For years, not only have I wanted to write, I’ve wanted to study writing.  In April, I accepted an offer from Queens College in NYC to study creative writing.

After years of not being able to understand why things in my life were the way they were, it seemed as if things were finally going to start going the way I wanted them to.   I had been accepted to school in NYC!

So I decided to make the move.

I created lists.  A moving plan for when things had to be done.  A list of things I needed to buy.  A list of people I needed to contact.  I dreamed about NYC.  I envisioned myself in NYC.  I began to say goodbye to everything that was Colorado.

This summer was the first time I had ever been to the city.  The action.  Fast pace.  Subways.  Taxis.  Cars honking.  Fifty-people deciding all of a sudden to walk against the crosswalk.  So much to do.  So much to write about.

I returned from my exploratory visit and began packing boxes, throwing away papers, and getting rid of junk.   I became excited about living in a city that I felt offered so many opportunities to writers and people who love working with words.

There were plenty of detours on the road.  I said goodbye to my dog and promised that I would return second semester with her plane ticket to this big city.  In August, I had three addresses and “lived” in Brooklyn, Flushing and Corona and quickly discovered the difficulty of searching for housing in one state when you live in another—especially through Craigslist.  I sat at the airport in Kansas City on the day I was arriving, wondering if my connecting flight was going to be delayed due to the earthquake.  A few days later, I wondered if God was going to reach down and take me home during my first hurricane.

I’ve been in the city for almost two weeks.  And I still have no idea what’s going on.  I’ve had to stand on the bus and the subway because both were so crowded.  I always had a seat on the bus in Denver.   I went shopping at Target and left half of the stuff I wanted to buy on the shelves, remembering that I no longer had a car with a trunk to throw all of my bags in.  I said “goodbye” to just getting behind the wheel of my car and driving where I wanted to, when I wanted to.  When each ride costs $2.25, you think about where you really need to go and if the trip is a necessary one.  I said “goodbye” to cable TV, Channel 7 news, prairie dogs, the mountains that were my “west” on the compass and a city that didn’t have so many people and Wal-Mart and cheap housing.  I said “goodbye” to what I knew and “hello” to what I didn’t know.

I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself in to, but I truly believe that this is where I’m supposed to be.  Studying writing.  Meeting writers.  At Queens College.  In New York City.

We’ll see how it goes.