Your mom goes to college!

I just moved into the dorms in the Manhattan campus (I don't know why it's called a campus when it's just one building) and I must say, it's definitely better than living in Queens.

While in Queens I had: my own room, my own spacious closet, my own tv and cable, my own fridge, and 2 private bathrooms and a living room to share with my suitemates. But in Manhattan I have: a triple room, a tiny closet, public bathrooms for the entire floor, a tv for the entire floor because the rooms don't have cable connection (#$%^!!). Based on that alone, I pretty much traded down.

BUT. When I woke up this morning to go to work, I didn't have to stand around Union Turnpike to wait for the bus to take the subway. I just walked 2 blocks to the subway. (Well first I walked to McDonalds for breakfast because the dining hall wasn't open yet...) People were already out, walking to school, work, wherever. There was actual LIFE. And there's Battery Park and the Hudson River footsteps away.

AAAND... Queens is just shitty. Really.

If only I actually set up my schedules better last year so that I could have transferred campuses my junior year instead of senior year, gotten my single room....

Ahh I can't wait to have my own apartment! It probably won't be in TriBeCa, and it probably won't happen until a few years from now (crap, why couldn't I have taken a more practical major that will actually earn money), but aah!

I will miss dorming though. And I will miss college. But I'm looking forward to what's coming next. (That was trite, but whatever.)

I Love New York, I Hate the MTA (or, "Interns Can't Afford to Take Cabs to Work, Dammit")

So I woke up this morning at 5:40 (for the past week I've been waking up earlier than my alarm, that RARELY happened before. I can sleep like a baby) to thunder and rain against the airconditioner right by my head. Rainboots it is, I thought and went on with my normal morning routine.

By the time I was done showering, getting dressed, having breakfast, and catching up with the news (Okay, so there was no 2/3 service from this street to that street...blah blah I should be fine), it was HOT and sunny. No more rainboots. And thank god for that because if I had to wait at that train station with an extra inch of anything covering my skin, I would have just given up and gone home.

After a 30-minute, sweat-is-dripping-down-places-they-should-not-be-dripping wait in the train station, an hour-long train ride to Fulton St. which would normally take less than 30 minutes, and a 20-minute, $20 taxi ride from the Financial District to Rockefeller Center, I was at work, where surprisingly, people were already there, doing work. Where they came from and how they got there, I don't know.

Okay, so I understand there was a tornado in Bay Ridge. Flooding. But are you freaking telling me that bad weather is enough to stop the entire NYC transportation system? Really, MTA? Forget the Second Avenue line, how about repairing the entire system? How about doing your damn jobs better? It's not the most coveted job, but it's YOUR job.

As I was sitting in the cab, though, watching people walk or wait for buses/taxis, I finally understood why top execs and EICs had their own cars. It feels damn good not having to worry about your transportation. So you're using up gas and polluting the enivornment. At least you're not squished against strangers on a sloooow train that wouldn't even take you to Midtown.

Goodbye, Jane

Another women's magazine shut down today. Oy. So I'm praying even harder (to the magazine gods?) that I find myself employed (that is, at a publication that would suit me, not like, Maxim or Playboy, but hey, I'm not that picky) after getting this journalism degree. Oh well. At least I didn't intern for Jane. Maybe being too ditzy to proofread your resume can be a good thing.

Spain-sick?

Around this time last year, I was running around getting ready to go to Espana. And I think ever since this summer began, I've been missing the place oh so much. The food, the people, the atmosphere, the beach, the siestas! I miss it. Really.

Being at work all day, five days a week, really makes me miss the siestas and just the overall vacation-feel. The United States should implement siestas. How awesome would it be to be able to take off for a few hours to eat and nap? I'd love it. I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one. Add some free ice cream and I'm perfect. Or cocktails. Ice cream and cocktails. PERFECT!

(I wrote this at work, planning to publish it later that day, but of course, I didn't.)

Mommy issues

A few years ago, feeling like I would forever be single or incapable of having a stable, healthy relationship, I thought to myself, "If I'm not married by 30, I'm gonna adopt a baby." Because at 18, being 30 is like, old. Being 21 is not really that much older than 18, but the fact that 30 is less than a decade away seems to have changed my perspective.

I've been at my new internship for the past 2 or so weeks and I've learned more about babies and raising babies than I really care to know. And while looking at pictures of oh so adorable babies (I have a girl in a pink tutu posted on the side of my cubicle) makes me want an adorable one of my own, reading letters from stressed out moms and dads about pooping problems, which foods they should introduce to their child's diet, when the best time is for naps, and why their kids are touching themselves or other kids, makes me want to not have kids at all. Or at least, not any time soon. And by soon, I mean, definitely NOT by the time I'm 30.

I attended an editorial meeting earlier this week where the editor-in-chief talked about changes to the magazine, and the feminist/I-never-want-to-be-a-stay-at-home-mom in me seemed to wake up (whereas me, in real life, fought the urge to fall asleep in front of everyone). Why is it that these parenting magazines are aimed at moms and not dads? Does a woman's life become completely taken over by her children once she has them? What if I want to read about shoes and handbags instead of diapers and strollers?

But then again, I read these articles about fun things to do with your kids and it makes me want to be one of those moms. The fun moms. The loving moms. A mom. Not the woman who gives birth and hands her children off to a nanny while she attends to her e-mails and meetings. But... I don't know. I have years to figure that out. All I know is, thank god for birth control!