal on my midwestern physique, the amenities nearby make the location ideal - a pharmacy across the street with Blockbuster movie rentals for $1 per night, one of the biggest grocery stores I've ever seen down 2 blocks, the subway down the other block, and a dollar store around the corner. My roommate has been away for the past few days and my remaining errands (and lack of good study space in the apartment) has pushed me to explore the neighborhood. Home here doesn't just mean my bedroom. Home stretches to include a couple blocks in every direction. The expansion of my world feels like a step into the adult one. Where does it end?

Finding the perfect study cafe is next on my list of things to do. Wish me happy hunting!

Paramus - Ikea boot camp

Crossing Borders
I am once again indescribably grateful for the existence of Google, the ability of it's Maps option to chart a route via public transit, and the guidance of kind strangers when my notes don't suffice. Though my godparents have frequently warned me not to get my hopes up about NYC public transport in comparison to Chicago's, I thought it was pretty fantastic. I especially liked that you could pick up a Metro Card at the station as well as use credit (or perhaps I am too friendly with plastic). It seems that despite loving to travel, there is something that traveling doesn't like about me - things have a tendency to go wrong. As we tried to purchase our round-trip tickets for NJ from the vending machine, one stalled and the other immediately shut down. Short money and without tickets, we were fortunately saved by the bus driver of the very bus we were trying to take. He let us on for free and gave us tickets back. I guess karma can work in positive cycles too.

Ikea Heartache
The first stop was a bite to eat. As excited as I was by the brilliant array of cute and brightly colored plastic bowls, the lack of Swedish Almond Cake and not-so-impressive quality of their Swedish meatballs was pretty disappointing. Their lingdonberry sauce was pretty solid, though, as well as the mashed potatoes. What can butter not make delicious? Furnishing my room and kitchen at first seemed like a done deal as we wrote down aisle/bin information and stuffed manageable things into a cart. It wasn't until we were checking out and getting our shipment set up that we were told the ugly truth: Ikea, in fact, does not ship anything other than furniture. They do not ship any items from the marketplace (including the 18-piece set of dishes) or mirrors. They also offer you no further help with your furniture than a cart and a finger in the right direction. After some deliberating about how many of the items we would actually keep, we decided to schelp it all, but cop out by taking a taxi from the bus station. Apparently moving in here includes the special gift of an intense, full-body workout.

I laughed when my mom said she would be staying with me for three days to get things set up. It has once again been proven that mothers know best. We'll finally be receiving the furniture tomorrow...time to bring out the screwdrivers.

CU-Chicago-NYC: no time for goodbyes

Dear American Airlines...
Boarding a 6am flight out of Champaign wasn't too bad. Neither was trekking from the end of one terminal of O'Hare to another to catch our connecting flight. Painful was the 10 minute wait (the plane had parked overnight and to their dismay was "uncomfortably warm" and should thus be aired out before we board) that turned into a 3 hour delay as we waited first to refuel (apparently taxiing uses a lot and then the refuelers get distracted) and then on other traffic going into La Guardia. Though I had some extra time to doze because of this, I was also crunched for time to try to meet my appointments in NYC - of course the offices close at 3pm. After a minor fiasco with our carryon luggage (stuffing a comforter and pillow along with several pairs of shoes in a suitcase can cause trouble when that is then jammed into an overhead compartment and only two small Asian women are there standing on seat arms struggling to yank it out), we finally picked up the things and jumped in a taxi. I slid through the office doors with 10 minutes to spare.

Initiation
My superintendent is fantastic and pointed out all sorts of fun things I should check out in the neighborhood. Having missed breakfast (too early to eat) and then skipped lunch (too late to eat), my mom and I took his advice and headed to Dinosaur Barbecue, which had also been suggested to me by a bunch of students. Ribs and fries later, my mom and I adventured across the street in search of fruit and veggies. We stumbled upon Fairway (all mysterious 2.5 buildings of it) and managed to follow people with carts through the entrance. I was blown away by the literal walls of all kinds of organic goods. I'll be sure to pick up a jacket before I run into the refrigerated section next time - if only for my yogurt. After dropping the goods off at home (home!), we wandered down 125th for a pharmacy and rather elusive Staples. Sore legs and an unintentional traipse through Midtown later, we hailed a taxi and collapsed at home.

