Today I was thinking about my life since I have moved to New York and how it has been in comparison to how I had imaged it would be. I moved to the NYC when Sex & The City was still a show and I hate to admit it, but I was one of those girls who thought I would have a Carey kind of lifestyle. I left my life in small town Connecticut and my boring UCONN education to “make it in New York”. At the time, I only had my parents and my boyfriend behind me. Everyone else, meaning my siblings and friends thought I was nuts for leaving during my third year of college to take a year off, and move into a loft apartment with 3 (at the time) roommates in what was still the mostly ghetto of Bushwick. I had a clear vision of what I would do, but I guess so many people have dreams and hopes that they themselves can never fulfill, I can understand why I had a few opposers.
When I moved in October of 2005 I realized that New York would be nothing of what I expected. The first two days after I moved in, I didn’t leave the apartment. The third, I ventured to the local health food store – Bushwick was still ‘up and coming’. While in the checkout line I read a posting that described an obscene crime to woman that occurred within two blocks of my apartment. With that information, I took my $6.00 tomato sauce and pasta and walked home as quickly as I possibly could without looking like a total fool. On the fourth day, one of my roommates took pity on me and offered to take me to Bedford, the avenue in the most gentrified part of Williamsburg. I had only ridden the subway one time in my life – never before in Brooklyn, and honestly, I was scared sh*tless! Luckily, my subway experience was fine, we got a seat, road the 5 stops down the line and ended up in Hipster Haven. The next day, I finally forced myself to ride the subway alone. I can still vividly remember my thoughts of telling myself to “only look at shoes, don’t stare at anyone.”

















