I moved to New York almost exactly 4 years ago. August 15th, 2006, my Budget truck full of cheap IKEA furniture (which somehow I really, strongly felt was worth moving cross-country at great cost--note I do not still possess any of it) rattled across the George Washington Bridge and some place totally new and weird became home.
Moving was exciting and exhilarating and wonderful but also really, really hard. I came here for personal reasons but also to start a grad program, and I was just very naive about how much work that would entail, how much the move would unroot me, how unbelievably homesick I would get for the Midwest, and how freaking hard it is to find employment in NYC.
Shortly after I set up the internet in my craptacular first apartment, I stumbled across the FutureMe website and wrote myself a really, really melodramatic and cathartic email. Then I completely forgot about it until it showed up in my inbox a year later. I was at work, and I cried when I read it, because all of those just-moved-across-the-country, I-don't-know-which-way's-up feelings came flooding back to me. I wasn't sad, just overwhelmed and weirdly moved. (Is it narcissistic to say that a letter you wrote yourself was moving? Well, sorry, in that situation it was. Call me a navel-gazer.) I kept up writing myself a new email each time one popped in my inbox for a few years, but none of them had the impact of that first one.
Why is this getting a blog post? Well, see the annotated first email below.
I did it.