Glittery Skylines, Subways and Press Releases

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August 11, 2010

Robbery, Resilience & Round Two

(New York, NY)— Located 23 floors above ground, I can be found sitting on my rooftop with Sangria, strawberries and an open heart: ready and willing to delve into honest description about what has occurred to me in the past three months. As I lounge on my roof and sip on wine, I notice the assortment of artificial plants and flowers alongside the perimeter of my rooftop: giving a paradoxical meaning to the term “concrete jungle.” Sitting behind the fake Oleanders, are Hermes-bag-holding girls dousing themselves in SPF 2 and emitting smells most reminiscent of tanning beds and sun-absorbing oil. Instead of the pungent smells of burning flesh bothering me, I smiled at the pleasant reminder that Texas tanning is very present among the east coast.  I couldn’t help but reference Henry David Thoreau (a famous literary writer who lived primitively in nature for years) when sitting amongst trees, bushes and flowers- even though they were fake.

Henry David Thoreau, a 19^th century author and philosopher, once wrote about the individual’s need to exert him/herself into the unknown, to abandon oneself from government, normality and structure. Inevitably, the individual will engage in rigorous obstacles in order to uncover the true meaning of the “self.” Although I did a thesis on this in college, little Henry David never bothered to write a disclaimer:

CAUTION- This philosophical assumption should not be tried in New York City unless the individual has a fierce job, guaranteed liquid cash for happy hours in the Lower East Side and an abundance of MAC Cosmetics in case one runs out of MAC Fluidline eyeliner or blush in Primrose. 

I believe I am the modern-day drag queen version of Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau’s abrupt move to a cabin in the middle of the forest to challenge societal norms is analogous to my moving to the concrete jungle, absent from everything and everyone I once knew in Texas. Perhaps his was more for theoretical and literary fulfillment, where as mine is for professional and self-fulfillment. Either way, we have two things that are apparent in both our tales: rigorous obstacles and isolation.

#Back on the 18^th Floor#

Three months ago I had reached a breaking point. It was a culmination of a lot of things: a dispiriting reminder of a bleak job search, dissolving friendships, melancholic holidays, a depleting bank account, my inability to afford a mani/pedi and a robbed apartment all contributed to an emotional beating unlike any other. Not that I own much, since I just have a couch and a bed, but I did own valuable things. My new MacBook Pro, iPod, Credit Cards, Debit Card and the $200 I had for the next two months were stolen. Police reports were written, security tapes were looked at, discussions with landlords were had, but in the end-due to my building not having cameras in the hallways- there was no way to tell who did it and if I would ever get my stuff back. Of course I was livid, I was distraught, I was terrified, I was depressed, I was up to my head in such turmoil that I didn’t know which emotion to take care of first.  Worst of all, I had to go through this on my own. In order to spare my parents any more anguish, I didn’t tell them. They were already worried of me being on my own and the last thing I wanted was for them to be any more afflicted. I didn’t want my parents to feel that they had to pay for any damages or worse: threaten me to come back home. I was confounded and felt uninspired to do anything. I couldn’t search for jobs or email my contacts because I didn’t have a computer. So many friends came to my aid, which I am forever grateful for. A month later after harvesting some money I maxed out a credit card in order to buy my same MacBook Pro. You realize in situations like that, when your ambition and your heart are reduced to nothing, how enlightening hardship is.

##ALL QUIET ON THE EASTERN FRONT##

AQEF( All Quiet on the Eastern Front): is MY cute satirical literary allusion to All Quiet on the Western Front. The novel is written by Erich Remarkque, in which he reflects on the human sacrifice of war and unravels the story behind a group of riled-up soldiers that glorified it. They each wanted to experience a “victory” and marvel in the glories of war, but instead fizzle out one-by-one with each soldier realizing towards the end that his/her life-long aspiration to be praised and victorious-was too much of a difficult challenge to bear.

Friends, with glitzy visions of skylines and NYC affluence, have strutted out of JFK Airport with a helmet of confidence and an armor of ambition only to leave the concrete war zone empty handed and spiritually hurt.  Seeing my best friend abruptly turn against me even when I’ve taken his fall, when I’ve softened the blow, when I’ve covered his back (even when mine was broken) and when I generously gave my ammunition to him despite me not having any left myself- are indicators that when it comes to the war-like attitude of NYC, no one has your heart or interest in mind but yourself. For a long time I was under the impression that my best friend and I were infinite, that we had a connection unlike any other, only to be told from others that it was a lie and I was being invectively discussed all along. I’m not meant to write on this blog to dish out the details of the people involved but I am meant to delve into situations that have affected my spirit in grand ways.

