I have arrived

I am here! On New York Soil! Oh the emotion! I have blamed my mom a lot this past week for her part in making me such a dramatic, emotionally overwrought individual. It's all on her that I still want to weep.

So, I would be a complete liar if I said I landed and did a jolly jig in the airport. Do not get me wrong, when my bleary eyes opened to twinkling lights and I saw old familiar La Guardia, a part of me felt like sighing a deep sigh, home, at last. The other part freaked the flip out. Even though I should note that I was definitely destined for NY, as when the cabby started issuing profanities about my drop-off point, I got giddy and thought, ooh the true New York experience. Then as I waited for my friend to let me into his apartment, I saw a drunken lad peeing on the street. Welcome to New York! I couldn't help but be a little thrilled by this as well. New York censors itself for no one.
But as I fell asleep on my friend's air mattress in Queens, clutching my stuffed giraffe, Lula--don't judge me--I continued to fret. It was a nice little war going on inside me. Holy hot euphoria, my insides rioted as they took in the NY apartment I was now bunking in and the feeling of finally having made it here, but then the other part, jubilee'd, oh man, what have you done, you crazed vagabond, go home, go home, go home--too big, too much, too scary--you're insane and this is too much.
I finally squelched the rampant crazed fear, picture a child that has been left to her own devices and is covered in chocolate, half-dressed, filthy with a tangled mane, running around like a lunatic, waiting for an adult to reign her in. That is what my fear looks like. So rational Cassandra, adult mom Cassandra, threw a potato sack over demented unrestrained child Cassandra, or the fear, or both and calmly put in headphones, clicked on skinny love and drifted off to sleep.

And now, here I sit in Astoria, after having walked with my friend a ways so he could go to work and I could find the nearest coffee establishment. Priorities, man, priorities. The war was raging again, this morning, but the excitement is winning out now. And of course, there's still that overwhelming urge to cry looking at New York, who remains blissfully unaware of how much I love her. Oh I will show you, dear. I will show you.

Now what? I gotta get me an apartment and some employment kids! Let's do this thing. Good thing I work incredibly well under heinous pressure. And so it begins...

P.S. The adorable old men sitting across from me in Starbucks (also don't judge me I have a gift card and they have wireless) are speaking Italian. I think. Either way, it's a language that's poetic, they're using a lot of quality hand gestures and it's slaying me right nice!