A Year Here A Year There Intro

I feel trapped here in NYC.  I know! Trapped is a big word for someone who lives in what’s considered to be the greatest city in the world. But it’s not just any part of NYC… its Staten Island.  You most likely have no clue what Staten Island is outside of what you’ve seen on the Jersey Shore or Mob Wives. Most people in New York don’t even know it’s a borough. It’s the forgotten borough of NYC, or as I fondly love to put it, the place where things go to die. The best way to describe is that it’s extremely small, extremely sheltered, and extremely useless.

Not that I TOTALLY hate it here. I love coming home and my family. But there’s nothing left for me. There’s more to my life than just getting any shit job and waiting for some fake Prince Charming to scoop me up and settle me down with a daycare full of kids with an addiction to prescription meds that dull the edge of the monotony of my suburban life. I want so much more than that. I NEED MORE THAN THAT.

But I was lucky. Most of my friends didn’t have the courage (or support to be honest) to leave The Island. To spend four years away in Providence, Rhode Island really helped me open my eyes to so many things I wouldn’t even know about had I not left. I realized even further that not only did I HAVE to move from Staten Island, but I had to move away from New York all together. But i have to back up a little. There’s more than one reason why i need to escape this trapping comfort.

1) My break-up.  There’s no real way to not address this. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to mention it because to be perfectly honest I’m not over it; even though it’s been a solid four months since we broke up (1 since we spoke) However, there was no way to address my rapidly  changing perspective without talking about it. I’ll write a separate post about it though. Moving on. Being home and in Rhode Island especially reminds me of him and us. I don’t need it and I don’t want it. So I need a change of scenery.

2) I graduated. I lived in an apartment. With my own room. With my own space. I barely even had to see my roommates. I am currently writing this from my living room chair at 4am because as of right now, I don’t have a room to call my own nor at the moment do I have even have a bed because of all the people visiting for my cousin’s graduation. I’m eternally grateful to my parents for letting me stay until I get on my feet, but it is a major shift (to say the VERY least) to be living basically on your own to a house full of nosey people and not many places to hide from them.

3) It all really comes down to wanderlust. I adore new places. To just stroll around a city. I want to watch the people interact and see the culture and eat all of the food.

Do you ever just feel like you spirit is desperately reaching so hard and yearning so deeply that you just have to listen? That’s how I feel about NOLA. I’ve never been. I don’t even have family there. Literally, everyone asks me, ”Why? Of all places why this broken down city?”

It’s the magic of the city. I love the picture in my head I have of the fabulous street bands playing as I twirl down the street in my Afro. I love the idea of sitting on the bank or dock watching the sunrise from my backyard. It’s also the spirit of the city.  It was literally destroyed. But it’s like no matter what, we’re gonna survive. We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna party and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.

So this is where I’m going first then from there maybe Seattle, Paris, D.C? Let’s see how this goes. But the point is that I document my year ( or less) I stay in these places so that I can keep track of my progress as a real adult human.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s