Tomorrow? Ikea. NJ.

Springfield: meeting Abe

Illusion of Proximity
Despite being pretty close to Springfield, I've never been before. With a friend visiting from China but without enough time to take her on a full trip to Chicago, we decided to show her around the state capital - not that I'm any better than a tourist there myself. Compared to China, where all the capital's are the bustling and humongous, given convenient parking, we easily could've tramped around the entire downtown area to see the sights.

We went to the State Capitol first and despite my best efforts, it was pretty difficult to explain with any reasonable clarity (and my only conversational Chinese) the purpose of each of the rooms, the working of our government, as well as why the rooms weren't being used at the moment. Thankfully the architecture was impressive in and of itself and the priciness of the lighting ($250,000 for one chandelier) seemed to glaze over these other technicalities.

Lunch was at Bennigan's with dessert at Cold Stone Creamery across the street. With ice cream fast melting and us thankful for the cups instead of cones, we wandered to Abraham Lincoln's home and signed up for the next tour. We watched a film to take up some time and while the reenactment was at times laughable (it was after all a condensed version of 25+ years of Lincoln's life), it was a nice refresher and pretty interesting.

The tour of his house was self-guided and pretty fast. Despite its sizable appearance from the outside and likely by measurement, the decorations and coloring made everything seem so packed. I can only imagine what it must have felt like with all 6'4'' of Lincoln in the house. It also seemed kind of unfortunate for him how short the beds were - seemingly overcome by not having a footboard on his.

Finally, to our pleasant surprise, Lincoln showed up outside of the house just as we were leaving. We took pictures with him and he teased my friend, asking if she had played Chinese checkers, had time for a round of Mahjong, and leaving her with a well-pronounced "谢谢." I wonder if that was historically accurate?

CU - conquests

Define a Classic
Inspired by one of my once bosses, the Mountain Man, I have set myself on a journey of becoming "well read." While I must admit that my high school and college careers have inundated me with texts from important philosophers and historians, I find myself a little lacking in the department of Classics and "100 Best Novels of All Time." While I feel slightly presumptuous trusting anyone's judgment on such topics, I've picked some lists that seem reasonable to me (one more classical, one more contemporary, and one more modern) - a little biased because the list I'm starting with features books I've been meaning to read for some time anyway - but I suppose this is all just a launching point, a way to make myself read more and with purpose. As much as I enjoy candy literature (the kind that you pop open one morning and finish without hesitation or thought before dinner), there's something rewarding about taking down something rather monstrous in both page number and literary density. Consider it academic barbarism. I recently put Wuthering Heights to rest and have started Don Quixote. I confess that my ears perked at the mention of Dulcinea and I'm eager to read any and all references to Kitri.

Another Unsweater
Despite my best intentions, the sweater that I knit earlier this summer is likely sitting only to be confronted with another savage ripping come winter. It doesn't wear like I had wanted it to and curls at the bottoms. Had I given it more thought, maybe longer sleeves would've made it a suitable fall jacket. As it is, I have it folded and tucked away in my closet. The buttons are coverless and not yet attached. Of course, though, I have another sweater on the needles (maybe this incessant need to make them will stop once I actually wear one). My stitches have finally become even enough that I'm not scared of dropping stitches down half of the sweater in order to turn them from purls into knits. It's a wonder what patience can do.

Dough Master
Though my baking skills are still newly budding, I seem to have a knack for making dough. I've done some breads (banana and zucchini included), dumpling wrappers, flat bread, and now pizza! With homemade tomato sauce (made from scratch with homegrown tomatoes!), I think they were a total success:

Chicago - vacationing on couches

我们应该去中国做 … 东西
As annoying as racial typing is when it’s incorrect (e.g. “Hello little Mexican girl” or “Konichiwa”), it can be fairly entertaining when it works out. I was once stopped by another Chinese person in Paris who attempted to speak French to me, changing to Korean, and then realizing that we were, both, in fact American. On Monday The Captain (who graciously offered up her evening to me) and I were headed toward Chinatown from her apartment when an Asian man stopped at a traffic light, leaned out of his car window, and shouted, “Do you know which direction Chinatown is?” Why, yes.

