Thursday, October 18, 2012

Being Sick Sucks: A comparative international study of falling ill

Well, I'm sick again. Sick to the point that I asked to go home an hour early from my internship on Monday and got sent home from host-work on Tuesday. After a gallon of orange juice, countless cups of tea, a marathon sleep - twelve hours on Monday night, a long nap on Tuesday, and eleven hours of sleep Tuesday night, I finally woke up feeling loads better today. Thank God. This recent bout of illness, however, made me start thinking about all the times I've gotten sick over the last year. Which was a lot of times.

Being sick at home (for as long as I can remember and yes, all the way through high school), meant being taken care of by my parents. Cue Mom for any food, drink, or bucket that could possibly be needed, Dad for any errand to get that food or drink. I would camp out on the couch and watch Ferris Beuller's Day Off, because it felt so appropriate. Not because I was playing hooky, just because it was a day not spent at school.

Being sick overseas is different and difficult for entirely different reasons. In Australia, I spent the first month or so sick as anything. I was not only the new kid in class, but the one with the gross cooties who couldn’t stop sneezing and hacking all over everything. Ew. I didn’t want to bother seeing the doctor, partly because of the hassle of insurance and partly because I’m too stubborn to think I actually need the doctor, so I settled for lots of sleep and lots of oranges. (Oranges were ALWAYS available at dinner, and I was eating six or so oranges a day I would guess.) The few times I did take medicine, I was strongly disappointed. Ever heard of Parametacol? Me neither. It’s the Australian/British version of Ibuprofen/Tylenol and it’s about a tenth of the strength. Boo.

France presented a completely different set of issues. I SO should have brushed up on my medical vocabulary before I went. The first time I started to feel poorly, I actually went straight to the drugstore and only then realized that I had no idea what I was looking for, let alone how to ask for it. It was within the first month of being there, so I mimed my ailment and named the body part. It worked well enough but I had the same problem as in Australia, that nothing is quite as strong as it is in the States. Also, most of Europe prefers to take their medicine like Alka-Seltzer, which is just gross, especially when it’s not that effective! I continued to sleep and ingest near-lethal doses of Vitamin C as my preferred treatment plan.

On one particular occasion, days before leaving for the UK, I remember all but crawling out of the apartment for a decongestant, orange juice, and some kind of sleeping aid so that I could fall asleep. I did not want to feel that awful while traveling, and I hoped to knock it out before we left. With no makeup and in sweats – so far below the French standard for leaving the house it’s not even funny – I made it to the grocery store for juice and tissues. I wanted to go home before I hit the checkout line, I felt so weak.

But I pushed on and made it to the pharmacy just down the Cours Mirabeau. I looked for the same meds I had used before but eventually just waited to play charades with a pharmacist because I couldn’t make heads or tails of the descriptions on the medication. What felt like hours later, I made my way to the register with my meds and was relieved to be close to the end of my ordeal. Then two old French women promptly cut me in line. Side note: Europeans don’t seem to give a flying fuck about lines and any/everyone will cut in front of you, then get mad if you get mad. I sat fuming behind the women while they took an inordinate amount of time at the counter, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Worst sick experience EVER.

Unfortunately for me, this bout of illness did not end before our trip to the UK and we found ourselves in many a drugstore all over England, Scotland, and Ireland. This was nice because the medication labels were in English, but awful because the drugs were just as weak as everywhere else and the pound conversion is even less friendly to the dollar than the Euro. And you know the labels all over cold meds that say don’t drink alcohol? … Whoops. But we had a blast, even if I did murder half a rainforest with all the tissues I used those twelve days. The only painful parts were the trips to the drugstores.


Here in New York I've made three trips to the pharmacy, and one trip to the grocery store. I used Neo Synephrine for the maximum three days that I was allowed, and I've gone through the original box of tissues I bought as well as the carton of orange juice. Now, I'm working regular doses of Day/Nyquil (absolute Godsend!), hot tea, my Albuterol inhaler, and lots of fruit. I'm also trying saline solution for the first time ever, and now that I have the process down, it's actually really helpful. Piece of advice: don't lose focus for even one second, because if that shit gets into your mouth, well, just keep your concentration and don't let it get into your mouth. Blech.


Let’s suffice it to say that if I must be sick, I choose to be sick in Cincinnati. Where my parents will bend over backward to take care of me, even though I’ve graduated college and for all intents and legal purposes am an adult. There’s nothing better than Mom and Dad when you’re sick.

