From the Stage at Carnegie to the Galleries of The Met
IIt’s been two and a half weeks since my usual Monday blog, and I’m still in New York City. The city’s rhythm pulled me in for another week, even though my move-in plans are now closer to Thanksgiving. Last Friday, I texted my Hinge match from two weeks ago, hoping to keep the energy going. After two great dates, I scored us tickets to The Met. What’s more classic than a quiet stroll past Van Gogh and Monet on a Friday evening?
I arrived early via the accessible entrance, enjoying people-watching: Wall Street women in heels, runway-ready artists, and college students in oversized sweatshirts. When she arrived, she placed her bag on the back of my wheelchair, and we explored a gold Egyptian art exhibit, a Black fashion exhibit from the 1950s and 60s, then wandered past Van Gogh and Monet. She remarked how sad it was that Van Gogh never saw his own fame. The rest of the walk was peaceful, the kind of comfortable silence you only share with someone you click with.
Later, we curled up for an episode of Schitt’s Creek. During the couch transfer, she helped but left space, and the chance to cuddle slipped by. I texted later saying I wished we had connected more through touch and signals of intimacy. Her interest began to fade. It was frustrating, but also a reminder that sparks can happen and I’ll meet someone who matches them. She was my first non-Jewish romantic interest, which made me reflect on staying open to meaningful connections even though I hope to have a Jewish family one day.
Earlier this week, I visited the PR Museum of New York. Shelley, the founder, gave me a full tour of her office filled with vintage campaign ads and artifacts from the Mad Men era. Seeing old Philip Morris packaging reminded me why I fell in love with communications, the sharp suits, long lunches, and face-to-face storytelling. It was nostalgic, stylish, and deeply flawed at the same time, with sexism, racism, and a narrow view of who got to have a voice. Moments like this remind me why I’m still fighting for a place in this competitive field. Today, PR feels different, with broader conversations, more inclusive work, and technology at the forefront. AI and data have replaced the typewriters and smoke-filled rooms of the past, but the heart remains the same, connecting people through stories and meaningful campaigns.
Earlier this week, I had an in-person roundtable interview for volunteering at The Met. There were three women in their late 60s and one man in his 50s. They asked thoughtful questions, shared stories, and really got to know me. They even gave me a free ticket to explore the museum on my own. I shuffled through my Fall foliage folk playlist as I wandered the Egyptian artifacts for the first time since middle school. I also stopped by the Van Gogh and Monet pieces my date and I had seen on Friday, enjoying the quiet and familiar brushstrokes.
Today, before the Knicks game, I have an usher interview at Carnegie Hall. Just thinking about stepping into a place where legends like Frank Sinatra and John Coltrane performed is exciting. To get pumped, I’m listening to Usher, a throwback to my second concert ever, which was Usher and Akon. It feels fitting to listen to Usher while interviewing to be an usher. Being an usher would be a chance to get out and interact with the world, talking to people outside of the healthcare LinkedIn hunt that can feel all-consuming.
On 53rd and Lexington, I’m living a nomadic life out of a hotel room that does its job but lacks any sense of home, more cubicle than sanctuary, as the apartment hunt picks up. Between occasional Hinge dates, coffee aide interviews, and job applications, I’m keeping the rhythm going. The Knicks season has kicked off, and I’ll be at Madison Square Garden tonight to watch them take on Karl-Anthony Towns’ former team.
I wanted things with my date to go further, but I showed up as myself: sociable, honest, and comfortable. I learned that respect, connection, and timing matter. The right person will see past my disability and notice my humor, my cute brown eyebrows, and my badass black wheelchair. I took a break from bagels this week for my cholesterol, though I might return with a little help from Ozempic. For now, I’m putting miles on my trusty power wheelchair, grateful for insurance coverage to upgrade to a sleek new ride in January. By then, my resume and cover letters will be sharper than ever, and I’ll be ready to hit the ground running.
