One. Year. Later.

One year ago was, by all accounts, what should be described as the “worst day of my life.”

When it happened, I promised that it would be the start of a great story.
It has.

Today, I celebrate.

Everything fell apart. In the span of three hours. I found myself without a partner, a home, and a job. It was heartbreaking, but secretly what I wanted. It was also the most liberating experience I’ve ever had. I packed up my car with the bare essentials, as if the house had caught on fire. Then I left.

I left.

I never looked back.

I have seen many times in my past that though I worry over small situations, in the face of a true emergency I’m a good one to have around. This was an emergency- the house was on fire. My entire life reduce to ash. I didn’t know what to do, so I called my father and he said,
“Just come home…just come home.”

I knew he needed it more than I did.

So I set my sight on Boston, but I promised I wouldn’t stay. This was my chance at New York.

I was here by February.

This city has been everything I ever dreamed it could. The first time I have ever exhaled.

I was talking with a new friend last week, about the warnings people give when you tell them you are moving here.
They say,
“New York is so dirty.”
“New York is so expensive.”
They warn,
“New York is hard.”

They forget that love is hard, love is expensive, and sometimes love is dirty.
This is love.

In the last year I have accomplished so much, seen so much, loved so much.

Pa.
My Grandfather.
He has been the greatest of this. He is gone now. Had I waited, I would have missed my chance entirely. I spent so much time with him, and learned so much more about him, and myself, in the process. I wrote more about Pa this year than I have any other man. He deserves it. I miss him, but love is sometimes worth the cost.

Poetry.
I started writing again. I stopped writing when I started hurting, and on the day I left him it had been almost two years since I wrote anything of significance. I took ownership of what I had merely considered my “bad habit” until now.

I read my first spoken word piece in August. By October, I was asked to join the Epic XII. The vote of confidence Nichole Achosta gave me was worth a lot. As of today, I have 3 features(including my first) and 2 exciting collaborations to look forward to in the next year, as well as a film project.
Just, astounding.
This has been overwhelmingly rewarding, and the lovers, mentors, friends-
No, family-
that I have met along the way are the characters I’ve been waiting to write into my story.

It took me ten minutes to find a job. Well, it took me ten minutes to receive a response email. I play an important role in a small company, where I’ll gain the skills I need for when I start my own small company. I stuck it out part time until the business grew to afford me full-time. I spent eight months in a French bakery mastering croissants and the ways of moody French men

I watched a lot of sunrises set to the sound of French love songs and perfumed with the scent of fresh croissants

I moved to New York, but I spent the mornings as an American in Paris.

I wrote stories.

I drove a wedding cake 16 hours to Asheville, successfully. I watched two wonderful friends get married.
It was worth all the trouble.

I decorated a cake for Pa’s 91st birthday using only my right hand(I am left-handed)

Love. There has been so much. I reunited with old lovers. Nicole is back in my life, a love in a different sense. Devin has been a great friend. I spent one night with a man who was leaving the country the next day, we still write. I will meet him one day in Bruges for the greatest second date in the history of second dates.

I have a healthy relationship with my father for the first time.
I spoke to my brother again after two years.
I have been able to bring my extended family back into my life.
I see my mother reflected in every bit of glass this city has to offer.
She shatters on sidewalks and raindrops- I miss her, but I get to have part of her back.

I have broken hearts and almost had mine,
I spent too much emotion on red haired poets
and learned my lesson.

I learned to love solitude, independence, myself.
I don’t need companionship,  it has made my relationships far more rewarding. Has better opened me to the opportunity for something worthwhile and healthy.

I finally came out to my family.
I dated a girl named Cecelia, but I broke her heart.
That sentence will always make me laugh.

I have had a lot of love this year, and a lot of poetry.

The best of which has been this city.

There are things on the horizon-
Travel.
Owning a home, maybe a business.
There are red dresses to wear and adventures to begin.
Trouble to cause, trial and error, hard work and reward-all the things.
Smudged lipstick and calligraphy ink-watch me paint this town with them.
There will be dinner at Per Se on my birthday.
Today, there will be Champagne.

And as always,

Infatuation, Bourbon, and Poetry.

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3 thoughts on “One. Year. Later.

  1. I thought today that things may have worked out secretly as I wanted too…

    Nicole is back in my life :’)

    So much love. It was very cathartic to read. I wanted more. Also I’ve moved from bourbon to scotch.

  2. Pensiuni Turda

    Hey there! I’m at work browsing your blog from my new iphone 4!
    Just wanted to say I love reading through your blog and look forward to all your
    posts! Carry on the outstanding work!

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