I've got you under my skin, New York.

There's something happening with me and New York.  After about five or six visits, we are - dare I say it - developing a relationship.

To be honest, New York is the one city where I've always felt this sense of: "Should I?"  Past tense.  "Should I have moved here instead of California in my early 20s?"  "Instead of two years in grad school, should I have devoted two years to this city?  Paid my dues?  Made contacts?  Moved back home to Austin after a shiny Manhattan internship?"

There's this teensy bit of longing I have to stifle every time I walk around that city.  

An office in the Flat Iron Building, from one of our book publisher clients.  Isn't it haunting?

I think: I could live here.  I totally could.

New York is a city paved by ambition, and that's the thing that makes it so exciting.

Paella at Sevilla in Greenwich Village. It has an organ quality in this picture, almost like a heart.

Terroir Wine Bar on E. 12th, with some of the most wonderful women.

Over wine a couple of nights ago, I talked to a friend who'd moved to New York from Austin a few years back.  We came to the conclusion that, for writers (which we fancy ourselves), New York seduces you with connections and access.  Filmmakers in the bars.  Magazine editors in the coffee shops.

Meanwhile, Austin seduces you with quality of life.  War-torn from bigger cities, people flee to Austin, and rest in the cradle of its easy warmth.  The most stressful job I've ever had here is nothing like that of my New York peers: Megan has a 23 year-old brother who works 16 hour days.

***

I remember being 24, and coming home at 3:30am one night during grad school.  This was in California.  I was student teaching, working at a magazine, and going to class myself.  I sleepily poured myself a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats, and stood in the fluorescent light of our kitchen to eat it.  I was so tired and numb.  I walked into the bathroom, still holding holding my bowl, and looked at myself in the mirror as I took a bite.  I laughed I looked so pathetic, like a baby, but an old baby, puffy-faced but hollow-eyed.  

I thought, "well, you asked for it."  Took on so many obligations and so much work that it had come to this: standing in my bathroom exhausted, watching myself eat cereal for kicks.

That little memory is the reason I think I ended up in Austin.  New York appeals to everything inside of me that is Type A and workaholic, but Austin corrects this internal imbalance I have.  Left to my own devices, you see, I get all Puritan work ethic.  I know it may not seem that way by the looks of my blog, but inside this smiling redhead is a clenched Miranda Priestly saying things like, ARE YOU BLOGGING ENOUGH?  ARE YOU MAKING ENOUGH MONEY?  WHY, YOU'RE ALMOST 30 AND YOU'VE HARDLY DONE A THING!

However, Austin reminds me to relax and play and close thy laptop.  I've got such a crush on you, New York!  But seriously.  Thank God for you, Austin.   

Speaking of which, I'm back this week.  Let's play, city.

Still alive!

Oh Internet.  I've just been shameful lately!

Not writing.  Not calling.  Hardly a Tweet from my end.

I've been having an affair, you see, with New York City.  My friend Megan and I are running around like maniacs this week, here on a work trip, but squeezing in some fun too.

Not going to lie, I felt pretty special having my picture taken in Bryant Park.  Even if it was Megan who was the one taking my picture, and she did it because I handed her my camera and said, "here, can you take my picture?"

I promise not to ignore you for long, Internet.  There is Austin Fashion Week to discuss, for one, and the fact that I can't seem to visit New York without flashing somebody.  But that's a story for next week.

Be back soon!

The time I showed Madison Avenue my lady bits.

So.

You know how, when you're about to have an important meeting with someone -- professional or otherwise -- you deliberate over what to wear?

And then, you're all proud of yourself for selecting your outfit?  It's sharp, it's comfortable, it's hip but it's not trying too hard?

Let's say you take your cute outfit out to breakfast, and you're feeling good.  You're about to have a meeting with oh, say, a national television producer.  Let's say you finish up breakfast, march out to Madison Avenue in New York, and now, you are on your way.  Your Confidence Outfit and you.

Let's say people start looking you up and down.

You walk a block.  Two blocks.  Five.  It seems that everywhere you go, people can't stop gawking at you.

"Wow," you think.  "I knew this ensemble was a winner, but apparently I've outdone myself."

Let's say you walk into the building of your meeting, and because it is a New York tower, you must check in with security at the lobby.  The security guard, he also can't help but notice your clothing.

At this point you're beginning to feel a little funny, what with all this ogling, but hey.  You signed up for the attention.  You're looking pretty fly, girl.

Let's say you walk into a crowded elevator, and by now, you've simply gotten used to the stares.  You graciously nod back.  But then the elevator door opens, and right before your meeting, you decide: "I'm going to hit the ladies' room, just to make sure there's nothing in my teeth."

You walk in.

There is a mirror.

The image back reveals something far more disconcerting than food in the teeth.

Instead, the ENTIRE FRONT OF YOUR DRESS IS TUCKED UP INTO YOUR PANTY HOSE.

You are face-to-face with your underwear, tiny, "summertime" underwear.  The hose are sheer.  There's little left to the imagination.

You start back in horror, because Madison Avenue just saw your vagina.

