May 5, 2013

Last week I went for a run on

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in Uncategorized ¶ Leave a comment

Last week I went for a run on the West Side Highway. Whiffs of ocean enter my nose and for a few brief seconds I am reminded I live on an Island. The sun reflects off of the shiny glass buildings and leaks light across the water. No, the waves don’t come up and tickle my toes, and I wouldn’t dip even a pinky in the Hudson with fear of getting sick, but I would give up the finest beach sunset for views of New York City. Because when New York City shines, she really shines- like a glam night club with red velvet ropes and a disco ball the size of my apartment. New York City is the sparkling girl in the red dress grooving in the center of the dance floor. She’s smiling and sexy and everyone wants to be her because she knows what she is doing. But then there are moments when that same pretty girl wanders to the grimy underground of the club. It’s dirty down there, loud and smells bad. Anything can happen in these parts. There are cracks in the walls filled with sweat and gunk and the nastiest grime in the world. It’s nothing like the upscale club upstairs. It’s vulgar and chaotic, but equally alive. This is also New York. When this city is dirty, it’s dirty- Comparable to a crack in the floor of a port-o-john or the brown gunk under a hobo’s fingernail. I know when I leave here, I will be surprised at how clean my next destination will be. I’m just not sure clean will be enough.

Some say if you leave New York, you’re not going anywhere. Some think that people who live other places, in a way, must be kidding. At times I agree with them. At times I know there is nothing in the world that can compare to this wonderful city. The fact that I won’t ever run out of things to do here is enough to simply stay forever. For now, I’ll surrender to New York City. I’ll work until 11pm and eat at my desk because that’s what you do here. I’ll ignore people and walk in a hurry. I’ll forget the beggars on the subway and the one-legged hobo outside of my apartment who hides his beer under a traffic cone. I’ll run on the West Side Highway and watch the water move. And then I’ll sit on the ground at the end of a dock and look back at the New York I’m attached to. I’ll love my city, but also find myself, for brief moments, wishing this dock would detach itself and I’d float away.

April 29, 2013

Boston Marathon 2013

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in Uncategorized ¶ Leave a comment

I couldn’t sleep the night before the Boston Marathon. My mind bounced thoughts around like a noisy pinball machine- what if my foot starts acting up? What if I get dehydrated? What if I get sick and can’t finish? I tossed to my side and noticed my running clothes all folded up in an organized stack topped with power gel, Tiger Balm, my ID, Excedrin, an orange, and extra hair ties. Okay, I’m prepared for this. I have trained for this. And then I thought about- not the 30,000 other runners- but the 30,000 other stacks of running gear set up neatly next to thousands of bedsides around Boston like presents under a Christmas tree. Tomorrow, we will all wake up, lace up around 60,000 sneakers, and run- together. This thought comforted my nerves, and soon I was asleep.

The race started as one of the best mornings of my life. The spirit around the Boston Marathon was one that could only be found in the most magical, heartfelt of places- like a hometown winning high school football game (of 40,000+ fans). I clumped at the starting line with people of all sorts, the most random being two guys dressed as cheeseburgers and a man who looked like Einstein in a shirt that read “1,000 Marathon Larry.” The energy was youthful and close. We all looked around at each other, I couldn’t stop smiling. The gun fired. I took off behind a shirtless guy holding up an American flag. Thousands of the most spirited fans lined the race passing out water and oranges and popsicles (!!). This was a team event, which is what I love most about marathons. It is one of the only sports that’s incredibility demanding and absurdly challenging, but you participate with thousands of other people and- despite between the few extremely fast people in the front- there isn’t much competition. Everyone just wants to do their best and finish. There’s no yelling back and forth between fans or players about who is better, there are no fights, punches, or angry participants. Marathons are just people, supporting other people, in achieving an exceptionally challenging goal.

So why would someone try to ruin that?

I wasn’t far from the finish line when news began to spread that something bad had happened. At the near finish, instead of the expected celebrations and smiling faces, I ran into chaos, confusion, a cancelled race, and tears. It was heartbreaking and painful, and still a big, sad blur.

