Thursday, November 1, 2012


Note to my dearest darlingest other bloggers: I found out the hard way that Google Reader only holds your posts for up to a month. So I've been having marathon reading sessions that involve me catching up on TWO MONTHS of your wonderful posts and then comment-bombing you for the next hour. Poor Mynx got about 80 of my comments while she was trying to enjoy her breakfast. And Michael got comment-bombed for three days straight. I apologize in advance for all the caps lock comments about to descend on your blog. If your blog hasn't been attacked with a nonstop hail of capital letters and exclamation points that is a Nicki Comment, fear not, YOUR TIME WILL COME. And you will feel so smothered with bloglove you'll wish I'd go back to neglecting you. But that's how this catch-up thing works, baby. So PREPARE TO BE UTTERLY CRUSHED WITH MY LOVE.

Note #2: Thanks so much to Michael for helping me realize that I need to let this blog grow along with me, not stay stagnant with who I was. Thanks so much to Michael for having the COURAGE to trust that her audience will grow with her—and if it doesn't—there'll be a new audience around the corner, one who's ready for what you have to say. We all grow, and we all change, and so will our audience. AND THAT'S OKAY.

Note #3: Thanks to Celia. For so many things, but mainly, just thanks for 'getting' me. 



I'm having a Moment.

As in, "Tacos are having a moment," "Cupcakes are having a moment," "Rebecca Black had a moment and thank GOD that moment is over."

But this, this is a moment. I've spent two shaky, unsteady years trying to Figure It All Out. Figure Out What I Want in Life. And finally, finally I've foun
d something I want.

I want to keep working where I'm working, keep doing what I'm doing. I'm deliriously happy. I feel right. I feel I've finally landed someplace where I belong.

Yeah. I know how damn cheesy that sounds. But when you've done so many things that just aren't quite right–something you force yourself into, cram yourself in a box and hope no one notices your elbows stick out or your dress is too tight or that you're wearing different-colored shoes or that your shirt is inside out or that you ONLY SHAVED ONE LEG IN THE SHOWER THIS MORNING (all of which I've actually done, by the way)—

to have something that fits you like it was made for you is so wonderfully, blissfully, gorgeously perfect.

But before I get too Susie Sunshine on you, let's remember that it's not permanent. I'm just a lowly freelancer (which, let's face it, is really just a wonderfully artsy way of saying "temp."). But instead of dwelling on the fact that This Too Shall Pass, I'm going to focus on my Moment.


I will never be a City Girl. Mostly because I refer to it as City Girl in my head, with capital letters. I come from rural—We-Don't-Even-Have-a-Trash-Service rural— Pennsylvania. I am so deeply embedded in farm country that I know I'll never dig my way out. It left a mark on me deep as the river runs. And the only times I feel like I'm home—really at home—is driving through the fields, sitting with my feet dangling in the creek or toes buried in the green, green grass. Anywhere else, I'm a tourist.

So every time I board the subway, cross the street, enter a cafĂ©, walk the sidewalk, I'm a visitor, a stranger, an alien marveling at new life. A running narrative runs through my head: Look! Look at me commuting! I'm commuting! Look, Mom! Look at me reading my newspaper on the subway! I'm a well-informed city dweller who's using environmentally-friendly transportation!

Look! Look at me entering the coffeeshop before work! I have a coffeeshop near my work! AND IT'S NOT A DUNKIN' DONUTS! OR a Starbucks! Look at me talking with the cashier! Look at me complimenting her Muppets shirt! Look at me not being unbearingly, embarrassingly awkward!

Look at me with my overpriced coffee, entering my workplace! Look at my desk! I have a desk in the city! I can hear the subway outside and someone honking! Whoa, now there are two people—three people—oh for chrissakes, there are four people honking right outside my window— SHUTTHEF***UP, PEOPLE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!

Look at me, getting annoyed at bad drivers in the city!

Look at the crack addict sitting next to me on the subway! Look at me not freaking out about the crack addict sitting next to me on the subway! Look, ma! He's a human too! We're coexisting! He smells awful! I can smell him, Mom! I'm not freaking out even though I can smell him!


