No Day Off for Daddy

Believe me when I tell you that moving halfway across the country by yourself ensures the fact that you are going to learn life lessons the hard way. I make light of it, joking and whining with my signature dramatic flair, but there are times when it's just not funny anymore. As in this morning. My car, Lola, has been faithful to me since day one, but in the last three months it seems the problems never end with her. I was in an accident that has cost me six trips to the body shop...and counting, I've had to get my oil changed, I was backed into in a mall parking lot, and to ice the cake of my car troubles, my battery died this morning. I don't know if I've ever missed my dad more than I have trying to deal with all of this - probably just as much as he dreads seeing my name on his caller ID by now. He most likely wasn't shocked when my "happy father's day" was followed closely by yet another Lola issue.

Anyways, I struggled to keep my tears at bay while on the phone, but after hanging up, I did the only thing that a 22 year old girl missing her daddy can do...I cried. I was frustrated, overwhelmed, and ready to push Lola off of the Verrazano Bridge. I recently posted about my last trip to the auto body shop, stressing the importance of getting things done for myself here, and while that holds true, I also have to remember that I'm only human. No, sitting in bed and throwing myself a pitty party may not have been productive, but I needed to do it. I needed those ten minutes to selfishly wallow in my sorrows, letting myself think things couldn't get any worse. Once the tears began to subside and I started to feel a little pathetic, I wiped away my raccoon eyes, found a local Advanced Auto Parts and a saint of a friend to jump start my car, and fixed the problem that had seemed traumatizing only an hour earlier.

Sometimes my life here feels like it's not real. Everything seems to flow effortlessly, and I feel incredible - like I have the world at my fingertips. And then there are times, such as the past couple of weeks, when I feel as if I'm being handed one problem after another, challenging my determination to make it here. But no one forced me to move to New York. It's a choice I made for myself, and as difficult as it may often be, I know it was the best decision I have ever made in my life. As long as I continue to go to bed every night knowing whatever I went through that day was worth me being here, I'm ready to deal with any problem that comes my way. I may need ten minutes to cry in bed, a phone call to my dad, or an opportunity to drop every profanity in the book at the auto body shop, but I'm ready. I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't.

Don't Let the Sundress Fool You

I've always been a pretty vocal person. You hardly ever have to guess my opinion or how I'm feeling, because I'll probably tell you first. Some call it obnoxious, I call it honest. The truth may hurt, right? And who am I to question my God given abilities to deliver that truth. In all seriousness, this character trait was a sure way to get me in trouble growing up, but has come to pay off as I'm living life on my own in New York. If there is one lesson I have learned through experience time and time again, it is that I need to be able to stick up for myself here, because there is no one else to do it for me. 

Friends and family in Iowa thought I was aggressive, but my ability to speak up for myself prior to moving to Long Island was a joke compared to what it is now. There are a lot of stereotypes assumed when it comes to New Yorkers, and coming from a girl that has been transplanted in from the Midwest, I will tell you that most of them are true. My case in point, a classic scenario: 20-something year old girl taking her car to the body shop with attempts made to rape her from behind. Luckily for me, I have a father who is insistent on getting things fixed right, no matter how long it takes. Along with his advice and knowledge, and my mouth that can challenge the dirtiest of sailors, I think I may finally be getting what I paid for at the body shop - five trips later. My floral print sundress and manicured nails may have fooled them. The best way to describe my presence in that office yesterday would be like a bull in a china shop...I let those grease monkeys know they were messing with the wrong girl. That same mouth is the one that was needed to stick up for myself when my roommate's pot smoking habit was beginning to give me a second hand high, and my apartment smelled like the bottom of a bong. His parents could have pleaded with me until they were hoarse - there was no way I was sparing him from the eviction notice I implemented.

Moral of the story: always be ready and willing to fight for what you deserve. I'm not strictly suggesting you develop the language of a truck driver, though I will say it often adds strength to your argument in places like Long Island. Another tactic I like to use is learning fancy new lingo before a confrontation, practicing my argument to appear much more educated than I actually am on the matter. Do I really know what air coolant is or the function of a radiator in my car? Hell no. But a five minute briefing with my dad led to a spiel that made it seem as if I dig around under the hood of my car for sheer enjoyment.
There are going to be times when doubt will be embedded into you that you're too young, too girly, or too naive. You may initially feel overly aggressive and rude, but if you're not willing to make things happen then they won't get done. Period. And when starting life on your own in a place that's far from the reality you've always known, being able to get things done, even when dealing with the worst of New Yorkers, is not an option. So get out your hand mirror to practice, learn some impressive new terms, and open up to the idea of using a few words that used to earn you a squirt of soap in the mouth. It may all be an act, but confidence will build gradually, and you'll be assertively sticking up for yourself naturally in no time.