If you build it they will come

When I decided to buy a one-way ticket to New York City, doing so with about eighty dollars in my checking account and no job or plans to speak of, I fancied myself very Madonna-esque. A gypsy. A dreamer. A doer. She too bought a one-way ticket here with forty-five dollars less than I had! And inappropriate clothing and desperate attempts to still be relevant aside, there's no doubt the woman has made it.

When I arrived on New York soil I will admit it was a rough go at first. My sheer panic over actually being in the city and whether or not I would have to sign in blood and give a voucher for my first born in order to secure an apartment, and/or job made me break out in hives. Literally. Twas not pretty.

But this is very like me. I have to get all woo-hoo dramatic, fret over the worst case scenarios, like whether I will lose all my hair from stress or if I have enough allure to secure a sugar daddy in order to make it here, hey don’t judge, rich financiers need arm candy for their important social gatherings (I kid, as if I’d pass as arm candy. Okay I further kid, I would never have a sugar daddy—I don’t even like the word daddy).

But once I get it out of my system—all my insane worrying that is—I generally perk right up, truer words were never spoken than when the going gets tough, this tough cookie definitely gets going. I told myself, apply the Secret, (read this book) tell yourself every freaking day you will make it. You will be a writer, who actually gets paid. You will travel. You will find an apartment. You are not crazy to do this. Well a little crazy.

Then as I am fond of mantras I started repeating incessantly:

If you build it they will come. (Side note, I know the accurate quote is if you build it, he will come, but that does not apply quite so well, and as if I have time to worry about men!)

So the novel idea here is, if I keep telling myself I’m a writer, well duh, I am, why I even need a reminder of this is complete hogwash, then a writing job will come to me. And a place to live, pretty important, obviously. And travel. To say I am satisfied with settling into one place and sticking would be the equivalent of saying I like bees trapped inside my eyelids. No thank you. And I do not accept, sirs.

I wish I could take credit for this little gem of wisdom, however, I think it all goes to Kevin Costnar. Or more accurately the wise and talented writers of Field of Dreams, which okay I have yet to see, but I know this line and I am keen on its merit as I handily rearrange it to fit my life.

With this mentality of stockpiling my mind with positivity, books, words, grandiose notions of travel and a life that feeds my soul, I pushed ahead, telling myself day in and day out, if I build this, it will come to me.

Well here's the sitch: I am not writing for a major publication... yet, but I do, however, have a writing job for a very hip and posh artist. In fact she flew me to Tahoe to talk shop. As in I am going to be writing her book! Furthermore I've been hired at Starbucks (a company I am very fond of) which works quite splendidly for my ever-increasing coffee addiction. And my purse-strings as lord knows this city ain't cheap.

And miracle of all beautiful miracles I have landed my dream, Carrie Bradshaw-esque, envy worthy, Brooklyn Brownstone, located a block from the subway and the park and a mere 5 stops away from my new job. Fate? Divine Intervention? Krishna?

No, me gooses! I built it! I said, no way you're failing here, Jose. And okay, let's give credit where credit is really due--my main man upstairs. God. I have prayed a lot since landing in the Big Apple. More accurately I have had God on serious speed dial, but boy has He delivered, right when I would start to question my sanity again, I gave it up to Him and continued to build my metaphorical baseball field, my field of dreams, my perfect New York.

And while I am still building and have a lot more I set out to accomplish, I have to say, I think I have a very nice foundation... or bases, er diamond? Too many mixing of metaphors? Ah, you catch my drift.

If you build it, they will come.