When I first moved to NYC, I was so defeated. I spent all my little money incredibly fast and nobody would hire me. I was crashing with a friend from boarding school until I found a job, but the thing they don’t tell you about moving to a big city with your college degree in tow is some degrees are good for landing a job immediately (even entry level is still a paycheck), some degrees are good for internships while you wait tables to pay the bills, and some degrees are only good for sending you back to school for your masters where hopefully you will also gain some kind of experience in your field. There’s nothing you can do in your field with an anthropology degree or an economics degree unless you have already gained some magically elusive experience in that field already.
I worked my way through college, but I worked retail because the schedule was flexible and it paid a lot (retail management is a really nice paycheck, especially in a lucrative chain). You can’t get a retail management job in NYC unless you have “New York Experience” which I most certainly didn’t have coming up here from South Carolina. I took a job as a cashier in a Bed Bath & Beyond with extremely high turnover because I would be promoted faster and catch some “New York Experience” as a manager. Until I got that experience, I was trying to survive in NYC making $9 an hour at a part-time job. When I did find an apartment, it was an overpriced, newly (but shoddily) renovated building way out in Bushwick where the first floor residents were selling crack all day. I was pretty much living on Top Ramen and lunchmeat, begging for extra shifts at work, and trying to keep it together.
But I had a roof. And I had a job. And I was paying my bills. And I could eat. All around the city you see people every day who don’t have that, so I wanted to put it all back into perspective for my own sense of wholeness and to remind myself that I did have a lot to be thankful for regardless of my struggle. So I went to volunteer at a homeless shelter.
I don’t talk about volunteering a lot, but when I do, I’m never shy about what I feel is the selfish aspect of it. The general feeling toward people who give up their time for strangers is that it’s a selfless act of extremely giving people who want to make the world a better place, and that’s true and warm and fuzzy and all that, but for me (and most of the volunteers I know) you do actually feel better. It’s not just that you are helping another person, because I would hope that everyone feels a little bounce in their step if they made someone else’s day easier, but at a place like a homeless shelter, you’re also thankful that it’s not you who needs the help. I wanted to stop feeling sorry for myself living above a crack house and eating ramen every night, so I went to volunteer with homeless people to help make their lives easier. While I was there, one of the administrators told me I might be interested in a battered women’s shelter organized by a Catholic church that was looking for more volunteers to help some of the women with job interview skills.
I really didn’t think I could love the Alamo Drafthouse any more, it’s a wonderful movie theater, good food and drinks right to your seat, plus zero tolerance on talking, phones, and arriving late. They do fun movie events with themed menus and hand out props, and free screenings of family movies during the school holidays. And they host screenings that benefit non-profits, like Kedi, a gorgeous documentary about beloved Turkish street cats, with the proceeds going to the local ASPCA.
Then they take a wonderful stand against ridiculous levels of butthurt caused by a women only screening of Wonder Woman. And they walk a fine line between explaining concisely and carefully, yet standing their ground and taking no crap.
I’m writing them a thank you card today, this is a huge risk for a business to take, and I’m so so proud to support them with all my money and heart.
god i cannot wait to be a total sleezeball in my early twneties (if i live that long) and going clubbing every night. prly homeless bcos i spend all my money on drugs and sleep around just for a place to sleep at night . perpetually drunk and high
I am fat, extremely average looking and have no skills except 1) the broad kind of half-knowledge that makes you good at university challenge and 2) very loud whistling. please marry me for fifty years and solve all of my problems with money, thanks
I want my wife to strip dance for me, but I kind of also want to throw bills at her while she’s doing it. Just to let her know she’s sexy enough to be a stripper and I rather blow my money on her than another women.
No one knows why, but one day, Pokémon were found everywhere in the Mushroom Kingdom. The Koopa Troop, wasting no time, caught a bunch of them while Bowser built a League and kidnapped Princess Peach afterwards. After receiving a Pikachu and Pokédex from Professor E. Gadd, Mario or Luigi must collect eight keys to enter Bowser’s Castle and save the princess, while Wario or Waluigi tries to do the same.