Category: Nicole Antoinette

6 Months Worth Of Lessons In Under 600 Words

posted 27th July 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Life Lesson, Nicole Antoinette, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 2, What I've Learned

When I started writing for Stratejoy, I had just up and moved to San Francisco with no job, no money, no friends, no place to live, and no plan. I had a crush on a boy and a love for the Golden Gate Bridge, but that was about it.

In the time that’s passed between then and now, I have found an incredible job, a stable income, a place to live, some of the best friends I’ve ever had, a plan for the future, a relationship with a new (and infinitely better-for-me) boy, and a continually renewing love for the Golden Gate Bridge.

Taking this weekly pause to write about the more serious side of my life has helped me frequently reflect on who I am, who I want to be, and how to best close the gap between the two. In those moments of reflection, here are the lessons I’ve learned:

Take the time to talk things out with the people you care about. Honest communication solves most problems before they become problems at all. And don’t just talk, listen.

Understand that different doesn’t have to mean bad. I’m me and you’re you and our differences can help us bring each other closer to where we want to be.

Send thank you cards. Sincere expressions of gratitude let someone know that what they did mattered to you, and most of the time what we need is to feel appreciated.

Make plans. The only thing better than having something delicious to look forward to is feeling the plans turn to memories and knowing you’ll be able to fondly remember them forever.

Treat yourself better than you treat anyone else. Understand that selfish and self-care are two different things, and that you can’t show up for anyone else if you don’t show up for yourself first.

Remember that your greatest freedom is the freedom to choose. You can choose which impulses to follow and which to ignore. You can choose who you let into your life, how you spend your time, and what occupies your thoughts. Think good thoughts.

Find what inspires you, and then mainline it on the regular. There’s no such thing as too much inspiration.

Stand up for the people you love and the beliefs that move you. Let yourself be passionate, even if it means your ideas and feelings will be isolating to some. We’re not here to please everyone and there’s no glory in being watered down, overly accommodating versions of ourselves.

Stop wanting what you don’t want. Learn to tell the difference between what you actually want and what your ego wants. Tell your ego to shut the hell up.

Ask questions. Other people can’t read your mind, so don’t assume you can read theirs. The fastest way to find out what you want to know is to just ask.

Give people room to make mistakes. High standards give you great results, but unrealistic standards give you nothing but disappointment.

And lastly, take risks. If you don’t jump to try to reach your best possible life, who will?

[Note from the editor: Nicole Antoinette, it's been an absolute JOY, to have you in my life these last 8 months.  Can you believe that's all it's been?   From our very first emails that crossed paths in the ether, to lunch in SF, to phone calls asking the Universe to just get you to California, to the amazing hot mess you pulled off in Vegas- you are a bundle of energy, an amazing friend, and a woman to be reckoned with.

I thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sharing your passion, your killer writing skills, and such an intimate slice of your life over here.  The Tribe and I will never be the same, sweetness! Here's to the big dreams coming true, finding happiness in the small moments, and being utterly and deliciously YOU.  'Cause you're so damn good at being YOU.   Love, Love, Love,   Molly]

photo credit: Jamie Varon

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Four Ladies, Twelve Questions

posted 20th July 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: All Posts, Nicole Antoinette, Season 2

It has been a lovely pleasure sharing the Stratejoy stage with such fun ladies these past few months. And now, for our second to last week as Season 2 bloggers, we’re doing a little interview. We each picked three questions, and all four of us are answering the same twelve questions. Ready? Cool.

What can’t you live without? What do you wish there was less of in the world?

There aren’t many things I couldn’t live without, but there are definitely some that I wouldn’t want to live without. Like cheese. And eyeliner. And hugs. And hot tubs. And The West Wing. And Jamie. (Okay fine, that last one is more of a need than a want.)

There are a lot of things I could always use more of – More is Better, right? Well, except when it’s not. The world could definitely use a little less of some things. Like plagiarism. And selfishness. And people who can’t admit they’re wrong when they’re wrong.

Inspiration List (Person? Song? Book? Website? Place?)

Yes, I’m totally cheating and linking to my inspiration list.

What’s your favorite food memory?

