Get to the point, ho bag. Woof.
New York City, the most incredible city on this planet. Don't try to tell me differently because it is, dammit, and I refuse to listen to anyone who disagrees. Full on holding my ears and sticking my tongue out at the disagreers.
Somewhere through the haze of only getting a combination of about 12 hours of sleep in 3 days and unlimited Sunday morning mimosas the day my flight from New York City to Orlando was, I started feeling really uncomfortable and upset. Upset like when I couldn't get my way when I was little. Uncomfortable like when I lose something important that I need soon. I was basically throwing an internal temper tantrum from the minute I stepped in the cab to head to the airport up until, well, I think still to this day, over two weeks later.
I need to be there. But how? How does one just pick up and move away from a place she has resided in for a large portion of 25 years, with the exception of living four hours away in college for two years? Am I crazy? Absofriggenlutely. Am I at risk to fail in front of all of my friends and family (and now the entire interwebz) after they've watched me put all of this effort in to such a life changing thing? Yep, yep, checkmate. Am I petrified of moving to a city that gets substantially colder than Florida and could possibly freeze to death after getting lost on the subway? Big time. A whole lot.
Ok, so, now that's all out there on the table. I am, in fact, a crazy chick who may, or may not, freeze to death somewhere beneath the streets of Manhattan all because I have this crazy dream to become New York City's newest resident. My tombstone will read, "
Here lies Whitney, she had a dream larger than her brain.".
Hopefully it will be more along the lines of what my mom said when I told her about this mission to happiness I'm on. "
Ever since the first time we took you to New York, you had stars in your eyes."
She's far more poetic than I could ever dream of being.
I guess now would be the time to admit that I have been writing cover letters like I'm getting paid $1 million dollars a piece, my resume has been submitted to companies I don't think will ever even wink an eye at me and LinkedIn is my new Twitter/Facebook/Instagram. All of the above is equally as exhausting as it sounds. And if you don't think that sounds exhausting, well, I wish you weren't such a liar.
In addition to sending out all of these resumes and cover letters, I have contacted just about anyone I can think of in my life who has even remotely had some type of connection to New York City. I may, or may not, have even offered to be a dog walker or a house keeper. You can call me desperate, it's ok. I am, too. Unfortunately there's few times in my life that there aren't dirty dishes in my sink and I let my dogs go leash-less at least once a day. Small details, I say.
Really though, I am actually doing this. Serious face right now, which I know is pretty difficult to believe coming from me, but I'm really real life right now. So serious that I've even made the infamous drunk vlog private for the time being... which could possibly be one of the most positive things to come from my pursuit of happiness. I'll let you decide the fate of that one.
Holy shit. Am I really doing this? Yes, God willing, I absolutely am.
I have already removed 96% of the doubts from my mind. I have already exercised the fact that I may not feel the same love affair I feel for my city after a year of living there. Or a month. I have already realized that being away from everything I've known here in Florida for 25 years will be way more than a couple hour car ride away. Lastly, I have already realized that once I move there I may never become Samantha Jones or Carrie Bradshaw, and I guess I'm okay with that. There are so many questions I could continue to harp on but where will that get me? Central Florida, that's where. Also known as, nowhere.
If I don't go after this dream now, when will I? I'm here, I'm young, I have nothing holding me back. No chains, no real career,
no asshole (uhem) no relationship
. I am the epitome of young, wild and free, and it's about damn time I use it to my advantage.
So, yeah, big changes are
hopefully in my (
very) near future. Well, you know, as long as some fabulous person in NYC decides to take a chance on hiring the little blonde chick from Florida. Please Wine Gods, don't let this be a big, fat fail in my life photo album. New, fancy pants, New York City job, come to mama. I'll even be okay if it's one that I can't wear yoga pants to.
This is my personal pursuit of happiness. Sit back, relax and watch the madness.
May it end as gracefully as I have envisioned it in my head, which is kind of like a
hippopotamus trying to do ballet.
Linking up with Helene today, so it's her fault if I fall on my face in front of the entire
blog world.
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