Dan and I got incredibly lucky and are staying in Park Slope in a lovely apartment while sitting for two lovely dogs. One is an Alaskan husky and one is a hunting dog from the Congo. They are delightful and sweet. And they share very different opinions about this polar vortex business (the husky doesn't quite understand why the humans and little dog need to pile stuff on their bodies before we go on walks -- this weather is her jam).
It's a great time and we're quickly falling in love with the neighborhood. Alright, yuppies. We get it. A Trader Joe's in walking distance and a 10 minute stroll to Tom's Diner (the Brooklyn one, not the Suzanne Vega/Seinfeld one), and an even closer trek to get Korean BBQ nachos covered in Kimchi has spoiled our little hipster heads.
Being back in the city is a great feeling, and I'm sure will feel even more fabulous once we've got ourselves some regular, gainful employment. We're loving having a chance to sleep in and spend time together after Dan's return from a pretty long Christmas tour -- Holla, American Horror Story Season 2 on Netflix!! Nothing like late-night spooky stories to ensure epic cuddles.
And staying out of this chilly weather as much as possible sounds like the best idea since this amazing magical goodness came into the world. But we will need to find a place to call our own for realsies once we're done hanging with the pooches, and having a little cash to toss toward going out into the world is a a big part of what makes living in this crazy metropolis so much damn fun.
So, my days are pretty much filled with cover letters and resume revamps, with carefully cataloging which jobs I've applied to, when, and if I've gotten any responses. The back of my mind is preoccupied with concern about whether this freeze on extended unemployment benefits is going to last, and if so, what will happen when I reach my expiration in a couple weeks?
Finding work, particularly work in arts/entertainment/media is challenging in a town with so many highly qualified candidates, so in addition to a tireless combing of various employment databases, I'm also spending a great deal of time putting out as much positivity as I can into the world. For anyone else going through this, the cookie butter really is fantastic fuel for such endeavors.
I visited my former home in Greenpoint last night. In my quick move-out in September, I managed to leave behind a cart, two evening gowns, and a crockpot (like ya do). I had waffled on whether I actually wanted to go yesterday, what with temps dipping as low as minus 14 (Fahrenheit! Seriously, WTF? Is Mother Nature on meth?), it sounded like the best idea was to stay in and only traverse the cold to ensure the doggies got their exercise (don't worry, our little Congolese gentleman has a some awesome winter gear for such occasions).
But, I decided that getting out of the house, if only to grab a handful of things my former roommates were kind enough to hang onto, was probably good insurance against the dreaded cabin fever. Like these guys, but with knit caps instead of sombreros.
It was a cold walk to the G train stop in my 'hood, but surprisingly not as bad as I thought. Here's something television is very misleading about in terms of living in New York, and you don't realize how incorrect they are until you get here: All vanity goes out the window when it gets cold in this town. Fuck my fashion sense, I wanna feel my face and limbs, y'all!
My winter wardrobe the past couple days has been thus: superwarm long underwear, a heavy long sleeved tee, my loosest pair of jeans (spoiler alert: even my loosest jeans are still skinny cut. It's a layering adventure!), a heavy sweater, my amazing sleeping bag coat (seriously, buy this if you are outside in the cold often), a knit hat, the coat's hood over the hat, two pairs of smartphone friendly gloves (pro tip: the gloves will not operate your phone when layered together. Apparently they cancel each other out, like polarized lenses or if Clark Kent and Superman were to appear in the same room at the same time), the thickest socks I can rustle up, and some superwarm boots.
Yes, the boots and coat have the potential to be spendy, but they are saving my ass (and other parts) from frostbite. Also, hit your nearest Columbia outlet -- they mark even Sorel boots down superlow, especially in the summer months (so y'know... you might need to wait a bit).
Disembarking the G train, it nearly felt like I was in one of those "It was my neighborhood, but not my neighborhood" dreams. Perhaps it was the cold and the cranky people, perhaps it was sleepiness, perhaps it was my extended absence from the city. But as much as I always loved Greenpoint, I didn't feel as though I was returning "home," as I had so many times when I lived in different neighborhoods and would visit the area. Even going back to my old (insanely gorgeous and spacious) apartment, I didn't feel any pangs of nostalgia. I chatted with my former roommate, met the pleasant fellow who took over my room, gathered my random-ass assortment of things, and schelpped them back to the subway, then home again.
I sort of lost my throughline on this post about halfway through, largely due to the migraine that I managed to stave off for the past twelve hours finally insisting itself upon my left eye socket, but I know where I am now. I'm precisely where I need to be. I am happy and full of possibility and sharing a home with the love of my life. Finding the job and the next apartment will come -- hell, maybe it'll even be someplace other than New York -- but tonight, I know beyond hesitation that I have found my future... the specifics will fall into place soon enough.
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