The D train came on the A/C line yesterday. I wasn't expecting it because down at Broadway-Lafayette, there were dozens of signs announcing the D was not running over the weekend and to take the F instead (underneath some of those signs were other announcements about the F being out of service too). But as I was bopping down the stairs to the new Lady Gaga album, I saw a D leaving the station. But by the time I had let two F trains pass, I assumed I was mistaken and got on the third F to arrive. When I got off at West 4th to take the A/C up to Columbus Circle or the Upper West Side (whichever train came first), the D suddenly showed up.

It was unexpected and I wasn't sure what route it would be taking or where it would end up, but I got on it anyways and was pleasantly surprised to find myself where I wanted to be, at Columbus Circle. I probably could've just taken the F to the 1 at 14th and been fine, but this was faster, though it did come with the risk that I'd end up far from where I thought I'd be.


That's all to say: New York City drives me crazy. I don't know if it's never not driven me crazy. And yet, it's familiar. I've only ever ridden the train the wrong direction once, and it wasn't even when I was new here; it was because I was so used to one route that I forgot I was supposed to be going another way once.

It's safe to say that most people I know these days would be surprised to find when I'm part of any sort of fandom. Part of me thinks it goes back to the time in middle school when I went to an early screening of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in costume, and some of the "popular kids" from my class saw me and made fun of me the next day at school (to them, I now say: ha). So it's rare to find me fangirling over anything IRL (until you begin a conversation with me about, say, Shakespeare or America's Next Top Model), but when the opportunity to attend a Gilmore Girls festival came up, I couldn't say no.

My love for the show (and passion to argue about the show) is well-documented. Every Tuesday night at 8PM, you could find me in front of my TV anxiously awaiting a new episode. It introduced me to new music and movies and authors, and it got me interested in what journalism could be. Every Christmas, I'd ask for the DVD sets (yes, I do own all seven seasons), and when Netflix added the series to its offerings, I binge-watched it all immediately.

But this isn't a post about my obsession; let's get to the topic at hand: this past weekend was the first-ever Gilmore Girls Fan Fest up in Washington Depot, Connecticut (the town that inspired Amy Sherman-Palladino's Stars Hollow). It was a completely fan-driven event with no affiliation to Netflix or the show, but some of the cast and crew came up for the weekend, and there was everything from panels to charity events to screenings and more.

I don't have a mentor – which is something that I've been thinking about a lot lately as I try step back and take these "big picture" looks at my life, my career path, and my future. As someone who's desperately in need of being creative at all times, I've found myself a bit out to sea when it comes to figuring out what to do or where to go next. I've said this before to a couple of people, who all argue that I don't really "need" a mentor. But...I don't think I'm done learning yet (who is?). In fact, I've sort of found myself in this rut where I'm not learning as much anymore.

As I've been thinking about all of this, I started to wonder if I was alone in being mentor-less and wondering why (Am I too stubborn to take advice? Too arrogant to think I can get by without a mentor? Should I have worked harder to identify a mentor and keep in touch with people who could've served as mentors? The answer to that last question is most likely, yes.), I decided to take my inquiry to Facebook (like all good, serious inquiries, of course) and ask my friends about whether or not they have mentors – or if they're like me and searching for one.