Written January 17, 2016
I don't think I'd make a very good missionary. I don't really enjoy being dirty, and I'm kind of a cryer. I'm sometimes prone to discouragement. So anyway, I'm not sure I'd be good at it.
...only thinking of this because of the missionary priest that spoke at Mass today...
But I do think I'm pretty good at making due. I can get by in life with things that are less than perfect, less than ideal. I can make it work and work with what I have.
I moved to NYC a little over a week ago, and I've been thinking about my little apartment on Classen Boulevard in Norman, OK. I remember moving in and having pretty much nothing. No furniture, no curtains, minimal kitchen things...mostly just me. I slept on an air mattress until it started to leak and id end up in an air mattress taco on the floor. My mom eventually came to the rescue and bought me a bed. I acquired a hodgepodge of chairs from my church that I eventually replaced with a real couch, and a cuter chair, and a bookshelf, and an end table. I had a desk and a big shelf for all my products. Shoot, I even got curtains. By the time I moved out of 1010 Classen Boulevard, I had what seemed like a lot of things.
And when I was packing it away, it really felt like a lot of stuff...Way. Too. Much. Stuff... I wanted to just toss it all.
Part of me wishes I had. But I didn't. Most of it is still in Norman. In storage.
A storage unit full of stuff, halfway across the country...sort of useless... I'm not angry about it, but it really highlights how much I am sort of back to where I was in my first place.
Im moving into a little place in north Bronx on Saturday. I ordered a twin bed and a bed frame from Amazon. I ordered some towels and some tupperware to take my lunch to work. I managed to fit my desk and most of my products and my scanner in my car. I have the bare necessities of what I need. But I find myself missing my things. I miss my real couch and my grandma's old writing desk and my Target bookshelf that I carried through the store and put together all by myself. I miss my things, mostly, I think, because for me, they were tangible reminders that I am quite capable...
I'm enjoying NYC. I am. Much more than I ever expected actually. I like my job and I love that Mark is around. I don't mind the commute too much, and I'm starting to fall for the city in a romantic sort of way.
But at the same time, it's a little daunting. It's not mine. Yet. Instead of my cozy real couch, I'll have a cheap-ass Amazon bed.
I'm not sure I would make a very good missionary but if I needed to, I could. And I'm not sure i make a very good New Yorker. But I'm going to do my best. And that's enough.