Protected: luxury May 13, 2008
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dear stevO #2 May 8, 2008
are you okay? i heard and now i’m worried.
i want to see you even though i’ll probably cry. when are you gonna come back?
let’s do things i’ll regret tomorrow May 8, 2008
The AP Literature test is tomorrow at eight in the morning. Let’s practice writing instead of going over books I’ve read this year. I have a lot of catching up to do. I think I wrote something about last week, but I didn’t like it much and it managed to delete itself, I don’t know how. So let’s forget about it.
Saturday. LA girls are in New York, for National Qualifiers, the second largest competition of the year. This is technically where I should be competing and dominating, well at least second place. But of course, this is the year I can’t afford rhythmic gymnastics and have to quit so I can go find a job instead. So other people from around the country compete and I just watch. Sad face. That was the day I actually really missed gymnastics. Competing was always so stressful and I was always so nervous (except for the last year) but I think it was still my favorite part. Working hard five days a week was pointless unless you got to show everyone what you did, and you got to show them something impressive. [Competing in Belgium was one of the highest points of my so-called career, against girls who had been to World Championships and almost made it to the Olympics. Making it to finals and getting awarded next to girls from Russia, the strongest country was pretty impressive too.] So I always worked hard, making practice the time reserved for sweat and tears and occasional injury. How can you not love something like that?
Woah. Anyway. These girls are visiting New York. And they obviously want to see it. And I actually succeeded in making one girl prefer New York over LA, even though most of them didn’t want to leave either. I taught them how to take the train from JFK Airport to the city, transferring at Jay Street from the A line to the F. I was impressed because they even bought their own Metrocards [and greatly enjoyed swiping them]. I ended up waiting for them at Jay Street for a little under an hour, but I did enjoy some ‘large, chewy SweetTarts’ which are amazing by the way. We finally got together and went all the way to Times Square. They enjoyed the skyscrapers, which I take for granted. They enjoyed the lights and the overflowing streets. And then we came by the huge McDonalds in Times Square, and they decided that they wanted new York ice cream. So we went in, and had to use the bathroom. And there was a bouncer. At McDonalds. He made us buy food, in lieu of ID. So I got that Sweet Tea that is being advertised, and it was huge and delicious. We were finally allowed upstairs, and we discovered why there was a bouncer. Turns out this eatery is like a club. The bouncer was there to make sure no riff-raff made it to the dimly-lit, metal-walled disco. It was very impressive. We walked around in awe before continuing on our way.
While walking in some direction, we passed the Marriot Marquis, and they were so impressed by the height of the building that they decided to go up to the top tot take pictures. Let me tell you, if you ever come to New York and you can afford it, you should stay there. Not only is there a theatre inside, but it is just the coolest hotel I’ve been in in New York City. The elevators are tourist-worthy. They look like futuristic pods that send you up to space [forty-five stories]. Plus they go superfast and to call the elecator, you enter your floor into a keypad and it directs you to the next elevator. It also has a complicated floor plan, with the rooms surrouding the elevators, but also dance floors and restaurants jutting out so that you can be observed while being classy.
The two girls I was with are also smokers, but obviously underage, so I got to go buy them snickers [read: cigarettes] with a friend’s ID. They asked for Camel #5. I chose filtered 100s when #5 was unavailable, not having any clue about the difference. I fumbled with the request, and yet the man did not compare the face on the ID to mine. Which is good because most people’ reaction to the ID is laughter. The girl’s lips are apparently ridiculously large compared to mine. But it worked. But some man who came out after me reminded us that we’re not in fucking kansas, implying that we can do anything here. But honestly the best part was that later, we saw a billboard for Jeep, and it said “Camels are for tourists.” How very appropriate.
prom May 2, 2008
Now, a nice calculation and reasoning about prom and the various expenses included. All affecting my final decision about going or not.
First are costs.
Ticket-$125
Limo, gotta be in the one with my date-$100
Dress, omfg it better be amazing-$300
Shoes, they should technically be $500, but maybe I’ll just get Louboutins for my birthday-$100
Hair/Nails-$100
Total-$725
AfterParty, should be really good-$20
AfterAfterParty, a three day weekend in the Poconos with friends-$205
Second are the experiences.
-Possibly the best night of my life.
-Classic moments not to be missed.
