And On To Something New: Last Day at Parents Magazine

I’ve been delaying the post. Procrastination at its finest.

I’m not quite sure how to wrap up the last 9 months without sounding cliché, but I’ll try to keep this as light as possible. However, you should be aware, under all these words I’m both sad and content in my final decision.

For those of you who don’t know, I will be leaving Parents magazine at 5:30pm today, and not returning tomorrow. Another job has presented itself, and while I’m very excited to begin my next adventure, I can’t help but feel as though I’m leaving behind something a little bit great.

Let’s start at the very beginning.

The first day of my internship I was in a fluster, slightly late and slightly lost (as you might remember). My confidence in the 7 train had been overestimated, as well as my ability in recalling where exactly Parents magazine’s offices were located.

I ran over to one of the Editorial Assistant’s desks once I’d finally found the correct department. “I am so sorry I’m late.” While I was less than ten minutes behind, you just don’t do that on your first day.

CJB looked up at me, matter-of-factly. “Your fine.” There was beat… a momentary pause where I couldn’t decide if she cared or not. No smile yet. I just sat standing there awkwardly.

“Let me show you where your desk is.”

And then BAM. She gave me a dazzling smile. I was reassured by this very gesture that no - she didn’t hate me, and that yes - I could do this internship.

Lucky enough, it was one of those miraculous internships that led to an even more desirable position: a job. I had put in my two weeks notice at Bloomingdale's before July was over, and the 60+ hour workweeks slowly slipped away until I was only involved in magazines.

I became a fulltime EA.

Me. Editorial Assistant for your Tablet department? No… stop it… but really, yes? Are you Sure? Maybe I shouldn’t ask if you’re sure… Yes.  Yes, I want this job! Wait, what exactly is this job? Oh it doesn’t even matter at this point… just thank you for the job – ANY job!

But here's the thing... It wasn’t just any editorial job.

I feel as though my experience was a rarity in magazines – not to mention in New York City.

It should be noted: Not all companies will treat you with a respect that is not only expected, but in fact, the standard. Even as an intern, I was not just an intern. My work was relevant, and while not always enjoyable, it was important. A sense of value and appreciation is difficult to come across in any position, so to nurture even the volunteer workers is truly going above the norm.

It should also be noted: Many stumble into a job hoping to discover mentors who can guide them through the basic practices of business. My magazine was an open environment, and I was astonished to find editors bending over backwards to explain guidelines and conduct. When I asked, people answered – and not because they were under any obligation.
 

Finally, it should be noted: These people were enjoyable. These people were genuine. These people were mothers, fathers, wives, and husbands. These people were friends. These people watched out for one another. These people affected me in both big and little ways.

Your first real job in the business you desire to be a part of is an unforgettable experience, and I sincerely thank the staff of Parents for making my time at the magazine more than gratifying. Between toy closets, iPad testing, lineups, and tablet meetings, I saw the world of print and digital colliding from a position I couldn’t have fathomed a year ago when I moved to the city with a few bags of clothes and a mattress.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. You’ve given me the tools – now I must finish the job. Here’s to leaping into the next thing… eyes closed.

And we jump.

***
A look back through the last year:

My first assignment: Call in hundreds of books from publishing houses. Well, you know how well that went... but I got by with a little help from my friends.

Toy testing. I liked this toy quite a lot. 

My Lorax that guarded the cubicles. If ever we were in a pinch or stressed out, we would hug the Lorax for comfort. A few weeks ago, after the Christmas holiday, there was a lot of hugging. 

Desk decorations.

Something I will miss: free food from press events. 

I met Mo Willems at the launch party of his new book app. 

And I played with cardboard boxes. 

Ah! I will truly miss this! Goodbye Bagel Wednesdays. You were good to me. 

I had the privilege of interviewing Jeremiah Brent and meeting Rachel Zoe at a press event.

Office view.

My cubicle when we had just moved into our new office. 

CJB's drawing about when I got the EA job at Parents. PS - I was not a little devil and she knew it. 

The ONE thing I would buy for lunch in summertime with the other interns. The rest of the time... you know it! PB&J. 

On the way to my interview.

So many tablet computers... this was in the middle of sending out magazines into the digital world. My desk housed a crazy amount of chargers, cords, and cases. 

Corporate coffee. 

The last few things to do before walking out of the office for good...  

... and beginning all over again tomorrow. 
But don't you love the word tomorrow? 
Ah, such a good word.

