Living in the Greatest Clusterfuck in the World
Living in New York is like spoonful of Chinese medicine—intense, acerbic, unmasked. At the end of the day, you feel like you’ve gotten better, or at least tell yourself that you’re doing better, because otherwise the rent is too damn high to justify being here.
I’ve been away from Italy for about three months now, and get asked now and then on whether I miss it. The short answer is, no. The long answer is, I can get all the burrata and olives I want at the Food Coop, along with kombu, almond butter and sunflower sprouts. So no, I don’t find that I miss Italy at all.
I do miss having an apartment that’s large enough to swing a cat in. Going from a transoceanic long-distance relationship to a 200 sq ft studio apartment has required a bit of adjustment. Sometimes I can’t believe he refuses to touch asparagus; other times I never fail to act in a considerate and socially acceptable manner. Kidding. I have my flaws too, but at least I can blame those on PMS. And despite the fights and heated debates where words like Trust and Dependence and Trolling are thrown about, we’re making it work. Bedhead and morning disgruntlement have now become oddly endearing.
On the plus side, cleaning the flat involves about three minutes of sweeping the floor.
The job is still exciting, and I never get tired of telling people I work in the film industry and sustainable food advocacy. For an added ego boost, I receive emails semi-regularly about what great work we’re doing, how I’m a ray of light that is transforming the food system. I feel lucky that I get paid to do things I would do on my own time, and that I’m meeting like-minded movers and shakers. Last week, New Yorker editor John Donohue thanked me for reading and promoting his book. No John, thank you for giving me your number…can I send you some pitches?
With my director away on maternity leave, I also have a good deal of autonomy and decision-making power. It’s a funny tightrope walk, knowing that I have just enough rope with which to hang myself.
We’re hiring an intern now. Funny that just four months ago, I was that intern. And now I’m getting profiled on Good Food Jobs.