"Torn between wanting to stay & wanting to go & worried it will be the wrong decision either way" - Story People

As some of you know, I've been struggling lately with the decision to stay in NYC or move somewhere else. I always thought when it was time to leave New York I would be able to leave without feeling the same sadness that always seems to descend when leaving someplace you've called home.

I never thought I would get attached to a city so large, so lonely, and so loud. I never thought that the restlessness of the city would seep into my being. I never thought that above all else here, the city would be the one thing that eventually ends up keeping me sane.

The thing about New York is that it's all about the small moments. I've written a bit about this in a previous post, but it seems as if every day there are small things that I discover I love about this city.

It's the way the ground shakes when the Subway goes rushing underneath you. It's the way you can find takeout at 3 am. It's the way I feel when I am hurtling down Central Park West on a night bus. It's the fact that I recognize my fellow bus riders each morning. It's the way you can pack a picnic and spend an entire day laying in Central Park.

So as I come ever closer to the reality that I need to leave by the time my lease ends, I also come ever closer to realizing that I have become attached to this crazy, sweet catastrophe of a city.

New York, you could have been great. I just don't think I'm strong enough to be patient enough to give you anymore.

I Hope It Will Be Worth What I Give Up

A friend of mine is moving this weekend. She is leaving Iowa for a bigger city and a new adventure. I've talked to her a lot about this decision over the past year or two because I clearly remember the first steps in my journey.

The sunny, September Saturday morning that I loaded all my stuff into the back of my dad's pickup truck is so clear it seems like yesterday. The Friday before was my last day of work which gave me almost no time to fully realize the impact of the decision to attend Emerson. Once everything was loaded, I hugged my mom and as we pulled out of the driveway, I had no idea I wouldn't be returning to Iowa in a little over a year.

It was dark and raining as we pulled off the Mass Turnpike and into Brighton two days later. I was about to see my new home for the next year. I started to feel a bit nervous as we turned onto Brock Street. I was moving in with two girls I had never met in a city I had never seen to go to a school I had never visited.

We pulled up to a dark house. It was Labor Day weekend and my new roommates were both off enjoying the last weekend of summer. I found the key Sarah had left for me and let myself in. The weather was humid and made unpacking my things miserable. Once we got everything inside and the bed set up, my dad left to go to his hotel for the night.

Exhausted, I climbed into bed. I laid there, listening to the rain, wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I would be starting school in just two days. It was an intensive one year program and I was worried about the program, making new friends, and learning my way around my new city.

The loneliness I felt in the first few weeks was great. This was magnified every time I talked to friends back home and they commented on how exciting they thought my life must be now that I was in Boston. This made me feel more frustrated that I wasn't feeling happier with my decision.

So I can completely relate to what this friend is going through at the moment. I haven't lied to her and said it's going to be easy. There will be moments of loneliness, of second guessing, of wanting to give up. But, I am confident she can do this, and, looking back on all of it from four years down the road, I can absolutely guarantee it will be worth it.


"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
~ Mark Twain

You Can't Go Home Again....?

I appreciate small city life. Sometimes the inconveniences of living in the city make me long for the simpleness of the life I used to live. I miss having a backyard and being able to invite people over for a cookout. I miss taking my car out for a long drive on a nice day.

But more and more I realize that I need to live in a city, or at least very near one. My dream from last night that woke me with tears. To be honest, I am still a little unsettled by the intensity of this dream and I think it is trying to tell me something.

My recent feelings of discontent and unhappiness have caused me a lot of contemplation. I am at the point where I am struggling with the decision of whether or not to stay in New York City. I go back and forth in my mind on this daily.

My dream last night found me back in school at Iowa State. I had decided to go back for another degree in a two year program. I said goodbye to everyone here and moved back to Ames. In my dream, I was ok with the idea as I packed everything up. I kept telling myself I could just move back to a city when the program finished. I was fine throughout everything that came next in the dream until it came to registering for classes. I was standing in the registrar's office at Iowa State and everything hit me. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to have to wait two years to be back in the city.

I started to have a breakdown and that was the moment I realized I was awake and crying. It took me a few minutes to calm down and completely understand that it was just a dream and not reality, but even now, I still can't forget exactly how unhappy I felt.

I love so much about home and appreciate so much about the simplicity of my life there and the pace of life, but I realize that I am definitely not ready to leave a different life at the moment for that...and I may never be. It will always hold a place in my heart, but at the moment my heart is telling me that it's not my place.

