As of last night, Patrick and I have been New Yorkers for a year. We toyed with ideas of how to commemorate our moving day, such as renting a Uhaul, loading up the cats, and driving around Manhattan until Oliver pees on himself. But in the end we didn't really do anything special, since I was too tired by the time I got home to even have drinks. We'll have to do a toast tomorrow, since we'll be going out to dinner and will have company and may also be celebrating another small thing.

This is the point where I'm supposed to reflect on the year. I have worked at 4 different jobs (in addition to the countless interviews in the first couple of months), reconnected with some old friends, and made a few new ones. Patrick has worked at 3 jobs (including his externship), graduated from the Institute of Culinary Education (with honors!), and become a cheese expert.

On the non-quantifiable level, I really feel like this is my home now. The odd thing I noticed, since this is the second place I have moved since leaving my home town, is that Durham still feels like going home, but Cleveland doesn't. Instead, when we went back to visit, it was familiar and we saw our friends and family and went to the places we loved, but it wasn't the same.

After adjusting to the commute time, I've decided I really love living in Brooklyn, and find myself more relaxed on the weekends that I don't have to go into Manhattan. That said, sometimes walking down the street near work (midtown) I am struck with this sudden sense of awe that I live in New York, a city of legends and debatably the greatest city n the country (or the world). |