Harlem: Renee

If it weren’t for my best friend up here, Renee, I’m not sure where I would be. Like Val she is a Californian, and a mexican-food snob. “This isn’t anything like California.” Oh yeah? Well, California’s Mexican food sucks compared to Mexico’s. (Let’s be honest- Missouri can’t even compete. Arkansas probably has better Mexican food than Missouri.)


As my mother can attest to, I’ve never really had any close girl friends. Renee is my first best friend who happens to be female. I realize that she is far from the typical girl, though, and that is probably why we click.

Like my guy friends out West, Renee is always up for an adventure; Girls usually just sit around, talking about plans they’d like to follow through with, but they rarely do. If I tell Renee I want to jump, she grabs my hand and we go together. Being in the city without a friend like her would probably be dull. I have no problem going on adventures alone, but it’s oh-so-much fun to laugh about it with a best friend.

Part momma-bear, part adolescent, Renee and I seem to compliment one another well. Sometimes I think she simply sticks around because she’s worried about me, but then I’ll get that worried text or call, saying “Can we hang out?” Tonight we have an engagement, and she was seriously worried. “But, I won’t be any fun that night. Thursday is the end of my work week. Thursday is when I come over and bitch to you about work and everything else going on. We are not going to be fun Thursday night.” (This was, of course, said with one breath.)

Although a bundle of fun, Renee is also one big ball of stress. I often have to do a “tone it down” gesture to her when she goes on a breathless ramble about work or her family. She’s a hard worker, and really cares about those around her, but she often takes on far too large of a work load. Being (slightly) soft-spoken, she tends to just shrug things off and do what she’s told. Luckily she’s becoming a bit more bold and demanding, and her health is greatly benefiting. If it ever gets to be too much, though, we simply meet up and eat popcorn or pancakes.

Renee has also helped me greatly with my down times. With all of the uncertainty surrounding my health and future, she’s always been eager to help. She’ll show up with some food and a big smile to make sure I’m okay. I have already been pushed out of the city year elite, meaning that the people I worked with daily, the people whom I could “depend on for anything” have excommunicated me. Despite what her teammates may think of her, she still stays in touch, never giving our friendship a second thought.

I think my favorite thing about Renee, though, is that we can just sit at a table and have a good time. Yes, we go out together and conquer the city, but we don’t need to. We are simply okay just being together, and to me that makes a good friend.

Brooklyn: Val

“You know how sometimes I think I’m the Messiah? Well, I think I’m the Messiah of Hipsters. I think I’m here to lead these people!”

This is Val. He calls me up at midnight, to let me know that he loves me and that I’m wonderful. He was in City Year, but left a few months ago because it wasn’t the organization he thought it was. (This seems to be a widely-shared sentiment.) He’s a lost soul, but a kind one. He lives in Crown Heights with one of my new best friends, and I often go over to their house to just watch british television and talk about life.

Val is the kind of guy who has a large beard and a traveling cloak (because he’s not fancy enough to have a dress one.) Although he can be a little boisterous at times, we’re a good duo. He physically takes care of me by making me brownies and giving me big hugs, while I help him emotionally by dancing in footed pajamas for him or giving him big hugs. Mostly, he makes me laugh. He’s full of conspiracy theories and wild tales, but not in a radical way. More like in a late night talk show kind of way. Oh gosh, Val should never be allowed to have his own television show. Instead of Jaywalking, he would try to psychologically analyze people on the street. I don’t think any network could cover the therapy those poor souls would undoubtedly need.

Sometimes Val smells, but we’re working on that. He always calls me a Pixie; I suppose I can be pixie-like.

At first I was a little hesitant to befriend Val, mostly due to his large stature and occasional smell. As soon as my homesickness set in, I ran to him like a MS&T student to a LAN party. He is like a mixture of all of my KMNR friends and Bob from Staples. Oh, how I miss Bob. I realized that although he could very easily break me into small pieces, Val was nothing but a gentle giant. After we sat on line on a sidewalk in Chelsea for a few hours, I knew we’d be best friends; someone behind us commented that he was like a cartoon character, and that is very true. He could very easily be placed into Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Sometimes I even have doubts if he is real.

