Niche in a clique culture.

Finding a way in to NY is not exactly an easy feat. It's been a week and I realize that it will slowly come with time. Finding the right subway stop when getting off of work is a small triumph. Meeting easy strangers willing to point you in the right direction. Familiarity with the unknown.

I'm constantly being told that my move up here is one of the ballsiest that [insert random person] has ever seen. No apartment, job, or stability and I just did it. In the last eight days I've been thrown out of a place to stay, taken in by friends, and found two (yes two) jobs.

But I've still not experienced any of NY. I've been to three bars. I'm attempting to reconnect with friends I haven't seen in years, despite that they've been incredibly helpful. I know I need to exercise some patience but that has never been my strong suit. I want NY to feel like home more quickly than I think most people expect it to. However, I've found a clutch with which to desperately cling to alot faster than most people do, apparently.

I'm hoping that the city will open itself to me and show me the aurora of horror and beauty that she has to offer. The city that rarely shuts its eyes to rest will become my sanctuary, leading to the soul that I know is buried deep within the cynicism and fear that lurks so closely to the surface of the mask I carry every day.

I didn't move here to be a waitress and a bartender. I've could've stayed in my safe little haven to do that. I just need to find whatever it is that I came here looking for.

I just wish I knew what it was.