Starting with a course of bubble tea from Joy Yee’s (unfortunate choice, really, because that’s a meal in itself), we then went to Lao Szechuan (newly renovated and looking great) for a feast of real Chinese food. Chinatowns around the world have always been a safe place for me, filled with comfort food and a familiar language. Knowing the one in Chicago, with my favorite bakery and knickknack stores, made me remember fondly the ones I had discovered while homesick in Paris. Additionally, I think, if I may say so, we set The Dapper Young Man properly onto the path of conversion – the eggplant dish always does it.

Girl Therapy
There’s nothing that quite beats a day of frivolity: Starbucks for breakfast, shopping down State, Chipotle guacamole and chips for lunch in Roro’s warm company, sorting out wedding invitations for The Duchess, a massage (thanks again UBers!), and talk-drinks-dinner-ice cream-chick flick with Hermione. Wednesday was not much different, mouthwatering brandy walnut muffins made by Swanilda herself coupled with freshly squeezed fruit juice, a visit to Drinkle, and a lunch at the Med. Is it possible to receive Mexicana milkshakes by mail?

Farewell Chicago
As amazing as it was to see everyone I did, the thought that these meetings were indeed a string of lasts for the time being truly struck me when I found myself, once again, waiting at the #X28 stop for the bus to Union Station. Of course, Chicago left me with one last thing to remember – I waited for the bus that was scheduled for every 15 minutes for almost an hour. Running out of time to catch my train home, I was thankful to find that, after four years of struggling to comprehend the CTA system, I had indeed mastered it enough to get north and west from Hyde Park to the train station – without a map, schedule, or iPhone.

So thank you, Chicago. The last four years have been great. I’m glad that you’ve admitted in the end that I do know you well enough and that I still love you all the same.

CU - family

I had forgotten for some time, having not been here at home for longer than at most 2-3 weeks at a time for the past three years, the simple things that had so defined my childhood. I'm not sure if all Chinese families are like this, though I have a sneaking suspicion they can't be that far off, but being with my family has always revolved around simple entertainments: making and eating delicious food, volleyball and cards at the park, and late night viewings of Asian dramas that last until early hours of the morning.

There is something so definitively home to me about my senses being simultaneously overwhelmed with the colors of fresh vegetables, chopped and strewn across our kitchen counters; the garlic-infused scent of fresh meats waiting to be marinated in the rich, dark sauces; the mixture of staged screaming, crying, and sappy music that streams out of our speakers, so expected from whatever Asian drama might be on; and the happy mingle of Chinese, English, and cultural-boundary-erasing laughter.

That's how Friday night was, the kitchen buzzing as we prepared, under my mom's careful instruction, four different marinades for pork cuts, chicken wings, salmon, and shrimp. They went on the grill the next day and the mere smell of it and sound of the sizzling reminded me of every barbecue festivity I had ever participated in in the past. I couldn't help but laugh at how different everything was now, my recent acceptance into the "adult world" finally putting the lid on my unruly behavior as a child. I didn't swing on swing sets - I climbed them. I didn't play by the rules of their card games - I stacked houses out of them. I didn't eat my food - I made art out of it. I helped entertain the younger children with soap bubbles and rubber gloves filled with water, marveling at how easy it was to put a smile on their small faces. I miss that.

The night ended with our usual rice soup - fast, easy, and light, our usual food for after we'd stuffed our faces at lunch (did I mention that we finished 3 large watermelons between 20-25 adults?) and our stomachs needed a break - and several episodes of a Chinese drama. I still recognize some of the actors.

