Here are some things I love about being an alive-baby-mom:
Looking at him every day and realizing he’s alive.
Looking at him every day and wondering who he looks like. So far, neither of us, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d be mildly concerned.
Looking at him every day. (Sensing a trend?)
Taking a million photos and knowing my camera roll is full of cuteness.
Comparing him from weeks prior and watching him grow. He’s so alive!
The looks I get when I wear him in the carrier. Everyone on the sidewalk smiles or makes little pouty faces at me and says, “aww he’s brand new!”
Wondering what his personality will be like, and when he will mimic our facial expressions.
Matching outfits, or semi-matching. Many more to come, I’m sure.
His tiny little fists when he’s hungry. TBH that’s how I feel when I’m hungry, too.
Walking past playgrounds and thinking about days I’ll be there playing as opposed to how I used to walk by and wonder if I’d ever get to go there and play.
How he grabs on to anything and everything, especially Maliyah’s necklace or the collar of my shirt, less cute when it’s my hair.
The hilarious newborn-mom Instagram reels. Maybe they’re funnier at 4 am while I’m up feeding, but they’re pretty dang funny.
I’ve always been a night owl, but I can finally get to sleep before midnight! Even before 10 some nights.
Here are some of the less glorious parts of being an alive-baby-mom:
Sleep deprivation
Constant grimey body, covered in who knows what
Having your cleaner come over and realizing that you have used your shower once since the last time she cleaned it.
Extreme exhaustion
Every part of your body aching from holding, burping, holding, walking, holding, feeding, holding
I’m not even going to get into the boob problems. Save that for another time.
The fact that it takes hours to get anywhere, and sometimes you just don’t get anywhere all day
Watching Instagram stories of other people doing things out in the world and wondering if you’ll ever leave the house again
But, he’s alive. And the new adventures are just beginning. I cannot wait for him to start smiling at us, they say it will happen SOON. And then, I can’t wait for him to actually recognize/see me and smile when I get close to him. More exciting days are coming!
Matchy matchy! #StripeGang #EmojiBabyHe loves to grab my collar. Not great for the shirts, but great for my swooning heart.People always comment on how tiny he is on me on our daily walks on the water.
The best part about living in New York City is that everyone always visits. There’s no need to travel to see friends, because friends always want to come to see you! New York is the best city in the USA (not biased at all), and there is so much to do.
However, the worst part about living in New York City is ALSO that everyone always visits. If you think it’s exhausting living in the most populated and dense city in the world, navigating without a car, dealing with constant weather changes and no changes of clothes etc., imagine that PLUS showing people around and walking through Times Square. Blegh. My favorite is when someone asks if I’ll be meeting them at the airport. HAHAHHAH No. I will not. What would I do anyway? I can’t go to the gate and I don’t have a car. I will be in my living room waiting for your Uber to arrive.
Anyway, as I mentioned, the complicated part of every tourist’s first NYC visit is that they always want to see and do the same things. Times Square. Freedom Tower. 9-11 Memorial. Top of the Rock. The high line. Broadway shows. The Met. MOMA. The New York Public Library (Carrie was supposed to get married there, you know!). Central Park. 5th Avenue. And don’t get me started on tourists wanting to go to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. I generally advise that it’s a full-day activity and I will meet them when they get back for a late dinner.
I know I sound like a complete B, but it’s very difficult to have tourists in town, when every tourist wants to see the same things that you’ve seen 100 times.
But what happens when the New York visitor used to live in New York, has already done all the things and been all the places, knows how to navigate the subway alone, and doesn’t actually need you to act as a tour guide? Well then, you have fun. And that’s exactly what I have been doing for the past two weeks.
I’m very lucky to have a BFF who lives halfway around the world in Australia, and I’m even luckier that she visits often and we see each other in 3D almost every year.
I met Katherine from Craig’s List, which is where all great friendships begin. (I don’t think I need to tell y’all that is sarcasm, but please do not go searching for new friends on Craig’s List, that is actually how all true crime Netflix documentaries begin, not friendships.) It is, however, how our friendship began. It was March 2014, and I was living in a 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment that we had broken into 4 bedrooms. We were searching for a lucky 4th roommate to join our home. I was living an EXTREMELY miserable life as an attorney, and I was hoping our next roommate would be a fun addition to our crew. Kat showed up to our living room for an interview and we loved her immediately. Her accent, her cleanliness, and did I mention her accent? She had just graduated college and was in New York for a year, looking to explore all of the arts and culture that it had to offer.
The rest is history. She became an integral part of my friends group, and we showed her all of the American things she needed to know, like how cold it gets at Christmas at this latitude (she carried a Christmas tree home from a street vendor with me), and how even though we don’t know much about soccer, we still will drink excessively if the US is playing in the World Cup. We also introduced her to her first Bloomin’ Onion, which, curiously, they do not actually have in Australia. Who knew?
Christmas in Winter, a new concept for an Aussie!World Cup, the one time we come together as a country and agree soccer is mildly exciting.KRIKEY it’s a BLOOMIN ONION!
Even though she moved back to Australia in 2015, she came back to visit in the summer of 2016, 2017, 2018 AND 2019. Then she came back to the US for her glorious post-Covid return in 2022, once Australia allowed their citizens to leave again, and she came to Mexico for my wedding. I was so honored to have her there, and I knew I HAD to go to Australia. I had been talking about it for years. Finally, in fall of 2022, I went to visit. We spent two weeks together and had a blast.
Then, 3 weeks ago, she came back to New York. So, what does a person show a “visitor” when she’s seen all the things? Well, as it turns out, mostly restaurants.
A few weeks before Kat’s arrival in the big apple, she sent me her notes app with a full list of 30+ restaurants she wanted to hit. The timing was perfect because the first week she was in New York, I only had two days of work. This left plenty of time for eating. My friends all mobilized because it’s not every day that a person from 10,000 miles away visits! We had a friend fly in from Florida for 5 days, a friend from south Jersey come in for two days, and a friend who was away in Florida for Christmas flew back early to spend time with Kat.
We ate a LOT. We went to Parm. We went to Papaya Dog. She got Halal Guys. We had happy hour at a Mexican place. We had brunch at Bubby’s. We had another brunch at Maison Pickle. We had gelato at Anita. We went to JG Melon’s. We took her to Raising Cane’s for the first time. We went to a HUGE family-style dinner at Carmine’s. We had the special Upper West Side flavor at Ample Hills ice cream (Night at the Museum).
