Feb. 4th, 2014

So.  Saturday was the one year anniversary of my move to NYC.  I feel like I should make a big dramatic post about it, but I can't really think of much I haven't already said.

I'm happy.

I haven't recaptured the feeling of having a huge group of best friends from college, and I'm not obsessed with or enchanted by my city the way I was in Paris, but I'm fine.

My room is fantastic and I love being in it.  My roommates aren't around very much, and since they're already great friends with each other they leave me alone most of the time.  I have a desktop that runs XP so I can play the original Rollercoaster Tycoon and Zoo Tycoon games, and once I get my external hard drive repaired I'll be able to run The Sims 2 on it as well.  I have two cute little gerbils who think my hands exist to feed them sunflower seeds.

I know how to get tickets to a lot of Broadway shows for under $40.

I have an office job with a cubicle, just like I always wanted, and I really like my colleagues and my supervisors.  I like the work, and there's always something new to learn without feeling overwhelmed or lost.  I have pictures of the Troupe and my family all over my cubicle, and my boss likes me.  I end up getting saddled with extra responsibilities here and there, but I see that as a good thing.  I got an extra paycheck as a Christmas bonus, there are three paydays in January and August, and I'm getting nearly $3000 in tax refunds next month.  I'm not rich, but I'm managing to pay the bare minimum on my student loans and still save up a tiny bit.

I had pink hair for a few months and no one at work minded--they actually thought it was pretty cool.  I shaved my head just to say I'd done it.

I know how to buy two months' worth of groceries--mostly healthy food!--for under thirty dollars.

I don't see myself has having a future here, but I'm settled for now.  In a few years I'm probably going to get myself back to NC so I can be closer to my family, and I would certainly like to transition into working in translation.

It was a hard year.  It was a horrible year until I got my full-time job and moved to a better living situation.  In the past twelve months I've learned the actual difference between mouse and rat infestations and the best, most efficient ways to deal with either one; I've learned that the store brand is ALWAYS significantly cheaper (if not better), and I've learned to wait for bargains and jump on them when you see them.  I've learned that I should stand up for myself more often, and that swallowing your anger is going to make things worse than confronting it.  I've learned the best cleaner for bathroom floors, and how to smuggle toilet paper from the office to save money.  I filed my own taxes.

Most importantly, I'm figuring me out.  I'm an activist--a social justice warrior.  I'm demisexual and lithromantic and gayer than I ever realized.  I probably won't be able to get married, because I find flaws in everyone and am only able to overlook them half the time.  I like my own company, and anyone else feels like a crowd after a while.  I like talking to myself and dressing however I want around the house and calling my pets silly names in silly voices.  I like talking to my tv shows and laughing at jokes that no one else hears me crack.

Now that I'm not worried about having a roof over my head or enough money to buy food, I want to focus on getting my knitting business running and, in the long-term, getting that translation class under my belt so I can eventually slip over into a profession that actually makes use of my passion for French.

But yeah, happy one-year-in-NYC anniversary, self!

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