Well I have been in New York a week now. Well- okay, I'm lying, I have been in New York two weeks. But that sounds completely batshit crazy, plus my mom was here for the first four days, so I am going to go with one week...
And what a time it has been so far. It's weird moving to a place where you don't have something already setup, either work or school. Every time I have done something weird and suddenly decided to move away- whether that be when I moved to Texas for a hot second or becoming a nanny in Sweden, I always had something to do. Texas- college, Sweden- work, London- school, Boston- school... you get the picture. New York is the first move I've ever had where I can do anything, or nothing at all. It all depends on the opportunities I take and whether or not I make the most of my days.
I can't say my New York life has been all that glamorous, even if I have posted some cool photos on Instagram. In truth, it's been full of growing pains, as I expected. On more than one occasion I questioned why I moved here. Why I didn't run away to a faraway place and teach English. Because for me, running is what I do best. I pride myself on Irish Exits, not so much in the sense that I escape from parties early without saying goodbye, because I honestly love an excuse to get drunk and say everything I usually feel too awkward to say to people, but more in the sense that I leave colleges to study abroad for a year and then transfer schools upon returning.
So yeah, decorating an apartment and starting a "life" is a bit weird for me. But I am going to wrap this up because this post has turned into a ramble but the point is, I moved to New York, I have no idea what is going to happen, and I am learning to be okay with that.