My first week in NYC was kind of a blur.

The day after I arrived, I started my new job. So, my days were preoccupied with learning the ins and outs of my new clients and my evenings were spent feeding my face at various restaurants. I tried my best to eat my way out of this depression.

The first weekend was nice because I felt like a tourist going sightseeing. Plenty of activities to keep me distracted.

I managed to get through my second week unscathed but grew quite sad during the following weekend. Some of the initial buzz had worn off. I actually live here. I’m not just visiting. And my job wasn’t getting any easier.

I don’t publicly discuss what I do for a living since it involves high profile individuals. The things I do and see on a day to day basis could certainly have their own blog.

Sometimes they just end up on TMZ.

My new job does feel a bit like that job at the cancer research center in Seattle. I sit in a dark, quiet office. Very little social interaction. Napster isn’t a thing anymore. The situation doesn’t exactly help me get over my homesickness.

Last Sunday, I went for a walk in the West Village to explore. It was really enjoyable but when I got back I had nothing else to do. So, I proceeded to watch Netflix for hours upon hours.

I suddenly got really depressed.

I told myself that I came to NYC for a different life. Netflix and TV was my LA life. I came here to read and write, things I used to do before LA! Open up that book that’s been sitting by your bed for weeks and that you only use to prop up the base of your laptop so it doesn’t overheat!

Start reading!

A few minutes into the first chapter, I felt much better. I was completely transported out of my dark, tiny, overflowing-with-boxes apartment and I forgot to be homesick. I forgot I was filled with anxiety that maybe I shouldn’t have left everything behind and moved here.

Have I picked the damn thing up since?

Does reading a half chapter until I realized I had leftovers that HAD to be eaten that very second count?

As of tomorrow, I’ll have lived here a month. I win, right? I’m a New Yorker now?

Sadly, not even close.

Here’s why.

Saturday morning rolls around and I wake up around 5:30 a.m. ready to finally go running in Central Park. That’s what people do here, I think. That’s what I should be doing here. I run (run’s a strong word) the Hudson river during the work week, my weekend run should be in Central Park. No reason, just cuz. Ok, that’s settled.

Before I actually head out the door, I have to make sure the subways are actually running. The train I always need (C train) never seems to be running, like ever. Even when the MTA website says it is. I play with the “Plan Your Trip” option on my phone for about 45 minutes, double checking and triple checking my route.

Before I slide my metro card to get through the turnstile, I thought “Lemme ask this nice young lady in the information booth if the C train is running”.

“Sir, I don’t know the train schedules. But if the website says their running, I guess they are.”

She was almost TOO helpful! I was now 100% sure the C Train was coming.

I took my seat on the abandoned platform, not a creature was stirring except for this enormous rat that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. But I’m new. Soon, I won’t be looking at anything around me but the hypnotizing glare of my phone.

Of course, I soon realized the C train was NOT coming and that I had been betrayed.

I got on the E Train which went most of the way to Central Park and then walked the rest of the way.

It was about 7:30 a.m. and only a few folks were running at this hour. There are a dozen running/walking paths to choose from and I didn’t want to stray far because I knew I wanted to walk home.

So, I ended up running around picking random path after path, cutting across other paths, making wrong turns. I must have looked like I was escaping the authorities.

On my way back home, I come across a Dunkin Donuts; I’ve never actually set foot inside one before. I knew I had burned enough calories for a donut, dammit. I’m getting one.

I head down the street waiting for all human existence to pass by so I can shovel this thing in my face in one, maybe two bites. I find it very rare to find a moment of solitude in this densely populated city in which I can do weird or gross things to my food that aren’t witnessed by others.

This fact saddens me.

MY WEEK IN IPHONE PICTURES:

As I was told before I moved from LA about the lack of produce in NYC, “Get ready for a lot of apples”.

View from the High Line

Bacon, Egg and Cheese Pie – Pie Face

Asparagus Bacon Pizza – ABC Kitchen

Grilled Asparagus – ABC Kitchen – Asparagus is the national vegetable of NYC.