Speaking of museums, visiting museums is her truly favorite activity in New York, but since I don’t love/understand art, I mostly let her get her art fill while I worked. However, she did persuade me to go to the Jewish Museum, which I had never been to before. My mom drove in from Philadelphia for a day visit to see Katherine, and we started the day with bagels, as any good Jew crew does before visiting the Jewish Museum. There was a very interesting exhibit on of photographs of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s collars. Also, there was a beautiful fashion exhibit of Gaby Aghion and the house of Chloe.
First time at Cane’s! The live DJ really is the pièce de résistance.Papaya DogCarmine’sJG Melon’sPost-BrunchMore Cane’s selfiesAmple Hills with the FamJewish Museum! (Oy spelled backwards)
Besides eating and one museum, we also went to see two Broadway shows. The first week, we went to see Gutenberg!, which was absolutely hysterical. We laughed out loud the entire time. While it considers itself a musical, and there are a lot of songs, I wouldn’t say the music was memorable. The comedy, however, was amazing. Also, the entire show was done by the two main actors: Josh Gad and Andrew Rannells. There were literally 0 other people in the show. The only exception was that 10 minutes before the end, there is a guest star every night, and it is always a surprise. The night we went, it was Billy Crystal and people were agog. It was such a fun addition.
For the entire next week, I entered the lottery to see at least 7 different shows every day, and eventually, I won! I ended up winning tickets to see Kimberly Akimbo, which we both had heard amazing things about, but knew absolutely nothing of the plot. When you win lottery seats, you never know where they will be in the theater, and since the tickets are $40/piece, you get what you get, and you don’t get upset. Well, our seats were in the front row. FRONT! Row AA. This was only the second time this happened to me, the other was when I saw Frozen in February 2020. It was a bit annoying craning our heads, but we could see every actor’s facial expressions and it made the experience even more unique and exciting.
We loved Kimberly Akimbo. It was very different from Gutenberg! still funny, but also heartwarming, and cute, and I may have even cried once, what else is new!? I highly recommend it.
Besides Broadway and food, we did a lot of walking around the city, through Central Park, up Riverside Park, through and around Little Island, and into shops in Tribeca. We also did a lot of hanging out with big groups of friends. It was a huge change of pace, given that I was mostly a hermit recluse for the entirety of 2023. Who knew that all it took for me to leave my couch was a friend who traveled across the world. She even got me to stay out on New Year’s Eve until 2 am! I later learned that she was out until 5 am, including a late-night Taco Bell run, but I was impressed with myself for my 2 am bedtime.
I don’t know yet when I’ll see her next, but she’s always welcome to come back to New York, especially because she doesn’t ask me to go to the top of the Empire State Building!
Gutenberg!Outside Gutenberg! (these marquis photos are always so hard to get the lighting right!)Kimberly AkimboOutside Kimberly AkimboUs… on the stage. My loves <3She’s so cute!Big Crew at brunchBig Crew out for NYE!Big Crew at Happy HourLots of walking, first through Central ParkWalking downtown (to dinner, of course)Walking to Little Island (my first time there!)
The holiday season is over, but unfortunately the Covid season is not. In fact, it’s worse than ever. You may remember I was crowd-sourcing ideas for social distanced date ideas back in May. I don’t think we had any idea we’d be needing those into 2021, but here we are.
We came back to NYC from Texas back in September, and while I do love the fall and winter here in New York, it makes outdoor dates more complicated. You can’t exactly sit on the ground in a park and have a picnic. I mean you can but it’s not as comfortable and requires many, many layers. Last month, I tasked my fiancé with finding us a date idea. Not only did he come up with one, he came up with two and we did them both!
I hereby give you permission to copy us. When you can.
First, we went to The Vessel in Hudson Yards.
Started from the bottom…
It was VERY windy
Gorgeous view of Hudson Yards from outside (Covid-safe)
Pros: This is the perfect pandemic date. It’s outside, beautiful, and it’s crowd-controlled because you need a ticket.
Cons: You need to reserve a ticket online and there is a limited amount. Also, in case you don’t know what it is, it’s a spiral staircase. It’s comprised of “154 intricately interconnecting flights of stairs — almost 2,500 individual steps and 80 landings.” This is only a con because I did this after leg day and had already walked 15,000 steps when I was presented with this date night. Thankfully, we paused a LOT to take photos.
Pro: Amazing views of the river and the city. Really, it’s breathtaking. Also, it’s free! You only have to pay if you want a “flex” ticket, meaning you can arrive any time during the day. Otherwise you’re assigned a time slot.
Cons: It’s actually closed at the moment due to some sad events and they are not sure when it will open again.
This was a perfect date in my opinion because it was an “experience” and it was something brand new. I love experiencing things together for the first time. I feel like that’s the most meaningful and fun date, and if you ever go back, you always think about the first time you went.
I had never been to The Vessel before, and I hadn’t even been to Hudson Yards! Hudson Yards is just a very pretty indoor mall. Since we are trying to avoid indoor anything, we didn’t go inside. But it looked beautiful lit up in Christmas lights. I assume the lights were for Christmas but maybe it’s a year-round thing? You’ll have to go and tell me.
I Spy Hudson Yards
Cute.
VERY cool inside view.
See the Empire State Building behind us?
They were even playing the Gator game on the big screen outside!
For Part 2 of our date night, we walked from Hudson Yards to Bryant Park. This walk in and of itself could have been part of the date night, too. It was a 35-minute walk, and we walked by Macy’s to see it lit up for the holidays. There is something so magical about NYC in December. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.
When we got to Bryant Park, I was on the hunt for ice cream I saw on Instagram. Yes, it was about 30 degrees with 40 mph wind gusts (those were a little scary on the top of the Vessel). But I am a firm believer that there is no such thing as “bad weather for ice cream.” Anyway, there were supposed to be these churro cone ice cream thingies called chimneys or something. We did not find them. But it was still magical. There were people skating on the ice rink, and despite being a little too crowded for my liking, I’m happy to say almost EVERYONE was wearing a mask correctly. Over mouth and nose, y’all. Come on. We’ve been doing this for 9 months now, I know you know.
We didn’t ice skate but we did people-watch.
Covid Cages
At the Vessel, people kept taking their masks off to take photos, and there was way less of that at Bryant Park. They did have “igloos” meant for Covid safety, or as Chris called them, Covid Cages. Pretty much virus incubators. People seemed pretty thrilled to get in them, though. Count me out.
After some more walking around, we grabbed an Uber (cracked windows) and headed back home.
10/10 for this date. It was outside, fun, festive, and safe. Or at least, as safe as it gets if you leave the house in a big city. Plus, it was FREE and we were home by 8 pm to cook dinner and drink wine in the living room. Have you guys been to The Vessel? Did you find the mystery churro ice cream cones? Tell me what you thought!
