13 years ago today, I boarded a plane that would transport me from Pittsburgh to JFK in 60-minutes, uncertain of how my life would turn out as a New Yorker.
My first real lesson of NYC was to not take a bunch of shit with me on the subway. I had two huge bags and a full-sized guitar in-tow as I was too cheap to take a cab. It was awful.
My second lesson was that my natural deodorant wasn’t going to keep up with my new NYC lifestyle. So I switched back to antiperspirant on day one.
Upon moving, my short-term goals were to get a job and find an apartment and my long-term goals were non-existent. It took about 2-3 weeks to accomplish my short-term goals and I have fared pretty well for the last 13 years without any long-term goals.
In 13 years I added a husband and 2 cats that I love dearly. Called 3 boroughs home. Had more jobs than I can count. Obtained a paralegal certificate that I don’t use (but thankfully didn’t pay for). Made friends and lost friends. Grown an intense hatred for the MTA. Gained weight, lost weight, gained weight again and then lost it, again. Became a weekend beach bum. Never paid my rent late. And many more glorious things I can’t think of at the moment.
So cheers to me on my thirteenth NYC anniversary. Thank you Andy (husband), Walter (cat), and Omar (cat) for making my life better than I could have imagined.