All that being said, I’m feeling much better now that I’ve actually been taking proper care of myself these last few days. Just in time for my family’s visit! And I will probably run myself right back into the ground while they’re here. That would even be okay, because I’m so incredibly excited to see them and we’re going to have a marvelous time being tourists in this wonderful city. Welcome to New York, family! I’ll be back with a full report after the weekend.

Here and there,
Kiley

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Kathleen Came to Visit!

The greatest reunion of all time has occurred. After approximately ten months, twenty-four days, and I don't know how many hours (because of the time difference between Australia and the States, not because I don't remember the exact last second the train pulled away and I could no longer see her face), Kathleen and I were reunited at last!

I woke up on Friday to get ready for work to find that I had a very sore throat and a runny nose and was very upset to be feeling under the weather with Kathleen's arrival a mere twenty-four hours away. (Still, I kind of felt it was only appropriate for one of us to be sick for our reunion since at least one of us was almost ALWAYS sick in Australia.) As soon as I got off work that night, I loaded up on nose sprays, cough drops, and cold meds to give me the best chance at a good night’s sleep. This worked well in two ways, because my nose stopped running long enough to allow me to breathe well enough to fall asleep, and it took care of the butterflies-in-my-stomach/first-day-of-school-excitement that would have kept me up.

When my alarm went off Saturday morning, I read Kathleen’s message (she missed the bus) and promptly snoozed for another hour, which did wonders for my head cold though it meant I had to wait for Kathleen just a little longer. I headed to Port Authority Terminal and after text- and phone-tag, I spotted a pair of purple boots and a purple bag, and I knew I had found Kathleen. I’m trying to think of a metaphor for the excitement, the happiness, the shock, the elation that I felt when we finally had the longest hug of all time in the middle of the hallway outside RadioShack, but an explosion doesn’t come close to describing what I felt. Kathleen and I were together.


It was as if she’d just popped back into my dorm room in Australia, like we’d never spent more than four seconds apart. We made our way back to my apartment and hung around for a bit before heading for lunch, chatting and catching up on any and every detail we’ve missed out on with each other over the last year.

For lunch, we decided to go to Ellen’s Stardust Diner. Good choice as always, Kathleen! It’s a 50s style diner, which is almost guaranteed to serve a good burger, but this diner is special in that all its waiters and waitresses are performers. Apparently, a number of Broadway stars get their start at this diner, and we could absolutely see why. They’re all fantastic singers. And it didn’t stop the entire time we sat and ate. We sat at a tiny half booth/table, elbow-to-elbow with the customers on either side, and the servers walked around the tables or climbed onto the little platform that made up the backs of the booths, directly behind my head.


We continued to reminisce, talk about the future, and everything in between over our pitcher of Brooklyn Seasonal Ale – I’m in love with every Brooklyn-brewed beer I’ve tried so far, by the way! – Blue Suede Burgers, and waffle fries. The music ranged from classic rock to the Wicked soundtrack to Call Me Maybe (yes, really – it was a request, apparently…damn that catchy awful song), and every singer was spot on and so fun to listen to. It was so fun and so delicious that neither Kathleen nor I felt that bad over the $75 bill. But that’s New York near Times Square for you, I guess!

Heavily weighed down, we headed into Times Square where we were almost immediately distracted by the M&Ms store. Where they have bags to create your own mix from any color and any type of M&M you can imagine. We started to fill up a bag until we noticed that the line was ridiculously long, at which point we put the bags back and were content with the few pieces of candy we’d accidentally already popped in our mouths. (Everyone else was too…)



So we trekked to the big red stairs in Times Square and looked at all the people dressed in costumes taking photos with tourists and seriously contemplated taking photos too. But we didn’t.



After some shopping and a Starbucks-fueled pick-me-up, we tried to hail a taxi to take us to the Staten Island Ferry, but I think we suck at hailing cabs. After a few minutes, a hired car offered to take us for a flat rate and we hopped in. The driver was so nice and we talked to him for most of the twenty-minute drive. He told us about things to do in New York, pointed out different places and landmarks to go as we drove, and told us about growing up in New York. I love getting cool drivers.

