Welcome to the Stages

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.

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TIMES A Wastin’

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.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

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.

Yes, New Friends

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.

Please Excuse Your Flesh

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?

This is AfroPunk

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.

You’ve Got Great New York Bagels

Three stars for you if you can catch the reference.

From all of the shows and movies I watched set in New York, I got the idea that New Yorkers liked bagels. It didn’t seem too odd of a staple food item. I mean, bagels are good. They’re versatile, you can toast them, slather on butter, or cream cheese. You can even make bagel sandwiches for breakfast, lunch or dinner. They’re also portable, so I assumed busy New Yorkers loved them for their “grab and go” capability. I’ve always liked bagels, but I never loved them. To me bagels have always been a cute way to eat bread and that’s about it. But now? Oh, now I see the light that shines through the middle of those glorious clouds of sunshine.