CU - change

Vision
I recently had Lasik done and the relief of no longer having to deal with contacts or glasses is incredible. The procedure itself took no more than 15 minutes and the benefits of it quickly settled in. I felt like I was waking from sleep, the way the haze settled around my vision, but I could already tell that once it lifted, my eyes would be able to see - and see well - on their own. The healing has been surprisingly fast; I was able to read in the afternoon after the operation and fairly functional by the next day for my post-operation appointment. I've since started driving, the only sign of my recent surgery the much appreciated eyedrop breaks every 15-minutes or so. And to think that I've spent about half of my life requiring assistance to see this well.

The Sweater
Many rows (done, undone, and redone) later, I have finally produced a sweater (fingers crossed) worth wearing. This is the third I've finished (barring the buttons which I'll be purchasing later this week) and definitely the first I've done a fair job on. Sleeves have always been my downfall - my impatience for binding them off and attaching them has always been more important than fitting them first. This time around, however, I took the time to rip them apart 3-4 times in order to make the sleeve cap actually fit. Despite the frustration and annoyance at the time, the comfort of the fit was definitely worth it. I remember being afraid of letting the stitches of the needle, the fear that in picking them up I would miss one, but I took the chance to rip them off this time and, to my relief, got every one back on. There is something magical about confidence...and the oddity that the yarn seems to know, like an animal, when you don't have it.

Campus
I recently gave a tour to a family friend who will be a freshman this coming year at UIUC. Though I'd been in and around campus recently, I'd mainly been on Green Street and the Main Quad, no where near the Engineering Campus where my once high school is located. As this is where he had declared his major, his mom was thoroughly curious to see the buildings he would be spending the majority of his time in. I showed them the area, tongue-tied at how little or much things had changed, struggling to contain the memories that suddenly came to mind as I passed things. A bridge, a hillside, a window, a balcony, a row of computers, a cubicle, a flight of stairs. It's strange how these simple images evoke such vivid recollections. I admit, after facing these first shocks, there were some places that I avoided entirely.

CU - time

It's fascinating to me how many things in this world there are to do, things that seem so urgent when I'm busy, but as time slows and my days become less full somehow dull and dissipate until the next bout of "not enough time" that reminds me, once more, that I have forgotten.

Sweaters
I frogged another sweater the other day, partially because it had begun to unravel in the middle of it (frustrating because I had only rows to complete before I could wear it) and because it had been too long since I started for me to remember what I had been trying to fashion. I've knit something like 3.25 sweaters (one more incomplete than this last one), one of which I wore once and others which I have tried on numerous times, but have never enjoyed enough to wear out. I am on the verge of beginning a new sweater, hoping it is the one that I will actually wear. My doubt clouds my excitement to start a new project.

Illiteracy
Learning about the Polish culture firsthand has reminded me of my desperate need to educate myself about my own - maybe not the tradition, but in its long history, its written language, and its contemporary changes. I struggle with the idea that there might simply be too many characters for me to learn or I have run out of the brain capacity to store them. I hope against hope that I have simply been lazy.

Tears
It's been a while since I've seen them - strange because this is the first graduation I have not cried at and yet the most meaningful in my life thus far. Returning this weekend and saying better (but still not quite definite) goodbyes struck unexpectedly deep. Maybe I had prepared myself too well for the festivities, but now, that my guards are down and I have once more started reading literature that makes me feel (not just think), it is catching up to me. I am certain they are not too naive to find me.

NYC (day2&3) - enchantment

Columbia (Law)
The campus is smaller than I expected, the layout nearly identical to UChicago's. The big difference is the style of architecture, the pillars and my favorite - the sweeping steps that seem to be quintessential to the NYC flair. The day was significantly clearer than my first, the sun's warmth spreading as the day wore on, but a cool breeze still enough to throw my hair up. Teasingly delightful. The law school was easy to find, only two buildings less than a block apart. I'm nervous that I won't like it, that the buildings will make me feel trapped, or that nothing will strike me. Maybe that's the worst - the absolute lack of emotion. My fears are quickly relieved. The buildings pull me in immediately, the glassy, asymmetrical shape of them striking and alluring. There is a mixture of new technology, new styles, with an older, safe feeling of high school. After all, we get lockers. 