We were just in time to board the ferry to Staten Island, our only goal to see the Statue of Liberty since it was already dark and getting late at this point. We sat on the top deck, marveling at the lights and New York skyline as we left the dock. Moments after taking off, the Statue was visible, glowing green on the water. It was another of those I-can’t-believe-I’m-really-seeing-this kinds of moments. Such a monumental landmark and significant symbol of our country, it was incredible to see in person. It is much smaller than I was expecting, and I’d been told this already but it was still remarkably and surprisingly small. I definitely need to come back in the daylight!




Once we made the round trip, snapping photos all along the way, we boarded the subway to head back to mine where we had some exciting and epic Skype dates set up in Australia. First on the agenda were Ross and Vez. I’ve been able to Skype Ross a few times, but Vez and I have only messaged since I left Australia so it was particularly fantastic to get to Skype the two of them while I was with Kathleen in person. Such a happy reunion! Next, Kathleen and I had the pleasure of talking to Chris who Kathleen has kept in better touch with than I have, so it was SO nice to get to talk to him finally too! Here's to keeping in even better touch.



ILY, you guys. You’re the greatest, and seeing you online only makes me want to get to Australia that much faster in person. Still at the absolute top of my travel list, to get back and spend time with you all. Or, come to the States and I will gladly host you forever. Please and thank you!

Having gotten our Australia fix (for the time being – there’s always an incurable Australia longing lurking in my chest that will invade my dreams and errant thoughts at the slightly provocation), we grabbed our six-pack and headed to my roof that overlooks the George Washington Bridge and the Hudson River. We spent even longer talking up there, just like we had been all day. I can’t remember laughing that much in so long. We capped off the night with some Fresh Prince on TV back in my room and crashed, happy as can be.

This morning was an early one as I still had to go to work at the bakery, so Kathleen and I had pastries and I had a much needed coffee before I started my shift. Kathleen hung out doing thesis work like a boss while I readied the hosting area for the day’s service, and before I knew it Kathleen was coming over to say bye to go catch her bus. It felt like someone punched me in the stomach, realizing that I had to say goodbye again. Note to self: don’t say goodbye to anyone who will make you want to cry at work, because it’s really awkward if you’re even just a little teary-eyed when trying to seat unsuspecting customers. Also: try your best not to sneeze on customers either. I didn’t, but there were two close calls that could have been really, really gross, stupid cold. Sneezing bullet: dodged. Teary-eyes: working on it.

Kathleen, I had SO much fun with you in the day that we got spend together! Thank you so much for making the trip, because I had the greatest time, and I cannot wait to see you again. I promise that as soon as I find a day (or hopefully more!) that I’m not working, I will make the trip to see you, because I cannot stand the thought of it being another year until I see you again. You’re such a great friend, and I know you’re there for me like I’m here for you. I miss you already, and I’m so happy you made it home safe already! I miss you, I love you, and I WILL see you soon! Thank you for yet another unforgettable weekend, and know that I am looking forward to the next one as soon as it is humanly possible!

Here and there,
Kiley

I cannot handle the anticipation.

*This was meant to have posted last Wednesday, but due to a temporary lack of interwebs and then a lack of time, I'm just now posting it*

There are some really, really good things coming up this next month, and I’m SUPER excited about all of them. And good things have happened this week, so I’ll fill you in on that too.

First this past week. I started a second job hosting at a cafĂ© downtown, and it’s been really good so far. For one, they feed me during my break, which I have to take during my 5.5- or 8-hour shift and it’s really good food. Sandwiches, salads with goat cheese, pizza (on the weekends!), and sometimes pastries or sweets if the bakery has some to offer. YUM. My four consecutive days of training from Thursday to Sunday took up a lot of my time this weekend so if I were to offer an excuse for not having written in a week, well, that would be it. But I’m not doing that anymore! Here’s cool thing #2 and the reason why.

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November. (I know, November is a little ways away, but bear with me and I’ll get to the reason why this matters already and part of why I feel great.) The goal is to write 50,000 words between November 1 and 30 – for the unfamiliar, a page is about 250! – and there’s a website where you can join a community of sorts based on your city. The people here will basically serve as your support group for the month, because with a task as daunting as writing a novel period let alone that quickly, God knows a support group is necessary. I struggle to crank out these 1,000-word or so posts once a week. Good grief, what have I signed up for.

Anyway. I realized when I registered on the site a month ago that good Lord will I need help. I brainstormed my story options: build on a smaller work of fiction I’ve started (though fiction has never been my strong suit), come up with a new fiction idea, or decide on a timeframe for a complete memoir (a complete account of Australian adventures? I wondered). Since it’s a “novel” challenge, I leaned away from the memoir and am thinking about working with a short story draft I did for my Intro to Fiction course two years ago.

