Grocery-ing in New York

I love going to the supermarket. It relaxes me in a weird way. I like smelling fruits at the Fruit Section. I like browsing through the different aisles. From canned soup to dishwashing soap. I like finding new brands I've never heard before.

But it's different here in New York. Although I live in central Manhattan, I live 4 blocks away from Gristedes - which means, I have to bring 5 bags of groceries that amount to 60 lbs about 0.5 miles all the way back to my apartment (with about 10 stops along the way, to rest my sore fingers). And take note, in a city where the independent breed thrive, chivalry here is like the lottery. There's one in a million chances you can chance upon it. Some friends of mine in the city have actually embraced this whole chivalry-in-absentia concept, which dismays me.

Thank goodness, FreshDirect came into my life!

I've gotten so used to buying stuff online, so why not go all the way? Yup, I order my groceries online now and I get it the next day, fresh! And dirt cheap. I love their service so much that I, along with 2 other people, chose them for our Direct Marketing Plan project this Spring semester! Their tagline goes: "Our food is fresh. Our customers are spoiled." And yes, this holds true. I am a testimonial.

Ahh. Just some non-sensical utterance.

A World of Smarts

My boyfriend has gotten into several prestigious Business School programs recently, therefore, in the past few weeks I have enjoyed little “partner” perks at his Admitted Students Welcome Weekends! Free food, free pens, free drinks, free VIP treatment (it’s pricey in this city, at least) and most of all, free networking!

We were surrounded by very smart people who are possibly the next Steve Jobs or Howard Schultz in the coming years. They are the 712 GMAT average bunch, the unassuming and “cool” Valedictorians, and those that have been shaped and enriched by International experience. They are great writers, great thinkers, great believers. They are the future movers and shakers of this world. I was very enthused and inspired.

I chugged on my bottle of Guinness while every person in the event boasted unabashedly about the list of Ivies they’ve gotten into… the several job options they could opt to choose… their future career plans… etc. Name brands in the likes of Harvard Business School (HBS), Yale SOM, Columbia Business School, NYU Stern, MIT, Stanford, Cornell… they all come flying up in the air! Some of the most common phrases you hear at B-school Welcome Weekends are:

1. Asked of you a million times: “So, are you decided on (insert B-school)?”
2. When talking to a fellow admitted student, and feeling curious and competitive: “So what other B-schools are you choosing from?” (and when HBS pops up, you quietly sneer… just kidding!)
3. A devious follow-up question: “What will make you choose between (insert B-school) and (insert another B-school)?”
4. When talking to the Dean or a Professor: “Why should I choose (insert B-school) over (insert equally-good B-school option)?”
5. Asked a million plus one times, therefore, you have to have an answer that would either shut them up or keep the conversation going (my dad's favorite conversation piece): “What are your long-term career goals?”
6. When all the boasting and pretense are diluted (my favorite conversation piece): “How’s the food?” or "May I have more wine?" And then it gets casual and more enjoyable. And the alcohol is a-flowing. Yipee.

It’s one of those days, perhaps, but I do like having stirring and intellectual talks with people, while injecting some dry wit and humor somewhere in between.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not sarcastic. I enjoyed a lot. No, actually, I more than enjoyed. I didn’t think these people were boastful at all. They deserve to declare their triumph, because their getting into these reputable schools entailed hard work, dedication and preparation. Seeing them take pleasure in these moments brings a smile to my face. It was one of the uncommon situations when conceit is justified.

My prejudices at business-schooling were wiped out after the event. I was totally moved and inspired by these people every minute. It felt like, at one point, the planet is overflowing with intelligence and perfect wisdom that it would create a perfect world. But that, unfortunately, is not the case (that’s why the world is still hungry, corrupted, and still carries a chock-full of AIDS).

I didn’t realize that business school is not just about books and study groups and nerdy stuff. One thing I learned the past weeks is that there’s more alcohol involved here than anywhere else! Yes indeed!

They poured me a double when I asked for a single. And added two cherries, even. Yup, as I like it. A toast to business school.

A Gorey Thing Happened on the Way to East 44th

I got out of a painful number-crunching session in Finance Class and hurried out of my school building, with nothing else in mind but my warm bed and a glass of OJ. Since I have a monthly Metro pass, I took the crosstown bus – which saved me 10 minutes of walking in the bitter cold of a Spring evening. I was on the phone with a friend, yakking about anything unrelated to Math, then, suddenly a bunch of blinking NYPD police cars overtook my bus. There were at least 3 of them. Oblivious and still on the phone, my bus stopped on 42^nd and 3^rd, an intersection, and I looked out. Turns out that a man was run over by an uptown bus (the long kind with an accordion type separator in the middle?) and his body lain under it, between the large tires. Within a minute, 3 Midtown hospital ambulances were honking its way into the traffic. Then shortly after, two NYFD trucks came! Ready to ramble.