It’s the most wonderful timeeee of the yearrrr. FALSE. It’s the most STRESSFUL time. Every year, I agonize over holiday tips. Who needs one? Who doesn’t “need” one but deserves one? How much? Do I pool the money? Or do individual gifts? How much did I give last year?
This year is even worse! Everyone is struggling and I am lucky enough to still have a job, all of my family members are healthy, and I even got promoted this year (humble brag). So I’m feeling pretty fortunate. But how does that translate into tips? This is, in my opinion, one of the worst parts of being an adult, right after laundry and understanding the difference between a W2 and a W9.
For tips, first, I need to decide who gets them. You’d think this would be a simple process, but it’s not. Growing up, I remember my mom always left tips for the postman. He even would leave an envelope for us so we didn’t forget. But now, I work a full-time job and if I ever see the mailman/mailwoman, it’s in passing, and they don’t even know which apartment I belong to. I’m one of many little boxes on a wall. Also, they usually have airpods in, and I’ve never had a conversation with them. It’s not like the friendly neighborhood suburban mailmen who actually walk up to your physical front door. But… they’re working so hard this year. And the absentee ballots!! I’m so thankful to USPS!
The guy who REALLY deserves the cold hard cash is the Amazon delivery guy. We get approximately 7 packages a week. Yes, you read that right, at least one per day. But it’s not like we have a relationship with the UPS guy. This is NYC. Again, the packages just sort of magically show up here while I’m working.
Now let’s talk about the people who I actually come face to face with. During Covid, there are VERY few of these people, and even so it’s mask to mask, but let’s say pandemic aside, who else provides services for me that I should tip.
Our cleaning person. This is a no-brainer. She definitely gets a holiday tip. But how much? She didn’t clean for us for 8 months this year. I sent her money periodically while we were out of state, but I know she’s hurting and I’m sure a lot of her clients have discontinued her service. We have her back now (our chore chart didn’t work, more on that another time), but she’s only been back for 2 weeks. And then the even harder question: how much do we give? The amount we pay for one cleaning? Like a bonus? Or a lump sum $100. Or more? This is a more difficult tip to give because it’s usually in person. Or should I do it by Venmo so I don’t need to see her face? Is that cowardly? I have tried googling these answers, by the way, but there does not seem to be a consensus.
There are other people I may tip on a normal year, a hairstylist, manicurist (before I did my own!), even a dry cleaner, but this year, I haven’t really seen any of those people.
In NYC, there is only one group of people who ALWAYS gets tips: building staff. Doormen, concierges, porters, superintendents. They always send around a happy holiday card to remind us of their names so we don’t forget them. Also, they’re the ones dealing with our Amazon dependency. And this year, they are putting their health and safety in jeopardy every day commuting to our building, interacting with 3,000 Doordash delivery men, and with idiots who take their masks down in the lobby.
BUT HOW MUCH?? When we lived on 96th Street, we had a building staff of 8. We gave $50/person. That’s $400. Split between two people, it was reasonable. But would we have given the same amount if we lived alone? When I lived in that same building as a poor law student with 3 roommates, I think we each gave $50 (total of $200 for the apartment). Whether I gave $400 or $200, we were barely acknowledged for our card.
But in our building now? We have 6 people, and again the past two years we have given $50/person and we have been treated like KINGS. A majority of our building now is rent controlled, so I think it’s abnormal for people to give that much. It was SO appreciated. I almost felt bad. If we could afford $400 in the other building, should we have given the same here? How do you split that by 6 evenly? Should it be an amount by person?
And more importantly, do you give the same amount each year? There is a such thing as inflation. And this year, as I said, we are more fortunate than many others. Do we adjust for that? Our expenses have decreased. Well, Chris got me a ring so I should say my expenses have decreased. And the final question, do we put cash in an envelope for everyone? Or do we split it up into individual envelopes? It probably appears nicer together because the amount it higher, but is that the point? Shouldn’t it be personalized?
You can probably tell by the amount of question marks in this blog post (28) that I do NOT have any of the answers. How do you guys dole out holiday tips? Any tips, pun intended, are appreciated.
I ran a freaking MARATHON. Do you know how long that is??? 26.2 miles. I literally ran from Staten Island, through Brooklyn, into Queens, into Manhattan, into the Bronx, and then BACK into Manhattan. On my own two feet. And yes, I am pretty damn proud of myself. And the only thing that matters is that I FINISHED! And also I got a pretty SWEET medal shaped like an apple.
When I ran my half marathon back in 2017, I took you mile by mile stream of
consciousness through the course with me. Since this course was twice as long,
I’m going to save that for a second installation. For this one, I want to tell
you all about what went WRONG for this race. Then I will tell you guys what went
RIGHT. And then next week, I will take you through my thoughts as I made my way
from Staten Island, allllll the way back to my home borough.
I told you
guys a little bit about my training back in mid-September, and after that
day, things went a little downhill. Almost everyone who runs a marathon will
tell you that they didn’t have the perfect training, so I wasn’t incredibly
worried about it, but I was a little. Here’s what happened. First of all, I
started traveling a lot. I traveled to Paris and had no problem keeping up with
some training because my mileage was low then. But according to my training
schedule, I was supposed to run 18 miles one Saturday while I was on vacation
in Greece, and I just knew that wouldn’t happen. So instead, I shifted that run
a week early, and hoped to do a 20-mile run when I came back from vacation. I
successfully completed the 18-mile run in Central Park (BRUTAL), and in the
process, I hurt my foot. I can’t say for sure what I did to it, because I was
too scared to go to a doctor. I took my talents to WebMD, and I was convinced I
had a stress fracture. So, I did what anyone does, I decided to take a week off
from running, and just walk 20,000 steps/day in Greece. I’m sure that is what
any doctor would have recommended…. NOT! Anyway, when I actually got back to
the States, I decided not to run the 20-miler at all, and to instead focus on
getting to the start line with healthy limbs. This was Strike 1 to my
well-intentioned training plan. It meant that I’d have to find 8.2 additional
miles within myself during the marathon to take me from my longest run of my
life (18 miles) to the marathon finish line. However, I was feeling good, and
my foot pain cleared up significantly to the point where I was still able to do
a 10-mile training run 2 weeks before the race with the NY Flyers, which let me
see the last 10 miles of the marathon course and try to internalize it.
Everything was going semi-according to plan.
Strike 2 came
the week before the marathon. I knew I had to travel to California for work
during the Fall, but I was presented with only two options. Either the week
before the marathon, or the day after. I knew that the worst possible thing for
recovery was sitting still. And even worse, to be cramped in a small space
(HELLOO LONGLEGSbigcity) for 6 hours. I thought I was being smart by picking to
travel the week before the race. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a
bad idea as well. Not only did it throw off my sleep schedule, you guessed it,
as one does when they travel across the country and back within a 48 hour
period, I got sick. Very sick. I actually made a doctor’s appointment from the
airport in LA and went there directly after my flight. Ok, not directly, I
showered first because I am not gross.
