Look, Ma, No Mattress!
On November 20, I finally moved into my apartment and
fit a massive amount of fabric and art supplies into the size of a NYC room. My
new roommate eyed my boxes with skepticism, but I insisted, “I am optimistic!”
I wouldn’t have been, expect that over the course
of the last year I’ve learned more and more about how much stuff can fit into a
small space. With the exception of my beautiful home in Australia, I’ve only
lived in tiny spaces since college, and each time I moved, I had fabric to
concern myself with. The good side of it? Most of it can be crammed into tiny
crevasses, unnecessary to remove until the one time you actually need it.
Living in New York was mostly a bucket list item
for me. I knew that I didn’t want to live in Wyoming—the small town lacking in opportunities—but
had no clue what I was looking for, or what the options were. New York had
everything I knew I lamented about my hometown, save for the drizzly weather, and
so I decided that I would go for the next two years and figure out what I sought
out of life, but mostly be able to do things creatively that had been difficult
in a low population area.
Now, (at the time of writing this) I’m sitting here, on the floor in a heap
of pillows waiting for a mattress delivery, thinking to myself, “Okay,
now what?”
It’s easy to decide to face your fears long before
you actually have to take action. I haven’t truly organized my budget yet, and
part of my goals were to take classes, see the sights, engage with like-minded others.
In essence, I wanted to learn, create, and meet people, but a lot of that
involves actually going out and engaging with strangers which, to me, would be
less preferable to starving to death inside my own personal space. But that’s a
big part of the reason I came.
It’s interesting to me how I have no idea what my
life will be like in three months. I’ve said I’ve always lived my life in three
month increments, but now I have no real plans. Life in New York is noticeably different
than in Wyoming, so much so I can’t even speculate what kind of daily routine
is expectable.
In Wyoming, there is one large grocery store that
has pretty much everything you’d want, or rather, two regular groceries stores
and an organic Whole Foods because Jackson is chock full of hippies. If you’re
really specific on some items, like the delicious Wickles Pickles, you might
run to the ‘far one,’ but typically, no. You wait until you’re out of
desperately needed items—like milk in which you stocked up on—then drive a half
an hour through the National Park, run all your errands, fill car with 200
dollars worth of groceries and then drive home. You avoid going back in for at
least a week if you can help it.
It’s hard getting my mind around it. This morning
I stepped out into the street for the first time by myself, hungry and a little
confused. Truth is, I haven’t seen a lot of chains here, in any kind, and I
feel intimidated by the buffet style delis, even though it looks incredibly
obvious what to do… It just involves more talking to strangers.
And here I have no idea what the response will be. Everyone’s smiley and chatty in
Wyoming (don’t they know I’m insane?!) while in New York I get widely mixed
responses. After I talk to them a minute with a smiley and friendly tone of
voice, their moods perk up, but it still startles me (irrationally) when I get
barked at, or more so, worsen my nerves in preparation of a perfunctory tone.
In New York, there’s not a lot of space to store
food period, and I don’t have a kitchen anyway. The grocery store is on the
corner of my street, though I had to go to three to get what I wanted—all right
next to each other. I had to carry everything back, and keeping that in mind as
I considered what I actually wanted and what was a waste, I suddenly remember
that I could just come back for lunch and it wouldn’t inconvenience me the
least bit. Instead of planning for a week, I didn’t even necessarily need to
figure out what I’d want for the day, which is great considering that my tastes
drastically vary in short time and predicting what I’ll eat in two to four
hours is impossibly difficult. Not what I’d like, what I’ll be willing to eat.
I planned to go out to buy a few household items,
but the weight of my bag and my hunger turned me back around. Are you allowed
to bring in purchases from other locations? I suppose yes. Seems like the
obvious answer. That was the weirdest aspect of Australia though, having
grocery stores inside malls and bringing your milk into Big W. Where I grew up, the distance between everything was far enough that you one, had to
have a car, and two, would be incredibly difficult to carrying food from one
store to the next. You just didn’t have reason to carry anything into grocery
store, so it never occurred to me if it was rude—like bringing outside food into
a restaurant.
When I returned home, I thought, I need to be back
for the mattress guys, so I can’t go wandering the streets for house supplies.
Where would I buy such things? Where would I get them cheap? I Googled Walmart.
“New Jersey.”
Not really surprised, but now I’m at loss for what even to say to Google. I tried, “Home supplies in New York,” but it gave me one ridiculously expensive store with no address. But it was in New York!
Not really surprised, but now I’m at loss for what even to say to Google. I tried, “Home supplies in New York,” but it gave me one ridiculously expensive store with no address. But it was in New York!
I’ll probably ask my roommate when she wakes up
and that’ll be the end of it, but it proves to me New York is even more foreign
than I initially expected—and I expected it to be fairly different.
Due to the aid of others, I have so far found the
transition to be easier than anticipated. Now that I have my apartment and can
relax a little, I’m far more concerned that I will not take as much advantage
of the opportunities despite the reason I came here. However, I’ve only been
here a day and I get the overwhelming feeling the city’s not going to let me.
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