To have this notion- of someone caring for you, of someone confiding in you for a long time only to find out that you were being talked about in callous ways is devastating. I refuse to say anything negative about him because he doesn’t deserve a juvenile internet war despite all of this. I just want him to know that he threw away a solid individual that was there to guide him when he was lost, that was there to answer his 3 a.m. questions about social media and html, that brought him medicine and gave him money when he had none, and that was there for him when he felt nobody understood. I don’t regret helping or being there for him because I wanted to. I did everything I could for him because I felt that he would do the same. I type these words with hesitation on every key because this paragraph is more than me discussing a depressing occurrence, it is a transparent perspective on my emotions and my heart.

The job search is still incredibly challenging.  I’ve sent out copious amounts of emails and resumes only to be stuck in the black hole of HR every single time. I’m willing to say that yes, there have been multiple times where I’ve wanted to give up: to throw in my Ralph Lauren towel, call my parents on my fakeberry and call it a day. Yet, there is still something in me that wants to push even harder. I’ve met a couple friends up here that share my ambition (even though at times my ambition seems obsolete) and despite several instances of despair and devastation I am willing to stay and challenge myself more than ever to make it happen.

I am waiting to hear back from an interview I had with a lady in Human Resources for Madison Square Garden and Fuse. There is an AMAZING Rock’n’Roll opening that I managed to squiggle my big-teased-2 Bumpit-wearing hair into. I applied and am hoping and praying to Lady Gagalupe, RuPaul Royalty and Senator Slash of Guns N Roses that they notice me and want to take me in for the kill.

Even though its been Quiet on the Eastern Front for a while, I am ready to muster out another battle cry (in a high-angelic soprano voice, of course… or a fierce voice like Kelly Clarkson’s). I’m ready to pick up my shattered armor and begin to walk into Round 2. 

(PS:PH2H): My concluding H2H is dedicated to the ones that are afraid of transition, of challenge and of change. I’ll be the first to say that I hate a challenge and I hate change. I don’t like to venture on the restaurant menu or steer away from my classic culinary trifecta: chicken, guacamole and serranos. It’s one thing to nestle in the comfort of Mexican food, but it is quite another to give in to personal and professional stagnancy for fear of transition or failure. Failure is so stupid. Failure is that 6-foot-5 muscley football player, with bulging veins that look like they are ready to give birth to a mutant, intimidating you during football try-outs. When really, he’s just this soft-spoken man that takes ballet classes, watches Oprah when he works out and who probably cried when Tyra freaked out on her talk show and cried about the press calling her chubby. He’s just your personification of intimidation. 

In no way has my life been easy here. In no way has it even been a challenge; a challenge is an isolated obstacle intended to make you feel great about your achievement after you have conquered it for that one time. NYC forces you to carry ON AND ON AND ON after your one victory. Right when you think you’ve found that rare, mysterious and delicious green M&M in your assortment of spherical chocolate- some fat lady with nasty roots and chunky cankles suddenly snags it from you and eats it.

What I’m really trying to say to those who have e-mailed or called me asking for my advice on moving to NYC is to do it. This goes to anyone who wants to make a drastic move. Yes, it’s brutal. No, you will not like the musty smell in the dark trenches of the underground subway system throughout the summer. Yes, it is difficult and depressing, at times, but it’s also an enlightening experience that if you are meant for you will succeed.  No, you will more than likely not find many green M&Ms when you first move here but it’s worth a shot.

It’s more than a one-time challenge; it’s a rigorously straining lifestyle in which you need your entire life support (friends and family) to help drag you through its negative confrontations when you feel you can’t go on.

 It’s easy to immerse yourself in negativity when the positive waves seem to constantly recede. You, and I, just need to remember that this is your shot; this is your one-time discount coupon that you can use to receive a couple pairs of free Louboutins and serve as a guest appearance on RuPaul’s Drag Race.

From me to you: When discouragement threatens you, have enough courage to be resilient. Love, to an intense degree, the people that are still there fighting your war with you even when you are beaten and tired. To conclude, give to others everything you can because at one point you were in need of generosity, or will be.

Still Rummaging Trying to Find a Green M&M in NYC,

-erika

<3

listening to: “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire and my creepy air conditioner making hissing sounds, which creepingly enough is in sync to whenever Earth, Wind and Fire hit the high notes in “September.”

missing: Flaming Hot Cheetos and Klondike bars

feeling: its most definitely bathroom time