Monday, June 3, 2013

Fake it 'til you make it

I'm crying hysterically on the third floor of the Apple store on West 14th Street. I've only been in New York City a week, and I've already managed to break my lifeline to the subway. RIP Siri, RIP navigation skills.

I take a deep breath and and step into the street--and right onto a nail. But thank God for tetanus shots, right?

Today was not my day, and the rest of the week hadn't gone much smoother. When I first got to the city, I couldn't understand the cab driver, so I wandered around with four bags for a little before finding NYU. When I did find it, I had to lug a desk out of my dorm room in order to open the closet. 

The list goes on. I’ve gone through two boxes of Band-Aids because I opted (despite my mom’s nagging) to wear the cute shoes made by people who hate feet.

I was almost swallowed whole by Times Square.

I stood in a line that wrapped around Trader Joe’s holding way too many groceries. 

I made eye contact with a stranger near the subway and became the target of an awkward proposal (yes, one knee, flowers--everything). Then, I proceeded to sit on Jeff after stumbling during a subway stop. Sorry, Jeff.

I was told to run for the hills away from the magazine industry—and then I was lured back.

I almost flung a piece of shrimp onto my new boss’s lap. Note to self: Kebabs aren’t my strongsuit.

I got lost in Brooklyn, and my flea market search turned into a let's-just-pick-a-random-restaurant-search.

Then I—the girl from Florida—got sunburn while tanning in Central Park.

But, to be honest, these mishaps have shaped up to be the best time of my life. There have been rooftop parties, ice cream outings and seminars with big-name editors. If you told me all of this three years ago, I’d tell you, "Stop being crazy—I don’t even have a major yet." Now I get to wake up to a city skyline, new friends, and a dream job at Time Inc., complete with a woodshop in my office and, most importantly, the opportunity to write.

Eight days ago I was a girl who’d never moved out of her mom’s house. Today, I’m starting my first day of work at This Old House magazine, where my plan is to keep on faking it until I make it, minus one iPhone.

By Kayla Becker, Florida State University, This Old House
Edited by Ana Rocha, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Food Network Magazine

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