Blending of Days.

I’m not sure how it happens, that the days in New York blend together—this the greatest city of endless activity and prosperity. I lose track of whether it is Saturday or Wednesday or Monday only by the absence or appearance of Olivia. Even that is not always a good indicator, as she is usually at the performing arts school, in rehearsal, at dance class, singing karaoke with friends or maybe at a movie. I, on the other hand, spend endless hours searching for some sort of meaning in my days. I remember once upon a time that a recruiter or creative director would call me and literally offer me a job, entice me with higher pay from my current place of employment. Freelance projects would come to me, and I never had to look. I certainly took that for granted. Now all I do is look for work of any sort. I’m not whining. I’m not complaining. I am merely stating fact. I know that I am not alone in this endeavor, this quest to place myself again among the employed. After six months, I start to wonder when or if it will happen. Oh, yes, of course everyone says, “it will happen” “things will get better” “you are talented and you will get work”. And things will happen, they will get better, and I am talented. That said, I have to wonder how much longer, and about the basic shift in the hiring of workforce. Many people that I know who have lost their jobs have relied on unemployment. I did not have the luxury. I am simply at the end, unsure of what comes next.

I am a practitioner of yoga, yogic philosophy (seemingly in lieu of spiritualism) and meditation. I try to take the approach that if I put the word out to the universe, so to speak, if I let my intentions be knows, if I am open to the possibilities, that things will happen for me. I am open. I am sending out the word—and the resumes. I am ready for whatever shift might come my way. But. Nothing is happening. I’m watching and listening very carefully. I don’t expect the gods to send a lightning bolt. I assume it will be much more subtle. So I’ve started to go a little deeper. What is it that I actually want to do. What do I want to be remembered for. I know there is an answer in there. I believe it is to teach in some form. I think at some point it will be to teach yoga, but not yet. Because of current monetary expectations (i.e. kids and college), I know that it has to be something more lucrative.

I have been trying to convince myself that I should be a nurse. I actually think I would be a very good nurse. I am caring and compassionate, smart and mature. But I have spent far too long on the convincing and research part, and not feeling the true calling. I thought for many years that at some point I would get my MA in Art History, and teach at the college level like my ex-husband has done for years. So, I went down that path. Again, the convincing. During my research this little blip stood out: MFA Design. There was the lightning bolt. That’s me. That’s the degree I need, or some similar variation. So I found that Parsons has a MFA in Design and Technology. I may be too late to apply for Fall. The obvious concern is how to pay the tuition. Are there really loans for single moms in need? The prospect of college at age 46 is a little daunting, but could potentially be life changing. I’ll keep you posted.

I get so isolated in this little room in front of the window that now faces a brick wall, that I forget to be a person. I don’t take time for me. I’ve actually forgotten who “me” is. I know that I miss the days of yoga every day and going to dance class. If those are things that I miss, then it must mean that I must get back to them. A really cool site called Groupon sent an offer this weekend for a one-month membership to the 92nd Street Y for $20. Even spending $20 seems out of my meager budget these days, but Olivia and I are going to do this together. I think it is important.

We live close to the Hudson River now, just a couple of blocks over. There’s a riverwalk down the whole length of Manhattan. Much of it is being rehabbed, rebuilt and so much of it is beautiful new parks now. Little did we know that we would walk the whole thing. We weren’t in a hurry, it was sunny and cold, but it didn’t seem to matter. Two and a half hours later, we realized we were both tired and starving. Close to TriBeCa, I remembered a little place our family had eaten several years ago called Edwards. Pulling out the trusty iPhone for directions, we saw that we were just a few blocks away. We had a lovely little shared dinner, and a subway ride home.

A pier on our Hudson River walk.

 

Libby on the pier. Forever the cheerleader.

The river was full of ice!

Upper West Side at Hudson River.

Before this day blends in to the next, I have letters to write, resumes to send, a book cover to design—and maybe even a college application to fill out.

Sun on the Bricks.