Pure myth or a Dude-like living legend, Val is one of my best friends here in the city, one of the crutches I depend on.

“I think hipsters are the type of people that say “Bush sucks, let’s party!” They care, but they don’t do anything about it. I don’t really care that Bush sucks, as long as we party. If i ran into him, I’m sure we’d get along. He’d buy me lunch because he’s a rich guy, and I’m poor. We’d shake hands, and I’d smoke a cigarette with him. He’s probably a decent guy.”

See, dad, even you would like Val.

It's time for us to represent: My favorites from CY. Miss you.

"I think the Falcon Club is important because we valenter and help the ones in the need. Falcon Club is a cool club because when it's thanksgiving we will visit a Hospital. I think I community will be touch by our help."
-M., 7th Grade

During a session we were discussing ideal communities. We had gone through about 15 minutes discussing ideal communities, when one of my team members realized that the kids had no idea what the word 'ideal' meant. So, we asked them to define it for us.
"Uhm... Dangerous?" (student)
"Well, no. What do you think ideal means?" (Corps Members)
"USE CONTEXT CLUES! GOOOSH!" (Other student)
"Oh, well. So, like, it's when you deal with things. Like someone punching somebody, so i deal with it."

It made total sense, and I hear things like this daily. This is not to belittle my students' work at all. They are amazing. Sure, there are times where they are crawling on the floor, starting fights, or cursing like they are sailors, but they are truly amazing souls. With the right direction they can voice their deep thoughts and incredibly unique perceptions. With the right direction. Right now, I'm not that direction.

It's makes me sad to think that I won't be able to see if Brandon can start to focus, or if Mohamed really will turn out to be as wonderful as I think he is. I want to make sure Luz doesn't get too crazy with the boys, and try to help Paris control his emotional outbursts. But the more I've done this job, the more I've realized it requires more than I have to offer.

A little over a year ago, I was sitting at my dining room table in Missouri talking to my parents. I was teary-eyed, as were they when my mother said these words: "What I just don't understand is your sudden obsession with helping others. Erika, you can't help others if you aren't taking care of yourself. You have to take care of yourself first." I understood her at the time, but was determined that I would be taking care of myself through my service to others. (I believe that this was instilled in me during Sunday School with Mrs. Peaslee) And I did, I nurtured the parts of me that needed to be nurtured, shrank several doubts ( and bad habits) I had, and opened all kinds of doors to people and possibilities. Unfortunately, I've also experienced all kinds of failure.

The past few months have been riddled with scary phone conversations and worried stomachs. I know my family back home is wishing I were back home, curled up with my new kitten (whom I love dearly) under their watchful eye. I've been having some health problems, yes. There are days where I can't feel limbs, days when I feel so exhausted I don't even leave my house. I've been to hospitals, had my brain scanned, been given pills that make me feel funny. Through the beginning of this I tried to trudge through, being the perky one at First Circle, the one consistently trying to put on the smile I'm known for. But it just kept on getting harder. I would go home, exhausted, and fall asleep with my Reds on. I stopped doing the things I loved so much simply to keep a commitment, knowing it wasn't good for me. But now, in the midst of all of this confusion and pain, I'm deciding to take my mother's advice. (I'm not moving back home, though. Sorry, mom.) I'm going to take care of myself FIRST.

Doing this is bringing on several changes. One, obviously, I won't be in CY. I already miss talking to my buds in the office, but hopefully we'll find some weekend time to catch up. Lord knows they need to relieve some stress, and we all know I love laughing. (Especially you, Theresa and Alli. We need to get you away from CY culture for a day.)