***

This is how I began my day on Thursday, while on a work trip to New York.  But it's ok, because I had these pictures to come home to -- and the following are how I shall remember my visit.  Rather than displaying my crotch for the world.

Bryant Park.

Times Square!  Did you know there's a huge, luxury Applebee's on Times Square?  Random!

The New York Public Library.  We were there for its 100 year anniversary.

The New York Anthropologie inside the Chelsea Market Building, a series of shops and offices nestled inside the old Bisquick factory.

Doesn't is seem that no matter the city, Anthropologie is the most meticulously designed store, ever?  My sister-in-law is a window and store designer for Anthropologie, and I was honestly slack-jawed when I visited her store in Dallas.

This curvy wall leads you out of the Chelsea Market Building, onto the bustling street outside.

My work buddy Stephanie and I had drinks inside the Maritime Hotel.  We decided to take advantage of the good lighting for an impromptu photo shoot.

Rockefeller Tower.  Staring up at this made my neck hurt.

Me on The Highline, a raised train track in Chelsea that's been converted into an elevated stretch of garden, covering several city blocks.  Stephanie and I took a walk there in between meetings, and I was charmed by all those colorful buildings in the background.

This was a random art installation inside Anthropologie (yes, we're back to Anthropologie), and at first, when I looked down from the top floor, I thought it was just a big mess:

I thought, my my!  Or rather, tsk tsk -- this is certainly out of character for Anthropologie!  

Then I realized what I was looking at, and then I stood there in the middle of the store and proceeded to take a billion pictures of Valentin's cool work.

I think I would probably donate one of my limbs in exchange for this tile.

Ok ok!  We finally left Anthropologie.  Here are two more shots from two New York bakeries, Fat Witch and Elsie's.

You are just so charming, New York.  You're rough and sleek, gritty and elegant, dirty and pristine.  Each year I love coming back home to Austin, but I feel like a bit of you rubs off on me with every visit.

Only, help a girl out, and tell me the next time you can see my lady bits.  Deal?


UPDATE (6/2/11): The original title of this post used a ... different word for "lady bits."  Not a profane word.  The anatomical word.

But then, I woke in the middle of the night having a nightmare that I got fired for posting that word on my blog, so I changed it.  Harumph.

I'm a little sad to see it go.  I got stopped on the street after that post, just for using the v-word!  It made me want to go audition for the nearest Vagina Monologues performance and vent about it.  Oh well.  

I'm going to be a part of it! New York, New York!

Every year for work, my company goes to New York for the literary industry's biggest conference, Book Expo America.  

Or, as my husband Ross likes to call it, Nerd-a-Thon.

Anyway, I am so excited!  As you may recall from my 20-year-old diary, my list of life ambitions used to include living in New York for one year.  I still fantasize about that sometimes.  Doesn't every writer? 

  You think:

What would it be like if I lived down the block from The New Yorker?

What if my next door neighbor was a book publisher?

What if David Sedaris moved back to New York and became my ROOMMATE and we also became best friends?

What if, what if, what if.  That's the problem with writers.  We so often live in fantasy, that it's hard to yank ourselves out sometimes and return to the real world, where non-fabulous things like bills, laundry, tire rotations, and bank statements await.  Booor-ring.

So!  Reader, have you ever been to New York?  Where do you recommend I go?  I've visited plenty of times, but the city is so gargantuan that I try to discover something new on each visit.  This year, in between work and meetings, I'm definitely checking out:

• Char No. 4 (crafted cocktails in Brooklyn)
• The High Line (an art walk in Chelsea that my new friend, Tucker, recommended to me.  PS.  Go check out Tucker's art work.)

But what else?  That's just two places.  Surely I need to see more!

More favorite New York pics.

This city.  In New York you can pretty much close your eyes, point your camera in a random direction and shoot something awesome. Here are some from Brooklyn and Greenwich Village.

Also...check out Hogwarts this scary castle-like building I shot! Not a touch of photo editing.

It freaks me out a little!

I Heart New York!

Last week, I traveled to New York for my jobby-job. In between meetings and professionalism, my buddy Stephanie and I ran around taking pictures!  That's a several story-tall Carrie Bradshaw above, strolling through the sky in Times Square.

We found a delightful restaurant in Chelsea called, I believe, "La Bottega." Isn't it rather lovely? Steph and I think something big-time was being filmed there...we saw director/actor trailers, signs with arrows that said "TO SET," and paparazzi.

Across the street, we had a meeting inside the Chelsea Market Building - truly one of the coolest spaces I have ever been in, with a small indoor waterfall. But with time to kill, we sauntered into this adorable cupcake shop, tucked away inside Chelsea Market Building's long, brick corridors.

(If it weren't for the meeting, friends, I assure you that I would have attacked one of these with my face.)

That night, we cruised down to Little Italy for dinner. On the way, we met up with Steph's friend Rene, who took a picture of us underneath some Little Italy bling!

Times Square...Chelsea...Little Italy...there was only one thing missing. What was it? Ah yes: foam Lady Liberty hats.

I'll miss you, New York.