My life has been signed, sealed and delivered.
The best part about living in a metropolitan area is the buzz and activity. During one of my weekly happy hours, my friend and I decided we wanted to move on to the next location. The only problem was, we didn’t know what the next location was. (We aren’t very good at planning our outings). I jokingly, but seriously, mentioned a drag show. Continue reading
No really you do.
I was warned prior to moving to New York that they like to do a lot of construction and basically mess up your whole life schedule. I thought everyone was exaggerating. I mean, I only have to take one train back and forth everyday. It shouldn’t be a problem right? WRONG! It is a problem because they like to do things on nights and weekends. I like to do things on nights and weekends. I mean isn’t that the point of living in NYC and not having to worry about class or school? The other night, I had to take 3 trains to go 200 blocks. I know you’re asking why I had to go 200 blocks anyways but that’s not the point!
Traveling sucks enough already. Why MTA? Why do you have to make it worse?
So I did something really terrible last week. I honestly didn’t mean to but with the way I’ve been feeling and amongst everything going on it just kind of slipped my mind. I forgot to write a blog to celebrate my three months in New York. I know. I’m a horrible person and should be ashamed of myself. But truthfully, I was too busy trying not to die, celebrating and then packing. (Like right now I should be packing but I have to write this darn blog post sheesh!) Making it 3 whole months in New York is definitely a milestone, but I honestly don’t feel as excited about it as I did making it my first full month. After some reflection, I noticed something very important…I’ve gone through similar emotions before. I always have a cycle that I go through with each move. Continue reading
I’ve never had a car so I’ve never truly understood the luxury of going from point A to point B with little to no hassle. At least not as an adult. When I was growing up of course I had my mother and once I went to college I had friends who would offer rides. But even then I would feel bad asking, and then I’d have to wait on them or be ready at a certain and blah blah blah. It still was never as easy and getting in a vehicle and going where I needed to go. I did use public transportation but I did very rarely when venturing outside of the huge area surrounding my school. I picked my housing for the last two years almost solely on the proximity to campus. Every place I needed to get to on a daily basis was either within walking distance or required a less than 20 minute bus ride. And that’s only if the buses were late and there was a ton of traffic and they hit every single traffic light. That’s not so much the case now.
Ahh train stories. They never get old and they never end. People do really strange things on the train and it’s quite entertaining. When I was staying in Brooklyn, every morning on the way to work this one man would get on at the same spot and I would hear:
“Please pardon the interruption but I am sick. I just got out of the hospital. I am sick. I am not physically sick or mentally sick. I am sick for money. [Some rambling about health care and not taking a shower]”
Then this “sick” man proceeded to walk all the way through the car saying “Can anybody help me. Can anybody help me? Can anybody help me!”
He would get off at the next stop.
Of course he was not the last person I’ve witnessed asking for money on the train. Continue reading
It was a warm, almost autumn day. The trains were running late, teens were yapping loudly and tourists were still walking slowly. All in all it could’ve been classified as a typical New York day. But ah, typical it was not. On the morning the day before I received a phone call. Normally I don’t answer my cell phone at work unless I am on my lunch break. But I was anxiously expecting a call from someone. Anyone really. I stared at the phone for half of a second, picked it up, and ran to the kitchen area for privacy. In about 10 minutes I received the news I had been waiting for: Continue reading
New York City is full of people. Lots and lots of people. Totally shocking right? The absolutely wonderful part of living with all of these people is not having them touch you on the subway, but the abundance of diversity. I grew up in a pretty ethnically diverse city…it was kind of the definition of a “melting pot”. The people I grew up with were mostly biracial and multiracial. My childhood friends definitely looked like the rainbow coalition. I went to college in a not so diverse city. In fact my school had a very small percentage of people of color which was kind of a culture shock for me. As a result, I surrounded myself with people who looked like me. My circle of friends looked less like Fruity Pebbles and more like Coco Pebbles.
I was excited about moving to a more diverse place again to expand the color of my friendships. What I love about the diversity in NYC is that everyone is PROUD to be who they are. They don’t try to blend in, (or assimilate). They are out and out proud that they are different than you. Not just in culture but style as well. It’s so amazing to see. and soak in. I even planned to go to the West Indian Day Parade just to soak up the awesome, but unfortunately it was raining and I didn’t want to soak up the water.
Although all of this cultural diversity is great, I didn’t really comprehend the existence of ethnic enclaves. Of course I heard of China Town and Little Italy, and Spanish Harlem but I guess I honestly thought they were more of a myth. I quickly got over this naive thought during the first time I was searching for apartments. Continue reading
A couple months ago I began writing a post. It was going to start with a pun about Drake and DJ Khaled not wanting new friends while that’s all I wanted. As you can tell, I never posted that blog entry and I never finished writing it. Now, I wish I had because I am in a completely different space. But the story is still just as important. Continue reading
I have a problem.
And the problem is people.
It really shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. Especially since I’ve expressed several times how I am having a hard time living with one person, (a cat and a dog). It’s also not a secret that the subway provides me with the bulk of my writing material. There is one thing, (okay I’m lying, there are tons of things), that has really been bothering me about people on the subway. Why must they touch me? Continue reading
This post is also a day late and a dollar short, (ironically “Too Little, Too Late” just began playing on my iTunes), but oh well.
Last weekend, I made the journey to Brooklyn for AfroPunk 2013. I had been excited for the festival for a whole month. My outfit, hairstyle and outfit had already been planned. I had no idea what to expect, I was just excited to attend rocking a AfroPunk-fitting outfit and possible spot a celeb or two. I was even more excited that my bestie in my head Questlove was one of the scheduled performers. Continue reading