Two years; that's the length of my sentence. I've run through the gamut from nostalgia to optimism. I'm going to miss what use to be but I'm excited to see what's in store. Everyone who has been in my shoes has talked about exactly what is I can expect...pain. The first day wasn't the most painful. No, that would be day two and three. And from what I hear, every 4-6 weeks for the next two years.
As each day passes it becomes easier to live with this foreign object in my mouth. It's just a temporary part of who I am now. That is, until I get up in the morning and look in the mirror. Oh hey girl! You're 16 all over again. Well, some other 16 year old because this was not my life as a teenager. It wasn't in my parents plan. Actually, I don't think I ever made a fuss about how much it bothered me to anyone let alone my parents. If you pay close enough attention to my childhood school pictures, you will see how I felt about my smile. Around 2nd or 3rd grade, I began to master my smize. Chile, I learned how to smize long before Tyra Banks coined the term. Sometime during high school someone told me I had a beautiful smile. A few someone's actually and I started to believe it too. I started smiling ear to ear in school pictures. I didn't care about the gaps. My teeth were unique. They were cute. My undersized teeth were adorable. My smile was innocent and lovable. My smize was no longer necessary. Life was fun and I expressed my happiness with my teeth, so I smiled. A lot. But... Of course there's a but. Why else would there be a need for a blog post if there wasn't one. But, I still wasn't 100% happy with my smile. Yes my teeth were by definition perfectly straight. I had no overbite, no crowding, nothing that the average person who seeks an orthodontist is trying to correct. Nope my issue was quite the opposite. The spaces in between my teeth were wiiiiiiiiide. It made it hard to enjoy certain foods. My little chompers couldn't quite destroy an apple, instead the juicy small fruit would bruise my sensitive gums. Can you believe not even a damn apple could be trusted? Also, while I loved my view from straight forward, I hated my side profile. The spaces in between my little chiclets had a way of making a cameo when I didn't ask them to. I knew the solution to this situation and it was expensive. Although I surely had the money to pay for the procedure many years ago, I spent it on other things: clothing, traveling, and food. You know, more important things. That was until this year. This year I had saved enough to pay for them upfront. There is no monthly payment plan for this Lil Jon grill. Nope, it all belongs to me. Although I haven't posted any social media pictures sharing them with the world, I don't mind them. I actually kind of like them. On one hand, lately I have been mistaken for being in my early twenties so this only adds to my fun. On the other hand, they're just cute. My sweet and charming appearance has just been amplified. In addition, this is only temporary. These braces are a means to an end. In two years, I plan on eating hard foods and smiling ear to ear without a second thought. No apples formed against me shall prosper!
NotYourAllyKat is back with another post following her 3 part blog series.
When I first moved to New York I was full of excitement, hope, and wonder. At the time I literally had like four dollars in my bank account, was sleeping on a couch smaller than me, and no job. So it’s not strange to me that I was full of excitement, hope, and wonder because since everything else was lacking those feelings were all I had. To have everything you must be comfortable with nothing. As I sit here two years later, with everything I was missing two years ago, I realize it may be time for me to have nothing again. I’m not talking about moving to some random country (although that, too, sounds appealing) or a reckless career change (I’m actually somewhat good at what I do) but nothing in terms of waste of time relationships.
I have a very generous, open, and free-loving spirit. Throughout the years it has been bruised as I have gave time and time again more than I received. Though that has caused a tough exterior, inside I am still just as soft as cotton candy. Being the tough “cool” girl, I’m the girl that always has someone. Maybe even perhaps a team of guys that all serve different purposes. There’s dinner guy, drinks guy, sex guy, guy I text when I’m bored, guy in a different city that boosts my ego..the list can actually get quite expansive when I allow it to. My free loving spirit has granted me probably more than the average amount of sexual encounters but the people I have actually cared for can be counted on one hand.
Lately my feelings of excitement, hope, and wonder have been missing and I think it’s because I was wasting time with a guy who I really liked (number 4) but just wasn’t all the way with me. The absolute worse thing you can say to a girl is I really like you and could see myself with you, but I don’t want a relationship. What kind of fucked up mixed signals are those? Everyone knows girls hold on hope to the one little good thing they hear. Actions speak louder than words and in this case his actions were the kind you do when you want a relationship. I was trying to be the “cool” girl and hold on to the good feelings I had when I was around him, ignoring all the blatantly obvious signs of the rising tide that would eventually drown me. I don’t blame him necessarily but wished he could have been a bit more understanding when I was explaining my feelings instead of just saying I told you so.
