Where to begin?
I’ve done the unimaginable, unthinkable, and absolutely craziest thing for a southern girl to do. I’ve moved to New York City, one way ticket style. And I’m not sure how to explain to you all the happenings that have taken place.
I guess I’d first like to make one thing straight, New Yorkers are not mean, they are not heartless and they are not scary, well some of them are but you can find that in any city. I have found that they are smart, quick, hilarious and intense. Their full of perseverance and fast thinking, I like them and I can tell they like me. They speak their minds and are constantly on the move. You make conversation and people’s stories fall out of their mouths so quickly you wonder who listened to them last. I walk away from conversations with so much purpose, intrigue and a greater curiosity to know people, and to know them well.
For the first time in my life, I’m the solo Texan, the foreigner, the one with the accent. I love that. A few weeks ago I met some men from Italy. I was the first American girl they had ever spoken to on American soil. I like to think I represented my country well. We sat at Starbucks for maybe an hour, as we tried new words and mimicked each others accents. There is nothing more adorable than a foreign man attempting to say “y’all look beautiful today” in a Texas accent. While I am on the conversation of interesting people I have met, I cannot leave out the Armenian Olympic Basketball team that I met out at a bar with girlfriends, the young Julliard grad I went on my first New York City date with, (I am sorry I don’t call you back), a few celebrities, NBA players, VPs, CEOs, models, actors, Olympians and T.V. personalities, all of my taxi drivers from the mystical places I may never go. To the girl I sat next to at a prerelease of the movie Jobs, she works in corporate for a frozen yogurt company, a great friend to make, Wall Street Dwellers, my old coworkers who all seem to be from Jersey, and the guy from San Francisco currently living in Israel writing a book on ancient theology.
And then there are people that are waiting to meet me even today, somehow our lives will fall into place together, on a bench in central park, next to each other in a workout class, or riding in a subway together. I can’t help but think none of this is by chance. Like maybe these people I meet and see everyday are helping shape me into who it is I am supposed to become without even knowing it. Perhaps the things I am seeing and experiencing are slowly pulling at my heart strings and arranging them into a beautiful pattern that can guide me in the future and shape how I view the past. Isn’t that a wonderful way to think about “strangers”?