don’t bother to pack your bags or your map, we won’t need them where we’re going

September 2, 2010

Goodbye, New Jersey. Hello, Manhattan.

About two weeks ago Sam and I went looking at apartments in the city. We went with a realtor, Matt Allen of Century 21, and saw three or four studios. The first was the biggest and the nicest, with a large window letting in lots of light, and separate kitchen. After that the rest were subpar. Allen was a Bro if I’ve ever met one—abnormally affable, talkative, honest, everyone’s friend, and it seems to be entirely genuine. He got our application for the first apartment in before the competition, and there was plenty of competition. The next day he told us we got the apartment.

The following two weeks Sam packed or threw away all of the stuff in the Jersey place. Since I only moved 3 months ago, my stuff was still more or less packed up. I never entirely settled into the Jersey apartment because we thought we’d be moving before the end of the year anyway. Initially “before the end of the year” was probably November. Luckily it turned into September 1, so I didn’t have to unpack my winter clothes.

Bouncing back and forth between Hawai’i and Texas the past couple of years, and this year packing for a permanent move to NYC, has steadily increased my resolve to someday live a minimalist lifestyle. It doesn’t have to be now since I feel like I’ll be settled in NY for a while (barring any life-altering circumstances), but I feel like moving into a studio apartment with another person… well it can’t hurt to start living simply. Once I figure out exactly how much room I have to work with I’m going to be (again) selling and giving away clothes and things I don’t need.

The new place is pretty nice as studios go. It’s more spacious than it looks, and even has a bigger bathroom than we had in the 2-bedroom apartment in Jersey. We have two books cases to use as a separator between a “living room” and a “bedroom.” The commute to work is about half the time, as long as the train isn’t delayed / re-routed by “construction.” And I don’t feel weird walking home from work at 11pm.

The only weird part is telling co-workers that I moved to the Upper East Side. That, combined with the information that I am originally from Hawai’i, might give one the impression that I’m proverbially “living off daddy’s money,” which is not the case. Granted, the only reason I was able to save money in Hawai’i was because I lived with my parents and didn’t have to pay rent / bills. That said, since leaving home I haven’t asked for, nor received any money from anyone. The only reason I’m able to live on the Upper East Side is because I’m with someone who makes way more money than I do. And, realistically, the only reason she’s able to afford living here is because I got a job right away and am able to bring that extra little bit of money to the table.

Of course, sitting here in a coffee shop wearing cowboy boots and looking more like an American Apparel ad than I’m comfortable with doesn’t exactly help my case. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

-amelia

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