"How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. You can never go home again." - James Agee

Boston Bound

It was being let go from a temp job working at a computer engineering firm that motivated me to go to graduate school. Breaking into the PR field back home hadn't been easy and I was not ready to job hunt again. I realized there was so much more about the field that I was interested in learning and I decided that this was my opportunity to do something about it. I started applying to graduate programs in the Midwest and, on a long shot, randomly applied to Emerson College in Boston (the school I had only recently discovered while working in London) and Columbia University.

I never thought I would ever get into ether of the two East Coast schools and started seriously considering attending UNI or even UNL. Big surprise, I was rejected from Columbia, but I also got accepted into all the other schools I had applied to.

Crap!

I hadn't counted on that. I figured my decision on where to go to school would be made easier by the fact that I probably wouldn't get accepted into many of the programs to which I had applied. This presented a whole new problem. I had too many options.

Should I play it safe and stick close to home or take a huge risk and go somewhere I had never been and knew no one?

I agonized over the decision, asking everyone I knew for an opinion. As the time to put down a deposit drew closer, I found myself still unsure of what the "right" choice was for me.

The day the payment was due, I made a split second decision and chose Boston. I had to give it a shot. I had never dreamed I would get in and I took getting accepted as a sign.

Besides, it was just a one year program. If I hated it, I could move home in a year.

I announced my decision to everyone and got many shocked reactions. First, that I was going back to school and had made the decision to do so so suddenly and secondly, that I was choosing to go so far away.

I never gave my decision a second thought until a friend of mine looked over the course Web site and asked me if I was really sure that I wanted to be a part of a program that intense. I had been so excited about going back to school that I hadn't even taken time to really digest how much of a change this was going to be.

Stay tuned for part two.

Adventure of a Lifetime

For over 40 years, BUNAC has been providing students the opportunity to live and work abroad. They offer programs to the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. BUNAC helps you obtain a work visa and provides support in job and flat hunting once you reach your destination. They also arranges social outings once you arrive in the country to help you make friends and really experience your temporary home.

The following excerpts came from my journal I kept while in the UK:

Upon learning that the work visa for the Britain programme was only eligible to University students for for those who had graduated within the past six months, I knew it was now or never. I started talking more and more about the possibility of doing the programme and before I knew it, I had talked my college roommate and two of my best friends from childhood into going as well.

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Thursday, February 6, 2003:

I awake early to say goodbye to my mom and sisters before they head off to work and school. I also want time for one final repacking of my suitcase to make sure I have everything I could possibly envision needing for the next six months. I begin to cry as I tell my mom I’m not really sure about my decision anymore.

She hugs me and says,
“You’ve always been my adventurous one and I know you’ll have a great time. Go and have fun.”

It’s a bitterly cold morning. The first snow of the season had fallen the night before and I could see my breath as I step out the front door. I struggle with my suitcase and wait for Melissa to arrive. Around 8 am, she and her dad pull up. My dad and I hop in the car and we all head for Des Moines and the airport.

We get on the plane and as the flight attendants begin their speech, I realize there is no turning back. I take one last look out the airplane window at sun shining on the snowy expanse around me and then buckle up, not knowing that this would be the last time I would see the sun for about a week.

Friday, February 7, 2003:
We arrived into London on a direct flight from Chicago O’Hare. It’s 7:30 am and the plane touches down on the runway at Heathrow. It’s gray and rainy outside and, at 50 degrees, considerably warmer than the weather had been in Iowa when we left.

We collect our luggage and head for customs. The customs officer requests to see our bank statements, work visas and return tickets. He demands we explain the BUNAC scheme to him and once we have satisfactorily convinced him we are only there to work temporarily, he grants us entrance to the country.

We are now residents of the UK for the next five months.


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So much happened in those five short months that I could write an entire blog just about London. But I will fill you in on the one key detail you need to know for the rest of my story to make sense.

I ended up finding a job as an Editorial Assistant for Britain's largest independent publishing company while abroad. I was so excited as I set up the interview. I had always been interested in the publishing field and was excited for an opportunity to work in a place like this. My excitement grew once I got to the interview and learned the position would be working on a supplemental directory for PR Week, one of the biggest titles in my industry.

How great it would be to work on something related to my industry. It would look very impressive upon returning home and trying to break into the PR field.

My role on the directory was researching appropriate listings and helping get them ready for publication. One of the sections of the directory was education - a listing of all communications and PR programs in the States. A few schools stood out in more than one category and this was where I first became aware of Emerson College.

We enjoyed every minute of our life in London and before we knew it five months had passed.

Leaving the UK was bittersweet. There were things from home I had missed and of course I was looking forward to seeing my friends and family, but there was so much I was leaving behind as well.

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The entire ride to the airport I tried not to cry. As we drove out of the city, I watched the row houses passing by and reflected on everything that had happened since we first rode in on the Airbus. That gray, wet February morning flashed back to me in snippets. It seemed so long ago, yet I could recall is as if it were yesterday.

