I discovered today that a year ago last Wednesday I moved to New York.
A year ago this coming Friday I moved into my current apartment.
This summer also marks two years since I graduated college and a hard-to-fathom seven years I’ve been out of high school. (The high school one really seems weird. I was remarking to someone just the other day that I thought my five-year mark was coming up. Oops.)
Obviously, these anniversaries snuck up on me; I didn’t even think to celebrate. (That I was out at a bar with coworkers Wednesday evening anyway probably says a lot about how things are going.)
I’ve talked enough about my delight at having a social life in New York. That’s boring (and backward-looking).
I can say that I’m still happy to be living here. New York is crowded (sometimes) and noisy (sometimes) but it’s also vibrant and busy and engaging in ways that I don’t think you can find a lot of other places. I’m very happy with the career I’m sort of working my way into, and I feel like I’m growing as a person (as much of a weird artifact of our times “personal growth” is).
Sure, I’ll sign up for another year of New York living. Let’s see what happens.