With an idea in mind, I decided I need to begin planning. And that I need help with that too. How do you create a sustainable story arc? Compelling characters? Convey a believable and enchanting setting? And in one month?? I confess this is part of the reason that I prefer nonfiction. The story is already there, so it’s just a matter of telling it. I’ve struggled a little here about what to tell, who to identify, and what photos to use, mostly because I want to respect people’s privacy and also because I don’t want to provide a reason for future employers not to hire me. With fiction, however, an entire world and characters are created from scratch. I admire that kind of imagination, so I've chosen fiction in an effort to challenge myself. It's also why I believe I need even more help than if I were writing nonfiction.

Cue the “Writing and Publishing” section of Barnes and Noble. I bought 90 Days to Your Novel this weekend by Sarah Domet. I chose it over the 30-day version and the several varieties of basic novel how-tos because of the introduction.


Domet basically says that the difference between a writer and a wannabe writer is that a writer actually writes. Go figure, huh? She emphasizes that in order to actually pen a novel, you will probably have to skip out on some social outings, write when you don’t feel particularly motivated, and ultimately park yourself at the computer for extended periods of time. That part was kind of a wake-up call for me, because I realize that though I do write I don’t invest nearly enough time like I should. There’s always something else going on and it’s easy to put it off until the next day, much like working out – but I’ll save that issue for another time.

So, no more excuses. I’m doing a modified version of Domet’s 90-day plan, and I hope to have my outline, for which she allots 4-5 weeks, finished by the end of October. Then it’s write write write for thirty days. Which will include a visit from a friend in New York, the end of my internship, and flying back to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving. Yikes. But my goal is to write every day. Fingers crossed, nice thoughts, and any prayers you can spare, please!

Along with this pledge came a revelation. Working in publishing, I see so many works, contact so many bloggers, and send out so many books that it’s been a wake-up call to get on my game. Last week, I received an email from a blogger I reached out to for a review of one of our books, and he asked me if we would be interested in publishing his book that is similar to the one I was looking to send out. Being a lowly intern of no authority whatsoever, I asked my publicist boss (who is really so wonderful). Her answer was simply that we don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts, but he should try going through an agent. It was honest, but entirely discouraging for an aspiring writer.

It felt like a real blow to have to tell this guy no without ever having seen his work, and I realized that I was projecting. I’m enjoying being in the publishing industry, but I become more and more convinced every day that I want to write for a living. I get that this isn’t something that happens overnight, but I’m hoping that I’m getting closer to figuring out what I want and also how to get it. For now, I’m happy where I am, but I need to figure out more direct avenues to get to what I want and how to get my work into other people’s hands. Which brings me to the next bit.

While I’m taking on NaNoWriMo in November, I’ve (mostly) decided that I’ll take to posting pieces of the novel to the blog and occasional updates and rants on my progress. For the rest of October, I’m looking forward to writing my outline, but I’ll also keep posting my general musings much like I have been. In an effort to get out and start exposing what I like to write best, I might start including excerpts from the personal essays and memoir-type things I’ve written that I hope will be my primary focus one day.

While I’m prepping for NaNoWriMo, I have some other things to look forward to, mostly in the form of playing host. First guest: KATHLEEN! My Australian bestie (okay, she’s American, but we met in Australia) will arrive this weekend. We haven't seen each other in a year, and my excitement is not containable. Short version: I. CANNOT. WAIT.

The following weekend: MY PARENTS ARE COMING! AND my uncle and my cousin! YAY! Okay, enough exclamation points. Bold font and capital letters aren't adequate expression of my excitement, so I don't know why I'm even bothering with the exclamation points. Still, I get to show them around this wonderful city that I have the privilege to call home. It’s especially cool, because I really miss all of them a whole lot. Hooray impending reunions.

I feel like I’m going to be particularly all over the place over this next month, so I sign off with the utmost sincerity:

Here and there,
Kiley

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Public Transport and People Watching

Sorry for my absence! What a week it's been. Lots of ups and downs, but this is more a post of general New York musings than a life update – I’ll get to my triumphs, woes, and first world problems in another post sometime soon. For now, I come to you from my room as I listen to the rain hitting the windows with every intention of curling up with a book and/or movie when I finish this post! Or getting lost in the America’s Next Top Model marathon going on. We’ll see.