Winter Weekends: Sounds and Beats

In New York's wintertime, Saturdays are more increasingly spent indoors and a certain mellow sound encompasses the afternoon. Evening is too quick in its approach, but then again, "the city that never sleeps" is not frightened by January's abrupt darkness. 

So as I sip my coffee and read, taking in the stillness (all but forgotten during the week), I play my music of this particular season. 
And once winter's fickle sun has set, with dinner done... 
New York wakes up for all its fun. 

Enjoy the sounds of a lazy afternoon. 


Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones

5 Things Not to Do on the Subway

1) Do not pee in the subway car. In fact, it is best if you do not urinate anywhere in public. But subway cars are particularly smothering, so this is particularly cruel.

2) Do not get into domestic disputes in the subway car. This is awkward. And I’m not talking about a little tiff. I’m simply asking you refrain from shouting, scratching, or yanking hair. It makes for a stressful journey home.

3) Do not pop your gum incessantly in the subway car.  Or ever.

4) Do not think we want to hear your music in the subway car. Headphones were invented for a reason. Please invest in some. Once you have bought said headphones, do try to remember that when you sing loudly we can still hear you (even though, oddly enough, you can’t hear yourself). And we don’t really like it.

5) Do not think too much about the subway car. “I’m squished.” “That person is touching me.” “Who was sitting here last?” “Why is the train not moving?” No, no, no. Do not ponder such grievances when commuting. Your wondering thoughts will inevitably become catalysts for a mental breakdown, or possibly lead to a cause of arrest.

Click here for a visual example of what happens when


Elaine from Seinfeld experiences emotions any New Yorker on a crowed train understands. 

I Regret to Inform You...


Dear Darlings,

It is with my utmost regret that I shall not be blogging today 
or tomorrow due to an immense amount of laundry from the 
last three months... er, weeks. 

Two fair sisters also arrived to this fine city Thursday evening,
thus I simply must entertain. Please do check back in the forthcoming week for a new posting.

Yours truly,
B

PS - This letter was meant to be read in a British accent. If you did not comply with this direction, please reread the above text in the specified dialect for full effectiveness. If you are positively brilliant, and did read the above text with the Queen's English... well then, cheers. 


The Why Blog 2011: A Year in Review

A lot happened in 2011.

It was my first full year living in New York City, and it was the first full year the class of 2010 was officially out of college. Here’s a look at what else happened throughout 2011, with links to blog posts from that event. And if you don’t want to read the blah blah blah, scroll down for the “Top Ten Posts” list at the bottom of this entry. Enjoy the journey through time…

January began the year with a Snowpocalypse of sorts through New York and much of the east coast. While overall inches of snow accumulation weren’t as high as 2010, I was grounded in VA for 2 extra days after Christmas. With the airports still out of commission, my high school friend Alice and I Chinatown bussed it up here. Though there were huge highlights to January (Martha Stewart Living internship, brunching at the Plaza, etc.), I must admit: It was a miserably cold month. You could walk outside and get a brain freeze… or simply slip on ice.

February wasn’t much better weather-wise, but the sun did grace us with his presence on occasion. While we sat shivering in New York, Egyptian protests were beginning to heat up. Tahrir Square held millions of demonstrators, and the “Arab Spring” was set in motion.

March led to my bold statement, the term "code blue," as well as one of your favorite “Thursdays Things New Yorkers Say” posts, according to blog statistics. I was balancing time between grad school, the magazine internship, and working at Bloomingdales while Charlie Sheen seemed to be publicly losing his mind.

April was gray, gray, gray everyday. But the column “Poor in New York” was born, and my friends and I spotted Robert De Niro filming in Astoria. I also scored the next internship at Parents Magazine, increasing my magazine business network. Oh, and we had one sunny day at the end of the month that saved all of NY from insanity.

May was beautiful. Whatever was irking Mother Nature in April had been vanquished and the city was in full summer mode. While skipping spring isn’t ideal, I was simply happy for long days and late nights. Which they were – I was working at least 20 hours at Bloomies and 40 hours at Parents. But do you remember what else was vanquished that month? That’s right – Osama bin Landen was assassinated May 2, 2011.

June was exceedingly busy, but led to my first national byline at Parents Magazine. I also had an unexpected visitor in my room, and a little freak out via poem on the blog. But you guys didn’t seem to mind – thanks for that.

July was sunny, hot, sweaty, and marvelous. We watched fire works, visited Coney Island, and explored the city in the summer. My childhood ended mid-month, the NBA lockout began, and the News of the World phone hacking affair erupted.

