7.29.2013

your sun is coming up and you're still alive.





































So as it turns out, living in New York City is not like living in an episode of Sex and the City. Or Girls. Or Friends. Or really, any television show ever. Living in New York City is... well, just like living anywhere, actually. You know, if anywhere has a four-story Barnes and Noble within walking distance, the best $3 hamburgers in the world, a Starbucks on {almost} literally every corner, and nothing but dirty concrete and stinky piles of trash as far as the eye can see and, more particularly, as far as the legs can walk in the average sweltering, sticky day. It's nothing like I thought it would be. 

But it's more real. And honestly, I like it better that way.

Occasionally I still catch myself forgetting where I am and forgetting how hard I've worked to be here. When I'm shoving my way out of a busy subway, when I'm rolling my eyes and dodging the dawdling tourists in Midtown, when I'm grabbing my purse to walk 10 blocks to the nearest Trader Joe's — whenever I don't remember that I'm in New York, well, those are the times I feel most like a New Yorker

And once I move in to my new apartment on Thursday, I feel like my new New Yorker status will be solidified. This place isn't home yet, but I think I can make it one.

Although can I just say, moving was so much easier when I had a furnished apartment and a father with a truck that could carry a good 12,000 pounds? Because as it turns out, not having those things turns moving apartments into a thousand-dollar ordeal

It's super-broke times like these when I've heard people talk about IKEA in the same reverent tones as they use to pray to their god. 

'It's so cheap,' they say. 
'Everything is so cute and easy to put together,' they say. 
'Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zoey Deschanel frolic around it looking adorable,' they say.

It is 'they' who have reserved themselves a king suite in the eighth circle of hell, those unapologetic, diabolical worshippers of all that is unrighteous and unholy and UNTRUE.

IKEA is evil.

Picture an infinite labyrinth of glittering showrooms featuring beautiful things that I will never be able to afford disguised as affordable. Picture the rudest, least helpful employees acting like it is the biggest hassle to answer questions and, I don't know, DO THEIR FREAKING JOBS. Picture two little girls with zero percent muscle mass wrestling two queen mattresses onto a cart in the middle of a titanic warehouse while passersby stand off to the side and blandly watch the show without moving so much as a finger to help. And of course picture the walk to and from the supercenter, through a Brooklyn neighborhood that would even freak out Patrick Bateman.

And after all that, all I got was a mattress, because I am not abundant with the monies right now. So until I get a job, I will be living like a squatter in my own home. 

But hey, at least I'm not out on the streets. Yet.

The Summer Publishing Institute ended a couple of weeks ago, and since then, all I have been doing is stressing and applying for jobs and worrying and trying to find an apartment and agonizing and interviewing and, in general, wallowing in a puddle of unemployed post-graduate tormented woe. 

I am expecting things to get better, though, once I get a job and can afford to buy food. And, you know, a bookshelf.

I haven't left for good. I'm coming back, I promise! Just as soon as I can stop moping around and get a real life. Below are just a few pictures from my first two months in NYC, and I can't wait to show you my completely empty and ginormous-by-NY-standards apartment in a few days. A wine and brownie picnic on the bare living room floor has been scheduled, and I think things may be looking up.

Until soon,
S.

Title song: "Vampire's Kiss" - John Gold











4 comments:

Anna said...

I smiled reading this from the air-mattress of my otherwise empty apartment bedroom. I'm braving my way to IKEA Wednesday at long last to get a bed. And as you said, that's a rather daunting feat. IKEA is deceptively soul consuming. I hope you're doing well and big hugs from Munich!

Neil Alexander said...

Yay adventures!!! ( I like the real NY better than any of those TV shows as well!)

$3 dollar hamburgers? Where can I find this deliciousness?!?

Sarah McCabe said...

Haha, at least I know I'm not alone, Anna, but I have faith that we'll both eventually have furniture of our very own. (Maybe very very eventually, but that's the price for being adventurers.)

Neil, MIKE'S PAPAYA. On the corner of 23rd and Lexington. GO THERE NOW. It's sooo good.

Niklas said...

I love that I've been to a lot of the places you've talked about :)
And can I please be a part of the wine-and-brownies-picnic? :)

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