On to some New York observations and comparisons to my dear home in the Midwest.

There is (very) limited public transportation in Cincinnati but in New York, it's a necessary and wonderfully convenient part of everyday life. And thank God, because I could not handle driving in this madness with everyone honking while trying to navigate complicated intersections and one-way streets.

I realized something about myself when I came back from Australia, and that’s this: my stress level raises a hundred fold when I drive. The things that come out of my mouth when other drivers piss me off could serve as a stellar audition tape to get me on Rock of Love or Jersey Shore my sailor’s mouth is so bad. Yay public transportation for lowering my blood pressure.

As far as subway goes though, I think New York is actually a bit more complicated than some of the other transit systems I've encountered. In London, Paris, Chicago, and Sydney, there is one platform for one train going one direction. Here, multiple trains run on the same platform and if there are two sides, it’s a tossup as to whether both platforms go the same or opposite directions. Everything is marked, so it shouldn’t be that confusing, but the MTA makes the mistaken assumption that passengers pay attention.

If, say, you're half paying attention because your head is buried in a book, it becomes more difficult to concentrate and you might just jump on the wrong train because it’s at the same platform as the one you want and you forgot to check that you’re getting on the right line. Or going the right direction. Or getting off at the right stop. I’ll suffice it to say that these are all mistakes I’ve made.

The upside to this, however, is that I’ve polished off four books in my three weeks here so far. In light of this extra reading I’ve been able to do in transit, a book list and reviews are on my list of blog-additions to come! Probably in a new tab, but I’ll brainstorm and bring that to you shortly.

When I’m not reading on the subway, my other favorite hobby is people watching. Strike that – my favorite New York hobby anywhere is people watching. I come from a long line of people watchers. My mom and sister have an airport game where they pick out the various people waiting to greet people and give them new life stories.

“That middle-aged man is picking up his parents who are coming back from Florida, where they go every winter. He’s been taking care of their house, even though his brother was supposed to be the one doing it. His wife was going to come with him, but they got in a big fight because he won’t rat his brother out to his parents.”

“That family, they’re picking up their cousin who’s visiting for the month. He’s the daughter’s best friend – they grew up together and are the same age – and the parents are really happy, because he was always a good influence on her. She’s been kind of wild lately, but they’re all really excited to have this cousin visit.”

And I wonder where I got the need to tell stories.

I’ll leave you with a few of my most recent and most memorable encounters in people watching. There are always the well (or at least interestingly – hello hipster Mecca) dressed, the musicians, and the model-esque, forever making a statement. There are the unfortunate and poorly dressed with the shopping carts or strollers that may contain every possession the person owns. The suit-clad and power-driven businesspeople with their gadgets and stern expressions, the terribly touristy with the maps and cameras and clothes that give them away immediately.

Today, I saw a man in full camouflage and army boots, which wouldn’t have been so odd had he not also had a fox tail. I was crossing the street at the Time Warner Center this morning and stared at this thing poking out from the bottom of his jacket or from a hole in his pants. I honestly couldn’t tell you how tall this person was or what color hair they had, but I am fairly sure that it was a man. By the time that I recovered from the oh-my-God-WHY?!, I found myself scurrying after him to try and snap a discreet photo, but alas I lost my opportunity while I was ogling.

Second place goes to the upper-middle-aged man in the half-unbuttoned pink and white stripe button up, exposing a hairy chest and covering what I can only imagine was an equally hairy beer belly. On top of this beer belly perched an iPad opened to what I believe was a word search-type game. The rest of the outfit wasn’t anything special, but accompanying the beginning-to-bald man’s attire was the priceless look on his face. I think I looked up because his hands frantically skirting around the screen caught my attention. The way his brow scrunched together and his nostrils slightly flared in his deep concentration complemented the little pink tongue that flexed and curled over his upper lip, poking out through an otherwise tight and puckered mouth. That expression on a man whose era, based on the hairy chest and shirt, was probably the 70s stays with you. I would have taken a photo if I hadn’t been at the most inopportune angle.

First place, however, goes to the joint effort of this team. To the kid too engrossed in his game – at full volume no less – and the old man so bewildered by what he was watching that he couldn’t be bothered to control the expression on his face. And lastly thank you, Facefriends, for your entertaining comments when I posted this photo to Facebook. Blogworld, I’ll save you the description but leave you with this little gem of a photo.


Here and there,
Kiley