If I could say something to the fool who did this, I would tell him that I refuse to be terrorized, and that I refuse to live in fear of people like him. I would tell him that although his silly and senseless act caused temporary stir and lives- it didn’t work. He wanted to create hate. He wanted to destroy something wonderful. Doesn’t he know that by his one act of hate, he created thousands more acts of love? Thousands of people in Boston opened their homes to others in need. Thousands of people reached out to help. Thousands of people now run in honor of Boston. Doesn’t he know he is messing with the people who run 26.2 miles- voluntarily? So sure, he caused grief and chaos. He cost lives. But he hasn’t stopped good- he only created the opportunity for more good. And if he was trying to stop marathoners- he should know he’s trying to stop those who don’t quit. All he did was give people even more of a reason to race, he provided the running community with an even bigger sense of unity, and made Boston stronger than it’s ever been.

He failed.

I’m not going to lie and say that he didn’t cause an impossibly hard day turned to weeks. I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t stuck frozen sitting on an air mattress that night, sick and in shock. But I will say that I think we are all a little stronger and a little closer when things like this happen, and it’s nice to know we live in a country that can bounce back. I just pray that we stop getting chances to prove it.

Starting line!

Finish line!

April 7, 2013

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in Uncategorized ¶ Leave a comment

I’m sitting on the plane flying east, watching the daylight give into the purple inkiness of the night out the window. I spent Easter morning in Breckenridge at a snug diner with my family. A friendly Polish waiter served us pancakes the size of steering wheels and the best eggs Benedict I have ever had. Afterwards we strolled around the lazy, snowy sidewalks of downtown Breckenridge. Tonight, I will be back in my noisy Times Square apartment. Woody will probably whistle at me again when I walk past 42nd street, and the strip club promoters will most likely still be taking cigarette breaks on my doorstep. I won’t be able to see the stars or smell the mountain trees or enjoy the complete silence that the snow makes by sucking up all the sound- But I will be excited to wake up in a different city. I could spend my entire life this way if someone would let me- arriving each evening in a new city.

Different cities are what I think about most on planes. There are so many destinations I still want to see (and so many places I want to see again) It’s difficult to fathom that I’m actually just going back to New York (oh, poor me) and not traveling anymore. For the past five years, I was constantly planning my next adventure to unknown lands where the language was different and the culture was foreign. Right now, I don’t know when I will leave the country again. It could be years. This is one of the harshest realities for a wandering girl.

As I get older, it’s hard to think about what exactly I am doing with my Life. I’ve just landed a (rad and very fun) position as the PR coordinator for Gap, a global company nearly everyone knows. I love this job. But.. Is it what I want to do? Is working fashion PR, something I never thought I would do, what I’m supposed to do? It feels like it for now, but I also (don’t mean to toot my own horn here) think I’m meant to do more. And so I sit here and ask myself:

Lauren Fern Watt, what would you do if you could do anything in the world and money wasn’t a factor?

Here’s the list I came up with:

Travel

Help people

Be around all different kinds of people

Be creative

Be successful- which I don’t measure with finances, but with experiences. (I’ll admit increased finances do make finding experiences easier)

If i could have anyones job it would be Blake Mycoskie, the guy who started Toms (no his name isn’t Tom, I was surprised too). He does everything on my list, and with his shoes he started a global movement helping thousands of people. He also gets to be creative, has a huge fashion line, and is constantly pushing the company’s boundaries to try new things.

So, how can I follow in Blake’s footsteps and start something that matters? Well, I’ve had an idea for a while, an idea very different from Toms’, but similar to Toms’ buy one give one motto. I’m not going to go into all the details here and now, but I am happy to say that I have actually officially started producing this company. And with the help of my two sisters, we are starting our very own brand called CIAO Y’ALL. Over the next couple of months (and hopefully indefinitely longer) I will be exploding all of your news feeds with details about our progress and how you can get involved. Our motto is to kick boundaries, and with this if I can improve the lives of just a small number of people, I would consider it an exceptional accomplishment. So, stay tuned!

Until then, here are some pictures from the mountains!

xxx

Fern

Burton, brah

Relaxxin’

WEEEEEE!!

snoozin’

Tip top!

Yay America!

Hello!

Family time! I’m so lucky!

A sister snoooze!

