New York City Lessons from a Young, Unwise Intern: Part 1

1.    Just because you see a stranger’s dog, it does not mean you can pet it.
2.    Just because that said dog is in a store with you, it does not give you more of a reason to pet it.
3.  Just because that said dog may have played with friends in the doggie park, it does not mean that he pooped in there. Just ask the bottom of your shoe.
4.     If a male stranger likes your eyes, he will give you a bouquet of roses. After you get away from him, turn the corner immediately, and stomp on the flowers. They can be contaminated, and you’re a modern woman trying to make a means for yourself in the big city. You don’t need any damn flowers.
5.   If you are in Strand Bookstore, you will be approached and have your palm read. Make sure to check your location in the store because if the palm reader says you are creative and destined to be a famous writer, and you are standing in the art section with an ink stain on you shirt, it wasn't just a lucky guess.
6.   The pigeons are too comfortable with you and the squirrels are black.
7.   A cult in a pretty decorated van may sound enticing to join; however, before you sign off and become a member, be sure to read the “intention” they gave you.  If the paper “intention” tells you to try something “knew” instead of “new” every day, give them the cold shoulder and go to the gelato stand across the street
8.     Whenever you didn't pack your umbrella, it will rain. Whenever you didn't bring your jacket, it will be cold. Whenever you dressed warmly, you will sweat profusely. Whenever you decide to wear heals, you will get lost for an hour and get nasty blisters.  Whenever you are trying to find out how to get home, your phone will die. New York hates you just as much as you hate what it does to your bank account. Prepare for the worst. 

                It was pouring, and I was sitting in the front seat of the car. Stomach in knots and heart racing, I sat there, clenching onto my car keys and staring out the windshield into the night.  My barefoot rested on the pedal with every intention to venture off somewhere, anywhere, away from my problems and the summer that lay before me. I had no money, no place to go, and no phone to direct me.  

         For the first time in my life, I felt like a stranger—in my own home, town, and with the family and friends that I have come to love and depend upon.   It’s not that I wasn’t welcome or that in the months I was away from school, everyone had moved on, casting me aside. In fact, it was the total opposite; I was welcomed with open arms, congratulated for another successful semester completion at school and for scoring myself an internship in NYC for the summer.  Everyone was proud of me and to that, I was grateful; however, I still felt as if I didn’t belong and that I was distanced from everyone and everything around me. 

         It was revelation: a moment in my life where I began to realize that this could be it; this time at home, with the friends and family I love, at the job that I have had since I was 16, and in the town that has shaped me into the person I am, was coming to an end. I was growing up and nothing around me was going to stop me from doing so.

         I’ve always been a kid with big dreams and those dreams could never be contained in a small town. I yearned for more, always looking for the next big thing and opportunity to seize.  I’ve always had dreams, but for once, those dreams were becoming a reality. The past was only a distance memory. The tears that formed out of reading frustration. The scolding from teachers to stop reading under my desk. The notebooks upon notebooks filled with ideas and pictures from the creative mind of a child. The written and directed plays. The flashlight under the bed sheet. The imaginary friends. The reading induced motion sickness. The reading spot on the roof.  A wooden pipe.  The stacks of books. The numerous library cards. The stained coffee cups. The box of pens. The chewed up pencils.  The waste bin full of ideas deferred.  Everything was part of my past now, and I was about to move on—ready or not.

          The morning would bring about the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I may not have felt I was ready to face it, but it was one chapter that couldn’t be skipped.  I needed to experience it; I needed to write the next chapter in my life. The time had come to fulfill my dreams.  

           As I began to open the car door, stepping out into the rain and facing the home that I grew up in, I took a deep breath, wiped the tears and rain from my eyes, and walked back inside to pack for New York.  My story was to begin, picking up from where the journals left off from when I was kid. My New York City dreams and aspirations to become a writer and publisher were being handed to me in the form of a one way ticket to JFK.

           I’m one girl. It’s one big city. I’ve got three months to make the most of it, form the memories that will last a life time and begin to make a name for myself.  My time has come.