I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

It's finally started to happen. I'm approaching the six-month mark and it's finally started to happen.

I kinda like living here.

I KNOW! I'm fully aware of the implications of the above statement.

"Wow. I'm in NEW YORK. NEW YORK! The Capital of PLANET EARTH! I love this City!"

That's when I step into a huge puddle and get grazed by a speeding SUV with a New Jersey license plate. Then I go to dropping F-Bombs like crazy and start missing my cat.

Oh yeah...I had a cat once...I think his name was Melba. Something like that, wasn't it? Gosh, I really miss him. I think.

The problem here is the whole split-focus thing. I don't remember if I posted about this already, but it bears repeating, especially for you wide-eyed little ones who are thinking about following me up here like some latter-day Pied Piper.

You come to the City to be an actor. There are opportunities here you simply don't find anywhere else. You walk into the lobby of the Museum of Natural History or the sanctuary of St. Thomas or down 42nd Street on a Wednesday night and think, "This is why NEW YORK." It's thrilling.

But then you remember you have to make rent. So you start courting temp agencies. And just when you get all excited about starting regular temp work, you remember you have six auditions next week. "Money or the Dream?" you think. "Money or the Dream?" You didn't come up to New York to become some corporate slave. You came up to act. So you tell the temp agency you're unavailable next week.

But then you remember you're running out of money. So you call and tell them you're available. Then you think, "But I didn't come up here to become some corporate slave!" You came up to act. So you tell the temp agency you're unavailable next week. But then you remember you're running out of money. So you call and tell them you're available.

It's exhausting. It's a little scary.

But still, I don't know that I'm ready to fulfill my mother's prediction that I'd move back home within the first year. I mean, I've got a lot of stuff in my bedroom. It'd be a real headache to move all that stuff. And besides, where would I go?

I finally know where to find the good deals on groceries.

I know how to avoid the sludge puddles on snowy days.

I know where you can go to get a really cheap but tasty plate of Thai food.

I know where you can find restaurants that serve only chocolate or peanut butter or grilled cheese sandwiches.

I know that if you need to go to the bathroom while you're out, just look for a Starbucks.

I know which churches are conservative and which are liberal apostates.

I know you don't go anywhere without a jacket and a pair of earplugs.

I know you carry a small umbrella with you at all times.

I know how the subway system works (or doesn't work if it's the weekend).

I know what it is to be afraid of snow and rain. I know how to be thankful for sunny days, dishwashers, washing machines, and large bathrooms.

Who knows what's going to happen in the next six months. Maybe I'll do what I always do and continue to wander just a little aimlessly through life and hope everything works out. Maybe I'll say, "Forget this. I want bags of money," and go back to school. Maybe I'll be mugged and left for dead. Maybe I'll become the Melba toast of Off-Off Broadway.

But whatever happens, my lease is for another six months. And until the blasted thing expires...

I think I'm gonna like it here.