Resurrection

After an incredibly long hiatus, I am back. Part of it was laziness but part of it was apprehension about what I would say about my new home, my new job, my new living arrangement. I don’t want to be the girl that has only negative things to say about her experience. Right now, I don’t feel adjusted; I am lost all the time.

Every time I think I have something figured out, the fastest route to work, the best grocery store, a good yoga studio, something happens that fucks it all up. At least the trains in NY are on a timed schedule – I knew that if I left my apartment at exactly 8:40 am, I could catch the uptown N train at 8^th St and be at work at exactly 8:59. That’s not how things work here – I think that I am leaving with plenty of time for work and there is a traffic jam for some unknown reason. It does not make sense to me and it frustrates me that I can’t get my morning commute timed as precisely as I used to, which is irritating.

It is incredible how much of a culture shock moving 2.5 hours north has been. I have never owned a car in my life before this month, and even after a month of commuting, I am still a ball of nerves whenever I merge onto 787. Going from the world of New York where almost everything is open 24/7 (including your job) to Albany where Sundays are an enforced day of rest is hard to wrap my mind around – what do you mean I can’t have Ali Baba’s baklava at 3:00 pm on a Sunday! What kind of monster denies me my Sunday treat?!

I am going to the city on Friday for a friend’s birthday and I am so excited that I could run to New York – that is how bad I want to be there. I want to walk around forever, I want to eat all the Asian food that I possibly can, I want to feel comfortable, and most of all I want to feel at home. I always feel slightly out of place here, I am always a shade or two outside of normal; either in my dress, my speech, my mannerisms, my attitude. Maybe I am just projecting that because I don’t feel at home yet, but I do feel like I stick out a bit for one reason or another.

Because I have made a New Year’s resolution to be more positive, I will end this post on a high note. It is convenient to go grocery shopping with a car. The fact that I don’t have to lug 50 lbs of groceries from 14^th and 4^th to 9^th and 2^nd and then up 4 flights of stairs is incredibly convenient, albeit dangerous. Because I have a full-size shopping cart, a car with an ample trunk, and no ridiculous line to contend with I am now buying practically everything that Trader Joes sells.  Delicious, but dangerous.

Again, this is only month one, and I know I will feel less lost (literally) as time passes. I am just looking forward to the day that I don’t have to use my GPS to get to the grocery store.

Alone Time

I have this theory that New York is filled with people who were teased in school for being different and then all congregated on in New York to finally be a part of the in crowd and judge the rest of the world. We are a city of misfits. In the interest of full disclosure, I definitely include myself in this category as well. Like everyone else in this city, I take immense pleasure in criticizing everything; food, TV, movies, cities, various train lines, and many more things that no one cares about. I am starting to realize that other people do not act this way. Let’s hope I can make some new friends despite my snobby nature.

I have taken to walking everywhere these days. I miss my unlimited MetroCard and the ability to go anywhere as often as I liked for $104 per month. I never had to be that person fumbling at the MetroCard kiosk trying to refill my pay-per-ride card. Now without my golden transit ticket, I have been walking, trying to save $2.25 any time I can. Truthfully, it has been nice spending quality time with the city that I love; tracing her contours with my steps, getting a good look at what I have been living among for these past five years; the juxtaposition (thanks, Brunnemer) of architecture old and new, the conglomeration of foods, stores and people all on a tiny strip of bedrock.

I love the concentration of stores, schools, restaurants, bars and corporations all on top of one another here. One of my best friends from college said in our freshman year that he used to walk home from work listening to Simon and Garfunkel’s “Only Living Boy in New York” and felt like he was the only one in the whole city. We still tease him about it, but there is something to be said about wandering through the city with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. Walking across the blocks and seeing all the different people and places of the world really gives you time to think and be alone by yourself. It’s kind of incredible that even though we are an island of 1.6 million people and a city of 8.2 million, you can feel so peacefully alone.

All of this walking has made me really think about what it means to live in an urban area. I have traveled a fair bit and I have never seen a city like New York. There is something here for everyone, all within walking distance, which is pretty incredible if you think about it. As you make your way from East 86th street to East 9th Street you are able to see how neighborhoods gradually change but all the while keeping that unique New York quality about them. The streets become a bit more narrow, the views change, the demographics change (well, these days it’s older rich white people to slightly less rich white people), and cultural nuances change. I will have the same thing in Troy, but in a different fashion. The city is more spread out and people tend to drive rather than walk. Man, that will be scary. I will miss my independence from driving.

Vagabond Lifestyle

I am halfway through my couch surfing odyssey and honestly cannot wait for it to be over. Why am I crashing on my friends’ couches for the month of December? What I tell other people is that I did not want to leave my students hanging before winter break without a tutor. The real truth is that I was too scared to commit to actually moving, and wanted to continue my New York City life for as long as I possibly could. So here I am, sleeping on my friends’ floors because I am a big baby.

I need to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of the friends that have let me crash on their floors, chairs and beds these past weeks. I am eternally indebted to you and your kindness. I do have a confession though: I have used your toiletries and for the most part, not told you. I just can’t help myself; when I see a new shampoo, I have to try it. So, sorry for the unauthorized use of your goods! But how else can I try new products without financially committing to a new product I might hate?

This whole NYC apartment tour has taught me an important fact: my apartment was a total hole. I’m saying that in the nicest way possible. Every apartment I have seen has been better than mine in every possible way. Each apartment has had a bathroom that you can turn around in; fridges that keep food cold instead of ones that leak, stoves where all of the burners work instead of just two, kitchen sinks that do not leak, and counters that do not have peeling particle board that is covered in mold.

