A New York Year
Today marks my 365th day in New York City, and a full year of memories now guards me from the feelings of nervousness and self-doubt I had about moving here. I grew up in a small town in Georgia amidst quintessential “southern comfort.” The type of southern comfort where you sit down for a glass of sweet tea, blink and realize you’ve spent your whole life in one place. After graduating college, I remember telling people in my hometown that I was moving to the city (without a job nonetheless), and the overwhelming, bug-eyed response the whole town seemed to have coordinated—“Are you scared?” I don’t often feel afraid or a lack of confidence, but that question rattled around in my head in the initial days before my move. With my whole life packed into two suitcases and two boxes, I remember getting to my apartment (I’ve since moved twice), looking up at the ceiling, and having that vulnerable, child-dropped-off-at-summer-camp feeling of “what now?”
Fast forward a year to a more confident, employed and settled version of myself, and I still wake up asking myself “what now?” New York constantly offers fresh inspiration, and each day is an adventure in and of itself. This city breathes with an undeniable freedom—a freedom that keeps momentum among those who live here. In my own experience of living here, I’ve learned that every person has different qualifications of what it means to be a “New Yorker.” Beyond an all-black wardrobe, a diet consisting of only coffee, and an inherent frustration with slow walkers, is it 2, 5 or 10 years that earn one the sacred New Yorker title? To this day, I’m not sure of the exact cutoff, but it’s a title I’m excited to earn. I’m eager to share the new year of adventure, and hope you’ll continue to follow my journey!