I saved this question for last and then came back to it because it makes my brain hurt. Favorite food memory? FAVORITE FOOD MEMORY? I was a Food Studies major at NYU, how in the hell am I supposed to answer this question? Okay, deep breath. Eating handmade pasta in Florence. No, wait, baking this cake. No, wait the cheese plate at Otto in New York City. No wait! Ah!

::head explodes::

If you had to spend $10,000 in one day, what would you do with it?

I’d split it in half. Half for a round-the-world plane ticket and half to pre-pay as much of my parents’ rent as possible.

Describe your priorities in four words or less.

Laughter, words, food, and sex.

What is the one thing you most want to be known for?

Encouraging people to speak up about who they really are, how they really feel, and what they really want, no matter what.

You’re in a bar for karaoke night, you have three songs to sing – and each has to be one that you relate to on each of these things: Love – Life – Friends. Which three songs do you choose, and why?

Love | Edge of Desire | John Mayer | His voice alone is everything I love about love.

Life | Dog Days Are Over | Florence + The Machine | This song just makes me think, “The best is out there. Go get it already.”

Friends | Here’s The Thing | Girl Talk | My ultimate “underwear dance party with your girlfriends” song.

What’s the weirdest thing that you’ve cried because of? (Maybe a movie, an unexpected song, something someone said that wouldn’t normally inflict emotion.)

I cry hysterically when I see young children performing (singing, dancing, anything). Like, absolutely unstoppable tears. You can imagine how it went at the end-of-summer talent show when I was Director of a children’s summer day camp…

I’m coming to visit your city for just 2 hours during a layover flight for a business trip. Where would you be certain to take me and why?

Well, do you like cocktails? I doubt you’d be coming to visit me if you didn’t like cocktails, so let’s assume that’s a “yes.” I’d take you for a drink at Top of the Mark, because the panoramic views of the city are perfect.

If you could have any super power, what would it be and why?

Is having unlimited money a super power? That would totally be my super power.

If you could live anywhere in the world for six months (money being no object), where would you live and why?

Santorini, definitely. I loved Greece when I was younger but never made it to Santorini. And the pictures of it? The white and the blue and the water and the overwhelming gorgeous of it all? Yeah, I could handle an all-expense-paid six months of that.

What do you consider the most important event in your life so far?

Moving to San Francisco – nothing has been the same since. I feel like my life has two parts, the part before San Francisco and the part now. It’s unquestionably the most defining thing in my life, the thing I can point to and say, “This, this right here is why I am who I am.”

photo credit: Stefan Baudy

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Friend Break Ups

posted 13th July 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: All Posts, Nicole Antoinette, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 2

Here’s a shockingly simple realization: I’m an adult and I can choose who I spend my time with. I know this isn’t a bizarre or novel idea, but for some reason it’s like I’ve only recently started to understand it.

Even since my play date days, I’ve been the type to have a best friend. I always had lots of friends, but it was important for me to have a best, and for other people to know we were bestfriendsforever. Of all the best friendships, most fizzled out as we got older and realized that liking the same kinds of My Little Ponies wouldn’t hold our relationship together through adolescence and early adulthood.

The friendships that didn’t fizzle out went one of two ways, either we’re still friends, just in a different “we don’t spend every second together but still love each other” capacity, or they exploded in brilliant turquoise and orange flames, taking down egos and borrowed sweaters in their paths. I’m not proud of these violently flashy friendship meltdowns, but sometimes when you’re so closely connected to someone and that connection silently turns toxic and passive aggressive, the disaster that hits when it reaches the surface is almost inevitable.

Such was the case with my college best friend.

“Are you in room 530?” she asked. I nodded. “Yah, we’re roommates. I’m going downstairs to get some more toilet paper.”

And that was that. Direct, unfrilly, no squee-ing, slightly edgy, a little cynical, no holds barred. That was the girl I met at freshman orientation at NYU, the girl I was drawn to because of our similarities and fascinated by because of our stark differences.

She was from middle America, she liked the type of music that really just sounds like angry, aggressive shrieking to me. She spoke some French, was wildly dedicated to school, and seemed to believe that her priorities were somehow more important and more relevant than anyone else’s. She was gorgeous in a way that was both classic and exotic. She was excellent at applying makeup and making pancakes, and was the kind of friend who would never leave you at the bar because a guy she’d been flirting with had invited her back to his place.

