Anybody that knows me away from the keyboard knows that I’m not big on celebrating my birthday or alerting the world of relevant personal anniversaries. I’ve always been that way. The only exception in recent memory was the anniversary of the now idle Three Ways to Take It blog. August 8th used to have me feeling like I needed to go out or come home and have at least 2 drinks and something fried. Yeah, I know. It’s kinda lame that I’d be more excited about the birthday of a website than the birthday of the person that created it — which in this case happened to be me. You know what? I’m gonna make a second exception.
On Tuesday I was doing HR things in the HR system at work and noticed my name in the birthdays and anniversaries section. I definitely blurted out “oh sh*t” when I saw it. Three people that were previously talking had stopped to look at me. They asked what happened and I quickly went to the Geico website before replying that I had just saved money on my car insurance and mumbled some inappropriate ish about a bird in the bush. I say corny crap like that when I wanna divert attention away from the real issue. It’s always been effective so I figured what was the point in stopping now? Or is it then? Whatev heaux.
Anyway, the realization that it was my 1 year anniversary at my new job was also the realization that I’ve officially survived 1 year in New York City. This may not seem like a big deal. But considering that I used to say I abhorred this place and would never live here unless I wanted my shoulders-head to explode and to become an extra aggressive street walker, making it to 1 year in NYC is a major milestone. You also gotta consider that I had a very rough transition.
For starters, my couch didn’t fit up the stairwell on move-in day and I had to my put it in (pause) storage, sell it for the cheap-cheap to some Jamaicans, and then buy new furniture that took over a month to get to me. I quickly discovered that kids in Harlem never leave the streets in the summer no matter what hour it is, and that I was more likely to smell marijuana in the neighborhood than car exhaust. Speaking of cars, my mirror got knocked off, a door got keyed, and one of my tires got flattened within the first month I was here. It felt like Hazing in Harlem with haze in the air.
Fast forward to the present and there are some specific positive takeaways about my first year in the H:
- I’m still alive and my cranium has not cracked.
- I haven’t spazzed on the subway.
- I still love my job.
- I actually love NYC.
- My ING savings account has 3 times as much money in it compared to when I got here despite how recklessly I’ve spent.
- I’m yet to wake up in a gutter.
- I’ve avoided a trip to the local precinct, though I managed to get pinched for peeing.
- I’ve kept my bed relatively unoccupied. NOTE: The jury on whether this is a good thing or not is still out. People were rooting for me to open up a shoebox-sized room business for a “fitness factory” called Bodies (or Bodied) by Slim. Suggested equipment included condoms, towels, a sex swing, basketball shorts, t-shirts, and a video camera hidden under a pile of clothes with the lens conveniently exposed and facing the bed. I just wanted to get one girl to wear this so I could victoriously take it off and claim my prize.
- Following up on #8, I didn’t get anybody pregnant.
I plan to celebrate 1 year this weekend with the peoples. My goal is to wake up on Sunday, look in my savings account, and see that I still have 3 times as much money as when I got here. I’m not too happy about my already too damn high rent going even higher, but I’m looking forward to year 2 in the greatest city in the world. Life is so much different now. Well actually, it’s just better. Much better.
Sleepy and Sh*t,