As I was brainstorming ways to blog on a daily basis without boring you all to death, I thought of a few stories from the years the Rockstar and I lived in New York City. Its a hard place to make a living, New York, but its a great place to live, and it certainly makes for good story-telling.
I figure I'll start at the beginning, which for me was August 1998. I got admitted to lawschool in New York while I was living in another state, extricating myself from a bad relationship. I packed my life into a UHaul truck, drove for 2 days with a good friend and my cat for company, and rented a tiny room in a tiny apartment above a pizza shop. I moved in with a woman whom I'd met for 20 minutes and then handed over two months rent to. I remember waking up that first morning in my little room with my life's belongings piled up around me, stretching my arms, and just feeling free.
I had two weeks before school began, during which I walked all over the city: Central Park, Chelsea, SoHo, the West Village, the East Side. I took a part-time job as a paralegal at a lawfirm, working from 6:00 p.m. to midnight, three nights a week. I would go to class during the day, walk 20 blocks south back home, change my clothes, grab a $2.00 slice from the pizza shop, and then walk 12 blocks east to my job. I worked til midnight, walked home through Times Square (the great thing about living in midtown was that there are always people about, and I never felt unsafe or alone), and then read for class until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. I was never completely caught up on my reading. I was so poor, I couldn't afford to do anything that wasn't free, so walking was not just my favored form of transportation, but a major source of entertainment for me. I lost 12 pounds that first month.
And I loved it. It was hard, no doubt about it, but I hadn't felt that alive in years. I didn't know many people, and I didn't have money for socializing. In the evenings, I walked home on 9th Avenue, feeling like a character in a Dickinson story as I passed by beautiful restaurants with windows that glowed warm and yellow, the sound of glasses tinkling and people talking and laughing drifting out through open doors, and the scent of delicious food making my stomach rumble. I would come home to my closet-sized apartment and dream of dining at one of those restaurants. There was such a draft in my room that I slept in pajamas, a robe and a wool hat during the winter!
I didn't care. My plan when I moved to New York was to study hard and get myself ahead. Men and relationships were out of the picture. I didn't expect lawschool to be a party.
Little did I know, things were about to change, very, very soon in a very, very big way.
Recent Comments