By the second night of the two night orientation weekend in June of 2003, most of these facts were still a mystery to me. After some middle of the night discussion, we decided that the little we did know about each other was better than everything we didn’t know about all of our other potential freshman year roommates, and so we signed up to live together. Just like that.

Sometimes, I wonder how I seemed to her back then, during those first days. She knew I was from California. She knew I spent the whole weekend flirting with a really cute guy named Mike who later turned out to be a pretty sizable douchebag. She probably thought I was spunky and honest, sexually charged, maybe a little too loud and a little too “This Is Who I Am,” even though I now realize, looking back, that I had no clue who I was at all.

When I think back on the three years I spent at NYU, I sometimes try to picture how different my experience would have been if our last names weren’t alphabetically close enough to warrant our placement as orientation roommates. It’s interesting really, how the tiniest thing (like both having names that started with the same first two letters) can wind up determining such a big part of your life. And she was great, really great, we just wound up not being so great for each other – and it took us much too long to admit it.

We had that type of friendship where too much revolved around us. We were consumed with each other in a platonic kind of way, and I always found myself obsessing about her opinion of me and seeking her approval, which she almost never gave out. That was one of our biggest and most insurmountable differences, the way we expressed ourselves and our emotions. She was always more private with hers, less free with the complimenting and the sharing; whereas I am and always have been too crazy not to live my life out loud as much as possible and fiercely make sure that you know you’re special to me if you’re special to me.

When I think of how explosively our friendship ended, I usually start to berate myself about it. And then I remember that with a relationship like ours, where we lived all over each other and yet weren’t able to communicate, there just wasn’t another possible ending.

Four years have passed since our friend-breakup, which in most cases is much harder and more painful than a romantic breakup, and it’s easier now, with so much geographic space between us, to softly and lovingly remember the good in each other, the nights we’d lay awake giggling and giving each other game-show-style quizzes on trivial things like our favorite time of day and favorite type of candy bar. We were convinced that we’d someday be asked to be on a “how well do you know your roommate” game show, and we were not prepared to lose.

{photo credit: CarbonNYC}

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The Freedom To Change

posted 6th July 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: All Posts, Nicole Antoinette, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 2, What I've Learned

For the 18 years before I was born, my mother was a flight attendant. Shortly after giving birth, she again took to the skies, and then promptly quit after realizing that sitting on the jump seat, starring at a picture of your baby and sobbing hysterically don’t make for a fun high-altitude hostess.

So she stayed home with me, which I loved, because she was my eternal playmate.

It was different with my dad though. He worked long hours, took frequent overseas business trips, and wasn’t involved in the every-second-of-the-day-ness of my life like my mother was. But when he was home, he’d always take me on adventures around the city.

New York City was our playground, something I didn’t fully appreciate with my five tender years of life experience, and the fun was everywhere. It was always this museum and that street fair and this park and that exhibit and everything else the city had to show us during our Saturdays on the town.

Most often, if the weather allowed, we’d wind up in Central Park. The rocks around the park were mountainous in my eyes, and climbing to the top of them was a sought after feat. We’d routinely walk from one end of the park to the other, stopping uptown at Citarella so my dad could buy fresh fish for dinner.

Which is where the wheels usually flew off the wagon of our picturesque adventure day.

The Enormous Father Daughter Fish Debate would start as soon as he began steering us toward the park’s exit. I might have only been five, but I knew when it was fish time.

“No thank you,” I’d say.

He would look down at me calmly, “I didn’t offer you anything.”

“No thank you for fish,” I’d reply.

“The fish isn’t for you,” he’d say. “Although it wouldn’t kill you to taste some.”

My eyes would go wide. Was he serious? He couldn’t be serious. Definitely not. But maybe? No. Fish? Would I have to? No. But maybe? Ah! Disaster!

“It maybe would kill me,” I’d answer thoughtfully, at which point he’d take my hand and we’d cross the street toward the store.

“I said no thank you!” I pleaded, trying to pull him back toward the park.

“We’re going inside,” he’d try to say, interrupted immediately by my desperate argument that it smelled too much like fish and so we’d have to stay outside. To which my father would reply that well, it is fish, and what did I expect?

Exasperated, my next attempt was to shout about how I DON’T EAT THINGS WITH WEIRD GOOGLY EYES BECAUSE OH THE DISGUSTING HORROR. I then made fish faces and pretended to die a disease filled, ‘why would you ever even think to eat me’ type of death, which is more or less when I was given The Look.  Meaning that I got my ass inside and did my best to stare at the floor and breathe through my mouth.

