Empire State of Mind

New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There’s nothin’ you can’t do
Now you’re in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you
Two weeks ago today I was singing “Granite State of New York” in a bar in suburban Massachusetts, with one of my favorite chefs ever – who is from NH and learned the entire song for my going away night. Merci!
Today I’m sitting on a couch in the East Village of New York City. Mon Dieu!
A lot of people were shocked that I left Massachusetts, but when a friend offered me a place in her apartment, I jumped. I’m not ashamed to admit that being in NYC has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. Ok, a dream to me, a threat to my mother. I believe our conversations went comme ça:
“Mommy, someday I’m going to leave and move to New York City and never come back.”
“What about when I get older, aren’t you going to come visit me and take care of me?”
“I’ll make sure I make enough money to put you in a really nice home.”
Ok, those of you that know me well enough are laughing. Let’s be real. Me? Not take care of my family? Not visit them? C’est fou!
I love my family, and I inherited some weird maternal instinct to take care of them no matter what it takes. But, as my old boss put it, I finally “flew the coop.”
Last Wednesday I boarded a plane – wait, wait.
Last Wednesday I missed my first flight, switched my flight to the next one and then got to the airport as my flight was waiting to leave had to cut – yeah, junior high style – everyone in the Jet Blue line and then ran, RAN through security to my gate, on to the plane, practically foaming at the mouth.
The adorable male flight attendants made everything a little better though.
It wasn’t until I finally made it into the apartment, and sat down on the couch, i.e. my new bed, that I realized what I had done.
I left my big country house, with my private large bedroom, my queen bed, a closet, an armoire and two other bureaus full of clothing and shoes, my fabulous kitchen with my kitchenaid mixer, my car, my tree swing, my great job and awesome colleagues and my hilarious and loving mother and brother.
What did I leave all that for?
To start working at a new bar on 5th Ave, live on a couch, in New York City, in my friend’s apartment(the only person I know in NYC) with only a carry-on suitcase full of clothing, one pair of flats, a pair of sandals and a pair of sneakers. I didn’t even bring a jacket. But I did bring my favorite blanket. Don’t judge.
There was a moment where I thought, “Did I make a mistake?”
Then I saw my inbox. Flooded with messages from friends who believed in me, supported me, and applauded me.
And I asked myself again, “Did I make a mistake? Did I make a mistake leaving all these people who love me and believe in me?”
No. My Pseudo-Boyfriend (I’ll explain later) sent me a message with a quote that meant something to him, that he found fitting. Smart man knows I love my inspirational quotes. Though I’m not a hard-rock fan, I can’t help but find Metallica’s words resonating with me.

“Those people who tell you not to take chances, they are all missing on what life’s about; You only live once so take hold of the chance, don’t end up like others, same song and dance.”


On top of that, I always think of my little sister, who has taught me to have no regrets in life.
So this is pretty much terrifying for me. I am living on a couch, with legitimately one pair of jeans to my name, and only 1 pair of shoes. ONE PAIR!
My friends and family have been so supportive, and I know this is a mushy-gushy but I have to say it.
To all you fabulous people, I love ya, mean it.

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