I'm Back In The Game

My dear faithful readers-

Ten months ago I landed on the warm lap of my dear Mother America. At that exact moment, she crapped herself. At first glance, NYC in September 2008 looked something like an overanxious mother hen, begging the question will the economy collape? Will Sarah Palin rule over us with her winking gaze when John McCain bites it? Will I ever retire? The worry was palpable, thus not the best time to be poking around for some casual employment, respectable employment seemed to be out of the question.

I only got 10 days of work as a temp before that well dried up. So I took up a job as a flyer girl. I passed out ads for a gym down by NYU and watched the college kids walk by dressed like Kanye West. When the snow started to fall and my ego couldn't take anymore rants from random street crazies I took my reprieve to California for the holidays, still underemployed but hoping something would come up.

At the New Year I returned to the city and I almost got a job with the New York City Department of Law. That was until the budget was not passed and I was left on the backside of two months worth of applications and tests with no position. Sweet.

The New Year also brought school, The New School to be exact. I began my first graduate level classes at The New School studying Nonprofit Management hoping that I would not hate my classes, other students, future prospects. All the while I was living with family friends who had an endless supply of hospitality and encouragement as I wallowed and wailed.

How ever could I blog about that?

And then in April EVERYTHING CHANGED. Within a month I got a job, I found a sweet apartment in Nolita, and I kicked my first sememster's behind like it drank my last beer. All of the sudden I was a freaking vision of success in America, back and ready to rumble.


But I am not finished. Not by any stretch of the imagination am I done challenging myself and changing. So I would like to reignite my blog as it just so happens that the stuff I see on a daily basis is as weird as anything I saw travelling. The greatest lesson I have learned to date is truth is much stranger than fiction.

With this in invite you to return to my little opus frequently as I describe absurdities and entertain you with my tales.

Connected

Today I woke up speaking Pulaar. The phone rang at 9am on the night stand next to the bed. I read 221- as the country code and knew the number was from Senegal.
“Hello?”
“Jenaba!”
“Allo? Neene?”
”Jenaba, Tana allaa ton?”
My host mother from my village in Senegal seems to be psychically connected to me. The night before, I remarked that Jenaba Sidibe, who I was named after, was probably the only person I knew in those two years who saw me. She saw who I was, what drove me to find her village, and why I must continue my work in America. Her love for me was real, because when the time came she cried but let me go. Now, six months later she is calling me on the European cell phone I left to her. The exchange was brief and I think she said she wanted me to call her back later, but I am unsure. It is too late to call tonight but I must find a calling card tomorrow and find out what my dear friend needs.