How is it that this man penetrates me so easily? With no slight of hand? How is it that the whole world seems to move me equally as quickly?

I feel where others don’t and I consider that my blessing.

 I can’t imagine being deaf blind and mute on the inside.

So why is it I’ve found you who profess to be?

Is it true that you feel nothing? That inside you’re empty?

My passion pulls me into motion quickly and yet I’m trying to remain static, to listen and wait to hear your heart beating again. I want to hear your heart beating again.

Can my hand jump start your motion? Can my lust pull you into emotion? Is there a way to unite mind and soul to achieve perfect harmony or am I meant to feel this all alone?

1. Snuggling with kitty cats in warm home that smells like pies baking
2. Shoveling a snowy driveway and paying it forward by shoveling the neighbor’s section
3. Best friends who send birthday cards in November, 10 months early!
4. Driving a stick shift after months of hibernating that ability
5. The vacation my stepfather is planning in Florida in April and his warmth to invite the whole family

It used to be that when I’d first visit a new neighborhood I’d immediately want to live there. The bars would be better, the corner stores would be better and, most certainly, the inhabitants. I wanted to be anywhere but Flatbush.

I must be settling in now, though, getting a better grasp on where I can get to easily and, in the grand scheme of New York, quickly, because I find myself feeling – if not ‘at home’ – at least comfortable – dare I say ‘content’ in Flatbush.

It’s not just New York though. It’s the “New” in New York. Not knowing people. (And not really getting to know them either because I work in an office with two other people.) Not knowing where to go for things I need. (Case in point, I spent a bunch of time this morning fruitlessly searching for a Fed Ex, which I never did find…) And not knowing where to go for things I want. (The game and a beer. That’s not so much to ask.)

It’s culture shock. Exacerbated by having moved on a shoestring to one of the most expensive cities in the US, into a job that pays a starting arts salary. The cards are stacked against me.

Make friends. Get out of the house and explore. Go for runs to keep the good juices flowing. The cure is as simple as it’s ever been, in any new city and any new job. And maybe that’s why it feels like such a daunting tas to undertake. When the answer is mysterious it’s easier to write off why you can’t carry an action through. But when it’s so well documented and you still run into the same troubles, inot succeeding to cure yourself is even more frustrating.

My grandfather was a hybridizer of daylilies and he named one after each of his granddaughters as well as his wife: Outrageous Ramona. Happy Birthday, Grandma!

My grandmother (left) and Me (right)

Public transportation – and I include walking in this category – has always been the way I explore a new city. It’s a my way of surveying the people and getting a lay of the neighborhoods. I feel confident when I’m traveling from one point in a city to another, like I’ve lived into my surroundings and I belong. Alternately, I can just zone out and feel like life is a happy, moving blur around me.

The past few days I’ve been experimenting with different ways to get from my apartment to work, as no one clear “best” route exists. I’ve walked taken the train, and even the bus, which is something, I imagine, more fearful New York Newbies wouldn’t undertake. Other than getting mixed up as to which way the card is inserted into the fare box, my bus experiences have been without incident.

I love traveling a city via public transportation because it’s like piecing together a puzzle. Each time I get off at a new stop and survey my surroundings it’s like I’m building a new block that will later get laid into the greater whole, forming a beautiful, cohesive image of the city I call home. I can look at this puzzle – this work of art – as it grows and see the beauty tucked into corners and down back alleys that most of the public misses; even those who drive the roads every day.

Traveling a city by way of its organized systems is my way of making myself at home. Just a couple days and Brooklyn is starting to feel like home.

Standing in line for the bus this afternoon I realized there are more and more things about New York that excite me. The ability to make riskier fashion choices is one of them, as is the opportunity to make new friends, which at first wasn’t terribly exciting at all. Having my groceries delivered is also a delightful novelty. They should arrive between 10 and 11:30 tonight, around the same time I do… to my new home.