moving Tag

Borough to borough, couch to couch, this story is almost a rite of passage for any and all making the transition from small town to big city. I know, I know, it’s nothing new and you’ve heard it before. Upon my telling of the plans I had to become a sort of nomad to friends and family, I received a lot of concerned, confused, and utterly annoyed looks. “You’re not going to survive, you know that.” Here’s the deal: you can survive, 100% cardboard-box-house prototype-free with a little bit ofRead More

I don’t know what time it is.  I refuse to look because it makes being awake worse. I’m caught in this buzzed state, wanting to be quiet, mind and body, wanting to be accepting and still and lie next to you, strewn diagonal amongst the chaos of covers and unsteadily tucked sheets.  I know it has been hours.  I’m too sensitive of time and my perception of it surreptitiously slips in as I wake before alarms. I’m angry.  I’m angry you revealed moments before sleep that you’re looking for jobsRead More

Distance will forever be the main problem in my life. I’m a searcher. By distancing myself from the familiar, the tsunami of transition leaves me with a flood of new opportunities. By driving away from the city, I can finally breathe. The stars are visible now that I’m away from the smog. When making a college decision, I chose one halfway across the country—a convenient 750 miles away. When the walls of my perfect suburban hometown became too small for my liking, I bolted for what I called a “biggerRead More

Every month ends and then a new month starts and soon enough it’s the month that ended starting all over again. Beginnings and ends mean moves and changes and hellos and goodbyes– some of them are accompanied by relief, some sadness, some panic, some sheer joy and others apathetic. The end of this month means I’ll be moving out of 4L – my Craigslist apartment. Over the past four months, this random gem of an apartment in Astoria has been graced by the presence of myself, the man who owns theRead More