The second one is that I won't be living in Harlem anymore. Some are relieved at this news "Oh, you'll be moving to a better neighborhood!" or "You'll be closer to me now!" (Val) Others, are disheartened "You won't be 5 blocks away!" (I'll miss you too, Renee.) Not only will it be cheaper, but it will be a much better living situation. I'll be living in a house with people my age whom share the same interests I do. They have communal meals a few times a week, and a roof top garden where I can play with worms and grow food. They're involved in the community, and just seem like genuinely nice folks. The neighborhood is a gentrified one, much like Harlem, but is definitely more focused towards my demographic. There are coffee shops, organic groceries, local food restaurants, and a kick-ass pizza place all within a few blocks from my new house. I won't move until the end of the month. Until then, I'm soaking in the cat-calls and soul food. You'll always be my first love, Harlem. Really.

The last one is that I'm trying to find a new job to take up the time CY did. Right now I'm picking up extra shifts at Staples, while still sticking with the weekend shifts I had. I do love the people I work with there, but it would be nice to do something more productive with my time. I know that due to my experience and the economic climate choices are limited, but I'm putting myself out there. Plus, Harlem is around an hour commute from Bushwick. I'd appreciate working a little closer to home.

Home has been such a relative term these past few years, but I've found that it's a really easy concept to create. Maybe it's just my Midwestern smile or southern hospitality, but all it takes are a few close friends and a few constant haunts to make a home. I hear these songs longing for it, see shows dedicated to finding the perfect one, but really it's all hogwash; Home is wherever you decide it is.

Right now, home is a lumpy bed in a messy room in Harlem. 'night, friends.

But, Miss!

"Kahlia, come here."


Her bright eyes stare lovingly at his as he fiercely fires his orders. She's done no wrong, but he just doesn't have the time nor energy to deal with her.


She's in a laundromat. With nothing to do.


The drones are driving her crazy, and the flickering fluorescents are making her restless. I feel the same way, Kahlia. Right now, though, I feel with your dad, too.


I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm over-worked and under-paid. Yet, because of what I'm doing I'm expected to convey the same zest, the same love this three year old child does.

"Yo, Miss. I didn't do nothing, though."

But you did, Enrique. You were difficult. You were difficult, and I'm just not in the mood to handle your "lovable" quirks. Now, sit down and do your work.

It's not really his fault. He's a kid, and he wants to go out and play. He lives in an unprivileged area and goes to an under-resourced school. Despite how loving and supporting his family may be, he lives in a community of negativity and doubt.

"I don't want to go home, because I know it's not a good place."
"I don't have to worry about the Bloods here. My cousin's one. They look out for me."

Every day the world eggs him on screaming "Fail! Fail!" They look at him and see just another sad statistic. Despite me being a statistic of my own, and despite the mass amounts of hope and optimism I contain, today I'm one of those people screaming "You'll never get anywhere in life. Just hurry up and fail."

Enrique is in no hurry to prove them wrong, either:
"People of my color don't go to college."
"I joined a gang at my last school. We beat people up for no reason. Even though I'm not at that school, I'm still in the gang."
These are the things I hear every day. Those smiling eyes and upbeat attitudes astound me sometimes. I know they don't have enough to eat. I know they are wearing dirty clothes. I know they've experienced a form of abuse, maybe even the night before.

Yet here they are looking up at me, smiling.

"Miss, miss. I didn't do anything wrong, miss."

No, you didn't, Enrique. You're just a victim, a product of your environment. I'll try to remember this as you're running, cursing, and fighting. I promise that in this year I will do my best to make your community, your school, your life as supportive and safe as possible. I want to help you. But, please, Enrique, just sit down and do your work.

"Okay, Miss."

New York State of Mind

New York and I have a very odd relationship thus far. Everything about it can be summed up in lyrical form, but I'll try to use my words as much as possible.

Coming into New York, I was so incredibly excited. I knew I would love the city, and I couldn't wait to learn more about it. It was the city of endless pavement, endless opportunities. It was the city so nice they just had to name it twice. Still high from my amazing summer in Arkansas, I took on the city head-on. As much pavement as I covered, I felt as if my feet never touched the ground. My program started, and I met all of my new colleagues and friends. I just simply fell in love with the idea (and the reality) of New York City and City Year.

