happy easter

The easter bunny has always freaked me out. I know this because I still have a photo of the easter bunny and I at age 3. I am hysterically crying in the photo and freaking out. Clearly, that feeling never changed. They are still just as horrifying...

i.e:

just when i though bunny suits could not get more creepy...

71 Irving Place

71 Irving Place Coffee & Tea Bar

- very adorable and cozy coffeeshop tucked in Irving Place right near Gramercy Park. I am not a big fan of coffee, but their cup is delicious, organic, and local (the beans are from the Hudson Valley) and the atmosphere is very calming.

bye bye bushy

congratulations to the first family

Wall of Inspiration

Last night was the first night back at NYU and while most were getting shwasted, my roommates and I spontaneously decided to revamp our dorm room until 2AM. Each ad was specially chosen and meticulously placed on the wall. It turned out pre-tay fabulous.

also, please note the freakish similarities between James Franco and James Dean.

acting lessons

I feel like my life only moves forward when I'm back in New York. At home in the suburbs I feel like everything is put on pause and can only be turned back on when I am in the City. I was feeling pretty bummed out, bored, and pretty useless on the morning of January 6th. But that feeling quickly faded when I woke up from a mid-day nap and arbitrarily checked my g-mail, getting a message I had never expected. There, in my inbox was a interview request for an advertising internship Louis Vuitton's corporate office. Louis Vuitton. The same Louis Vuitton on Fifth Avenue I had oh-so-cheesily posed in front of as a tourist just a week before with my Italian cousins who stayed with us this break. Me? They want me to come in for an interview? I sent in my resume months before with little hope of it actually going somewhere. But it went somewhere...

That Wednesday morning, I took the train into the city for the interview. I stepped out of Penn Station and suddenly decided my outfit was all wrong. I freaked out and ran into Macy's Herald Square. I ran up to a saleswoman and frantically explained my situation. I desperately tried on different outfits in the dressing. I stepped out of Macy's 30 minutes later in an outfit completely different than what I had on before. New tailored black pants, a hot pink silk ruffled top, a black embroidered jacket, and my mother's Stewart Weitzman black suede high heeled boots (I had stolen from her closet that morning shh...). Ok, so I was out $-168 but now i was definently ready to take on Louis despite the fact that he may be out of my league. Despite the fact that I was currently with my Marc. (Jacobs bag, that is).

As I power-walked to the subway, it began to snow as I simultaneously realized, "shit! Where do i put the clothes I was wearing?" I stuffed my clothes as neatly as i could into my bag and hopped into the subway. I was anxious and got off at a stop too early. I had 15 minutes to get to Louis Vuitton and I was 5 avenues away!!!!!

Ahhhh!!!! I frantically jumped into a cab. "Ah, you look very nervous my friend. Are you running late?" Asked the turban wearing cabby.

"Yes. I have a job interview."

"Hwhoaa a jobb intear-view? Good luck, my friend. I pray for you. You will get job. No worries. I pray for you" I thanked him greatly for his speediness, his prayers.."I'll need them!" and ran into the building. After a long security check and the slowest elevator ride later, I found myself stepping into the very magnificent, very chic, very...bright white... office where I was met by a pretty blonde model-like woman, who couldn't be older than 27. It was Brielle from the email. She greeted me and led me into a very beautiful, glass paneled office overlooking The Plaza Hotel and Central Park East. As expected, it was straight out of Devil Wears Prada.

She and a brunette girl sat down across from me and described the job. They asked me about my background, why I was interested, some questions on how I could apply my Politics studies to advertising, and what I knew about LV ad campaigns. I thought of the website I briefly browsed the night before. I vaguely remembered some old fat guy on a dock on a tropical island with a Louis Vuitton briefcase. I remember thinking how stupid and pretentious he looked.

"Yes, I've seen your ads in magazines. Most recently, um that old man on the dock with the briefcase? for the Winter Getaway campaign?" They nodded their heads encouragingly. I should have stopped there. But then I stupidly continued. "I thought it might have been Louis Vuitton but then I realized 'hmm, Louis Vuitton is probably not alive!" What a lame attempt at a joke. Ugh. Only me.