Riverside Park
Walking around the neighborhood, I realize several things: it takes about 8-10 minutes to cover 10 blocks, the city is built on naturally occurring hills, and the entire scene reminds me of Paris. I don't realize how much I miss the city until I am here and suddenly reminded of the way bakeries' scents wafted out of their doors, the way everyone walks and takes public transportation to get to where they need, and maybe more, the way a river lays there waiting for me. I sit in the sun, dozing intermittently, and listen to the steady beats of people running (I see now why this might be such a prevalent hobby) and the not-as-steady skitters of children and dogs playing. There is a couple sitting across from me, leaning against the low wall set up to separate this tier of the park from the lower highway. His hand is in her hair and he whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. I can't help but smile. 

Walking and Pinkberry: Serendipity
I stroll with my hosts down the riverside path, strongly reminiscent of the Lake Shore path that I've frequented in Chicago. The wind starts to die down in the late afternoon and the softening sun lights our way as we weave and talk about the city and my possible future here, a future that with each moment becomes more real. I marvel at the way they muse about their (mis)adventures, the almost instinctual way they have spent their past few years here. I make a note to do the same.

The next day I am taken to Pinkberry, a frozen yogurt place similar to Jamba Juice in both serving style and fashion. The mix of berries, chocolate, and pomegranate juice coats my tongue and I can only imagine myself, a few months from now, stepping back into this store. Only by then, I will be here to call it home.

NYC (day 1) - trying to fall in love

Leaving and Arriving
It always seems to easy to leave a place. Packing wasn't difficult, more of a casual headache, and the airport was fine. As expected. O'Hare is always the same - and then came La Guardia. Being in transit doesn't bother me, but I always become anxious when I arrive. Shouldn't that be the easiest part? Not having any deadlines to make, any flights to catch? But the hurry of the next flight always seem to keep me sharp. Upon arrival, all urgency is lost and my brain melts - more accurately, it freezes.

Taxi Anxieties
There is something horrifying to me about boarding a taxi and going to a destination I have not yet seen. I feel that I should have more faith in taxi drivers, in their ability to deposit me where I am asking to be left, but I do not think I have yet ridden in a taxi and not gotten the question "So which route would you prefer I take?" At which point it becomes obvious that I have no idea where I am going, let alone how I should be getting there. This may be related to my experience with Burr Ridge two summers past now and the suggestion that the taxi driver "take me somewhere nice" that was not where I had requested. Regardless, I am thankful that the taxi that I hail is driven by an older, amicable man who makes no attempts at chatter and simply smiles pleasantly as the buildings go by.

Gray.
I finally take a glance outside and try to put into words how this landscape makes me feel. Chicago is dreary, often lacks sunshine, but in this moment, New York City seems to have somehow sucked the life out of the very buildings. There are reds, greens, whites, and blues, but the shades that have been chosen - or maybe because they have been left for so long - are dull and faded. The darker shade of rust creeps in with the mix and I shudder despite myself. Welcome to NYC.

Jay-walking
After a minor mishap, I manage to make my way to my family friend's apartment. I skip across the street and I find hidden joy in the click of the cement under my boots and the sharp clacking as my suitcase wheels shake up the loose bits of gravel. Of course I cross where there is no crosswalk. Of course there is a car that turns onto the street just as I jump into it. I wave, smile awkwardly, and scuttle off.

A View
It's been some time since I've seen this family, but the feeling is the same. Being in the presence of an internationally recognized piano player (invited to play at the Louvre just next week) has never stopped thrilling me. We chat about politics, school, and traveling. I wonder at the way he talks about the city and the way that I hope, shortly, to become acquainted with it. His words remind me that the weather and the color of the skies and buildings will not always be the things that stick out to me most about this place. My heart leaps at the chance to learn new things about this city, to adopt it like I once adopted Chicago, and to make it my home. I try to silent the flutter in my chest and smile without giggling. No worries, now we're talking about Julliard.

I wander around the apartment, which sits on the 11th floor, and gaze out through the rain at the city before me. The shapes are so foreign, but so geometric - they quite literally appear to all be different sizes of quadrilateral. Sometimes I forget what I missed about the east coast...