Skylines, Subways and Press Releases

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

April 27, 2010

“Quirky Writer with a Profound Edge Overdoses on Green Tea, Meets Features Editor of Teen Vogue and Stars in a Movie about Losing Her First Born”

(New York, NY)—The cluttered and rushed atmosphere of the City is back. From winter’s failed fashion contribution of marshmellowy parkas and bulky layers to spring’s flattering transition into frisky skirts, form-fitting V-necks and fedoras. The New Yorkers that once hibernated in their penthouse lofts or small studios have come out from their east coast abode, only to congest -even more- the awkwardly smelling streets of Manhattan. I was in no fascinating location in particular, just a Starbucks on 34^th St that sits next to the Empire State Building, about five stores down from my apartment. I fought my way through the cluster of tourists, all holding an obscene amount of shopping bags, NYC fold-out maps and tour-guide pamphlets.

I went to Starbucks earlier this evening to get rid of my cabin fever and somewhat inspire myself to write. I was there for hours and had managed to surround myself with several cups of empty green teas, numerous wadded up pieces of Orbit gum wrappers and two shredded blueberry muffins that had been savagely picked apart: all a direct result from a frustrated writer held captive in journalism purgatory- Writer’s Blockville. It seemed that no amount of herbal tea, feel-good minty freshness or sugary pastry could cure me of my fatal blogger’s block. After four hours of staring at a blank Word document and an annoyingly repetitive cursor taunting me flash by flash, I knew it was time to close my computer and forget about the blinking nuisance of a stripe that taunts me in Word when I fail to write.

#INSOMNIA (Part 1) Caffeine Can Ruin Your Life:  Fast forward to 4 A.M. and I am sitting in my apartment on my loveseat with multiple tabs open in Mozilla Firefox and involuntarily engaging myself in insomnia. It is safe to say, without reluctance, that downing three medium sized green teas and engorging myself in high-calorie sugary muffins must not have been the most appropriate idea.  However, I have noticed upon moving to NYC that it is a professional staple to meet up with journalists and publicists over coffee or tea. If you don’t informally meet up with them at a coffee shop, they will offer you coffee with milk and a packet of sugar at your formal meeting in their office. Now, due to the obvious fact that I am already freakishly energetic without caffeine, one can only imagine the accelerated actions my body would produce with caffeine: spastic twitching, sporadic outbursts of sprinting as opposed to walking, and the detonation of dull jokes and unknown medical facts that would spew from my mouth at a speed that is scientifically unheard of.  In order to diffuse the possibility of embarrassing myself, I ask for a green tea with no sugar or syrup instead. This alternative allows me to maintain composure and successfully continue to house my unamusing jokes where they belong: in my head. In reference to this blog post, excuse the random run-on sentences and abundant use of adjectives. I blame this outrageous amount of adjectives and adverbs on the overindulgence of green tea and sugar that I devoured earlier this evening.

# Switch Scene to Teen Vogue:  About two weeks ago I met the features editor of Teen Vogue. We were scheduled to meet in her office at the Conde Nast building in Times Square, a building considered to be one of the Meccas of fashion journalism. Dressed in classic NY attire (head-to-toe black), I swiveled in through the revolving doors, fixed my bangs (which had been displaced by the City’s ridiculously strong wind current) and waited for her to walk down to get me past security. While waiting, I daydreamed of graciously strutting down the building’s granite-paved runway, briskly walking through the revolving doors and impressively multitasking with my blackberry glued to my right ear: reminding my assistant to push my 2 o’clock to 3 o’clock, swap the editors meeting with the pitch meeting and to send out the invites for my MTV Awards Press party before the 8 P.M. deadline.

One of Teen Vogue’s features editors finally came down; we introduced ourselves and talked for a little bit. We establish a rapport pretty quickly and she mentions if I want to step away from the office and go grab a coffee. Knowing the success of my Green Tea Game Plan, I oblige. We were only supposed to talk for less than 30 minutes but half-an-hour turned into an hour, then quickly turned into an hour and-a-half. We ended up discussing everything: hometown high schools, Texas, college interview disasters, internships, creepy experiences, SXSW, and the unavailability of chips and queso in NYC. We talked about classic 70s rock’n’roll and depressing music that only seems fitting to play on a gloomy New York rainy day.  At the end of it all, she was honest and said that there were no paid positions available but that if anything comes up I would be one of the first to know.  At this point that’s all I can hope for: that she likes me enough to remember me when something becomes available.  All I can do at this point is plant seeds in PR firms and magazine corporations all around NYC, until a root grabs hold and sprouts into a paid position…or at least an intern position so swanky that I get free shoes, clothes, town cars, free groceries and an unlimited subway metro card- I mean, that’s not impossible to ask for.