August is my birthday month! And was also apparently the end of the world. We had an earthquake up and down the east coast, as well as a violent hurricane only a week later. But I was officially hired at Parents Magazine, and resigned from my retail job. Meanwhile, the US debt ceiling was on the rise, and the London riots were heating up across the pond.

September was intense. My roommate was moving out, another needed to be found, loans had to go through for school, and I just couldn’t seem to find the time to sleep. Occupy Wall Street was in its infancy and Facebook “Timelines” were popping up all over the internet.

October led to one of my favorite posts about commuting, random Halloween snow, and a trip to see what was happening on Wall Street. Everyone working on their thesis began to sweat a little bit, and the global population reached 7 billion (22.2 million of which inhabit New York City + boroughs).

November brought holidays, which also led to a view surprises. NYC’s weather remained relatively mild, and Rockefeller Center was decorated for the annual Christmas extravaganza.

December was quick and homework-filled. In fact, I’m so glad the holiday decorations stay up through the New Year because I feel as though I missed them entirely before Christmas. Friends came to visit our festive city, and we students finally turned in our thesis projects!

Top Ten Post of 2011:
9) I Lied

Alright... So we’ve got a lot to contend with for making 2012 simply superb. Happy New Year one last time my friends. 


In the Night: A New Year's Post

There’s something special about arriving in a city after dark, particularly if you claim it as your own.

We (as in any transplant to New York) sneak away for the holidays, needing to refuel, rest, or reassess. Home always brings perspective, and it is often this viewpoint, which you know and trust, that leads toward a direction so easily lost in the city. We can hear ourselves think when the beeping horns cease, and hours slept each night are counted on two hands verse one.

But when we (as in any “New Yorker”) are away from the incandescent orb that is Manhattan and its vibrant boroughs for long enough, there is a sense of absence or deficiency nipping in the back of our minds. Luring us, stirring us…until unexpectedly, we are hit with the original pang of passion that lurched us into this beautifully wrecked, yet boundless city.

As my plane looped over Brooklyn, I was comforted by the thought of knowing every house has a human, and every human has a heart. Every heart has a desire – so try to fathom the amount of longings and aspirations beating indefinitely throughout our city. 

Intimidating… yet inspiring.

And what of desire? This leads to change. Action. Movement. Controversy. Failure. Triumph. Desire lends to the necessities that fulfill a different need, separate from money or sustenance. Yet maybe living here, you find your craving holds equal importance and value.

What is so special about arriving in a city after dark is that the town is relaxed and slumbering. But when they wake, you’ll already be present, quietly amongst them. Maybe you left unnoticed; maybe your return was unseen. But you are here now, and you choose it. Yes, we decidedly displaced Virginians, Floridians, Californians, and whomever else - we sneak into the city at night, reposed and ready.

But for what?
You’ll have to decide. 

We are back. We will do what we came to do. And oh, will we do it well. 


Are you ready for 2012?
I say bring it. 

Tradition #23456: Christmas Scavenger Hunt

We have a lot of family traditions. 

Some are normal, like reading "Twas the Night Before Christmas" or attending the late service at church. Others are a little more out there, like the Jesus birthday cake, the Sound of Music sing-a-long or...

The Scavenger Hunt.

Every year, Dad creates a scavenger hunt for the gals of the house to find the "big gift." So this Christmas, we thought it was his turn to run around a little bit... Fitzgerald Family Tradition: Commence. 





The Time I Pulled a Knife on Someone

“Yeah… we had fun,” I said

“Good. Did you fix your boots yet?” Mom asked. I had called her on my walk home from the subway.

“No, mother. I’m poor.”

“You’re not that poor!”

“First – yes I am. I hate getting paid every two weeks! And second – ” I swiveled around and glanced up and down the block. I had reached one of my safety “check points.” Two people behind me, one to the right. No one on my heels.

Check point one: PASS.

“ – and secondly, I don’t even know where to go to fix those boots. Everyone in Astoria’s “gotta a guy.” I gotta bagel guy, but that’s about it.”

“Oooh maa gosh… Britney! Fix those boots.”

“I will mother.” I said, glancing around one last time before heading down my street. 

A few feet behind me, an Unknown had snuck up. He walked quietly and held a briefcase. But he was too close… and why hadn’t I seen him before?

Check point two: FAIL.

I wish I could tell you there was a method to my madness, and that I knew the Unknown was going to be problem because of facts A, B, and C, but the truth is I always go with my gut. And the gut said stop walking.

So before turning down my street, I veered to the left and leaned against the wall of a large apartment building.