At The Today Show.

With any new relationship there are pitfalls. The city seems to have a very manic energy, and a very strong energy. There will be days that I will leave my house with the sun shining, music blasting from every stoop, and people dancing on the sidewalks. A few hours later I'll emerge from the subway and it will be a completely different atmosphere; all it takes is one cool, harrowing breeze to turn the singing into yelling. Being a sensitive soul, there is no way I can escape the force, the energy of 8 million people.

The morning after a 24-hour night out. The City can do crazy things to people.

So far everything has still been simply an idea to me. I've been living in the city, but it never really set in. I hadn't yet realized that I couldn't simply drive to a field and look at the stars whenever I pleased. I hadn't yet realized the scope of work I would be doing this year. I hadn't yet realized how expensive the city really is. So when all of this set in, it was a bit rough. And as they say, when it rains, it pours.

Sick and tired after a 12 hour day.

I've learned that I'm very much a doer. Several people in CY are, but most seem to be visionaries. This is probably my biggest frustration, as I am sincerely growing tired of discussing our methods and plans instead of doing them. My team has caught onto this, and has done their best to accommodate. Still, the stress added up pretty quickly. I also had an issue with the Department of Education, as they said I was ineligible to work in the schools. It turned out they had simply transposed the numbers in my SSN, but it was extremely discouraging and frustrating to have to sit out of work, not knowing if all of my training, my planning, my dreaming had been in vain. I also lost a bit of my affection for my neighborhood, as I had a bag stolen from me on the trek home from the train one evening. It wasn't too terrifying, and I feel completely safe now. I'm just disheartened that my friends and family elsewhere now have their stereotypes and preconceptions of Harlem confirmed by one isolated event. I can sense it every time I talk to my parents now- they want to know where I am, where I'm headed, who I'll be with.

Luckily they don't have to worry. I recently received a box of luck from Rolla, and in it contained a fortune: Do not worry. Your every need will be provided. The blue ink on that little slip of paper couldn't have been more true. I was feeling down, and my family at JHS 13 came through. Staff members comforted me and gave me advice. My teammates went above and beyond by giving me company and even feeding me some food. I was feeling a little stressed out at school, and I was able to work on a corporate service day in my neighborhood. I was running low on cash, and found out I did indeed land that second job. I just couldn't feel more blessed right now.

I have started to miss Arkansas and the people I knew there, but I realize that I was lucky enough to have that home for 6 months. {It was so easy living day by day,
out of touch with the rhythm and blues. But now I need a little give and take The New York Times, The Daily News} As cynical as I thought I grew last year, I feel like the optimist in me is thriving in this city. Maybe it's because a random smile is such a treasure here, but I'm finding myself becoming more and more optimistic about life. I just finished a nearly 70-hour work week, but I'm feeling great. I'm worn out, but happy.
{In New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,
There's nothing you can't do,
Now you're in New York,
These streets will make you feel brand new,
Big lights will inspire you,
Let's hear it for New York}
I think I just needed a few days to process the past three months.

As far as work, everything is going swimmingly. I'll post about the school soon. (It really deserves its own spotlight.) Staples is interesting. Yes, I'm once again at Staples as one of their weekend cashiers. It's funny how very much the same it is while still being completely different. It's a bit busy, and my co-workers are very different than the ones in Rolla. The customers are still just as funny and personable, already making up nicknames for me. (I apparently resemble Nancy Drew.) The store is much more lax, as one of my Nigerian co-workers was eating a cheeseburger at the register, but they still take their jobs very seriously.

East Coast men are like no other, though. That is the one thing I can't get used to. In the Midwest and South, men just dance around the subject, taking their time to show their interest in you. Here, the men have no shame. If they're not catcalling you on the sidewalk, they're slipping you a card or stealing your phone to input their number. You can try to be a nice lass and turn them down gently, but they mostly just don't get it. I've never had to work so hard to turn somebody down before. It's almost exhausting, really.

I'm off enjoy my heated mattress pad and new sheets. Thanks, Mom.