This is it. My last morning in my beautiful Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The sky is gray and the naked tree branches outside seem to be swaying silently outside of the bay window. I’ll miss that bay window the most I think. I’ve spent many mornings sipping coffee, reading or stretching and preparing myself for a day in the city. This place has been my oasis – a daily retreat from the noise, however magical. On the other end of the living room, my bedroom looks odd with a few of my things left over for the gal who’s taking my place. The blanket still on the bed, the rustic blue mirror still sits on the dresser, but the floor is mostly empty – all of my shoes either tossed or packed into my suitcase (how the hell I managed to get all of my stuff in there is still a miracle). There’s no traces of my pink gym bag or drying hand wraps anywhere. Only the few pieces of clothes I have laid out for myself to change into for my flight to Orlando. It’s oddly quiet. People are probably still tucked away in their homes for the holidays. Only an occasional passing truck can be heard just outside – a big difference from the usual honks and hollers of the center of Park Slope. I’ve been thinking about the things I’ll miss most. This apartment – this neighborhood – is at the top of that mental list. When (and if) I return to NYC, I hope to get this lucky again. Continue reading “On NYC.”
Me. Sort of.
I’ve got 4 months (less than that now) left in NYC. I’m flying home to Orlando on Christmas (better remember to buy that ticket soon) leaving my life in NYC behind. For now. Continue reading “I came. I saw. I conquered. What’s Next?”
It’s been one of those days where I’m not sure how it got to be 10:40pm when I just woke up like 10 minutes ago. One of those days where everything just kind of blurs together. Looking back on it I didn’t pay attention to the violinist and mandolin players at my station this morning even though I get super psyched every time they show up in the morning. I didn’t pay attention to Chinatown’s typical “Bags, wallet, glasses” calls as I rushed past the same people I see every single day (these same people have seen me come and go from the subway every day for the past 2.5 years… Surely they remember me by now). I didn’t pay attention to how I intentionally stayed out of the shadowy part of the block on my mid-day walk. It was chilly again. And I definitely didn’t think twice about the man inside the N train performing what I can only assume was one of Shakespeare’s monologues in a baseball cap and a Universal Orlando jacket. I was too busy trying to pay attention to my podcast; my ear buds blaring. I didn’t notice and now the day is gone.
Stoop for days & the nook
It’s a lovely day outside –IF– you’re sitting in the nook with an open window. Mostly because it’s really windy and all the debris has been flying into my eyes all day. There’s a lot of dust and dirt and sand. Not to mention random trash blown from over-flowing tash cans. BUT… Seeing as how I am sitting in-doors in my cushion-y nook enjoying the breeze calmly filter in, I’m very much enjoying the weather. It’s sunny. Warm. Rare. Continue reading “A New Yorker: 18 Days”
A Lady in White On My Way to the Subway
She doesn’t walk so much as glides. White cloth covers her head to toe. Knee high white leather boots with a heel just high enough. A knee length lace embellished white dress with flowy sleeves reaching down to her fingertips. A white scarf gently covers her neck. A white head wrap completely covering her head. White squared rimmed glasses framing her [blue?] eyes. A long white umbrella with a white wooden hook hangs effortlessly from her wrist. She strolls along the sidewalk. Keeping a pace suggesting she’s got nowhere to be. A small child hanging from her arm – the colors from his shirt creating a huge splash of contrast with her angel-like appearance.
3 years isn’t a whole lot of time if you look at the big picture. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a short time period, especially if you’re talking about the length of time one’s lasted in New York City. Which I am. Am I getting too complicated about this? I do that sometimes. Continue reading “A New Yorker: The Countdown Begins”
I feel like this blog is some sort of hobby from a past life. I haven’t even thought about it since the last entry. How sad. I was already to go and start a whole new project: a book. That is until I realized I had too many other things on my plate at the moment. Writing a weekly entry in a blog takes time, but outlining/composing/editing an entire book is whole new ball game. One which I definitely plan to play, just not at the moment. Continue reading “Well, Hot Damn. It’s End of July.”
You want to move to New York, but you don’t have a ready-to-go job. You’re scared, nervous, and filled with an overwhelming amount of self-doubt. Good. Grab onto that fear and doubt and hold on tight because you’re going to want to have it nearby when you tell it to go shove it.
I’ve had a couple of people ask me how I made the move… so here it is. Before I dig in, please understand that my experience is not everyone’s experience. My background may not match your background, but many of the things I deem necessary [I think] will come in handy for anyone in preparation for moving here. I’ll do another post (maybe) on what to do when you actually get here.
This is what I did in preparation for moving to NYC without a job.
2016 is here. NYE in the city is crazy. Crazy expensive. Crazy drunken. And mainly crazy unattractive. So I stayed away. Instead I spent the evening with one of my lovely roommates and a few friends at a Brooklyn bar. Last year this time I was sick, alone, and in bed. I’d say I made quite an improvement. I wore my very favorite heels and vowed to wear them more often. Because they’re just too damn beautiful to sit all lonely in my closet. Continue reading “2016: My New Pink Gloves & the Central Park Proposal.”
Ok, so I needed a break. Sue me. It took me 13 blogs before I created one that actually stuck; for over a year! Alas, I grew tired of writing about the same old drudgery that became my life in NYC. With the Honeymoon phase over, I needed a real break from constantly admiring my surroundings and give myself time to really hate this place. You know, like a real New Yorker. Not that, by any means, do I consider myself one. Continue reading “Alas, we meet again.”