I always thought that all apartments were like mine. I thought I was a baller on a budget. I was dead wrong. And you know, my friends never told me. They never said, “Holley your apartment is disgusting, you might want to consider upping your living standards.” So now, I am moving to an apartment that is approximately three times the size of my old apartment where nothing is broken or moldy or disgusting. And I have a yard now. Suck it, NYC.

I do have to say though; for all its faults, I loved that apartment. That apartment is where I finished college, where I got my first serious boyfriend (who I’m now leaving New York for), where I lived next door to a man who claimed to be 104 years old and would call me “beauty, beauty” when we passed on the stairs. It was the apartment I rode out Hurricane Sandy and the resulting black out, where my fellow East Villagers lived like residents of Panem’s District 12. There’s a lot of history in that musty old clap trap and I will miss it.

An ironic end to my apartment saga is that the girl who took on the lease of the place was just informed by the management company that she has to move out by February 1; the management company wants to renovate the apartment and jack up the rent for a new tenant. What is horrible is that they never told her this when she was taking over the lease. What jerks! I will say though, that apartment really needs a serious facelift.

Moral of that story: I would have had to leave my apartment no matter if I moved to Troy or not. At least I left on my own terms. 

Goodbye Preparations

Every time I tell someone I am moving, I am inevitably confronted with “You’re moving to Troy? WHY?!” Last week I actually met someone that was from Troy, who upon hearing about my move told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Thanks for the support, ya jerk.

My life right now is a sad montage of “lasts”. Last dinner at Xi’an Famous Foods, last walk down East 9^th Street, last visit to Sew Good Cleaners (who are fabulous by the way), last chai from Mud, last everything. Every time I perform one of these “lasts”, sad music plays in my head and I get a bit misty eyed thinking about the life I am leaving behind. Dramatic? Maybe.

Saying goodbye to life in New York City has been a lot harder than I thought it would be. All the things I used to hate about New York are now tinted by rose-colored glasses and soaked in nostalgia. Instead of the panic and terror that I used to feel when encountering a cockroach, I am now only able to recall the good times and my Raid-aided triumphs of cockroach decimation.  

It is important to note that if you had talked to me three months ago, all I could do was talk about how excited I was to move out of this city. Now as the end of my New York City life is rapidly approaching, I am scared of moving on.

Someone told me that making a list of the things that I will not miss about New York would make me feel better about moving. I need this reality check, so here goes:

What I won’t miss about New York City:

• The smell. The smell that is a combination of rotting garbage, animal waste, human waste, and stale beer which linger and ferment even after the streets have been cleaned. I will not miss that daily assault on my olfactory senses as I walk outside.
• Working in Time Square. I have had the misfortune of working in this metropolitan wasteland for the past year; the dearth of decent lunch options and the shuffling crowds of tourists are enough to make you go crazy. Worst of all are the off-brand Sesame Street characters who litter the streets coercing random passersby for paid photos. I should not see three different raggedy Elmos each time I get a cup of coffee from Starbucks.
• People who do not accommodate others on crowded trains. I get it; you want to stand by the door for an easy exit/a place to lean. But guess what, it is rush hour and you’re not the only person on the train. Sorry buddy, but you’re going to have to suck it up and move towards the center of the car so everyone else can get to work on time. Blocking the door and getting upset when I bump into you doesn’t help the situation and is pretty selfish. If you don’t like other people touching you, take a cab.

Actually that does make me feel a lot better. New York, I love you, but you need to get it together. 

Moving On Up

This past weekend was the big move to Troy. I’ll be honest with you; I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to call the whole thing off and hide out in my apartment. But I didn’t and to be honest, I don’t know if I am happy or sad. I guess I won’t know for a little while, which scary, but okay. 

On Friday night, I called my cousin to talk me off the ledge. Luckily for me, she recently moved across the country to move in with her boyfriend (what a crazy random happenstance). After reassuring me that she almost canceled the move about three times, she gave me a great piece of advice: 

When you move to be with your significant other, you have to realize that this is a decision that was made by the both of you for the both of you. Sure, the person that did the relocating is making a more obvious change, but this change is for the collective “you,” not just one person. Even harder, for those that did the moving, when you are upset, you can’t throw out the “I moved here for you” card, no matter how much you want to. Let’s be real, I’m not perfect and I know I’ll do this (probably more than once; Gavin, please forgive me in advance), but hopefully now I won’t do this quite as much as I would have.

Now that I have moved my stuff, I am now able to speak with great authority on the logistical and emotional aspects of moving in with a significant other. Specifically, the kind of moving that involves quitting your job and leaving your city to build a new life. Here’s what I have learned in the scant seventy-two hours that my belongings have been in Troy:

It’s okay to be sad about moving. You are coming to grips with the fact that all of your spatial knowledge about your street/town/city is no longer needed, and let’s not even get into that whole leaving your friends and family and job bit, because then I would really start to cry. Now you have to start from scratch and figure out new answers to the logistical quandaries of: where the dry cleaners are, finding the best grocery story, figuring out how to get home without getting (too) lost, etc.

Moving pro-tip: Take measurements of your door frame and/or stairwell before you move rather than winging it on the day of. This simple step will help you avoid the crushing disappointment you will inevitably feel when your favorite piece of furniture does not fit in your new home. I have two pieces of furniture, a bed and a dresser. Gavin and my stepfather only managed to get my bed’s box spring up Gavin’s very narrow stairway after accidentally breaking the window frame. My beloved dresser however, did not fit up the stairs, no matter how hard they tried. Instead of behaving a like a rational adult who would have figured this out prior, I decided that a melt down was more appropriate. Classy.