I'm sitting in my Brooklyn apartment sweating bullets as I write this. I left Montreal 6 days ago and it feels like I've been gone for ages already. So much has happened in that short period of time: meeting and staying with a great couch surfer in the East Village, looking for an apartment and finding one on the first day with my new roommate and great friend E, getting a new cell phone, setting up a bank account, and yes, even finding a job. I was really stressed about this move, I realize now how foolish it was. Deciding to move to New York City is not a decision to be taken lightly. My only reasoning is that I'd been feeling pretty upset and unlike myself in Montreal for the month of August; not being able to work is a very difficult thing especially when your Other is supporting you and working their ass off to do it. I'd never been in a situation like that before and simply couldn't continue to live like that. I needed to be proactive and get behind the driver's side.
Getting here kicked me into high gear because I knew it was kill or be killed mentality. New York is Darwinism at its finest. Everything about it is intense and political, it always comes down to who you know and who knows you. In my situation I needed to find a job immediately and was worried about my options since I couldn't afford to wait around and find out who would interview me months later. Thus I started with restaurants and passed an intense interview that involved a written test! To celebrate I bought myself a $14 skirt at Forever 21 to wear to my training tomorrow because oddly enough I didn't have a black skirt or pants. So. Here I am in Brooklyn. And to be completely honest all I can think about is Montreal and how much I love it. That was my home. That is my home.