January 7, 2013

Keep IT Simple

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in The Manhattan Diaries ¶ Tagged Simple ¶ Leave a comment

I don’t know what made me think that standing behind the family with four kids in Slip Knot T-shirts and raggedy-ass jeans would be the faster security line at the Newark airport. I realize this when the oldest teenager in the family sits on the ground right next to the crowded conveyer belt to put his ripped black vans back on his bare feet, and then slowly return his strange liquids to his back pack. He’s then forced to throw away the oversized bottle of Head and Shoulders shampoo, that I’m certain no one in this family will miss too much, anyways. I watch the dad bend over to tie his sneakers and see more of his behind than I would have liked. Alas, I stand patiently, watching the other nice woman who used to be in front of me sail through her correctly chosen security line. I should have followed her.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda..

At the airport gate, I sit making a list of everything I should have done before I left the city:

Update phone

Apply for more writing jobs

Order new glasses

Learn to knit Christmas presents

Make holiday cards

Make budget so I can afford Christmas presents

Forget budget, somehow craft all Christmas presents

I scold myself for not doing any of these things, even though I had been working on other things non-stop. And when I’m not working, I’m trying to figure out a way to be working. I fall asleep at my computer every night, trying to complete an impossible amount of tasks in a day. Then the next day, I torture myself for not being able to do them all. And THEN something amazing pops in my head:

“You can’t give a shit about anything, if you give a shit about everything.”

I create impossibly long lists for myself to do in one day. I think I can walk my dog, write an article, workout, get ready, paint my nails, and leave my house for work all in a compiled twenty minutes. I end up half ass-ing twenty different projects, and never actually completing one of them, because I try to do too many things at once. So today, sitting on this plane, I decide my New Year’s resolution is to keep things simple. I will only give myself enough tasks to successfully do in one day, and then I will pat myself on the back for completing them.

But, this is probably easier said than done. I’m sure to complicate a New Year’s resolution as simple as keeping life simple. So, I must come up with something even more simple to have as my New Year’s Resolution. Ah- I’ve got it.

For my New Year’s Resolution, I’m going to sit up straight.

That’s it. This is the only thing I will work on. Sitting up straight. On the metro, in cabs, on the couch, at my desk, in the park, right now…the only thing I have to think about is sitting up straight.

This should be a synch.

Right?

December 5, 2012

Since the world is ending soon and all..

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in The Manhattan Diaries ¶ Leave a comment

Since the world is ending soon and all, I’m trying to make the most out of my last few weeks on Earth. This really just consists of me being thankful for all of the little things about my life. Like Christmas trees lining the sidewalks of Manhattan like mini Narnias. For a moment, I stop smelling toilets and hot dogs and felafel and weed, and can smell only Christmas trees. It’s kind of like planting a garden in a bathroom stall. Another little thing I am thankful for is walking Gizelle (my wonderful 180 pound mastiff) down the streets of New York. Sweet Gizelle, who isn’t aware she is the size of a smartcar, is still slightly afraid of our Manhattan excursions:

But I tell her I understand and agree- Manhattan is a scary place. There are, however, some places in the city Gizelle does love-

Like the New York Public Library,

And all the Christmas trees,

We let her pick out her own!

And gazing into Times Square,

And hanging out at Central Park fountains,

Just watching others go by.

Now, what do I love about Manhattan? No, I no longer step out my front door onto a soothing olive tree farm like my days in Italy. I also don’t take evening strolls down cobblestone streets so quiet I can hear my breath, like I used to in Paris. And I don’t really eat out because I hardly afford my rent, and I can forget shopping for that same reason. But my stomach does do this crazy thing where it feels like I swallowed a flock of hummingbirds every time I see the city skyline. And I wouldn’t trade that feeling for even the nicest of sweaters!

I’m thankful for you, Manhattan. And I’m going to enjoy every little bit of you, down to the old lady who called me a douche bag on the sidewalk today, to the street corner strip club promoter who always says “God Bless you, girl! And Yo Dog!” I’m thankful for the very large man in the Hawaiian shirt who stopped to talk with me and Gizelle (but mostly Gizelle), and knew she was named after the movie Enchanted, because he curtseyed and then performed the Happy Working Song right there for us on 9^th Avenue. This isn’t a lie. I’m also not lying when I bring up the random bro my roommate kindly brought into our apartment last night from the street to borrow our phone charger. I’m thankful for him not only because he shared his Shake Shack ice cream with me, but also because he told me that the universe has a plan- which is always nice to be reminded of.

