I am a fabulous New Yorker.
Tomorrow marks exactly six months since I arrived in New York.
I live on my own, completely supporting myself. No roommate, no partner, no nothing.
I pay all my bills with no help from anyone else. I rely on others only under extenuating circumstances. This probably sounds like such a simple thing for most people, but for me it's really been the most difficult challenge.
I have the job I was looking for. It may not be the most glamorous job, it may not pay the most money, but it puts me in an excellent position to figure out where I want to go next. I love my job. I am happy and eager to go to work. When I am there it doesn't even feel like I'm working... In fact I'm kind of surprised I get a paycheck every week for the "work" I do!
Like a tank full of sea monkeys, I am growing friendships all across the five boroughs. This element of my new life tries my patience more than any other, because I am used to a laid back world where people make time for each other. People here are really busy, like all the time, and I'm learning to operate within those parameters to make my friendships work.
I moved on from JH. I have dated a little, messed up a little, and learned a few lessons about what I want and need. I confirmed a lot of suspicions about those things too.
It was one year ago that I returned from a business trip and found JH practically running a flophouse in our home. It was one year ago that I faced the ugly truth that I could never marry him. One year ago I decided to leave a sour, frustrated life and make a better one. So I did it! I figured out what I wanted and took one year to accomplish all my three biggest, most daunting goals: Leave JH, move to New York, work in the movies. It has been a long year, and often difficult, but it's amazing to me that those goals used to seem so unattainable and far away. I dreamed of being on lists for fancy parties and supporting myself with a job in film and dancing the night away, flirting with boys and girls and surrounded by a gaggle of fantastically interesting friends.
So. With all that in mind, I give you the tale of last night:
Last night I felt like such a rock star...ten pounds lighter than a couple months ago, wearing a fabulous dress and carrying a trendy bag and cute French shoes, my hair long and curling at the ends just so. I walked purposefully past Bombay Restaurant in TriBeCa with a bottle of wine in hand, then slipped through a doorway behind the patio. I entered a gorgeous, gigantic artist's loft, filled with archives of massive, highly textured, paint-encrusted canvases. There were work benches and a series of mismatched wooden dining chairs around the space. Music sprinkled out of a doorway on the far side of the loft and I could make out people in cocktail attire holding wine glasses in the dimmed lighting. I entered, kissed my hostess hello, and then made my way around the party meeting and mingling.
I enjoyed myself, but left early, as I was also booked that evening for another loft party. I dashed out onto Greenwich Avenue, hailed a taxi, and off I went to The Triangle building at 9th and 14th. As I approached, I was greeted by a handsome young man who complimented my "gorgeous" red hair (oh yeah), and after the doorman confirmed my name on the list the handsome fellow escorted me up the industrial style elevator. He and I emerged at the back of a large, dark, crowded room and he half-whispered half shouted into my ear that I had arrived just in time for the bachelor auction. I thanked him and then coyly slipped away to find my group. Find them I did, and after one of my friends was auctioned off to benefit a great charity we danced the night away, laughing and talking and partaking of the open bar.
Later I texted Payroll, who was still at the Artist's loft. As the Triangle benefit party was winding down, so was their party (which was in honor of our friend Texas's birthday), and we decided to combine our parties in a really cute bar down in TriBeCa. We stayed there, drinking and laughing and talking literally until the sun came up. Texas even danced on the bar in her slinky silver disco-ball cocktail dress. In the morning twilight her British friend hailed a cab for me, and at 6:00 AM I kissed my two sweet kitties good morning and then we all crawled into bed, purring and snuggling right to sleep.
Oh, it's been tough this year, but all that is so worth it when I have nights like that.
Tomorrow marks exactly six months since I arrived in New York.
I live on my own, completely supporting myself. No roommate, no partner, no nothing.
I pay all my bills with no help from anyone else. I rely on others only under extenuating circumstances. This probably sounds like such a simple thing for most people, but for me it's really been the most difficult challenge.
I have the job I was looking for. It may not be the most glamorous job, it may not pay the most money, but it puts me in an excellent position to figure out where I want to go next. I love my job. I am happy and eager to go to work. When I am there it doesn't even feel like I'm working... In fact I'm kind of surprised I get a paycheck every week for the "work" I do!
Like a tank full of sea monkeys, I am growing friendships all across the five boroughs. This element of my new life tries my patience more than any other, because I am used to a laid back world where people make time for each other. People here are really busy, like all the time, and I'm learning to operate within those parameters to make my friendships work.
I moved on from JH. I have dated a little, messed up a little, and learned a few lessons about what I want and need. I confirmed a lot of suspicions about those things too.
It was one year ago that I returned from a business trip and found JH practically running a flophouse in our home. It was one year ago that I faced the ugly truth that I could never marry him. One year ago I decided to leave a sour, frustrated life and make a better one. So I did it! I figured out what I wanted and took one year to accomplish all my three biggest, most daunting goals: Leave JH, move to New York, work in the movies. It has been a long year, and often difficult, but it's amazing to me that those goals used to seem so unattainable and far away. I dreamed of being on lists for fancy parties and supporting myself with a job in film and dancing the night away, flirting with boys and girls and surrounded by a gaggle of fantastically interesting friends.
So. With all that in mind, I give you the tale of last night:
Last night I felt like such a rock star...ten pounds lighter than a couple months ago, wearing a fabulous dress and carrying a trendy bag and cute French shoes, my hair long and curling at the ends just so. I walked purposefully past Bombay Restaurant in TriBeCa with a bottle of wine in hand, then slipped through a doorway behind the patio. I entered a gorgeous, gigantic artist's loft, filled with archives of massive, highly textured, paint-encrusted canvases. There were work benches and a series of mismatched wooden dining chairs around the space. Music sprinkled out of a doorway on the far side of the loft and I could make out people in cocktail attire holding wine glasses in the dimmed lighting. I entered, kissed my hostess hello, and then made my way around the party meeting and mingling.
I enjoyed myself, but left early, as I was also booked that evening for another loft party. I dashed out onto Greenwich Avenue, hailed a taxi, and off I went to The Triangle building at 9th and 14th. As I approached, I was greeted by a handsome young man who complimented my "gorgeous" red hair (oh yeah), and after the doorman confirmed my name on the list the handsome fellow escorted me up the industrial style elevator. He and I emerged at the back of a large, dark, crowded room and he half-whispered half shouted into my ear that I had arrived just in time for the bachelor auction. I thanked him and then coyly slipped away to find my group. Find them I did, and after one of my friends was auctioned off to benefit a great charity we danced the night away, laughing and talking and partaking of the open bar.Later I texted Payroll, who was still at the Artist's loft. As the Triangle benefit party was winding down, so was their party (which was in honor of our friend Texas's birthday), and we decided to combine our parties in a really cute bar down in TriBeCa. We stayed there, drinking and laughing and talking literally until the sun came up. Texas even danced on the bar in her slinky silver disco-ball cocktail dress. In the morning twilight her British friend hailed a cab for me, and at 6:00 AM I kissed my two sweet kitties good morning and then we all crawled into bed, purring and snuggling right to sleep.
Oh, it's been tough this year, but all that is so worth it when I have nights like that.