The brunette looked at me like I was an idiot. "It's Sean Connery," she said in complete seriousness. I would later learn the ad was her idea. Brielle, however, seemed amused, "haha yes, Louis Vuitton hasn't been alive for a long time." I smiled back at her nervously. After some more questions about my availability and school credit, the interview was over. I shook their hands and left. I stepped out of the building feeling a bit defeated.

Well, that was a major fail. They definently didnt like me, I thought to myself. What a waste. Why did i let myself get so excited? I am an idiot. Yep. How did I think I had a chance? And how the hell was I supposed to know that's what Sean Connery looks now? It's only how he looked in his Bond days that really matter anyway, right? Oh well, at least it was an experience.

I decided to sulk my sorrows in spending. I walked into Henri Bendel, picked up $150 headband, tried it on, put it down sadly, and walked out. Even shopping up here makes me feel defeated, I thought.

I was not expecting the email that came two days later from Brielle asking me to come in for a second interview with their Director of Advertising. This interview went well but it was much more intimidating. The questions were more targeted and specific. I told him how I have always had extreme respect and admiration for beautiful ads. how i could recall ripping up my mother's Vogue when I was little, collecting the ads I thought were beautiful (still true). Overall, it went well. But I don't want to get excited just yet. I am careful not to get my hopes up (that's a lie). The third email came last Friday. They have asked me to come in for a final interview with the Senior Vice President.......... Merde. ok ok but if i dont get it (likely) it was a good experience (i guess)...interviews suck. i'm a good actress though. if i dont get it i'm back to meri---off properties...far less glamourous...no GQ model parties or kate moss look a likes walking around in that office, that's for sure.

anywayz i love this...

bored this break? feeling crafty? check this out...

the countdown

Every December 31, at 11:59 p.m., the crystal Ball in Times Square begins its descent as millions of voices unite to count down the final seconds of the year. Champagne bottles pop, strangers kiss and clocks change. The celebration of the beginning of a new year full of hopes, challenges, changes and dreams begins. This year, I got to thinking a lot about time and how fragile it is. We so easily forget, but the countdown never stops, the ball keeps dropping with every passing day. And a lot has happened and a lot has changed this year. And as time passes, only more will change. When my grandpa had a heart attack in October was when I first actually realized the people I've been blessed to have around me aren't, in fact, as invincible as they seem. I freaked out. Since college started, I had not spent enough time with my Poppy. I hadn't called enough. I hadn't visited enough during my breaks. I took our time together for granted. I cried because I was worried and scared. But I also cried because I felt so guilty. While I was with my friends, he was suffering in a hospital somewhere. The next morning, I rushed to Penn Station for the next train home and spent the day at his hospital bedside.

I turned twenty this past December and realized my teenage years were officially over. My friends joke "you're old now!" and my parents joke "playtime's over!" I first thought, "oh shit they're right"..and in a way, their jokes hold truth. While I wouldnt consider myself "old" I do consider myself more responsible. I'm not a teen anymore..and so I feel like now, more than ever, I have more of a responsibility to myself, to my family, and to the role I play in society as a citizen of the world. I have felt like I have been irresponsible in my neglection of civic duties. I mean, when was the last time I helped out my community? I mean really helped out my community, not just donated money to a cancer cause or sent a card to a war veteran...Ever since I stopped volunteering, solely working at my paid internship, I have felt like a huge part of me has been missing...I often wonder what happenend to that little girl from Newark I tutored, if the things I taught her about the importance of education and the insignificance of drugs stuck with her. I often wonder about the patients in CCU and the nurses that devoted their lives to helping others. I often wonder about the autistic children I taught art to. A lot of time has passed since my volunteer days, but the memory still sticks. No matter what field I choose, I know I need to do a job with some sort of direct civil service - whether local or global. I need to know that my efforts are working to make a difference in the lives of others and in the development of our communities. If my job doesn't make any significant impact, I know I will feel worthless, useless, and just empty.

