Brookly

Remember the Romance

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IMG_1808People often ask why I moved to New York, and I can’t really give a solid answer.

I had zero interest in New York City. Like, none…until I did.

When I read my rejection letter for a creative writing program at Boise State University in a Starbucks parking lot, the tears came fast and hard. I tried to blink them away to read and re-read the email. The moment embodied hopelessness. This hopelesness was not about getting rejected by Boise State, and I know that now. But grad school was my way out, my hope, it was my chance to move on. I had just suffered a breakup that still can wreck me if I let it. A breakup that still makes my voice crack, and a breakup that has made me push every guy away for the last three years. Not getting into grad school felt like I lost an opportunity to move forward. Because I didn’t feel like I had any other options. I felt physical pain in my chest and I didn’t know what to do.

I sat there in my car crying tears for so many reasons. And then I had a feeling or a whisper that floated through my thoughts for the first time in my life. Move to New York. Writers move to New York.

The very thought, scared me. My heart raced. And I pushed it to the back of my mind. I had never even visited New York. Had never wanted to. And now, this overwhelming feeling washed over me that I had to move there.IMG_4204

So I did. I listened to the whisper. And I’m here.

And I’m so lonely.

And it’s so hard.

It’s big, sweaty, smelly, vicious, loud, uncomfortable, exhausting, and it makes me afraid.

I have been here going on two years now, and I still don’t feel like I fit here. My clothes aren’t expensive, my school wasn’t fancy, my heart is too sensitive. I feel that most days are me against everyone else. I have never cried more in my whole life combined before I moved here. I cried openly and hard on the street corner recently because the line was so long at Trader Joe’s and I just needed a few things. That day, the City won. Lately, the City wins a lot.

But there is never a time that I don’t pause in complete awe when I’m on the Brooklyn or Manhattan bridge. I look Downtown at the sky scrapers and the Statue of Liberty, and in those moments I can’t believe I live here. And I feel alive. And I remember the romance that is New York. The grocery store lines fade, and the sweat dripping down my back stills, and the smell of bagels baking, and cobble stone streets give me the nutrients to get through another day.

It’s hard to remember the dream in the tough moments, It’s hard to remember my excitement when I boarded the plane with a one way ticket. It’s so hard to go home alone every night. This place has shown me hard work, thick skin, and has broken me down pretty hard. I’m thankful for all of the things it continues to teach me. One day I won’t live here anymore, and I’m sure my heart will ache for it. I can imagine an emptiness after leaving a place like this. Because I will remember the romance and the tumultuous relationship that I had with this City.

Until the day comes, I’m hoping for a few days that the City lets me win.

Something has to happen…right?

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The bad news is, I have applied to 41 jobs and have only had three interviews.  The good news is, there were 41 writing jobs to apply to.  And, I was a bit picky.  So I could have applied to hundreds.

I have been temping at a really great company on a 2-3 week assignment.  It has been my favorite temping experience yet, and the longest assignment which is great! I appreciate the consistency of it.  I am getting a routine down again and it feels really good. The irony of the situation is that they are hiring someone for the permanent receptionist position, and they can’t hire me because I work with a staffing agency and they can’t afford the finder’s fee.  So, because I’m with a staffing agency, I can’t get hired. Hmmm.  At least I can work consistently for the next couple of weeks! I will take it.

I came back to New York fully charged and full of promise with a great job interview to look forward to… I still haven’t heard back from the interview after four weeks and three follow-up emails.  The interview went well, and it seemed like an amazing place to work and an incredible learning experience with a major magazine to shine up the resume.    There was a few weeks that I had zero temping jobs, and I was having a hard time emotionally.  It was bitter cold, and hard to want to go outside, so I was sort of stuck inside of the apartment.  I had a hard time in those weeks, but finally I’m in a better place.

I also had an awful interview last week for a receptionist position.  The girl was rude and essentially tried to dissuade me from wanting to work there the whole time. It was a very disappointing experience and a waste of a $40 cab ride. (I was on my lunch break at my current job and had to take a cab to meet the time frame!)  If I got hired there (which I sort of hope that I don’t) it would be so ironic-horrible interview, I get the job.  Two great interviews and I don’t?  I would probably take the job, but honestly, it seems like sort of a horrible place to work.  Moving here has made me question everything.  Do I interview well? Do I make a good first impression? Why aren’t people wanting to hire me?

I had a visitor from 303 Magazine come to Denver this weekend to cover the pre-game Super Bowl parties and I had so much fun showing him around. (He had never been to NYC before!) I just talked the poor guy’s ear off on the train, telling him the ins and outs of living here.  It was really a fun to be on the other end of visitor/local spectrumIt made me so excited for my friends and family to make the trek out here.  This city still excites me and I had a lot of New York moments this weekend that will give me nutrients to persevere through this slow discouraging time.

I guess I am feeling a bit somber today.  But I am still happy to be here.  And am thankful for so many things that are right in New York.  I hope some exciting things are just on the horizon! (Photos to come!)