"That Girl" Reminisces...

Hey lovelies --

I'm taking a much needed break from packing. The kitty and I are cuddled up on the couch watching old 90s reruns, and I must say it's quite pleasant. It's been a rather epic day, resulting in seven crammed under-the-bed boxes, four full trash bags and a whole army of unleashed dust bunnies. Oddly enough, as I was packing up my Brooklyn bedroom,I realized that today, September 13, is my three year anniversary here in New York City.

On September 13, 2007, I made the move from Pittsburgh to Brooklyn. I left the 'Burgh in a hurry, having found an apartment on Craigslist, paid for it sight-unseen, and within seven days, carried cat and suitcase off into the unknown glory of the Five Boroughs. I was rather unhappy when I left Pittbsurgh, and definitely thought of that move as a way to start over. I didn't bring many possessions with me, having thrown away a lot of what I owned in my 'old' life. NYC became my clean slate, my system reset. And I've grown to love it here even more than I could have dreamed.

I came here looking for something. At the time of my arrival, I didn't know what I was searching for. Three years later, I still can't put a tangible definition to it, and yet I can tell with you with total certainty that I found myself here. Now, after 1095 days in the Big Apple, I'm moving on again. But this time, it's different.

In this move, I'm not running away from anything. I'm not driving myself away because I'm unhappy, uncertain, or undefined. I have a life here that I love. I want to come back, and spend another 1095 days living my New York life. My friends here are terrific. My Donald is top of the line. And, for God's sake, it's New York. I love knowing that I'm leaving someplace that I want to come back to. For the first time since living in my parents' house, I feel a sense of home, of belonging. I'll be able to meet London, and then come home to New York City. Not running away, but discovering.

As I get ready to end my first three years in New York City, I'd like to leave you with the Rules of the Apple I've gleaned from my tenure here. While I'm not officially a New Yawker, I assure you that these are rules to live by...

1. Never EVER kick a trashbag on the street. My first week here, on a first date, I was strolling on the Upper East Side, and walked to close to a trashbag for my date's comfort. He grabbed my hand, pulled me away gently and imparted the previous words. Before they had even fully left his mouth, a rat the size of Godzilla fled the black plastic and nearly threw itself into us. So just don't.

2. When walking down the street, should something drip on your head, don't look up. Assume it was an air-conditioner. It's probably something much, much worse. But would you really want that hanging over your head, metaphorically speaking? Just keep walking.

3. Time is an "ish." Deal with it. I am a prompt person. Always. But in NYC, just for the sake of sanity, assume that there is a ten minute window for timeliness. Giant strollers blocking subway doors, tourists brandishing ginormous umbrellas, random bag checks by the NYPD... it all conspires to screw with your schedule. Just accept it, and move on. And don't block the damn doors.

4. Apartments are luxury items. Anytime you meet someone here for the first time, the first thing they'll ask is where you live. And how your place is set up. Is it a railroad? Does it have a bathtub? And, for the love of God, does it have exposed brick? A doorman gives you instant status. But should you happen to live in an Outer Borough (egads!) prepare yourself forthe look of horror on the UE-Siders faces when you utter Brooklyn. But it's ok. We know that's where all the cool kids live.

5. Buy a grocery cart. Seriously. Does it look hip/cool/trendy? Nope. But it beats the hell out of carting a gallon of milk, a turkey and a six pack home from the good grocery store seven blocks away. So do it.

To all of you darlings everywhere, I love you. Thanks for being my pals through all this craziness!

Love,
TGI