Forced to say goodbye to NY

For those who haven’t heard, my adventure in New York City is coming to a rather abrupt end this week due to confusion regarding my lease: The women I sublet from thought our lease ended August 31 when, in fact, it ends July 31. People who know me well can imagine my reaction to this news. For those of you who cannot, let’s just say I was a wee bit peeved.

So what now? The change of plans has forced me to end my internship early, and this Saturday I’ll be leaving on a jet plane headed to Chicago. Realistically, having to resign, pack up and move are the smallest inconveniences resulting from my housing debacle. I’ve always been quick on my feet, so this was nothing a few brown boxes and an ad on Craigslist couldn’t solve.

What upsets me more is how quickly I have to say goodbye to New York. I’m quick on my feet, but slow in the noggin, at least when it comes to major life changes. I take time to digest news like this. The whole of my senior year was spent reflecting on my college journey and doing things unique to Madison, things I expected to never be so accessible again. Sure, my two months in New York are no where near as significant as my four years in Wisconsin, but there is still some reflecting and last-minute exploring to do.

That’s what this week is for. Outings I pushed off for a later date: They’re happening this week. Meals I assumed could take place in August: They’ll be consumed in the next 96 hours. Views I thought I had a month left to see: They shall be seen by Saturday. This hurried pace is not ideal, especially considering I still have work and packing to schedule in, but New York is a great city, and an early end date won’t stop me from experiencing it.

If you have any suggestions of things I need to do, places I need to see, meals I need to eat, etc., let me know in the comment section!

 

Right reaction, wrong call for action: Ending Penn State football will not end child abuse

I, like many members of the B1G 10 and country at large, have spent the past half year or so following the Sandusky scandal. When the story first broke, I commented on the incident as the spokesperson for PAVE, a student organization dedicated to ending sexual assault on the UW-Madison campus. In both a letter to the editor and guest column in The Daily Cardinal, I invited the Badger student body to use the PSU tragedy as an opportunity to think about violence on our own campus and to reflect on how we should behave when confronted with the topic.

It was a dark time marked by a story that horrified anyone with a good head on their shoulders. When Penn State students rioted, flaunting their love for Joe Paterno, most looked on in disgust – and for good reason. Valuing a sports idol’s legacy over children’s safety is absurd. Eight months later, the Freeh investigation report has made what was already a black-and-white situation even more straightforward, but with its release has come a new cloud of lunacy, one found in the comment sections of online news outlets.

There is well-documented proof that all evil in the world manifests in the comment section. Give a man anonymity and in the amount of time it takes to click “submit,” you’ll find your faith in humanity shaken. For this reason, I tend to avoid comment sections, especially when they regard things so dear to my heart (in this case sexual assault prevention).

But this time around, I couldn’t resist. My cynical self expected to find a boatload of comments on what a “hero” Paterno was, how his memory will not be blemished, blah blah blah. There was a bit of that, but I’m guessing people have come to realize sharing such opinions will lead to endless chastising. As such, comments tended to take on this tone:

Here’s the thing. While I prefer anger toward the cowards who did nothing over favor and blind loyalty, these comments say a lot about how people are reacting to this situation: They don’t want a solution; they want vindication. They’re not concerned with preventing child abuse; they’re concerned with putting people behind bars.

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These are a few of my favorite (Etsy) things

I used to be a frequent victim of online shopping. Now I am a frequent victim of online window shopping, as it were. The evolution of my disease has proven better for the wallet, but still lethal for time management.

However, taking a variation on John Lennon’s “Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted,” I feel time spent destressing is not wasted time, even if destressing requires browsing Etsy for hours at a time. Sometimes to overcome the real problems of life, you need to look at frivolous things that don’t matter for a little while. And while I hate to be the one to share this news, at the end of the day decorative pillows and tribal-style jewelry do not really matter.

Still, this calming practice has led way to numerous great Etsy finds. I have opted against buying them so I can, you know, pay my rent, buy groceries, etc. If you find yourself in more lucrative standings, however, I recommend you upgrade from window shopping to actual shopping with the items below.

 

Potlikker: Simply delekktable

A month into my New York move and I have become quite the penny pincher. Between the monthly Subway passes, frequent trips to the dry cleaners and joys of paying New York rent, I find myself having to say” no” to purchases previously innocuous or irresistible.

What I am willing to spend my money on, however, is food. It’s surprising New Yorkers are as thin as they are, because there is no lack of to-die-for food in this city. I’ve barely been able to keep my hands off a fork and knife.

Potlikker (Photo Courtesy Katie Sokoler/Gothamist)

Over the weekend, I traveled to Williamsburg with friends new and old to try Potlikker, the latest offering from New York restaurateur Liza Queen. An intimate dining venue, the waitstaff managed to find room for our party of eight. It was an unbearably hot and sticky Saturday in the Big Apple, and the restaurant’s exposed kitchen marred any chance our overheated selves had at finding sweet relief (many a joke was cracked about butt sweat – ha!). Luckily, Potlikker more than made up for its balmy atmosphere with exciting and tasty cuisine.

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Nick’s Pizza: Come for the pies. Stay for the salad.

Well, I caved. It took a month, but this Chicagoan has finally given New York pizza a chance. How did it go? Hmm… Well, I don’t like salad, but I enjoyed it more than the pizza. Does that paint a clear enough picture?

OK, I’m being a little (read: very) harsh. Let’s rewind: On Tuesday I dined at Nick’s Pizza, located on the Upper East Side at 94th Street and Second Avenue. I let the person I was with order, because he insisted he knew what was good there. As such, we got the house salad and a large pepperoni pizza. Unfortunately for Nick’s, I am more of a veggie pizza than a meat pizza kind of girl, so my date had made my expectations even less attainable. Oops.

I got the house wine, which stood at a whopping $4 a glass. Considering the price, the taste was plenty agreeable. I had no complaints.

Then came the house salad. Like I said, I am not the girl who goes to lunch and orders a salad. I wish I was, but I’m not. Having said that, this salad was arguably one of the best I’ve ever had in my life. I was on a date, but I had three servings. That’s how good it was: I did not care about looking like a pig. The ingredients were simple enough. Greens with sun dried tomatoes and something yellow I couldn’t identify. It was the dressing, which had the perfect amount of sweetness, that really made the dish sing. If you go to Nick’s, get the house salad. I rarely recommend lettuce, but this is an exception.

The pizza was next, and I had mixed feelings about it. First off, the pepperoni was too small in circumference. The heat of the oven had made the edges curl inward, turning each slice into a tiny bowl of oil. Seeing as I was once the girl who blotted her pizza with a napkin (I’m proud to say I’ve outgrown this stage of my life), this was not terribly appetizing. I had three slices, but by the third the pepperoni was getting picked off. The overall taste was good enough. In my opinion, a pizza is as good as its crust, and this one stood its ground: thin but chewy. It wasn’t the buttery deliciousness of my beloved Lou’s, but it worked.

In short, the place affirmed my devotion to Chicago pies without making me entirely cynical about the New York pizza experience. It was good, not great, but I’d be more than willing to go back if I could do my own ordering.

If you have any recommendations for New York City pizza joints you think will convert this Chicago loyalist, leave a comment!