Anyway, I
guess the travel and the sickness count as strikes 2 and 3. The good news was
that I did not have strep, which is what I predicted. The bad news was that
since it was not strep, there were no antibiotics to help me, and the doctor
said it was likely to get worse before it got better. And it did. I spent the
next 2 days trying to get better. I called out of work, overdosed on Mucinex,
finished an entire bottle of airborne gummies, took multi-vitamins, went to
Juice Generation and maxed out on fruits and veggies and ginger, and still yet,
I woke up Sunday very sick. But not running was not an option, so I
packed Dayquil in my race bag, and I headed to the start village anyway.
Now guys, I
already started this blog by saying I RAN A FREAKING MARATHON, so obviously
some things had to go right, right? Hell yea. A lot went right. First of all, I
FINISHED THE FREAKING MARATHON!!!! Did I say that yet?
Another thing
that went right were my friends in the start village. I was a little nervous
and loopy from my Dayquil, and I took the ferry to Staten Island alone. I was
afraid I wouldn’t find my friends, so I brought a magazine for my 3-hour wait
until my start time, but soon enough, I found two of my friends who were in the
same corral as me, and we hung out and chatted so my nerves couldn’t kick in. They
kept me company in long port-o-potty lines, and we even went to the “therapy
dog” section of the village to hang out with some doggies. I don’t love animals,
but it was distracting and that’s all I needed. Of utmost importance – my
friend’s friend brought extra body glide! I thanked him profusely later, as I
watched person after person go to the med-tents for Vaseline popsicle sticks
they were handing out for chafing purposes and I was a-o-k.
Keeping warm in the start village
Group Pic!
I don’t love dogs, but the distraction was nice.
Shedded our layers, ready to run for hours, starting with the Verrazano behind us!
Speaking of
med tents – I didn’t need them AT ALL! I have been plagued with injury after
injury for the past few years. Ankles, knees, hips – you name it, I had it. The
fact that I did not have to stop once for help was a feat in and of itself. My
left ankle flared up a bit and I sprayed it with some Biofreeze at mile 20, but
it was definitely still runnable. I think my sickness was a blessing in
disguise here. I was so distracted by my runny nose and debilitating cough that
I was barely focusing on my legs at all!
This was basically me the whole race. When I wasn’t coughing.
Now about the
MOST important thing that went right: the spectators!! I had heard that from
many runners throughout my years, that the NYC Marathon is like no other
because the crowds are great, and everyone absolutely proved it to me. The main
thing I knew I wanted to do from my years of cheering for the marathon, was to
put my name on my shirt. So I got my iron-on letters from the same Etsy shop
where I ordered my iron-on for the half marathon (for that race, I put “I Hate
Running”) and I put EMILY emblazoned on the front, and “Braid in Manhattan” on
the back. The crowd delivered. From the second I stepped foot in Brooklyn, I
heard “WELCOME TO BROOKLYN EMILY!” And for the next 25 miles, people cheered me
on when I needed it the most. The spectators were electrifying, and they were
there the ENTIRE time. (Except for the Chasidic community in Brooklyn, but
that’s for the next post.) By mile 25, every time someone said “Emily, you are
SO CLOSE!” I knew I could pick it up to a jog again and bring it home. I
actually increased my speed the last two miles because of the morale boost from
the random strangers! It was awesome.
Taken by a friend/spectator/morale-booster
Show off them braidz!
And last but
CERTAINLY not least, extra shout-outs go to the spectators I actually DID know
– my friends and family. Starting at mile 4, I knew people along the racecourse
at almost every other mile. It gave me something to look forward to, an excuse
to stop for selfies (and cough breaks), and in some cases, a running buddy. At
mile 4, I saw my first coworker. In an office of only 10 full-time employees, 3
of them came out to cheer separately! At miles 4, 8 and 25, I had the support
of my office. And I know Brooklyn is meant to have great crowds and energy, but
the energy you get from people you actually know is different. I was so lucky
that my crew from the gym where I teach came out to cheer for me, as well! I
saw 4 different people from my spin classes, and I was able to stop and say hi
before I was on my way again. It was the first time I was thankful to teach in
a different borough from where I lived. And then as I was about to go into
Queens, I had a group with my sister, her husband, his brother, and they were
cheering and screaming and even got a short video of me running up to them!
Best part about friends on the sidelines: extra water and TISSUES
Sister-Sister!!
When I hit
Manhattan, it felt like I knew people every other block. First there was a
group of 17 people (SEVENTEEN!!!) at 64th street. They had signs and
they were cheering so loud, I heard people near them asking if I was a
celebrity! And my sweet boyfriend brought a shirt for me to change into, which
I originally planned to do, but decided I was too exhausted. Then 4 blocks later,
I saw more friends and my sister AGAIN! The MTA clearly travels faster than my
feet. It was so awesome to see my sister two times. I saw some other spectators
multiple times, as well! It helped my morale because I was thinking… if these
people are so dedicated to cheer me on throughout this race, then I better give
them what they’re looking for and keep chugging along!
10 blocks
later, I saw another friend and her baby out to cheer for me some more. And 10
blocks later, there was a huge University of Florida Gotham Gators cheer squad
with a sign for me! I stopped for a few chomps and then kept chugging along. I
won’t take you mile by mile, because I already promised that would be another post
entirely, but I do want to mention my final push, helped specifically by
another friend of mine. I saw her at mile 19, and she told me she’d catch me
again at mile 22. She didn’t know at the time how important that would be for
me. By mile 20, I was coughing a LOT. It was taking so much energy for me just
to breathe that running was getting extra tough. When I saw my friend at 22, I
was on the struggle bus FOR REAL. I didn’t even try to pretend I was running
when I saw her. I solely walked up to her, coughing all the while. She saw my
struggle and hopped right into the racecourse, holding her neon pink poster
board and everything. She literally ran the entire mile 22 with me, stopping to
walk when I needed coughing breaks, and joking with me to keep me laughing. She
even turned on Instagram Live at one point, joking with me about the bleeding-nipple-chafing
she had witnessed, which kept me laughing through the coughs. Once we hit mile
23 and I knew I had “only” a 5K to go, she told me to run like I trained and that
she knew I could finish strong. I don’t know how I would have gotten through
that mile without her!
Some of the group of 17
More of the 17, including my sweet emoji BF
Gym buddies!
More of the YMCA Crew in Brooklyn
The second time I saw my sister! Much sweatier than the first time.
