Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Le Postcard from New York




Dear Le Blog,

What happened to us? We just don't hang out like we used to, and when I do stop by it's only to give you a stingy snippet of my life. I hate excuses, so telling you that I have been busy feels cheap. In reality, ever since I've moved to New York City, I've been struggling to get it together. It hasn't been easy. I put my life on hold, and shut the door on things I enjoyed doing and people I enjoyed being around to give all my energy to getting settled here. I wanted to be liberated of doubt and worry. After months of giving it what I have, I seem to have made it to the other side.

I don't have many updates. Work is going well. I have been here for almost two months and I love feeling useful again. It feels like drinking fresh, cold water while standing in the July sun.

I have also found a place to live. It is a studio is the size of a shoebox, so it is a good thing I like shoes. I selected earth-tones for my sheets, curtains and meditation pillows, but inside the cabinets, I lined the shelves with bright pink wrapping paper. Everytime I open a drawer in the kitchen, it says Happy Birthday in girly letters, so that I feel everyday is special even if it's just a Tuesday in late March. The place is near the water, so when I left this morning to go to work, I was greeted by a glowing sky shining in the river.

Last night, I set the fire alarm off with the steam from my first shower here. I kept running back and forth like a headless chicken with wet hair and a Hello Kitty towel. I opened the window and tried to reach the fire alarm, but since I am height-challenged, I couldn't get to it. Finally the superintendent's son came to turn it off, and all it took was him walking through the door and the horrific sound went away. It was very funny.

That's about it. I've missed you and am glad we were able to chat after such a long break. Now that I can breathe freely again, I am looking forward to sharing more of my New York stories with you.

Love,
Sabrina