On Feeling Happy:
"I've got hoes in different area codes."
I'm back and in beige baby. (What do brown and white make?)
OK. So I think I left the matter of moving too open-ended. I guess news travels faster than I anticipated, but now people are awaiting my long overdue arrival. For those who keep asking, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED: (And I know no one reads LJ, but I can't bring myself to stop writing here and begin writing on Facebook directly, so I have every entry auto-imported to FB. Just FYI.)
I love New York. I love the people I left behind in California. In April, my initial decision to move to NY was so I could get my shit together, save enough money while paying no rent at my grandmother's house to move back by the end of August and be able to live on my own back in Irvine, all the while having the fear that I would end up never wanting to leave. My instincts were right and I instantly fell more in love with the city than I already was. August came, and I informed everyone of my decision to stay for an undecided length of time. Unfortunately, all hell broke loose -for the thousandth time in my life- shortly after. My mother moved to NY to stay in the one bedroom apt that my grandmother, uncle and I already shared until she would be able to get herself on her own feet. I thought things would be civil and less of a battle for control between mother and daughter. I thought this because I no longer was living under her roof, we were merely living under the same roof. Boy, was I wrong. The detail that I managed to overlook was the fact that now my mother and I were living under my grandmother's roof, a woman often referred to as the "queen bee" of the controlling Rich family. This turned into a doubly difficult fight for me. No longer was I fighting for myself against my mother, and she her mother, I was battling my grandmother as well.
Now those of you who don't know my mother, don't even bother trying to read between the lines and see why it was "so bad" judging from what I've said. No one even partly understands unless they have seen the manipulation first-hand.
Bottom line, things got to be too much. I was miserable living in that household. Sleeping arrangements: Mother on a cot in the bedroom next to my drugged up uncle on the cigarette burned bed, and my grandmother on a twin-sized in the living room perpendicular to the couch on which I slept. Things started getting physical due to people becoming violently angry and frustrated with one another. I had to get out. I thought at that moment that this was a sign for me to go home to California, instead of seeing it as only pushing me to tear myself away from family. But I needed my friends, and a life aside from work again, so I didn't think twice about what life was really trying to whisper in my ear.
I gave my boss two weeks notice, but agreed to stay one month since it would take a while to find someone to replace me with time left for me to train them. During that month, I started staying with friends. Being out of that house in the Bronx cleared my negative thinking and caused me to breathe before making a decision based on me "running away", because as much I would like to deny it, that's exactly what I was doing. Things got tough here, I wasn't feeling truly happy, and I knew running back to before would have me at least content. But is that what we search for in life? Contentment? Going through the motions because it's what feels right? No, that's not for me.
That last week, I started going out with friends more because I was staying closer to Manhattan and a cab ride home cost much less than the usual $40.00 which always deterred me away from hanging out with people late at night. I realized that I had misconceptions that my friends who are mostly all older (23+) always just go out to clubs and to bars, and that there is much more to do than that. I mean, hell, this is NY. There's a different lifestyle here. And it takes some adjustment because for the first few months, all I wanted to do was sit around in someone's room playing drinking games, and it killed me that there was no one to do that with. Now? I'm temporarily living with guys who come home from work and crack open a beer, and all I can think is "Nah. I'd rather go eat some good food." I used to hate going to bars (no I.D., just connections, baby) but now I find them pretty fun. When you go with a bunch of friends, and not just for "drinks" after a date, it's pretty great. I can be loud without feeling like the loudest. It's like I blend in, but still stand out. Bottom line is, I'm realizing that NY takes a while to get used to, and for me, not having friends to hang out with every night in the beginning really put me in a bad place. I wanted what I was used to. But I see now that it takes time, and when I go to school in January with people my own age who do throw house parties, I think I will feel totally complete. More so than I've ever felt before.
And as for boys? Everyone who really knows me, knows I have to feel loved by the male species at all times, and like a kid without her toys, if there aren't enough and if they aren't ever-changing, I become fussy and utterly discontent. It used to bother me that men played such a huge role in the mood of my existence, but I have come to terms with the fact that I am in fact totally boy-crazy and have been since Kindergarten, if not before, and embracing it is all I can do. Some people can't be happy without drugs and alcohol, while some can't live without sex. For me, I'm addicted to being loved. In the broader scale of things, is that really so bad? For the victims, yes, but not so much for me! :)
I'm finally no longer the same triangle trying to fit into a square hole. I haven't changed, I'm still the same, but I've adjusted. I've figured it out and I've found my place here. The boys -ahem- men are once more aplenty, my friendships are growing stronger, and my happy meter just might be where it was circa 2005. New York is where I not only need to be, but it's where I want to be.
Moving back to California was a decision based solely off of my MO: compulsivity to follow my heart, and not my head. The night before my flight back home, I realized that wanting to be back with friends was not a grown up decision, and if that's what I'm trying to do, then I needn't take that route. The decision to stay was the hardest and scariest I have ever made, but I'm glad I had the guts to make it.
Life is not the board game that I have yet to play, it is something unpredictable and nerve-racking. It can be the most beautiful panoramic view ever imaginable, and then the ugliest and steepest fall through sadness that roller coaster experts have never tested. But in the end, it is truly the only thing which is completely ours for the taking, and if we don't act now, then what is there to look forward to? Old age living with regret? When I first stated that I was staying in New York, the thought that everyone would hate me for making such a rash decision and not coming back rattled me for days. I felt like everyone would take it personally and I didn't want to disappoint anyone. I almost flew back just so that I would make everyone else happy. Sooo not mature thinking, huh?
Well, all I can say is, I miss everyone more than I bet people think I do, but I am happy. So be happy for me, ok?