# INSOMNIA (Part 2) A Perfect Way to Ruin Your Under Eyes:  It’s 7 A.M. now and I have yet to fall asleep. I have a feeling a serious prohibition of green tea will be in order from now on. I literally can’t sleep and in addition to my body failing to digest an abnormal ingestion of green tea, I have a cluttered movie reel of inconvenient situations and awkward moments replaying in my head from things that have happened to me in the last three-and-a-half weeks since I have posted. I will be the first to elect myself as the main character of my future Broadway show: Erika’s Series of Unfortunate Events and Inconvenient Mishaps.

# Coming Fall of 2010: This recently relocated southern belle:::cut to clips of me getting stuck in revolving doors, dropping my debit card through subway vents, and forcefully sitting next to awfully pungent smelling homeless people on the subway:::Erika Cespedes, a clumsy aspiring journalist/publicist, waltzes around New York City with an open heart and absent mind.

The other week I left my cell phone in a cab. I was texting when I realized we were already at my stop. I set my phone down to get my debit card out. I swiped, got my receipt and stepped out of the cab quickly because another group of people wanted to get in. I opened my purse to stick my debit card in when I realized my phone was in the backseat. At this point, it was too late and the cab had driven off with my SIM card, my event calendar, my text messages and my life. Not to mention the night I lost my phone a guy that wasn’t prone to asshole-meningitis, stupid-syndrome, ugliness or leprosy, had asked for my number and asked me out!  What’s interesting is that despite me chewing on weird mushroom and grilled onion brouchetta and accidentally spilling wine on my jacket at the bar, he was still interested. I had never been asked out on a date before and I’m pretty sure the bar etiquette I was showcasing is an accurate representation as to why not. We had exchanged numbers and his pretty little face insisted we get together soon. Well, leave it to the directors and producers of an inelegant Broadway show called my life to throw me a curve ball and lose my cell phone with his contact information in it. Three days later I had managed to garner enough money to buy a cheap phone. The fundamental lesson in this failed Broadway musical is pretty simple; having an absent mind in NYC will ruin you and I’m pretty sure losing your phone is the equivalent to losing your first-born.

### Behind the Red Velvet Curtain: My life, yet again, has been placed on hold. I’ve sent in my application to several job openings on mediabistro and other journalism sites.  I’ve called numerous PR firms and have sent an even more amount of emails to publicists. Waiting to hear back from several places: Harper’s Bazaar, Details, AOL, Lucky Magazine and Glamour Magazine. I thought things were hard enough but it looks like things are just getting tougher. I for one, am fully aware that having to intern first to land a job in journalism is key, but it’s become difficult to get your foot in that way too. The New York Times had published a scathing, yet informative, piece uncovering the daunting trend of the number of internships succeeding the number of entry-level jobs. Many publications and businesses have restricted their intern search to just college students seeking school credit in order to play it safe and not be held legally liable. Really. REALLY? Umm so how about the New York Times do an article on how Erika Cespedes needs a magazine editorial job or entry-level publicist position? Or how I haven’t been shopping in 5 months and two weeks and have been stripped from my Whole Foods and purified water privileges for 4 months.

I had an interview with Paper Magazine to intern under its editorial, events and PR department…I’m pretty sure it’s in the bag but I also have another internship interview with Interview Magazine next week. I’ve even succumbed to applying for a retail job, just to work there part-time to earn some money and intern somewhere else part-time.

(PS:PH2H): I. AM. EXHAUSTED. The emailing, the cold calling and the incessant act of revamping my resume has become monotonous and cumbersome. At times it seems that all of my efforts dwindle down to just one or two response emails every two to three weeks. Repeatedly being forwarded to Human Resources (the black hole in every company, where resumes and dreams get funneled into and put away for a ridiculous acne-inducing, stress-related ulcer amount of time) becomes a frequent and daunting event incorporated into your everyday life. Sometimes I get incredibly frustrated and want to give up. I know it’s only been four months, but that’s a long time when you’re financially depleted and emotionally exhausted. To be honest, I go through these emotions in scattered instances. I have to remind myself to ignore, repress and “shoo” it away, much like how we knowingly neglect that annoying girl at the bar in the polyester neon mini, white skin-tight leopard spaghetti strap, spilling her dollar-double Everclear and Tonic, blowing her vocal chords out to Katy Perry as she inappropriately interacts with other human beings. I get over it pretty quick, and just remind myself to keep going and not stop until I make something happen. There’s no way I’m NOT getting this City to bow down to me in less than 8 months. It’s screwing up my meticulously planned out time frame and the rapid decay of money available to spend in my bank account is beginning to hinder my desperate need to engage in some Manhattan happy hours. When things start getting in the way of vodka cranberries and my “When Liver Meets Happy Hour” fairy tale that’s when I know its time to accelerate this job search idea, and expedite the process to a pretty inhumane speed.

Switching Her Green Tea to A Vodka Cranberry in NYC,

-erika

listening to: my fridge making Exorcist noises and the sound of me typing

missing: talking to Mama and Poppa Fierce, eating pancakes with blueberries and strawberries and fat-free whipped creme.

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