Tag Archives: best

The First 72 Hours in New York (With Photos)

In case you missed it amid all the holiday partying, I moved to NYC last weekend.

Here are some highlights of my first 72 hours as a New Yorker:

Dec. 16, the first night:
I successfully drove a 10-foot moving truck on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. My friends and I moved all my stuff into my apartment without incident, despite the fact that it looked like an obstacle course because it had just finished being repainted earlier in the day. Before the sweat had dried on our brows, we head up to the roof with one of my roommates to toast with champagne in rocks glasses. We take in the view of the Manhattan Bridge from my amazing rooftop. Continue reading

Diary of a Decision, Part I

The following are excerpts from my handwritten journal, along with explanatory notes.

April 4, 2006
I was born to do this. I was born to do this. There will be blood on the paper because this is the only thing I know beyond myself. It is myself.

That’s it. Do you feel the tingling? Someone sitting in another place, doing another thing, is having an impact on your life. The moment before the pendulum repeats its arc. No stopping now. Do it. Continue reading

Emma’s First Florida Christmas

(Note: If you are new to my blog, read these two stories first; Slow Pirouette for the Dancing Girl and The Baby Powder Incident.)

Caption: Christmas with my first foster mother, 1 year old.

Caption: Christmas with my first foster mother, 1 year old.

Caption: Christmas with my first foster mother, 1 year old.

Twenty years ago this Christmas, I had recently moved to live with my grandparents in Florida. I left my foster home with Pearl in Boston with just the clothes I had on. I arrived at a house on the water with gardenia bushes out back with no toys and nothing to wear. I was starting over in the Sunshine State. I turned eight the month before Christmas. Continue reading

The Rule of Thirds/A Memory, Photographic.

I have a photographic memory. It’s flawed, but remarkable nonetheless, at least to me. People ask me several times a week, “How did you know/remember that?” The answer is always because I saw it or read it once, somewhere – scrawled in the borders on the page of a book or driving by a billboard. I can’t remember birthdays unless I write down the date on my agenda or unless someone shows me their license – tying the letters of their name or their likeness to that important string of numbers. Continue reading

I was Raised by Beauty Queens

Caption: Aunt Marianne, 2005.

Caption: Aunt Marianne, 2005.

I was raised by beauty queens. Living, breathing, pageanting beauty queens. I was put into modeling school in 4th grade. If you don’t believe me, I will call my aunt and have her dig up the footage and photos from the Crest Commercial I screen tested for. I sang, danced, did the 1/4 and full angel turns and learned the proper way to exit a car while wearing a skirt. I will say please and thank you, even if you are mean to me, because that is the proper thing for a lady to do.

When I moved to Florida, it was to live with my Grampa and his second wife, who I call my Grandma and who welcomed me into her side of the family like I was born into it. Grampa had seven kids (5 sons, 2 daughters), Grandma had six kids (all daughters), and besides my Mom and “real” grandmother, my entire family lived in Florida. Continue reading