Conquest, conquered.

Well all, I think it's finally time: my first post as a New Yorker. I finally feel like one. It's awesome.

God, the weeks fly by. As of the beginning of January, I've been a resident of NYC for four months--about the same amount of time I spent living in Los Angeles. And while I don't feel quite as passionately about my new East Coast home as I do about L.A., New York City is growing on me. I could compare it to a slow romance that gradually becomes something more solid and real and safe, as opposed to my quick, lusty affair with L.A. It sounds dramatic, but that is really the best way to describe it. NYC is burrowing its way into my heart, and I'm not resisting.

my apartment is adorable.

After spending ten wonderful days back in the Midwest over Christmas to recoup (ahem, hardly), returning to this city was wonderful. I really had missed it; I missed my apartment, my neighborhood, my friends, the subway, the food, the shopping, the people, and the constantly on-the-go lifestyle I have so quickly become accustomed to. Now that I'm back, NYC feels more like home every day. I can finally navigate the city without a map (mostly); I understand where places like Chelsea, Hell's Kitchen, the LES (my love), Alphabet City and the Upper West are in relation to each other; I know where I like to eat, the best thrifting areas, the best places to drink, and when to get on the subway in the morning so I won't be late to work. And it's only going to get better as my relationship with New York and its lovely (and sometimes not so lovely) residents develops.


One of the weirdest transitions I've been experiencing now that the whole moving to a new city adjustment is pretty much under control is getting used to my jobs. More specifically, getting used to having money. I'm working two jobs at the moment. I'm still a part of the incredible, amazing, mind-blowingly awesome entity that is cdza (if you haven't watched any of our videos yet you suck and don't know what you're missing and get out of my blog). This is my fun job. I'm in charge of corresponding with the press, answering fan mail, helping out at shoots, and doing any little odds and ends the guys need help with (this weekend I'll be shopping for props to turn our state-of-the-art penthouse studio into a dining room). I adore this job and the people I work with. And I get paid for it. Living the mothereffing dreammmm.

My second job is a 9-5 that I am equally as content with. I work in an office on the 11th floor of a building in downtown Manhattan. Wall Street is a block away, and the infamous Bull statue is basically right outside my door. I make great salary, as well as commission because, suddenly, I work in sales! Surprise to me! Had I had any idea I would be working any sort of sales position when applying for this job, I probably wouldn't have bothered. But apparently I'm pretty damn good at sales, or so my increasingly unbelievable paychecks tell me. Not only am I making a stupid amount of money (imo), but I also really, really like working at this place. Our CEO is only 34 and he's crazy in that super motivated, successful, intelligent way. Pretty much the rest of the small group of people I work with are between the ages of 21 and 28. You can imagine what our holiday party was like (I have to rely on my own imagination when it comes to a lot of that night...oops). We have a gym in our office, a constant supply of snacks, tea and coffee, lunch on Thursdays, and giveaways every month. To put it concisely, I love going to work every day.

still healing, but fuck he's CUTE

So suddenly, money! Money I have no idea what to do with! It's weird! Last Tuesday I suddenly decided I wanted a tattoo, so fucking I got one! Because I have the money! Last weekend, I spent a crazy amount of money getting my hair done! I probably would have puked when the girl told me how much it was going to cost this time last year, but now I'm like BRING IT ON! I can afford to pay for a gym membership like a real person! I get manicures! (Okay, only because they only cost $10 in the Heights.) But the point is I AM SUPPORTING MYSELF. THIS IS SO WEIRD TO ME. I CAN'T EVEN. UGH.

But with all joking aside, I really do feel so incredibly fortunate to be where I am right now. All through college we were told that the job market was awful (which is true) and that getting a job after graduation was going to be difficult. The fact that I was able pull this off so quickly in a place like NYC still blows my mind. I came out here with enough money for one month of rent, my usual blind optimism, and an obscene supply of terror-driven motivation. I'm not prone to giving myself a lot of credit, but I know for a fact that my hard work and persistance is a lot of what got me to this point. This didn't just fall into my lap; I worked my ass off to get here. But it's impossible to give myself all of the credit: knowing that my irreplaceable friends and family always have my back definitely made things a lot easier. You all have been so amazing and supportive, and I am so, so grateful for that.

There is so much more to tell. I want you all to know what my morning commute is like, the beauty of BYOB restaurants, the do's and don'ts of NYC barhopping, subway etiquette, all the random shit there is to do on any given night...but this post is too long already. If you want to know, maybe you should come visit me. You have a place to stay and a guide for all the crazy adventures that pop up out of nowhere in this place (and probably dinner and drinks, since I'm having a such good time throwing my money around, haha).

Talk soon, loves.