First things first, the #kickit campaign is working! Hernando hasn't been completely eliminated, but we're well on our way to kicking his bloody self out! Okay, poor choice of words there, but you catch the sentiment I'm trying to evoke. My oncologist didn't have details for me on what the PET scan from a week ago was showing, but overall things are looking better. Honestly, I'm just beyond thrilled to be getting sleep and not to be itching any more. It's amazing what a full night's rest will do for your body. only 3 more treatments to go.
With regards to the internship, this semester I'm taking a business writing course. We just finished a unit on cover letters and resumeés. Two weeks ago I showed up to class unprepared. I was supposed to have brought in a job/internship posting that I was, hypothetically, going to be applying for in addition to a rough draft of a cover letter. With 3 minutes before the hour, I scrambled to sort through my web browser's bookmarks folder. I found one that I'd saved over a year ago when I was contemplating interning in New York for the summer of 2012. It was one of those internships you dream about getting but you'd probably never actually apply for it. Minus the cover letter, I had half of what my instructor was looking for, and some how she marked me down for bringing the whole assignment!
Now, i'm not suggesting that anyone should neglect their homework or show up to class unprepared (on a regular basis anyways), but some times these lazy spells actually yield great things. After mulling over the requirements and what the internship application was asking for, I actually did it; I applied for the thing! I should add that on that fateful day I was looking at exactly one week to get my act together and have all materials submitted by October 1st. This might be a good time to thank my mom and a number of other people here at school who helped me out in a jam. Thanks guys! It's going to be at least a month before I hear back from this place I'm applying to in New York, so stay tuned.
Sticking with this theme of New York, I thought now was as good a time as any to share one of my stories about living in New York last summer. One of the components for the internship application I just submitted actually asked for one of my favorite personal stories. The one I'm about to share was the story I chose.
When I hear of people going to visit New York for the first time I often share this piece of advice: Trains in New York are regularly under construction during late nights and weekends. I share this confidently because the second Friday night that I was in New York City as an intern I realized I had somehow missed out on this vital nugget of information.
As I’ve mentioned, I was living in a predominantly Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. For my neighbors, it was culturally acceptable for women to have a minimal level of independence. Along those same lines, most of my neighbors were afraid of dogs, and people with disabilities would typically be shut away. So, you can imagine what kind of strange being I was moving into their closed off little sect.
The D train is the only one that goes out to the neighborhood where I was living. I had been out for dinner and to hear some live music with a new friend before I caught the D train from Lafayette St. Somewhere around Atlantic Avenue the announcement that filtered through the barely functioning speaker said something along the lines of the D train was going to begin running along the N line due to construction, and that passengers would have to make a transfer to a Manhattan bound D at some station past my stop. I thought this meant that none of the D trains were running in or out of Brooklyn and became very confused. For a good half hour it was like I was playing some game: get off, ask for help, become confused, get back on the train, and repeat. After bouncing around from platform to platform, I had come up with this great idea: I would merely get off at the next available stop and merely call one of my room mates. Most of the platforms further out in Brooklyn are above ground and therefore allow your phone to have service. It would be my luck that the one station where I got off at that point was underground.
There were two very memorable stops where I got off at and tried to find help. There was one platform that had no one on it. I could hear voices across the tracks, but, in case you were unaware, I’m blind and I couldn't actually see them. I went up the stairs and crossed over to try and ask for help. I found a guy and two girls. They seemed particularly happy, and one girl kept saying something about a hamburger; over and over again she said she wanted a hamburger. My street smarts kicked in and something told me there was something off about these three. Yep, they were very high. Luckily they were the happy "let me love everyone in the world" high type, but they were no help whatsoever. The platform that I stopped at after the high-out-of-their-minds-trio was a station with lots of construction. At that stop I finally found an MTA official. He was, sadly, very unobservant, missing the fact that I was wearing shades and had a guide dog, very obviously blind. The poor man suggested that I get back on the N train and make the transfer at a station I'd never been to, saying, "You'll see the signs." If only, buddy, if only I could read the signs.
This is one of my favorite stories for a lot of reasons, but mainly because it was that breaking point in my relationship with the city of New York. Before that Friday night I had just been a visitor and afterwards it was like I was a part of the club. Also, Alexa and I have, as you can imagine, had many adventures together; this story really captures our summer in New York City. As a side note, the trip from downtown Manhattan where I got on the train should've taken 45 minutes to get home. On that very memorable night It took me 2 and a half hours.
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