I'm back and in beige baby. (What do brown and white make?)
OK. So I think I left the matter of moving too open-ended. I guess news travels faster than I anticipated, but now people are awaiting my long overdue arrival. For those who keep asking, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED: (And I know no one reads LJ, but I can't bring myself to stop writing here and begin writing on Facebook directly, so I have every entry auto-imported to FB. Just FYI.)
I love New York. I love the people I left behind in California. In April, my initial decision to move to NY was so I could get my shit together, save enough money while paying no rent at my grandmother's house to move back by the end of August and be able to live on my own back in Irvine, all the while having the fear that I would end up never wanting to leave. My instincts were right and I instantly fell more in love with the city than I already was. August came, and I informed everyone of my decision to stay for an undecided length of time. Unfortunately, all hell broke loose -for the thousandth time in my life- shortly after. My mother moved to NY to stay in the one bedroom apt that my grandmother, uncle and I already shared until she would be able to get herself on her own feet. I thought things would be civil and less of a battle for control between mother and daughter. I thought this because I no longer was living under her roof, we were merely living under the same roof. Boy, was I wrong. The detail that I managed to overlook was the fact that now my mother and I were living under my grandmother's roof, a woman often referred to as the "queen bee" of the controlling Rich family. This turned into a doubly difficult fight for me. No longer was I fighting for myself against my mother, and she her mother, I was battling my grandmother as well.
Now those of you who don't know my mother, don't even bother trying to read between the lines and see why it was "so bad" judging from what I've said. No one even partly understands unless they have seen the manipulation first-hand.
Bottom line, things got to be too much. I was miserable living in that household. Sleeping arrangements: Mother on a cot in the bedroom next to my drugged up uncle on the cigarette burned bed, and my grandmother on a twin-sized in the living room perpendicular to the couch on which I slept. Things started getting physical due to people becoming violently angry and frustrated with one another. I had to get out. I thought at that moment that this was a sign for me to go home to California, instead of seeing it as only pushing me to tear myself away from family. But I needed my friends, and a life aside from work again, so I didn't think twice about what life was really trying to whisper in my ear.
I gave my boss two weeks notice, but agreed to stay one month since it would take a while to find someone to replace me with time left for me to train them. During that month, I started staying with friends. Being out of that house in the Bronx cleared my negative thinking and caused me to breathe before making a decision based on me "running away", because as much I would like to deny it, that's exactly what I was doing. Things got tough here, I wasn't feeling truly happy, and I knew running back to before would have me at least content. But is that what we search for in life? Contentment? Going through the motions because it's what feels right? No, that's not for me.
That last week, I started going out with friends more because I was staying closer to Manhattan and a cab ride home cost much less than the usual $40.00 which always deterred me away from hanging out with people late at night. I realized that I had misconceptions that my friends who are mostly all older (23+) always just go out to clubs and to bars, and that there is much more to do than that. I mean, hell, this is NY. There's a different lifestyle here. And it takes some adjustment because for the first few months, all I wanted to do was sit around in someone's room playing drinking games, and it killed me that there was no one to do that with. Now? I'm temporarily living with guys who come home from work and crack open a beer, and all I can think is "Nah. I'd rather go eat some good food." I used to hate going to bars (no I.D., just connections, baby) but now I find them pretty fun. When you go with a bunch of friends, and not just for "drinks" after a date, it's pretty great. I can be loud without feeling like the loudest. It's like I blend in, but still stand out. Bottom line is, I'm realizing that NY takes a while to get used to, and for me, not having friends to hang out with every night in the beginning really put me in a bad place. I wanted what I was used to. But I see now that it takes time, and when I go to school in January with people my own age who do throw house parties, I think I will feel totally complete. More so than I've ever felt before.
And as for boys? Everyone who really knows me, knows I have to feel loved by the male species at all times, and like a kid without her toys, if there aren't enough and if they aren't ever-changing, I become fussy and utterly discontent. It used to bother me that men played such a huge role in the mood of my existence, but I have come to terms with the fact that I am in fact totally boy-crazy and have been since Kindergarten, if not before, and embracing it is all I can do. Some people can't be happy without drugs and alcohol, while some can't live without sex. For me, I'm addicted to being loved. In the broader scale of things, is that really so bad? For the victims, yes, but not so much for me! :)
I'm finally no longer the same triangle trying to fit into a square hole. I haven't changed, I'm still the same, but I've adjusted. I've figured it out and I've found my place here. The boys -ahem- men are once more aplenty, my friendships are growing stronger, and my happy meter just might be where it was circa 2005. New York is where I not only need to be, but it's where I want to be.
Moving back to California was a decision based solely off of my MO: compulsivity to follow my heart, and not my head. The night before my flight back home, I realized that wanting to be back with friends was not a grown up decision, and if that's what I'm trying to do, then I needn't take that route. The decision to stay was the hardest and scariest I have ever made, but I'm glad I had the guts to make it.
Life is not the board game that I have yet to play, it is something unpredictable and nerve-racking. It can be the most beautiful panoramic view ever imaginable, and then the ugliest and steepest fall through sadness that roller coaster experts have never tested. But in the end, it is truly the only thing which is completely ours for the taking, and if we don't act now, then what is there to look forward to? Old age living with regret? When I first stated that I was staying in New York, the thought that everyone would hate me for making such a rash decision and not coming back rattled me for days. I felt like everyone would take it personally and I didn't want to disappoint anyone. I almost flew back just so that I would make everyone else happy. Sooo not mature thinking, huh?
Well, all I can say is, I miss everyone more than I bet people think I do, but I am happy. So be happy for me, ok?