My thoughts turned to home and the US. I wondered how much had changed and, more importantly, how much I had changed since leaving.


Soon we were in line to board our flight. I remember the stifling heat and thinking I would be grateful for the air conditioning on the airplane. Ahead of us in line was a large group of American tourists dressed in shorts and t-shirts. They were being obnoxiously loud and kept complaining about the heat and everything else. The British couple behind us commented on their rude behavior and I remember agreeing that they should stay home if they were going to complain about the differences.

Wasn’t that exactly why people traveled? If everything were the same as what you already knew, there would be no novelty or sense of adventure in traveling.

The line began to move and Melissa and I stopped for a moment to take in one last look of England before entering the boarding ramp.

“What are you thinking?” I asked her.

“That it will probably be a long time before I see this country again,” she said.

“I know,” I said sadly and we turned and entered the aircraft.

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In the days that followed, I tried to readjust to American life. I know that sounds weird, but returning home to me was a culture shock. England is very similar to the US, but it’s also very different. I wasn’t even gone for a very long period of time, but it was amazing how quickly and how much I had adjusted to life in England.

People kept asking me if I was glad to be home. Yes, I was. But also, I wasn’t. I felt as if my adventure had ended just as it was really beginning. I had taken a chance on something very few people ever even consider doing. I had done it…and done it well. I felt empowered and wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling or have to start all over again already.

“A mind that has been stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes.


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It has now been almost seven years since I moved back from the UK and sadly, it has been seven years since I’ve set foot on European soil. I’m sure much has changed and I still dream of going back and sitting on “my” bench in Regent’s Park in the Spring.

I’m frustrated that life since then has kept me from one of my great passions in life – traveling. But I also smile reflecting on my impulsive decision so many years ago to move to a foreign country.

You see, if I had never gone to London, I would never have heard about Emerson College and the Global Marketing and Advertising program to which I would eventually apply.

And if I hadn’t lived in London, I would never have had the courage to accept a spot in the program and move all the way across my country to start a new life in a city where I knew no one.

Pardon the Interruption

The series of entries I was working on will continue right where I left off, but I need to write about something that I've spent quite a bit of my week thinking about.

I don't do well with idleness. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am constantly on the go. I was the girl who running around like crazy trying to do everything and living life as if there were never enough hours in the day. I often drove from one side of the state to the other in the same day visiting friends when I lived at home...I would attend one function only to leave and attend another.

I spent as much time as possible in the company of others.

It was the same in Boston..there was rarely a week that went by where I didn't hang out with people at least three nights during the week. I never got much sleep, but it was totally worth it. I was happy.

But here in New York that all changed. I don't have that circle of friends here, nor do I have the funds for all that and it's been a rough transition at times. I'm having a really hard time without that support network and busyness.

Don't get me wrong, I have learned to slow down a bit more, which is great and I still crave alone time every once in awhile, but lately less interaction and more alone time seems to be more of the norm than the exception and it's starting to make really wonder if this is the kind of life I want.


I was trying to voice some of my frustrations to a friend last night and she told me that I should accept the fact that no one is ever really doing what they love. She said I should realize that and just focus on other things. But I don't want to do that. I miss having things to be excited about and look forward to...I miss being happy. I don't want to live a life that lacks these qualities and that is what has made me really start questioning my decision to live in NYC lately.

I'm starting to get impatient with NYC but instead of moving on, maybe I need to remember I'm here for a reason...and if the reason isn't for me, maybe it's for someone else...and by helping others, maybe I will help myself.

Slow Seduction

My friend Emily and I always laugh when she says the Boston Red Sox seduced her, but lately I've been giving a lot of thought to the concept of seduction:
Seduce: 1. to persuade to disobedience or disloyalty. 2. to lead astray usually by persuasion - Merriam Webster

When I first moved to the East Coast I had no intentions of staying out here. My plan was to complete my Master's program and then return back to Des Moines and find a job.

But somewhere along the way I've fallen in love. I've fallen for the Boston Red Sox, the way the East Coast works hard and plays hard, leisurely weekend brunches, beach weekends, train travel, and laying out in the park. It was a combination of all these small things that, over time, got me.

A good friend of mine just today told me that she is moving back to the Midwest after living on the West Coast for two years. She has bittersweet feelings about it and I know exactly how she feels. It's something no one else can completely understand unless they've left home and fallen in love with something else.

I still miss so very much about home and will defend it endlessly, but a part of me is now starting to realize that I may never be truly content there ever again.

It took awhile, but Em, I think I'm ready to admit the East Coast has seduced me.