-One of the last collations of the entire class.
-Just a good time.
-Amazing fun at the after parties, with great people.
I don’t even know what my budget is, but I should probably tell my mother about these expenses soon. Now. Should I actually go to prom, even though my date is just a friend, thereby forcing me to pay everything for myself? Should I then go to all the afterparties? Should I skip prom and go to all the after parties?
Go and decide please, and then return with your verdict.
PS I kind of wish that J [not Jack] would ask me. I mean, we have hooked up and I don’t think he has a date and he is pretty darn cute. But only if he wants to because I probably shouldn’t just drop Chairs like that.
this makes me a little excited April 30, 2008
Just wanted to mention that this is the closest I have been to Alber Elbaz so far in my life.
http://runway.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/29/is-this-heaven/#more-213
Well I mean, I did see Cathy Horyn a few weeks ago, and she just saw Alber Elbaz, and well, a girl needs these kinds of things to get excited about. Especially a girl like me!
Oh, and this also means that this post will appear on that blog that talks about all the blogs that talk about Alber Elbaz. 
This makes me happy as well.
college is rough. April 30, 2008
I’m not even a student yet, but already it’s causing trepidation. Part of it is my fault too.
New York University, being the best school to accept, is the one I will attend, even though I had originally had my mind completely set in FIT. Thought about the future and the life ahead of me brought me to NYU instead. And a great experience visiting the campus didn’t hurt either.
After receiving the large acceptance packet, I left it on my desk. For a month. Then yesterday, I thought it might be a good idea to actually pay the deposit. So I told my mom I would need $800 for the tuition and housing deposit. By the next day. And then she started.
She told me she didn’t have $800 to just give me the next day. Which I didn’t expect. And she also decided to tell me that I can’t dorm. She refuses to pay for both the housing deposit and the dorm. Which is strange because I told her in January that I would dorm. Now, it was a problem. She apparently didn’t have enough money for me. And I’m going to have to take out loans in my name anyway later, and I don’t care if I take out six or eightteen thousand. She says I have no idea how much money that is, and there’s no point of startng off life with a debt.
I think that’s about when I started to cry.
Honestly, I just can’t live in my house anymore. I can’t. College was supposed to be at once my escape from my home and the start of a new independent life. I guess I have to defer that for a year. I just still can’t imagine living at home while going to college. Having to travel for an hour each day just to get there, then spend hours there, and take another hour-long train ride home. This means no new room, no moving, no privacy. This means if I want to stay out, I have to come back home at upteen oclock in the morning. All the way to Coney Island, which is obviously on the oposite side of the entire city. I have to return, alone, on a train that does not lead a safe path. Besides that, I have to come home to my mother. I have to come home to a parent, controlling me, telling me what to do, telling me what not to do. And a parent watching everything I do. I really don’t see the point. Seventeen years of that has been enough.
And yet, there’s really nothing I can do.
Which may explain why I was bawling all of last night, which led to looking puffy eyed and gross this morning and all day. And I thought I was a little calmer about it, after talking to CC and K. And being offered the money to pay the housing deposit by both CC and K’s bf. Which really meant the world to me. These people, who are willing to pay something that my own mother would not. But still, here I am, tearing up again. Seeing no way out of the life that has kept me unhappy. The life that I was so looking forward to ending by moving on to the next stage. But no success.
And the other part that really upset me. That I have no money. That my mother has no money to provide for me anymore. I thought I was taking it rough by living on twenty dollars a week. But I don’t even know if I’ll have that. I won’t be able to afford any more clothing. Not even clothing that I like, but just clothing. I won’t be able to go to nice dinners or splurge by taking a trip. I won’t be able to do anything. And it scares me a little to think about what I will be able to do. Which is nothing.
I quit gymnastics because I couldn’t afford the competitions anymore, not even the last two which are Nationals and National Qualifiers, the two most important ones of the year. Another chance to be rank on the National Team, or even to just compete and see all the gymansts from across the country.
But now, I don’t even know if I’ll have enough money for prom. I really don’t think so. I can’t see myself affording the ticket, the dress, the limo, the after party and the after party weekend. Or even just the dress and the ticket, which would be the bare necessities.
I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life anymore. Or even how to stop the tears that are blurring my vision before quickly descending down my cheeks and dripping on to my lap. I just don’t know how.