After we’d been going on these outings for about a year, my father thought (for some insane reason) that it was time I learned about sushi, and he told me all about it. I was disgusted. I just, I couldn’t for the six-year-old life of me imagine how anyone ate raw fish. My father assured me, year after year, that I would grow to like it. I told him, year after year, that it was more likely that I’d grow twelve more legs than a taste for raw fish.

And yet here I am, twenty years later, loving sushi. Loving sushi! Me! When I first called my dad to tell him that I was on my way home from a sushi dinner, I thought he was going to have a stroke. The truth though, is that for me, the hardest part about loving sushi didn’t have anything to do with the way it tastes.

The hardest part about loving sushi was allowing myself the freedom to change.

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The $60 Pot Of Tea

posted 29th June 2010    Written by: Nicole Antoinette    CATEGORY: Job/Career/Work, Money, Nicole Antoinette, Season 2

There’s a tea house here in San Francisco that sells, among it’s regularly priced items, a $60 pot of tea.

When I first saw it on the menu, I thought it had to be a typo. I mean, $60? For tea? I called the waitress over and asked and she told me that no, it wasn’t a typo and that a singular pot of that particular tea really did cost $60. I stared at her. She stared back.

I asked if the tea would either a) make me high or b) come over and do my laundry. She said no. I told her I was kidding. She didn’t laugh.

But I did. Well, until I didn’t. Until I realized that there are seriously people out there who spend $60 on tea. $60! On! Tea! Maybe everyone who does this is considerably older than me, I thought. Or maybe they’re trust fund babies. Or maybe they just know what in the hell they’re doing when it comes to being 25 and being smart with money at the same time.

Not that I’m bad with money, I’m not. I’m a meticulous (read: anal) budget keeper, I pay my quarterly taxes on time, I don’t have any credit card debt, and I still can’t fathom being able to spend $60 on tea without having a stroke over it. Being 25 feels like a weird financial age. It feels like an age where if you took a sample of the financial situations of the people I spend my time with, everything would be scattered and you wouldn’t get anything close to equal results.

In college, I felt like people were more or less operating on similar budgets – namely, everyone was broke.

Being broke was almost the hip-ish thing in college, wasn’t it? We all bonded by complaining about how expensive everything was, searching out the best possible drink deals, and signing for student loans we couldn’t imagine having to pay back. But after we graduated, we all went in different directions. I have friends who went the serious relationship route, joining their finances with someone else and plunging on toward marriage. I have friends who went straight to grad school, friends who jumped into the corporate thing, friends who moved back in with their parents, and then there’s me. I went from graduating early to a series of non-traditional jobs, one after another, and I’m still following a similarly road-map-free path. I’ve never had a 401K, never had any formal financial guidance, and am only now starting to give some thought to how I’m ever going to get out from under my student loans.

Which is why this little tea incident got me thinking. I mean, if being able to taste $60 tea without simultaneously crying about potentially being homeless is on my goal list, I should probably start forging a path to get there.

The hardest thing for me when it comes to money, though, is trying to figure out where to start. It all just seems so… surreal. Having enough money to retire one day? Owning a house? Paying off my student loans? Thoughts like that seem like some sick fantasy land that I’ll never reach. I took this financial fitness quiz last night, out of curiosity, and I scored a 51. Out of 100. Which seems like a rather epic failure, but apparently I’m pretty in line with other people in their 20s, struggling to find that balance between playing hard now and saving hard for later.

I find that that’s the biggest difference between people my age when it comes to money – the now vs. later question. I have some friends who will run up their credit cards for a good time, and then I have other friends who won’t pay more than $20 for dinner. Would it be easier if we were all in the same financial situation? Sure.

But, more than anything, I think it would be easier if money weren’t such a taboo topic, if friends were more comfortable discussing it in detail as if it were any other conversation.

*Disclaimer: This post is part of the 20SB Blog Carnival: Friends & Money, sponsored by Charles Schwab. Prizes may be awarded to selected posts. The information and opinions expressed in this post do not reflect the views or opinions of Charles Schwab. Details on the event, eligibility, and a complete list of participating bloggers can be found here.*

{photo credit: Photos8.com}

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