So this Moment—this wonderful, wonderful Moment of citydwelling and cityliving—is just about as exciting as a city dweller escaping to the country and seeing a deer or a rabbit or whatever the hell else you city kids think is novel about the country. (If I see a rabbit or a deer, I'm more apt to want to skin it and eat it, not photograph it or say Ohhh, honey, look at Bambi!)

I bought some new clothes. It's part of my Moment. If I'm going to work in a office, I might as well look the part. I'm wearing a new dress right now. It has a sheer black mock Peter Pan collar. I am wearing a goddamn Peter Pan collar. I look like Rachel Berry stepped off the screen of Glee and had a torrid  affair with a lesbian wearing combat boots. It's part of my Moment.

My tights are from H&M. I went to the store after work. I actually entered a chain, reasonably hip store by choice. No one forced me. I did not immediately leave. I was not startled by the loud music or aggressively dressed mannequins. Not being intimidated by fashionably dressed inanimate objects is part of my Moment.

My tights were $1. I did not know this until I braved the lines to get to the cashier wearing about 80,000 silver bracelets on her arm. Her earrings were bigger than my head. "These are on sale. One dollar. You luckyyyyyy," she said. I beamed at her. "Thank you! I am! I AM luckyyyyyyy!"

And readers, I feel luckyyyyyyyy. Lucky to be working someplace I love (for no matter how long), lucky to live in a city that constantly delights and confounds me, lucky to feel like a Real Person Doing Real Things With Her Life, lucky to have a Chinatown and a Book Festival and a Cape Cod and even a godforsaken Duck Tour, yes, lucky, lucky to have a man that I love, lucky that his hands can stitch wounds and fillet fish, lucky to have two dogs, a sunny kitchen, a wide open yard; lucky to have, lucky to dream, lucky to want, lucky to be.


  1. Good to see you back. And enjoying life as you know it right now. Keep on moving forward. This sounds good on you.

  2. If there was a love it button, I'd totally click it fifty million times. I love hearing you sound so happy! I wish there was a coffee shop on my way to work that wasn't Starbucks...

    What is a peter pan collar?

  3. I adored being comment bombed by you. It was the perfect start to the day.
    The one about Word press telling you that you were commenting too fast was hilarious.
    I love this post. Your happiness just leaps off the page and I am really smiling.

  4. =]

    I'm with Mynx, comment bombard away! I always get a =D face when I see your name in my inbox.

    I'm so happy that YOU are happy. That you found a place that fits for you. I still struggle with that.


    It's so wonderful to see you this happy. It's great to see a new post from you. And it's great that you can stand up and tell the world: "I KNOW WHO I AM AND I LIKE IT!!!

    Keep being the awesomeness that is you. I absolutely love it! :)

  6. I loved your sudden dumping of blog-loving at Random Girl!! I'm always so delighted to her from you, it was like my lucky day to have so many lovely words from you come to my place to play! Yahoo!!
    And I love that you are happy and fulfilled. Living and enjoying where you are and what you are doing right now, and being grateful for it. Good on you darling!!

  7. I hope you keep writing no matter what the circumstance, and whoever this Michael is, I want to give him a hug and a tequila shot for encouraging you to grow and let us follow with you on this blog. I didn't think I could love bloggin' Nicki P. anymore, but OH how I just can't get enough!

    I only hope that I'm lucky -- EXCUSE ME: "Luckyyyyy" -- enough to cross paths with you in "being" world, because it's way more fun.

    And GIRRRL, if you ever need a shopping buddy, I'm a pro at dealing with those bangle-armed chicadees. :)

    ** And sorry for my OWN comment bombing... it's cold and gross outside so I'm eating crappy lefotvers at my desk over lunch. But it makes me feel better to catch up with bloggin' buddies. :)

  8. Prepare for the comment bombing from me because you have BEEN KICKING ASS with posts lately, my dear one! I've been reading as the posts show up in my feed but with working so many hours, I'm usually jacking WiFi on my iPod off of the Starbucks in the parking lot across from my office. PREPARE FOR THE BOMBS!

    And my mother (who is THE bargain finder) would be damn proud of those $1 tights!


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