I don’t want to be the “cool” girl anymore. Being that girl gets you nothing that you want. Let’s face it although it is not my main priority in life I do want to settle down and be able to call one man my partner in life. Indie Arie says it best, “I am ready for love.” If I were writing this three years ago I would have followed that with a GEY. But it’s not GEY; it’s what I want, eventually. Not today, next month, or even next year but someday. So if you aren't aligned with my life goals then you don't belong in my life. So now I’m back in the desert of nothingness, a sad but smart choice. I guess I’d rather be hot all by myself then lost in the mirage of an oasis of some one else.
Even before I boarded the plane to New York City, I had several people ask me the same question; "So, when are you moving back?" I completely understand the reasoning behind the inquisition, I mean the most favorite person in the whole wide world, or in Culver City, California, was moving across the country.
There was no accident in me choosing New York City to start the next chapter of my life. The truth is I had only applied to three schools. One in California, one in Chicago and one in New York. Thank the lord I didn't get into the school in Chicago. There aren't enough sweaters and coats to get me through those winters. When I got the early admission into NYU, I ignored the request from another school I applied to for additional documents. I knew New York was where I wanted to be. I quickly submitted my handsome deposit to secure my spot before telling anyone my plans. I felt super bad about being so secretive for months but this wasn't about them, this was about me.
I was stuck in a job I didn't love and feeling like I would regret not doing something for myself for once, so New York City was the move. Not because I had always dreamed about moving there, I didn't actually do much research before selecting the city. I chose New York because it seemed like a challenge. Like the song says, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. My original answer to the question, "So, when are you moving back?" was "Two years." Duh. My program was only going to last two years. What reason would I have to stay any longer? So, that was my original response, two years. For the first year, my response was consistent. I really liked living in New York, but I could abandon my family for too much longer. I had a new nephew and a sister who needed me.
Fast-forward to right before graduation in 2013. I had absolutely no job prospects but it made me sick to think about leaving. I had made so many new friends I was just beginning to get to know and some of my old friends had moved to the city. I couldn't leave just yet. I made a vow to myself, if I didn't find a job by December of that year, I would return back to Los Angeles. I looked at it as fate. I also looked at it as I would be flat broke and wasn't ready to live on the streets with old roommates I had kicked out, Mickey and Jerry. They are not as cute and furry as you may think, I should know I've had these furry creatures as roommates at two out of the four of my New York apartments.
Well as fate had it, I wasn't destined to move back in 2013. I found a job right before my money well went dry. Well the well wasn't that dry, I had a fantastic temporary job at the same place that ended up hiring me into a permanent dream position in the middle of November 2013. It looked like it was not time just yet for me to return. But the question, "So, when are you moving back?" reappeared since my two years was up and I had just gotten a new position. So I thought practically, about my family and friends in LA and chose a year, 2016. At the time, I truly believed 2016 was going to be my time to return. It was far enough away to make me feel comfortable but close enough to make others happy. There I go again, trying to make others happen. I truly believed that in 2016, I would make my move back across the country.
Today marks the beginning of 2015. It hit me that that makes 2016 just next year. Look I majored in math for 1 year at UCLA so yes I know basic math but I really didn't feel 2016 would creep up so quickly. What's not so surprising is my date has possibly changed. I love what I'm doing at NYU. I'm possibly up for great changes this year in my career. And yes, I still keep others in mind when deciding my current answer to the question. But my answer to the question "So, when are you moving back" has changed. My new answer:
I don't know.
There are so many things that have occurred over the past two, three, four years that I couldn't have predicted in a million years. Some good, some bad, and some just what they were. I have stopped trying to figure out every detail of my future. I could end up back in LA, it could be Chicago (no wait, we ruled out that cold ass city a few paragraphs ago), or it could be Timbuktu. I'm not sure when and where I'm moving from New York but it will happen when I'm ready. I will be sure to take others into account when I decide my future, because I don't live in a bubble and I know my actions affect others I truly care about. However, wherever and whenever it is, my move will ultimately be about me.