And two years + one day ago…I arrived here in ye olde Philadelphia, on a redeye flight from Portland. I had this weird plane + train flight, so I landed in Newark and then took Amtrak to Philly. I remember standing on the train platform in the freezing cold (or so it seemed to me) early morning, beholding the glory of North Jersey and thinking, “Hmmm…maybe this move to the east coast wasn’t the best plan. I wonder how much it would cost to catch the next flight back to the Pacific Northwest?”
And then the next day, when I walked to the subway to go to work, I once again tried to concoct an escape plan. Realizing that I had probably $100 in my checking account, I decided to at least try out my new job. For the first few weeks, I ate lunch alone every day. I would pass an entire 9-hour work day in silence. I was painfully aware of everyone’s disapproval of my makeup-less face and rat’s nest hair. Let’s not even talk about my inability to fit into a size 2. Geez. I watched experienced buyers CRY in meetings. I witnessed temper tantrums and tirades. I was nervous.
At night, I talked on the phone for hours with Baxter. I wrote letters and read books. I called my mom every day, desperate to hear the voice of someone who liked me.
And did I mention how broke I was? I waited a long time for relocation reimbursement checks.
But then it all started to get better. I made some friends. My boyfriend moved here. I learned my way around. I got a promotion at work.
And now, two years later…things just keep getting better. Janelle and I are moving into an awesome place in West Philly in a few weeks. I have made some great friends. I make more money and I really love my job. I am healthier and my hair is longer. My creative life is growing at an exponential rate. My head is in a better place: I feel so good about myself and the path ahead. Contain your laughter: I even know who I want to marry.
A lot can change in two years.