California Dreams With a New York Attitude: The First Move

Not many people who live in New York can call themselves a real New Yorker, but I can.

Not many people who live in New York can call themselves a real New Yorker, but I can. I have had the opportunity to live in a place where I could get pretty much everywhere by train, be inspired by the Empire State Building and Central Park, and live conveniently. New York City is a beautiful city that everyone dreams about daily—but living in this intoxicating place can change you.

Up until three months ago, New York was the only place I had ever known. However, my dying desire to explore other cities, especially those with a slow-paced lifestyle, enticed me. After years of constant hesitation and gradual acknowledgement of what I planned to give up, I made my bravest decision yet—I quit my job and moved to California, knowing no one there.

During my last month in NYC, I had many heartfelt bon voyage conversations and spent ample time with family members and friends. However, it was on the day of my flight—as I took in the last few moments I would see my parents and brother for a while—that left me on the brink of tears. I walked through security trying not to cry and that was when the gravity of my decision finally struck me: I was moving across the country with two suitcases, a carry-on, and a pocketful of dreams anxiously waiting to come true. In other words, I was just another cliche of every non-native person in Los Angeles.

In retrospect, my plan seemed simple; but even then, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I moved across the country to a city I had never visited before and without a set income to keep me going. I had no idea what to expect other than the advice offered to me by the Internet.

Everyone back in New York couldn’t wait for me to send them selfies from L.A., but I had other priorities. The first item on my checklist was finding an apartment because my temporary stay was just that: temporary.

On my very first night in L.A., the New York hustler side of me came out as I began my vigorous search to find an apartment within my budget. I saw my first studio apartment the next day and even got approved for it. I can’t explain the overwhelming joy I felt knowing that I held the power to decide if I wanted to live there—I was ecstatic, but my ideal situation wasn’t to live alone in a new city.

I saw a second apartment later that day and soon found myself torn between living alone and living with a stranger. I gave myself a day to think it over and ultimately turned it down—my intuition told me this wasn’t the right apartment.

I think others were more worried about my finding an apartment than I was. I knew the right apartment would come along, and just as I believed so, a few days later I met my current roommate through a Facebook page.

We soon applied for an apartment together, and a quick four days later, we signed the lease. This was my first apartment ever—that too, in a new city across the country—and it felt electrifying. I didn’t have to live out of my suitcase anymore! I could unpack my clothes and focus on the second item on my checklist: getting a job.

Within a week, my situation changed, which was not how I expecting things to happen for someone moving to a new city. Yet, given my success thus far, I was completely confident that my checklist would fall into place in a matter of weeks.

There was so much to do and endure on this journey, however.

Even within the first week of living at my new place, I still wasn’t completely adjusted—here was the stress of having to furnish my place. On top of that, there was the constant thought in the back of my mind that I needed to ferociously continue to apply for jobs, go to networking events and meet people.

I worked at my own pace in juggling these many tasks. It took many dreadfully long trips in the hot sun to Ralph’s, a SoCal grocery and drugstore, and Big Lots to get most of the essentials for my room, bathroom and kitchen. Even worse, I’m not the type of person used to spending a lot of money at once, so partially furnishing my apartment also blinded me when it came time to pay my credit card bill.

L.A. isn’t NYC, but as I furnished my apartment, I knew that it only take a matter of time before I missed the East Coast. For instance, most of the overpopulation in LA manifests as car traffic, which is better than New York, which has crowded traffic in all modes of transportation.

It’s been three months since I moved out here and so much has happened. Los Angeles is so spread out that you just have to know where you’re going—it’s truly a city made for driving. Living in this city without a car makes surviving that much harder—especially when you are moving furniture.Like furnishing the apartment, there’s only so much walking a person can do in the heat. And, while Uber/Lyft are great options, I didn’t necessarily want to use those transportation methods every single moment I felt lazy.

While my newfound journey in Los Angeles is  still in the early stages, I can’t wait to see what I uncover next.