A year ago today, I ventured into the unknown.
Of course, by “unknown” I simply mean a world previously unknown to me. Or really any of my close friends or family. I scored an internship on October 17th, went to Sacramento for a week, and had a few days left at home before I booked it to NYC in pursuit of figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. The internship–although unpaid–and convinced me to fly to a place I had never been to live with people who were practically strangers (one was) on a blow-up mattress on the floor of a dining room on the Upper East Side.
This is how the idea was presented to me. This is all I knew. This was my life.
I was impressive enough (or so I am told) to score a full-time job with that same company within a month of being there. Things were racing forward for me and, although they didn’t end up taking me where I ultimately wanted to be, I will forever regard that year in NYC as a very incredible learning experience.
I lived away from every member of my family for the first time in my life. I slept on hardwood floors for 5+ months. I scrapped by on wages unfit for a lifestyle in Manhattan, and I experienced everything I could. I learned a lot, grew a lot, and I did truly learn what kind of working environment I prefer. Reflecting back on this past year, I couldn’t be more grateful for the people who have supported me and surrounded me in my endeavors. I am even thankful for the people who drove me to the brink of insanity, because if it weren’t for that I wouldn’t have realized what makes me happy. I have grown up a very strong person in a very loving and supportive household, and I see the value in having a stable living situation and mutual respect for coworkers and bosses at a job.
I’m ranting now, per usual. But I was just thinking a lot today.
It’s good to be home.