Motivation is key while living in a small apartment in New York City. Motivation to get dressed, to go out on the cold streets. Motivation to be a person, and not hide inside. Often I lack motivation. It's so much easier to sit in my sweatpants (a.k.a. pajamas), drink endless amounts of coffee and send out resumes all day. For me to go out requires an agenda, a list of places to go, items needed to be picked up, a travel plan. If things can be put off until another day, they will be. This isn't really something new for me. I am happy at home. I am a nester, and enjoy creating comfort in my surroundings. I work to change things about myself. I try to tell my mind that I enjoy going out and talking to complete strangers all day. But I don't really. Everyone has things about their personality that they would like to change, and some things can be—within reason. We can learn to be better listeners, to be more organized, to clean up our messes, but some things are inherent. By nature, I am quiet, reserved, even shy. My high school classmates will probably remember that, if they remember me at all. Conversely, when I am with people I know well, I can be quite the life of the party. I am funny and engaging. I wish I could learn to mix some of that into my everyday life.

Today I'm looking over a little freelance project I got. Another small potential one in the works. A website design too, but I need a programmer. I am happy to have some work. There is not much money involved, but I have always loved being a designer, and working makes me feel whole. I have always worked, babysitting when I was 10, working at McDonald's all through high school, then at the Mall in retail in college. Straight into advertising right after I finished my degree. My first job? A copywriter. But after having just spent four years in art studios, I was so drawn to the department where people had drawing boards and markers and t-squares. Soon I was ordering type, doing paste-ups and learning the command of marker comps. Unbelievably all this was done without the aid of a computer.

I am a bit obsessed with the sun. In my youth I was probably a sun-aholic. Addicted to being in the sun. As a mom with young kids, we would structure our days around the weather. If it was sunny, it meant we would be outside. Shopping trips were for rainy days. I would never dream of being inside a mall on a sunny day. If it was sunny and summer, we would be at the pool. If it was sunny, summer and vacation, we would be at the beach. Maybe this sun worshipping goes back to the idea of things which are inherent in ourselves, something we are born with, human nature. For my inner sense of peace, I am happiest when I am in the sunlight, outside in the sun and most of all—at the beach. In my new apartment, the sun glints off the red brick walls outside my window, but it doesn't come directly into my rooms. This is quite distressing to me. For sure this workspace will have to be moved to the southeast window so I can stop turning my head, leaning forward and looking over at the sunlight. At least the view will be in front of me. It's an obsession that I deal with. Today it will be dealt with by moving my desk. I just did the "turn and lean" again.

There is no school in New York today. I don't remember why. I have not adjusted to the strange new school system that we are now a part of. So much more could be written on that subject. Olivia is at rehearsal for "Sweeney Todd" all day, her school play. She almost got a lead in the play, which was a pretty big deal for a newcomer sophomore. Last week they had several days off for some kind of state testing. She had rehearsal all day, every day on those days too. So much for a day off. She missed out on the fun time I had moving all our belongings. Lucky her. At least she is having a life. After all, that's why we came here.

My son is back home in Belleville living with his dad. Today he is sick with the flu, 102 fever. It's a very strange feeling when one of your children is sick, and you are not with them. My mom instincts take over, and I want to be there to make him tea, fluff his pillows, bring him cool washcloths. I still miss my mom when I am sick.

 

my handsome son.

So while I struggle with the directionality of my apartment, what I do love is my new neighborhood. Half a block away, on the corner is a magical bakery called Silver Moon. I used to think that New York didn't have great bakeries, until we found this one. Amazing croissants and breads. And a heavenly espresso machine. Not that little one like Starbuck's has, but the big beautiful $5000 machine that makes a real difference in the quality of your coffee drink. Again, I digress.

a little slice of heaven on the upper west side.

And this beautiful little grocery store 2 blocks down called Garden of Eden. For St. Louisan's, it's like a Straubs, but not quite as expensive. 

Time to move my desk so I can work on my little projects—while I look at the sun on the bricks.