Officially in Manhattan

Here I am laying in bed listening to the sounds of cars honking outside my window. It's my first night as a resident of Manhattan and it's a weird feeling. The move went pretty well. My dad ended up coming out on Monday and we loaded everything but the bed up on Tuesday and headed to NYC. The drive was pretty as the leaves are still on the trees here and we made it to my place pretty easily. We were lucky enough to score a parking spot right outside my building and one of my roommates helped unload everything. We spent Tuesday night in NYC and got up early Wednesday to head back to Boston to pick up the bed and the few things I decided to send home. Stayed in Boston Wednesday night and then headed back to NYC this morning. This time we weren't quite as lucky to find a parking spot and I started to worry that we would be moving a mattress set a few blocks in the rain. After about eight trips around the block we found a space large enough to park in and unload the mattress. My dad headed back home around 3 and I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and organizing. I think I am mostly settled but it still seems weird to know that this is my new home for awhile.

Starting over...times seven

I used to love the days of new adventure..I guess I still do but in a different way. My upcoming move will be the seventh time in the past ten years that I've picked up and moved and I don't find myself that excited about the process anymore.

I am sick of packing. I am sick of creating a whole new social circle for myself over and over. I am sick of job hunting. I am sick of missing people.

Along with the adventure of every move comes huge hassles....maybe I'm getting old or maybe I just no longer believe.

Either way, I think I'm over it.

Bye Bye Boston

Who would have ever thought the girl who had such a wicked hard time adjusting to life in New England would be so sad to leave it?

When I applied to Emerson, I had never been to Boston - or even the East Coast - before. To this day I am not really sure what possessed me to pack up and move halfway across the country to a place where I knew no one. I figured I would come for school and then afterward could move back home. After all, I had done the same thing when I moved to London to work after undergrad.

How much different could this be?

My first few months in Boston I found that I could not have been more wrong. I experienced so many moments of being completely out of my element - even more so than I ever did actually living in a foreign country. It definitely took some getting used to and I didn't exactly love Boston the first year I was here.

School was all consuming and I found myself cursing the icy hill of death and the T daily. I didn't understand the East Coast obsession with schooling, the Boston sports fanatics, or, at the smallest level, even the way they called sprinkles on top of ice cream jimmies.

There were many days that I wanted nothing more but to go back to everything that was familiar and easy. But when it came down to deciding if I wanted to renew my lease or not after that first year I decided I wanted to give Boston a fair chance. I was sure there had to be something I was missing.

And I was right...the experience of living in Boston as a young professional is definitely different than the experience of living here as a student. I found myself with time to take weekend trips instead of living in the Emerson library. I fell in love with Maine, the small towns along the coast, and spending lazy days at the beach.

I finally had money to take advantage of all the city offers - brunch on Newbury Street and the occasional drink at the Top of the Hub. I began to network and started learning about Boston's history - complete with visits to Dorchester, Milton and Arlington. I met some amazing people here that have made my life much richer.

It's been a great adventure and, even though I never realized it, somewhere along the way I became a "soda" drinking, cranky T riding, Red Sox loving girl. Yes, it was definitely worth the risk and all the tears.

I know this move makes the most sense for me right now, but I know I will return to Boston someday.

So instead of saying goodbye, let me just say: jusqu'à ce que nous réunir à nouveau.

The greatest rewards come to those willing to take the greatest risks

Thursday, August 31, 2006:
"Technically it is Saturday. Although for me, I haven't yet gone to bed and therefore I like to think of it still as Friday. Especially this Friday because in just a few short hours I will be leaving on my road trip to Boston. I am excited for the possibilities and all of the new things that I will have the chance to experience in making this move. I am very much looking forward to my classes and once again doing something to challenge myself."

These are the words I find in scrolling through an old blog about my decision to move to Boston now a little over two years ago. I had never been to Boston before...hell, I had never even been to the Northeast before...and after two long days of driving, I found myself alone in an apartment with two strangers in a city so far from everyone I knew.

The first few days were tough. There was a bit of culture shock in moving to New England. I missed my friends from home. I had to find my way around the city and get used to doing everything without a car. Setting up new bank accounts, finding new doctors, and all the other things you take for granted in your day to day life became necessary.

This wasn't all new to me. I had done it once before when, on another whim, I decided to pack up and move to London with three friends after undergrad.

As I am getting ready to make another move here soon, I am trying to remind myself of these past experiences and all of the rewards that came with them. My life is definitely richer for everything I've done and all the people I've encountered along the way.

I don't regret any of it and I know I needed to do all this to be able to be content when I settle down...I just wish I could make it hurt a bit less leaving.