Old gym friends further in Manhattan
More friends
Coworkers!
GO GATORS!
The energy and
support I received all day was just unbelievable. I had people tracking me from
Florida, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and even Singapore. By the time I turned my
phone on (it died at the finish line), I had 78 text messages, 3 Facebook
messages, and 26 Instagram DMs. I was BLOWN away. When I got home, my sweet boyfriend
presented me with flowers, and even more romantically, with 2 bags of ice. He
helped me into an ice bath and brought me water and more meds while I sat in
it.
When I saw my
friend the night of the marathon, she asked me if I loved it. The answer is
pretty simple: no. I don’t love running and running 26.2 miles is absolutely
torturous. HOWEVER, I feel incredibly accomplished and I’m so happy I did it.
People keep asking me if I plan on running it again and the truth is, I think
once is enough for me. But there is a small part of me that wonders what I
could have done if I had gotten to 20 miles in training, and if I hadn’t
traveled the week before, and if I hadn’t been incredibly sick. And as the days
pass and my legs feel normal again… I am thinking maybe I could try again??? I
am currently signed up for the lottery for the 2020 marathon. I have lost the
lottery 5 times before but if it’s meant to be…
Saturday night I went to see Hamilton. If you’ve been living
under a rock and you haven’t heard of it, it’s a musical on Broadway. According
to Wikipedia, “in
2016, Hamilton received a record-setting 16 Tony nominations, winning 11,
including Best Musical, and was also the recipient of the 2016 Grammy Award for
Best Musical Theater Album and the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.” So yeah, it’s
sort of a big deal. And since it’s such a big deal it’s semi-impossible to get
tickets. For example, on Ticketmaster right now, the cheapest seat is $448. Per
person.
To be honest, there are some serious Hamilton-heads out
there who know every single lyric and even go to themed-spin classes with the
songs. I am not one of them. Or I wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t even
know any of the music before this weekend. Except the one song performed on the Tony’s.
I always knew I wouldn’t have the money to go to see it on Broadway so I
figured, why bother trying to know the songs?
My best friend was in town over the weekend from Seattle
because her boyfriend bought tickets to Hamilton on presale OVER A YEAR AGO. He
flew from Seattle to see it! He had 4 tickets, and at the last minute, one of
the people going to the show canceled. I told him I would advertise the ticket
on my Facebook so he wouldn’t lose the money. My brother, the protagonist of
this whole story, LOVES Hamilton. He has seen it on tour, but never in NYC. He saw
my Facebook status and texted me asking why I wasn’t going. He said “do you
know the music? Is money the only thing holding you back?” He knows my student loan
situation. I was about to text him back when I heard phone “CHA-CHING!” and
I saw that he Venmo-ed me the money for the ticket!! I texted him back my
extreme gratitude and deleted my Facebook post advertising it to anyone else –
I WAS GOING!
HE’S THE BEST!!
I called my brother, so he could tell me his favorite songs,
and I got to listening! I had 24 hours to learn a VERY
LONG soundtrack. Literally, there are 46 songs. I listened to the songs all
day Saturday and by the evening, I had a better idea of what would go on. The
play was LONG. But it didn’t seem like it! The lyrics are fast, since most of
the songs are rapped, and my brother had warned me I would probably not
understand all of the lyrics. However, maybe it’s the decades of listening to
rap, but I understood a lot of it! The music is super catchy and I’ve been listening
to it ever since.
Mandatory pre-show marquee pic!
Playbill pic.
THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS!
In our seats waiting for an amazing show!
Besties on Broadway.
The coolest part of the story, if this isn’t cool enough
already, is that my best friend’s boyfriend and his brother, went to school
with the musical director, Kurt
Crowley. They’re from Helena, Montana, and not too many people are from
there, so they kept in touch. Kurt stayed after the show and let us onto the
stage to talk with us about the show, and to take photos. There were actors
from the show all around us on stage signing Playbills, but since I didn’t know
the cast well, I didn’t ask for any signatures. We did get some awesome pics,
though! And it’s an amazing experience to be on a Broadway stage, looking out
at the theater; it’s not as big as you’d think! We took some more photos, and
then left. We hadn’t realized that more than 3 hours had passed! A testament to
a great show is that there can be nearly three hours of FAST speaking, and it
seems quick.
Full cast post-show, asking for donations for something (I wasn’t paying attention when they started asking for more money)
I feel the need to end this post with some serious cliché’s –
it was such an incredible experience to be IN THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENED IN THE
GREATEST CITY IN THE WORLD! I recommend it to anyone who has the money, or a
SUPER SWEET BROTHER with the funds. THANK YOU AGAIN, BABY BRO!
When you think of the New York nightmare, many things may come to mind: Losing your monthly MetroCard the day after you buy it, being late to an interview and the next train is in 16 minutes, going into the hottest subway car without AC in mid-August, moving to a great apartment in Williamsburg and finding out the next day that the L is going to stop running there for 7 months to a year… and those are all just nightmares related to the subway! But everyone can agree that the absolute worst fear of every New York Resident is one, four-millimeter insect: the bed bug.
First, a history. A few weeks ago, my sweet emoji boyfriend got a bug bite on his wrist. He decided it was different than any other bug bite because it itched so much. So in the middle of a work day, he texted me “I think we have bed bugs.” I have a visceral fear of any bug, not to mention the ones that may live inside my bed, so of course, I FREAKED OUT. I told him he should never mention the B-word again, especially when I was at work and there was nothing I could do about. I also told him that he only had one bug bite on his arm and he needed to “take a chill pill” and realize it was probably a mosquito bite. (I’m a very sweet and kind girlfriend, clearly.) Emoji-bf checked the bed, and he found nothing.
Fast-forward five days, he woke up and he had three bug bites, one of which was on the top of his leg, where his boxers cover. He INSISTED now that we had bed bugs. I was definitely more swayed, since bed bugs tend to bite in a line*, and now he had more than one. (*Sidenote: I know more about bed bugs now, like their biting pattern, than I EVER wanted to know.) At this point, I was sufficiently scared, and I texted the super to get the exterminator in the house. The exterminator came, took apart the bed, turned the couch upside-down, and found nothing.
My bf was pissed and itchy, though. So, we switched the sheets to be safe. We threw out our rug in the bedroom after shaking it out into the bathtub and finding nothing. We took our down comforter to the dry cleaners. We got bed bug glue traps. We got supersonic plug-in bug killers. We got a massive bug trapper with black light. But still… nothing. And I mean NOTHING. I made him check the traps every day because I was terrified of seeing one, and there was not a single one.
Fast-forward 2 days, let me set the scene. Sunday morning, 6 am. I woke up because every light was on our room. I heard my bf packing a bag, throwing things in from his closet.
