"So lately when I get stoned, I freak out about the idea of moving to new york. Thoughts of the huge city and expenses and the phrase "that city is gunna eat you alive" replay over and over in my mind. Like, my heart starts beating super fast, i get all sweaty, my brain is a ping pong game of 'should I? No I can't!' and I feel like i'm gunna pass out... and then i realize i get the same feeling when I have to poop. Then a friend of mine came to visit me last week and she talked me down off my ledge. As we sat in the North End park, looking over skyline of the city I have come to know inside and out, she explained to me "Kimmy, youre gunna do fine" At first I was way too invested in my Oreo cannoli from Mike's Pastries (OMG NOM NOM!) to really pay attention to her pep talk, but then I tuned into to her advice. "Kimmy, you came to Boston six years ago, knowing no one. You made in through college, while maintaining jobs and a social life, and somewhere in between all that, you found a way to travel the world". I mean, I know how awesome I am, but to hear it from someone else made me feel better than this Oreo cannoli (still OMG NOM NOM)"
I never finished the entry. Instead, I made it a reality and made the move from Boston to New York.
I quit my 'dream job' and said goodbye to the city that I like to say that I grew up in. I moved there as a child when I was 18 years old and left as an educated, world traveled, and self sufficient 24 year old. But I still can't manage to make my bed every morning (or month), I never wear matching socks, and I consider a 'home cooked meal' a can of Campbell's soup. And now I'm 25.
I still have a lot to learn in life, and I have a lot to teach life.
So here is a quick break down of my current life...
I stepped foot on the island of Manhattan in late September and landed an apartment 2 blocks from the World's most visited landmark , Time Square. (35 million people a year!)
People are everywhere, TOURIST ARE EVERYWHERE, Naked Cowboys and large cartoon animals are everywhere.
Ever get hit on by Elmo and Mickey Mouse when walking back to your home? I do.
Time Square is the PG-13 version of Sesame Street.
C is not for Cookie. C is for Cigarette
But despite its location, my apartment was a steal! As in, I ONLY pay just over a thousand dollars a month to have a room the size of a closet. Which for New York, it's a goddamn steal!
Oh and wait! For no extra money...A veranda, a patio!
It may not be Buckingham Palace, but it's home to me.
And if it meant living next to a legitimate crack house to have this home, then so be it.
They are actually pretty nice people.
It's the children in the school across the street I gotta watch out for.
I can sit here for days and reminisce about the four months I have been calling New York the place I live, but there is not enough time or space on this blog to compile all the craziness of new friends, jobs, bar nights, boys, street meat, bar days, concerts, playtime in the parks, and the things homeless people have yelled to me on the subway. Those stories will be told in due time.
I will get better about posting the adventures of living in a place where not only are no two days ever the same, but no two hours are ever the same.
Ever.
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