I turned twenty this past December and that same day, my family found out the chemo worked, Poppy was cancer-free. Unfortunately, we also found out only 32% of his heart is working. My Poppy, the man who taught me how to eat spaghetti with a spoon and about the seven continents and how to play cards, is now skinny, weak and feeble, dependant on medicines. He bears a permanent look of apprehension on his face. He is probably the nicest man I will ever know. It pains me to see him this way. I want to hug him and tell him that everything will be alright, but I can't. I become emotionless, stoic. I ignore the issue when I am with him. Like it's not there and the reality doesn't exist. But in reality, I know it does exist and I am full, so full of emotions. His time is fragile and out of my control. Because of this I feel a sense of obligation to make the best of my time with him.

At the drop of a ball, a whole year will pass. And there's nothing we can do to stop it from dropping. there is nothing we can do to stop time. We can only make the best of time here. I have decided in 2009, I will try to make the best of my fleeting time on earth. Last year, I refused to make a resolution because I thought New Year's resolutions were phony. Why do we need a whole new year to make a resolution? Why can't we make pledge and a promise to ourselves at anytime of the year? But then I realized that maybe its because my resolutions were phony. That's why I think this year, is very much a new year - because my resolution is not the same as usual (I will go to the gym everyday, I will get all A's, I will stop biting my nails, I will lose five pounds, I will spend less money, I will be a happier person, I will worry less)...all phony. OK, perhaps not phonyyy per se...perhaps all noble attempts...but come on. We can't go to the gym everyday...and we will be happy and we will be sad and we will worry and stress out in 2009!! I mean, we just will. At least, I know I will...And we'll strive to get good grades as always - to do our best as always - that's not a year's resolution - that's an ongoing promise. No, those aren't good New Years resolutions. This year, my decree is much more general but very meaningful: I will make the best of my time. I want to build and develop and improve myself and share my skills. I want to work to enhance my potential so I can best help others in the future, using my energy for the greater good. it's about time...

So ready or not, here comes 2009 and all its uncertainties. it can be a new beginning. happy new year, everyone. say goodbye to your old self.

i hate doing dishes but......

i'm 20?!

homer simpson, my precautionary tale

Orecchiette con Broccoli Rabe... and lots of spice!

so i don't really cook much...and i realllly can't bake...but once and awhile i make one of my favorite simple italian dishes: Orecchiette con Broccoli Rabe. its so easy, yet impressive...you must try it. Orecchiette means "little ear" in Italian. It is a distinctive Puglian type of pasta. They use it a lot where my Nonna is from in Foggia, Italy, located in the Puglia region (southern italy). They are shaped roughly like small ears, hence the name. if you don't like broccoli rabe, you can substitute it with regular broccoli florets. And If you aren't a vegetarian, my mother also uses slices of italian sausage or chicken sausage in for more flavor.

i personally love adding lotsss of heat with garlic and crushed red pepper. but last time i made it i accidently tossed in like 6 spoonfuls of pepper flakes and almost killed my suitemates...though I personally loved it..plus it totally cleared my sinuses. haha. add to your discretion.

things you will need:

-a pan, a pot to boil, tongsss

-box of orecchiette pasta

-3 cloves garlic (i put 5 or 6...hehe)

-white onion or one shallot

-olive oil

-crushed red pepper flakes

-salt

-brocolli rabe (rapini)

-freshly grated parmegiano reggiano (if you like cheese, that is)

1.Rinse and Soak broccoli rabe in water. Boil broccoli rabe until it is almost cooked through. Strain.

2. In a pan, sautee minced garlic and onion in olive oil. Add crushed red pepper. I add LOTS of crushed red pepper and garlic because I like it very spicy....clear-your-sinuses spicy. Don't add any if you can't take heat though. Add broccolli rabe. Stir and let cool.