Me, sleepily: “Are you running away from home?”
Him, strangely: “No, I just figured I would go shower at Equinox, and go to my office.”
Me, confused: “You do know it’s Sunday?”
Him, still strangely: “Yes, um, I’ll be back later.”
Me, very tired: “Ok, well if you’re going to keep the lights on, can you get me an eye mask? I don’t have to be up for 2 more hours.”
Him, hesitantly holding the eye mask and not giving it to me: “Well… I’m not sure if I should tell you this or not but… I found one. I found a bed bug.”
Me, jumping out of bed: “Are you sure? Where? Are you really sure? What did it look like? How many? Are you SURE?”
Him: “Yes, I’m sure. It was ON me. And I got a video. Incontrovertible evidence.”
Me: “That’s a big word for a Sunday morning at 6 am. But let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Well guys, it was Sunday, so unfortunately that meant the exterminators don’t work. Fun fact. But I felt like I had been evicted from my home. I packed a bag for the day, and went with Emoji-bf to his office to wait until I had to teach my Spin class. Then I carefully taught my class and did not put my belongings near anyone or touch anything besides my own bike. I felt like I had an STD. I finished class and began texting and telling anyone I had come in contact with in the previous two weeks, or anyone who had contact with my house. My bf group-texted my super and me with the video of the bug, which I refused to watch. I mentally prepared myself for weeks and months of sleep filled with bug nightmares. I evacuated my house and walked around Central Park for hours. I walked 30,769 steps that day. That’s 14 miles. But who’s counting?
Beautiful view, terrible circumstances.
Thankfully, our super lives in the apartment below us, and he was equally as terrified as we were. He insisted that the exterminator checked on Friday and found nothing. And we insisted that we believed him, but also directed him to watch the video of incontrovertible evidence. Our super directed us to put every piece of fabric: bedding, curtains, towels, pillows, sheets, clothing, into plastic bags and to seal them. He gave us 40 bags, and we used them all.
Every fabric in our house… in bags.
Me: sitting on the kitchen (the only safe space) while waiting for the exterminator.
At first, I think my bf took the video just to prove the existence of the bug to me, but it came in handy. The super made an appointment for an exterminator for the next day, at which time I showed the video yet again (without ever watching it, still terrified), and he confirmed that it was, in fact, a bed bug. ONE. SINGULAR. BUG. Again, he insisted that he had been there on Friday and had not seen anything, but “better safe than sorry.” I cannot tell you how many times I have uttered that phrase in the past two weeks. “Do we need to worry about our shoes?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Should we throw out our hangers?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Do we need to spray our electronics?” “Can’t do that, but you should vacuum any small openings just in case.” “Better safe than sorry!”
The exterminator answered my questions for approximately 45 minutes, and then proceeded to put on a massive HAZMAT-type suit to begin the spraying process. I wish I took a photo of him, but it seemed weird. He kept trying to tell me stories of “worse situations” he had seen, and I kept cutting him off. Example:
Exterminator: “This one time, I was at a house with a massive infestation (worst word ever when hearing BB stories) and when I took the mattress off…”
Me: “PLEASE STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I BELIEVE YOU BUT I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.”
Anyway, he sprayed the house and instructed us not to come back for at least 4 hours. “6 hours if you can, better safe than sorry!”
I didn’t come back for 10 hours. That night, our super kept the laundry room open for us overnight so we could run every fabric in our house through the dryer. He let us do it at night because we could use all of the machines, and also because he didn’t want anyone else in the building to know about the bug and cause mass hysteria.
*Fun Bed Bug Fact!* They don’t die in water, but they die in heat. You must high-heat or steam everything to kill them. We did so much drying and plastic bag carrying. We learned the perfect way to open plastic bags directly into dryers to make sure that no bed bugs fall on the floor. Then we re-bagged everything into NEW plastic bags, because the exterminator was coming BACK! A second, bonus round of spraying was included in our “treatment” for a week later. We were told to separate one bag each of clothes we would need for the next two weeks, and to keep the other things sealed in bags until the ordeal was over so we didn’t have to re-dry everything a second time. We finally finished at 1 am, and thankfully, my bf had gotten us a hotel room on the next block because I couldn’t stand one more day without sleep. Then again, who knows if hotel beds in NYC are any better, bed-bug-wise…
SO. MUCH. LAUNDRY. (and note the Amazon Now bags full of detergent.
2 weeks later, I can say with absolute certainty that I have NEVER done so much laundry in my LIFE. In fact, as I sit here in my living room on my laptop that came out of a sealed trash bag, looking at the remaining 4 plastic bags of things that I haven’t put away yet because I am waiting for our new hangers to come from Amazon, I can tell you that I have never experienced anything so terrible. I am sitting on my couch in a tank top, fearing for my arms and fearing that there may be any bugs left. Every night, I go to sleep fearing that maybe there was one more. Maybe it was hiding. We bought special bed bug protectors that we zipped our mattress and box spring in and we zip-tied them shut. I have changed our sheets 5 times in the past 2.5 weeks. I am still working on putting clothes back in my dresser from bags, boxes, and laundry bags.
Did I mention the best part??? THE EXTERMINATOR DIDN’T FIND ANY OTHER BUGS. NONE. THERE WAS JUST ONE. He told me when he first came to the house that it was “very common” for there to be one or two and no more, but, “better safe than sorry!” He said you can pick one up on clothes from buses, trains, subways, taxis, Ubers, movie theaters, or from other people rubbing against you. He said it could come from anyone, you, your spouse, your friends, your cleaning lady. He said it could come from bags put on the floor, bags put near other bags, from luggage, from airports or from hotels. Basically, NO ONE IS SAFE AND NOWHERE IS SAFE. And if that doesn’t make you fear for your life and the safety of your home, I don’t know what will. If you guys wake up with nightmares of bed bugs tomorrow, let me know. And take some solace in the fact that I probably woke up from them as well.
I am 3 weeks post-ankle-sprain, and I am hoping to run my FINAL race of the 9+1 this Saturday. It has been a very long road to recovery, and I have not passed the proverbial finish line yet. Recovering from an injury in New York City has its own set of unique obstacles, just like being Sick in the City. Specifically, it’s an issue because we are required to be on our feet walking everywhere we go. Accordingly, it is more difficult to recover, and more difficult to live a normal life. I compiled a short list of my gimp-difficulties below.
STAIRS. Y’all, I never realized how many stairs I do in a day. Ok, I guess I did realize because my fitbit tells me, but it’s a LOT!! This particular injury made it relatively feasible to go UP stairs, but nearly impossible to go DOWN. I dare you to attempt taking the stairs down to the subway by slowly walking down each stair with both feet, and holding onto the railing, in rush hour. I have heard some nasty comments in my 8 years in New York, but nothing like when you get in the way of a person trying to run for the subway. Particularly when you appear to be a young, healthy person.