But what if the plan is to end everything and we all poof away in a couple weeks? I probably won’t get to open that restaurant I always wanted to called Carbs you Dip in Stuff. And I most likely won’t get to create my store for runners called Super Runny. My book also probably won’t be published by then, nor will I be famous. But at least I can say I’ve seen the cookie monster smoking a cigarette in New York City.

And that is something to be proud of.

November 19, 2012

Notes from a Times Square Air Mattress

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in The Manhattan Diaries ¶ Leave a comment

I drag my ludicrously stuffed suitcases past the flower shop, sex store, and mariachi blasting pizza joint as the man with many gold caps on his teeth asks me where I’m goin’. I hurl myself through a glob of Times Square’s minions, and over to 43^rd, where I climb stairs to my new mid-town apartment.

Two bags stuffed with clothes and books, and a wadded up blanket hoisted under my arm are all I possess. I don’t have a pillow or towel or a job. My bank account is sweeping low triple digits. My new roommate and I pump air into our only piece of furniture, and buzz in the guest we have this weekend, whom I warned of our cavemen-like state. How mindless of her to ask for a hand towel! I give her our handle of vodka instead, which she must swig from the bottle sitting on the floor because we don’t own cups or a chair. A small flood spews from the bathroom and into living room as I shower without a curtain. This water doesn’t bother anyone. I dry myself with a black cloth napkin that my roommate filched from her restaurant job, and then I’m scolded for complaining about the dark fuzz it leaves on my damp skin. Lolly-pops and vodka are the only consumable items in our apartment, and I ingest a little too much of both.

At night we look darn cute for three girls sharing an air mattress. I turn down beverages like I can afford my own, and twirl arm in arm with my friends down busy sidewalks. Creviced between blinking lights and buildings and noise, I can no longer imagine those other places I used to live. We meet guys at bars and pretend to have it all. One soon finds out we don’t when we bring him home to our air mattress that’s now deflated into a ghetto heap on the floor. His shiny black Wall Street shoes clonk across the dingy wood as he scans our home like a cop looking for something. He stares at us in disbelief, “You girls literally only have an air mattress?” I’m certain this isn’t the blow action he was hoping for when we ask him to re-fill it with air. He cranks a smile and does it anyways. Using sweatshirts as pillows, four young adults fall asleep in a row on the floor like kids at a sleepover. By morning our bed has deflated again, and I wake on the cold, hard ground. If I were in any other city I’d be miserable.

November 7, 2012

4 More Years..

By Lauren Fern ¶ Posted in The Manhattan Diaries ¶ Leave a comment

Red and blue stripes wrap the GE building like presents. It’s like watching a horse race. People, mostly Obama fans, from all over the world are huddled in Rockefeller Center waiting for results. A nervous Mexican man stands next to me asking about my political beliefs. Obama. But I also believe there is not much one man can do for every single one us, and ultimately it’s up to you if you want to succeed in this country. People have been coming from nothing for 44 Democrat and Republican presidents. I have a job because I worked to find one. I think this will always be the case no matter who lives in the White House. I don’t tell people this, not tonight. Yes, Obama gives this nation hope, but we’ve got to do the work. A guy walks around with a Mitt Romney puppet asking ladies to get in his binder. A big ole woman walks around shouting “Obama! Mmmhmm! I know we winnin’! Who is wit’ me? I know I’m not Obama self!”

Starbucks warms my gloves as I watch the noisy election end in the even noisier city. It’s like a really intense board game of “Who will get to 270 first!?” The blue ribbon climbs up the GE building as Obama’s electoral votes increase. We shout, we hoot, we holler! I look to my left at the large screen that suddenly reads: Obama ELECTED! It happened so fast. The three gentlemen next to me light up cigars and smoke them in the middle of Rockefeller Center. People I don’t know hug me and shout four more years. Ghetto girls dance, dudes scream like ladies on Wheel of Fortune, a guy in a janitor suit sheds a man tear. I stand in the middle smiling, because I know I got 99 problems and Mitt ain’t one.