Let’s do the math: 3 police cars, 3 ambulances, 2 trucks. That’s 8 rescue teams, and one hurt victim. That’s pretty impressive. I guess that’s the benefit of living in a First-world country, there’s unlimited supply of resources for rescue and safety. I just wonder if the man who got run over was able to live. I didn’t find out, because I didn’t want to share in his pain (and the spectators’ remorse). So I just got off the bus, walked through the nosy crowd, went home, and did more number-crunching instead.

Grad School Becomes Me (again)

Due to some inexplicable reason, I forgot to mention that I am a Graduate Student at NYU. Yup, and I’m working on getting my second Masters Degree. Pretty neat for a 23 year old :) Nope, I am not precocious, nor am I the super-smart-nerdy-and-scholarly-type of gal. I just know what I want and I work my way from there.

It is challenging (yet very fun) to be thrown out into some unfamiliar city, to interact with people who are more familiar with the city, to try to learn and familiarize oneself in the environment, and eventually be one with the whole familiarity concept.

When you think about it…Yes, it’s from the Boardroom to the Classroom. From Client meetings to Study groups. From Monthly Salary to Monthly Allowance. Is there something wrong with the picture? I don’t think so. There definitely is no amount of demotion happening over here. I view my going back to school as a step to self-improvement (how cliché!). As when I graduate in 2 years’ time, I will be more learned and more valuable – academically and in corporate.

With my fingers crossed behind me, I will land a job that I am passionate and knowledgeable about, at the same time, one that will pay my bills, my travels, my needs, my wants, my rent, my dinner, my shoes, my black SUV, my “pasalubongs” and education for my kids. (Haha, I’m just kidding! I’m not that selfish!)

Let me rephrase: I cross my fingers to land a job that will make me live life as I love it.

Anyway, it’s that time of the semester when projects are piling up and Finals are slowly crawling in. This is just one of those blogs written just for the heck of it. I will be extremely busy the coming days, but I’ll be back as soon as my papers on my study table clear up… and if I have identified if two means that are statistically significant would or would not denote a more profitable source for a direct marketing campaign. And if I should conduct a one-tailed or a two-tailed test, using either Hypothesis Testing or Confidence Intervals. And if the error rates associated with the confident interval is Type I or Type II. Hmm… should I undergo Sample Size Estimation first!? Something something. (Oh, that’s just my Statistics psyche babbling) Whatever.

The Case of the Exes

I have never written about my exes. They are three in total. As I grew older and wiser, I realized that the best (if not the worst) metaphor for exes are they are like the Uptown E train: you take it - not to get to its final Queens destination, but to get off in Manhattan.

I don’t like writing about exes, I don’t like it because: a) I have terminated their (air)time in my life (including any form of activity using all parts of my body, my brain, my thoughts, even my dreams), b) my role as an ego-feeder has expired, and c) reliving love-then-hate relationships gives me nightmares. So, for everyone’s sake, I leave my memories back home, in a beat-up cardboard box in my bedroom closet, never to be opened again.

Of course, sometimes, you inevitably hear about an ex. More so, you hear from an ex. And you unconsciously remember how nice and caring he was -- the dozen cones of flowers, the heartfelt letters, the smiles, the gazes, all the winged-hearts surrounding your auras, the way he held you.

Free-falling. Memories.

And then, as you recollect the sequence of events in the years you’ve been together, the bad memories suddenly fall on top of you like a ton of bricks! The yelling, the screaming, the cussing, the cursing. The jealousy, the lies, the hatred, the tears, the regret, the pride. They all come rushing back creating chaos inside you. You grit your teeth and tell yourself, “I was so stupid.” The bad offsets the good, and the good stuff are put away in a box.

But you moved on! That’s what exes are for. They hit you hard and you learn hard. But there is good in the overall experience, because you come out as a better and brighter person – with a cuter, smarter and more mature man.

The world is too small, at least for me and the people around me. With the preponderance of Friendster and unlimited network-to-network calls, I can’t help but hear about all sorts of (unnecessary and surprising) information about my friends, peers and yes, of course, my exes.

Two of them have already married and the other one has found new happiness, just by being "happy". ;) Hmmm...right...

Anyway!

Speaking of which, inspite of (air)time expirations and brickloads of good and bad memories, I would not fail to offer Happiness to my exes. I am happy for all the decisions we made before, during and after the relationship, no matter how bitter or traumatic. I am happy for those who have found their One. I am happy that they are happy (in every sense of the word). Best of all, I am happy that they are out of my life, otherwise I wouldn't have found my One and am this happy (in every sense of the word, that I can't even measure it)! (Note: Sorry for the delay on romantic blogs. I try to do this bits, pieces and particles at a time! Haha!)

Sounds very cliche, but exes do leave lasting marks in a person's life (good or bad), and we bring a part of them with us everyday. And somehow a part of us just wants to be thankful they came along - no matter how much we swear to leave them behind, put them in a box and lock them in a closet - 10,000 miles from here.

A Silent Prayer

I offer a silent prayer to you, Pope John Paul II.