STANDING. There is a lot of standing. Especially when waiting for the subway. As you probably know from either the news, or personal experience, or my multiple blogs complaining about the MTA, the trains in New York are in unusually terrible shape, and it is common to wait 10-12 minutes for a train, especially at night. When standing is difficult, and the subway walls are covered in all sorts of bodily fluids, it becomes necessary to balance on one leg for long periods of time. Great balance work, but also V annoying.
SUBWAY BALANCING. This is an offshoot of the previous bullet point, but it is not common for a person to give up their seat for a seemingly healthy young person. Therefore, you must stand, or in my case, balance on one leg. I have found a few tricks for this, like for example, facing the direction the train is going, instead of sideways. My forward-backward balance is better on one leg. Also, I’m always ready to lose my balance a few times. I’m ready to receive more ugly looks and comments directed at my gimp self. #ShitHappens #ShittyPeopleHappen #NewYorkProblems
HEAT! This week has cooled down a bit, but last week’s triple-digit temperatures did NOT help my healing. The hotter it was, the more my ankle swelled and became more uncomfortable. No amount of icing helps when you leave your apartment and enter the almighty depths of Hades, right outside your front door.
RUNNING. I know what you’re thinking: “Why are you running if your ankle is busted?” I’m not talking about running for exercise, I’m talking about running out of necessity. Again, I didn’t realize how often I did this until I was unable to. There’s the quick “oh shit, I’m in the crosswalk and a cab is going to run me over if I don’t shuffle faster” run, or there’s the “I’m going to miss the bus that is one block away and then I’ll have to wait 20 more minutes” run. There is a lot of mandatory running.
Basically, it’s super hard to live in a city that never sleeps and never stops running when you’re unable to run. Here’s hoping I don’t fall in another pothole in the near future. Meanwhile, I hope you had stock in CVS because I have purchased at least 4 ankle braces from there. Am I missing anything on this list?
Recently, there have been so many problems with the MTA and public transit that I don’t even feel like talking about it anymore. Check my twitter, it’s littered with tweets about the terrible trains. Examples:
Also, if you missed my post about the non-air-conditioned subway of death, check it out. Anyway, enough about the actual trains, for today, I’d like to talk about the PEOPLE I hate on the subway and in the subway station. I try not to do too many “list” posts, but it is required here. This is in no way an exhaustive list; I hate a lot more people.
People who don’t know how to use a Metrocard. Fine, I hate tourists, you caught me. But is it really that hard? Not too fast, not too slow, swipe it just right. It’s like the Goldilocks of the metrocard swipe. And for those of you who swipe the card with the magnetic strip up?? I have no words. Have you ever used a credit card? A debit card? A food stamps card? What good will it do if the magnetic strip is NOT IN THE READER?! If you tried twice and you haven’t figured it out, step out of the way, I’ve got places to be!
People asking for money. I could do a whole post on this one, but I’ll start with my least two favorite categories:
Special category of hatred: SHOWTIME. We know it, we’ve seen it; even the MTA has ads that try to combat these juvenile hooligans that believe the subway is their training center for acrobatics. I happen to like my eyes. Both of them. My nose too. I’d like to keep them intact, and your flying cartwheels are making me think I will not keep them that way.
Special category of hatred: man with a drum. This guy pulls out a massive drum, sets it on the floor and starts to retell some long history of drumming. Do I care? No. Has the long history changed since last week? Also no. Here’s the main problem with this particular busker, the drum is LOUD and it shakes the ground! I am here trying to read after a 12 hour day and I really do not need to have my head literally pulsating with each of his drum beats.
People who put a cigarette behind their ear the minute the train pulls into the station. I do not need to see that advertised. Also, you’re a bad influence for the children. There are a lot more fun ways to die than self-induced lung cancer via cigarettes. Is it that difficult to wait 2 full minutes until you exit the train and go up the stairs? Or will it take you 4 minutes to ascend due to decreased lung capacity? Either way, just wait. And while you’re at it, pull up an old D.A.R.E. commercial on Youtube.
Manspreaders. You have something between your legs. We get it.
Smelly People. Do I really need to elaborate here? Shower and WEAR DEODORANT. It’s really that simple. Obviously I know there is nothing you can do about sweating. It’s 100+ degrees outside. It happens. But please do the rest of your fellow commuters a favor and shower daily. It should be a prerequisite before the subway turnstile. Not sure who would want the job of sniffer enforcer though…
People who try to get into the subway car before letting people out. I know, I know, you don’t want to miss your train. But where do you think you’re going to stand if you don’t let people off? Common courtesy here. And here’s a little known fact: they actually won’t leave the station if you’re still boarding the train. This is not Japan. Calm down.
People with baby strollers that are so large I can fit in them. Y’all. I am 5’11” and I should not be able to fit in your stroller. If your baby needs a stroller, they should be small enough that your stroller need not take up half of the car. If you can afford a $3,000 baby-mobile/miniature car, then grab a cab. Did you run out of money buying the stroller? Then trade it in. I hear ebay has a great black market.
People whose loose hair touches me. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. I have literally offered someone a hair tie before. It is JULY for god’s sake. Please, just tie it up. I am so happy for you that you took your biotin and niacin and your hair is silky smooth, but GET IT OFF OF ME. It is sticking to my sweaty arms and that is not fun for either of us.
That is my non-exhaustive list for now. I have many more people I hate, it depends on the day. Do you have any other particular categories you’d like to hear my thoughts on? Let me know below in the comments.
It’s that time again. Every year, 9 days after my birthday, is my law school graduation anniversary. Ironically, it’s the day after D-Day. Now, it may be a bit dramatic to compare my freedom from law to the freedom of the world and rescue by the Allied Forces, but whatevs. It’s the same for me.
If you read my post last year about being a Recovering Attorney, you’d know I was only working in law for 11 months, even though it felt like much longer. I have finally gotten to a point in my life where I don’t mention being a lawyer when I introduce myself, or when people ask me what I do for a living. Let’s be honest, in New York, it’s the first question out of anyone’s mouth after “What’s your name?” New Yorkers love to ask questions, and in general, we are more brutally honest than in other cities. It is not uncommon to hear 20 people at a party boasting about how they can’t afford their rent. They include figures about their electricity bill, their broker’s fee, everything.