3. Boil pasta until al dente.

4. Throw cooked pasta into the pan of broccoli rabe (and sausage). Toss with a wooden spoon or tongs.

5. When ready to serve sprinkle freshly ground black pepper, grated parmigiano reggiano, and chopped parsley and toss together.

i love this photo because...

i love this photo because it feels like the kind of photo you find in the drawer of a bureau, a bureau you buy at a little antique store that you happen to drive by one cold November day, a bureau you just have to have, so you rope it on top of your beat-up station wagon, and you get home and start filling the drawers with your own things--soaps, panties, mended socks--and hmm, you say to yourself, what's this? You flip the photo over and try to read the faded blue ink but can't make out the names or the date. You turn it over again and sit looking at them for a long minute, wondering if they are happy.

- nicole callihan

ellioterwitt.com
i love elliot erwitt's photography. i think he is brilliant. the one above is my favorite, but it is not at all representative of his portfolio. he is known for his black and white candid shots of absurd situations within everyday settings -- the master of the "indecisive moment"

At the Circus

On december 4th I along with my sister Daniella, and my friends Jenny and Mike went to Britney Spears's 27th birthday party/release party for her album "circus" on good morning america. Britney made her entrance on top of a giant cage and performed “Circus”alongside clowns, jugglers and performers dressed as circus animals. She also performed “Womanizer.” i would not consider myself celebrity-crazy by any means. I am not one of those PEOPLE magazine-reading, Perezhilton.com gossip fanatics, but I have to say I was completely starstruck by Britney. I am a die-hard fan and I was soo happy to see her performing and well again. it was really an amazing performance and an experience I will never forget.

I'll buy the flowers myself

There are a wealth of things that make me happy. Some are monumental, some come and go quietly. Perhaps some of the greatest pleasures, though, are the things which we often refer to as "the simple pleasures." On a bad day, buying myself a $10 bouquet from the third avenue Gourmet Deli is one of those simple pleasures. Its a purchase that has the ability to make me more happy than buying myself new clothes or jewelry ever could. there has to be something to that...i think i am so in love with flowers not only for their organic beauty but their inherant symbolism. my mind interprets the vivacious blooms in a bouquet as symbols of hope and optimism. They tell me everything is going to be okay when everything else seems to be telling me the opposite. It's like the feeling I get when I cut open a pomegrante. There is a certain satisfaction in finding the unexpected beauty of the pomegranate's pearls inside its tough leather husk. The seeds are natural jewels that radiate with life. Or the unexpected beauty of a bouquet of roses for sale on the gritty New York sidewalks. Yes, I think that is why I love flowers and pretty little things so much. When life becomes dismal or thoughts become dark, the unexpected simple pleasures in life are just enough to make me happy - even if only for a moment. Flowers die and pomegranates are eaten, yet the pleasure they have given us, if only for a moment, is the moment that matters most. The moment when everything feels just right.

well, it's a shame that too few men know that the key to a girls heart is a bouquet of flowers. I am not talking about flowers on a special occasion. The surprise deli bouquet. psychologically, it's in that moment - that unexpected moment - that our hearts feel an elevated happiness. It's a simple effort worth more than a Cartier diamond. Well...maybe that's an exaggeration...but you know what I mean. It's simple and it's unexpected and joyous. It's like the happiness you feel in the moment an unexpected visitor arrives at your door. or the unexpected text, the unexpected grade, the unexpected phone call, the unexpected kiss. A happy moment and memory can outshine a mind crowded with sorrows. So, if you are a male reading this heed my advice...surprise her with flowers for no reason. well, i mean i imagine it will work with all girls except for me of course (for obvious reasons) and except for maybe goth girls on the morbid anti-floral side of life...(in which case i have no idea...new black lipstick perhaps?)

Anyway, i have found that even the best moments are at risk of being forgotten. They can fly from our mind like flaky butterflies - as quickly and unexpectedly as they came to us. We can try our best to capture them with photographs, mementos, scrapbooks, diaries...

well, this is my attempt to capture those moments.

welcome to my blog.