There are two types of people: those who want to live in New York City and those who do not. I definitely fell into the latter of the two categories. Don’t get me wrong…it was awesome that, living in Boston, I was only a four-hour bus ride away and could visit at the drop of a hat any weekend I chose. I could descend on the noise and chaos and enjoy all the city had to offer and then leave it behind and go back to my quiet, peaceful little Commonwealth. You see, I love Boston. I love the pride, the grittiness, the cerebral-ness, the liberalness, the drop your R’s-ness of it all.
But, as much as I love Boston (and was truly falling in love with it again), I knew that we needed to break up. I grew up a lot while I lived there and was so happy to have had the experiences that I did and meet the wonderful people that came into my life there. But, I also realized that my time there was reaching its expiration. I said goodbye to wonderful friends, sold furniture and anything that wouldn’t fit in my car, worked on said car to make sure it was drive-worthy to head across the country, and began looking for jobs out West. I figured it was time to be closer to family and those wide open spaces that I’ve missed living in New England.
Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray…..
A little white rabbit of a job lead that I had begun pursuing led me down the rabbit hole and, all of the sudden, I had a job! In New York! Doing exactly what I feel I need to be doing right now! I had only submitted two applications in my job search thus far. This is not an “Oooh! Look how amazing I am!” sort of comment. No. Rather, it’s pure astonishment at how quickly and painlessly it all happened! This was FAR from my expectations! In short order, I was contacting friends in the city, checking out apartments, meeting future coworkers, and navigating the subway. My car was diagnosed with terminal diseases that were too expensive to fix and then, just for good measure, gave up the ghost days after I took the NYC job. It was clear. I was supposed to become a New Yorker!
Despite a bout of analysis paralysis regarding the apartment hunt, I decided on a lovely place in Harlem with an even lovelier roommate. I moved myself (both packing up in Boston and unpacking in NYC) in a big ol’ U-Haul cargo van. Driving that thing in the city was one of the more stressful aspects of this whole process. But, I made it. I had a home, a job, and the promise of new adventures in a city I never wanted to love. But you know what? I think I could fall in love here. And the purpose of this blog is to chronicle whatever sort of affair (love, sordid, etc.) with my new home, NYC.
Here’s to love, change, and new adventures.