“Can you believe how much we spent on those boots?” I asked my mother, who was happily prattling on the phone. I wanted to look busy even if I was acutely aware of the Unknown. Trying to run home would only lead something sketchy to my doorstep. And if any funny business happened, big apartment buildings almost always have cameras. This was an ideal spot.

Did I mention my gut had specifically said stop walking? I was listening.

“Oh I know!” Mom said. “And to think…” but I didn’t hear the rest of what she was saying. The 40-something year old man with a briefcase was passing by me… and then he stopped.

A chill went from the tips of my fingers to my feet.

He was looking at me, but just barely. It’s difficult to explain, but the Unknown appeared to be staring right through me, like I was an apparition he’d accidently spotted but could no longer see. There was no expression on his face, which was about three feet from my own.

So I did what any gal would do after 30 seconds of awkwardness.

“Shoo! SHHHHOO!!”  I said, flicking my free hand at him like he was an unwanted fly in summertime. He blinked repeatedly, and stepped away from me, suddenly coherent after his trance-like state.

“Britney who are you talking to…”

The man began to walk away.

“Shush Mother. I’m kinda… having… a moment,” I said through gritted teeth. I needed a weapon. Where were my keys? Purses are always ridiculously messy at the wrong moment. With one hand on the phone and another in my bag, I watched as the man turned to face me again, this time about 10 feet away.

“Well! Well wait, what’s happening.”

“Tell ya in a sec. Just keep talking.”

"Okay hum… so I think that…” she continued, as I stopped digging in my purse. The Unknown was oddly standing in the middle of road, facing me again.

“What do YOU WANT!?” I screamed at him. He backed away, not taking his eyes off me now. It was only 10pm and there was a family walking down an adjacent street. This was such odd behavior; I couldn’t categorize it. And I was hungry…. Really hungry. This freak was the only thing between me, and my baked potato.

“Brit what’s happening?”

“Mom… shh. Someone followed me. Now I’m annoyed 'cause I’m starving. But I can’t go home 'cause he’ll see where I live. Stay on phone.”

“Oh maa gosh... uh, yeah. I'm not going anywhere,” the sassy Southern accent came ringing through the telephone.

Unknown was now across the street. I stood directly on the other side, staring at him and debating my options.

He set his briefcase down.

I pulled my bag closer.

He began to dig in his coat pocket.

I began digging in my purse. And then a thought struck me – I had a knife! HA!

“What are you doing now?” Mom asked, almost whispering.

“Looking for my knife.”

“What!? You have a knife??

“Ha. Yeah. Ironically enough, I found it last night.” It had been resting, blade open, in the hall closet of my apartment. And now I had the heavy object in my hand. The weapon was probably a relic from my old roommate, but she wouldn’t mind me carrying it around for a bit.

Well…” my mother said, “I don’t know if I’m more nervous for you–or for that man!” she continued with a little laugh. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her confident one-liner.

Guys, it wasn’t graceful, but it worked. With one hand holding a phone I could barely open the old blade. Suddenly it popped into place. Striking a pose similar to Peter pan, I raised the knife in the air. The street light overhead made the metal gleam.

What they don’t tell you in the movies is what to do next. I didn’t really want to use the knife. So I waved the blade back and forth through the air, in a “just-try-to mess-with-me-because-I-might-West-Side-Story-dance-my-way-out-of-this-situation” kind of way.

This method worked surprisingly well. The Unknown DID NOT like my knife. He pivoted around so quickly; I couldn’t help but think maybe he wanted to dance/rumble too. But still he searched for something in his coat pocket. This is the moment when my gut began speaking to me again: it said run.

I clumsily closed the knife, slicing my finger in the process (nube mistake), and tossed it in my pocket. The gut and I both knew if Unknown were reaching for a gun, my knife would be no match.  While he was still turned away from me, I ran down the street, protected from his view by two large moving trucks. Now even if he were looking for me, it would be very difficult to see my exact whereabouts. I peered between the vehicles, and saw the man quickly grab his briefcase and take off down the road. I couldn’t see much but I knew he wasn’t coming my way.

West Side Story Peter Pan had scared him! Or at least confused him enough to make an escape.

“Mom?”

“Yes?!?” She said.

“Hey, I’m home.”

(Editor’s Note: These methods are not conducive to all situations. Readers should not believe they can scare off all Unknowns, but should instead follow their gut. Sometimes even Peter Pan needed help from the Lost Boys. RIP Rufio.

Menacing litte Peter Pan blade, isn't it?