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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This House Is Not A Home

As an avid reader of blogs I really hate when bloggers go missing and I am not updated on what’s going on in their life. And of course…I just did that for the past month. So sorry! But a girl’s gotta live! So for now I’m back, still alive and have tons of stories to tell.

I have now successfully completed my second month in the city! *cheers* It seems both unbelievable and comfortable at the same time. The one place I am not comfortable is the place where I am paying rent. I know I’ve expressed before how this was going to be a difficult situation but as every celebrity on MTV Diaries has said; “You think you know but you have no idea.”

To Move and Be Moved Pt. 2: House Rules

Although moving is the definition evil, it’s all (sorta, kinda) worth it when you have a place to call your own and to call your home. When you are forced to move to a place you still have to call someone else’s home. Well, the suck factor of moving escalates.

When I moved to the “crash pad” that also happened to be in Brooklyn, I was in the middle of a real “you don’t actually live here” situation. All I expected was a place to sleep, a place to eat, a place to shower and at least one outlet where I could plug up my malfunctioning computer and get to the internet. What I actually walked into was a palace worth over a $1 million, (yes I looked it up), that I’m pretty sure appeared on an HGTV show. I didn’t know it was possible to own four floors in a brownstone in Brooklyn. I also didn’t know I would be in a space with a family of five and a dog. So needless to say this former broke college student and current broke college grad did not quite feel welcomed in this space. The family was nice enough but the fact that in two weeks I never received the WiFi password or  heard from them once I left a Thank You note with some Thank You dollar bills sealed that feeling. I spent most nights out exploring the city, having dinner, searching for WiFi and scouring Craigslist for a place to stay.

To Move and Be Moved Pt. 1: (Un)settling Down

There are very few things that I absolutely, utterly, down in the pit of my soul despise. Actually, that’s not true, there are a lot. But I am only going to name three.

1. Being so hot that my sweat glands turn into faucets and just pour out salty water from my face. (Yes, I realize that was disgusting but I know you now have a great visual).
2. Being abruptly woken up out of my sleep. My mom has been on the receiving end of many “What do you want?”‘s on mornings when I have asked to her to make sure I was awake. And my alarm clocks, my poor poor alarm clocks, deserve worker’s comp for everything I have put them through.
3. Having to move and never feeling comfortable.