I used to feel like I needed to mention I “used to be a lawyer” when asked what I did for a living. I stopped mentioning it for a few reasons. First of all, the longer ago I quit, the more fake it felt to mention it. I only practiced law in earnest for under a year, so a year after I quit, it seemed silly to mention it. And if you add in the three years I was in school, it was still only 4 years total. I felt it was time to stop mentioning it. But for a while, I still did. If you recall from my blog last year, there are only two good things about being a lawyer: the money, and saying you’re a lawyer. I had already given up the mulah (more on that later), and I guess I wasn’t ready to give up the “prestige” that comes with the title.
Despite my conscious decision to stop mentioning my history as an attorney, it’s often an inevitable topic because it’s tied to so many other questions: How did you end up working for rabbis? Why did you move to New York? Why did you live in Brooklyn before Manhattan? Etc. etc. etc. All answers lead back to law school and lawyering. But unfortunately, the questions don’t end there. I told you, New Yorkers love intrusive questions. Inevitably, once I tell someone I used to be a lawyer, it leads to more questions. For my 5-year-law-iversary, (or 4-year-non-law-iversary), I will tackle some of the FAQ’s I receive. I’m really writing this blog for my future self. In the future, when people ask me unending questions, I’ll just give them this URL.
Really? You used to be a lawyer?
For some reason, this is always the first question. Do people think I’m lying? Is this something funny that people do? Do they think Ashton Kutcher is going to come out and say “JK Emily is Punking You?” I have no clue. I always find this a strange question. I guess some people find it unbelievable. The funny part about people thinking it is unbelievable, is that it’s actually quite common. I have read many times that close to 40% of people with law degrees do not practice law. In fact, some people pair this question right afterward with the statement that they know another person who also quit law.
Plainly speaking, I am not alone. And yet people always ask me this question. Maybe it’s because my “personality” does not lend itself to being a good lawyer. I have heard this many times, too. I try not to be offended by that. What in the world does that mean? I’m not smart enough? That can’t be the case. I graduated law school in the top third of my class, I wrote on the top law journal, I took (and passed) two state Bar Exams… so what is it? When I try to rationalize this in my head, I decide to interpret it that I am too nice. Lawyers are mean, blood-sucking people. (Ok, I exaggerate slightly). This brings me to the second question I am always asked:
Why did you quit?
I could honestly write about this in a post itself. I’ll do a cursory list instead, and maybe fill it in for a 6-year anniversary post in 2019:
The people are mean.
I prefer fulfilling work.
I don’t like to work on the weekend.
I don’t like leaving work with the feeling that I’ve ruined people’s lives.
The people are really mean.
Even waterproof mascara runs after you have been crying for 8 hours.
What did your parents think when you told them you were going to quit?
This is sometimes the third question, but sometimes, it’s the first. I find this incredibly strange as a 31-year-old. Most parents had their own children by now. Some of them had careers they chose to quit for child-rearing purposes. So, shouldn’t they understand if I chose to quit, simply to go to another job? It’s not like I became a hobo. More importantly, aren’t parents supposed to say, “I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re happy?” In theory.
Two days ago, I had this conversation with a woman in her 50’s, and she said exactly that: “I know I’m supposed to say I only care if my kids are happy, but honestly, I don’t know what I’d think.” Here’s the deal: If you have a kid who is so miserable that she calls you crying every day, eventually you’ll agree that she needs to find another path. And that is exactly what happened with my parents. When I told them after 3 months that I was looking to leave the law firm, I don’t think they were thrilled. They gave me a lot of lines about “sticking it out,” and “I’m sure it will get better.” But as the months dragged on and I was more and more miserable, the tears increasing, the misery palpable, and the innumerable job applications unanswered, they finally came around. It didn’t take too many crying lunchtime calls before they realized it was probably best that I left. In fact, they even supported my idea of moving back in with them. It was not my first choice, but with my lease ending and my patience running low, it seemed like a good idea, even though I had not lived with them in 9 years.
It also helped that none of their money went into my law school education or housing, so they couldn’t say I squandered anything monetary. Sure, I squandered three years of my life, but NBD.
I should also note that I have very supportive parents. I’m not sure if every other parent out there would have been thrilled with my decision, but there also comes a point in your life where you have to make yourself happy first. I was lucky that in improving my own life, my parents had my back. Plus, now I work for rabbis. They couldn’t be more thrilled (and hysterical every time I bring up a Jewish holiday or Yiddish word).
I’m always completely honest on my blog, so I’ll admit I did not even make half of that as a lawyer. My salary was $84K (including a $1K bonus), and that was before taxes. So the reality is, I don’t make that much less now, percentage-wise. And if you were to divide that by hours worked, I make MUCH MORE now that I work in the non-profit sector (LOL again). So I do miss the money, but it wasn’t much money to begin with. It certainly was not enough money to buy my life and happiness. Don’t get me wrong, a certain amount of money may have bought me happiness, but $84K in NYC is chump change. #NotWorthIt
Also, since my student loans are income-based, I was paying more in loans. That brings me to the next question I’m often asked:
When will you pay off your loans?
GURL. I have no idea. The good news is, I now work in the non-profit sector, so I am a very eager participant in the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program. I wrote an entire blog SERIES about my loans last fall, and I wrote one post in the series about how I am paying them back. If I continue in non-profit, and if I continue to make income-based payments, the rest of my loans will be forgiven in 6 years and 2 months. If I do not continue in non-profit, or if the PSLF program is rescinded, that will not happen.
Also, please note that I said my loans will be forgiven, not that I will pay them off. The answer to when I will pay them off is: NEVER. They are literally growing every month. So yeah. Not happening anytime soon. Good news: they are discharged at death.
Do you miss it?
I already said this, but I did not enjoy anything about lawyering. I enjoyed SAYING I was a lawyer, but I never interacted with people because I was always at work, and the people at work already knew I was a lawyer, so no need to tell them. The other thing I sometimes miss is dressing up. It always felt like dress-up to me. But I did dry-cleaning last week for the first time in 3 years, and I definitely do not miss those bills.
Will you ever go back?
People ask me this all the time. And it’s usually the last question before I curtail the conversation with a swift and resounding NO. Last year, I recounted a conversation with my boyfriend about how likely it was that I return to law. I said 90% no, and he said he thought it would be 97% no. At this point, I think I am a 99% no. I would possibly go back in-house at a firm to do recruiting and career development, but not as a lawyer.
That covers most of the questions I receive. Do you have any others? I’m pretty much an open book at this point. The other question I get, obviously from people who don’t know me, is “should I go to law school.” I already covered this extensively, but, RUN. RUN AWAY FROM IT AS FAST AND AS FAR AS YOU CAN.
Have a great summer, and as you enjoy your time at the beach and in the park, think of all the lawyers slaving away in their recirculated air offices. Even on a Sunday.
