So, here’s the thing. You will never truly know just how much stuff you have until you are required to put it all in boxes and bags and move it somewhere. That’s the most truthful thing I can say right now. Moving out of somewhere is the most eye-opening experience when it comes to realizing how many material things make up your daily experience.
I know this because, before coming to New York, I had to pack up everything in my apartment so that a friendly nursing student could sublease it for the summer. This also included cleaning out my closet, which was honestly the most time-consuming part.
So, with the help of my very sweet boyfriend, I cleared out my living space. He sat patiently on my floor with a trash bag and asked which things should be stored and waiting for my return, and which things could be thrown away for good.
So, I’m sitting on an airplane. Tens of thousands of miles in the air, wedged between two ladies who probably get called “grandma” or “nana” by someone with chubby cheeks and sticky fingers somewhere.
I’m going to New York.
For the whole summer, I am going to New York to be an intern for a national business news network.
Me. This girl. A lover of glitter, leopard print, Sex and The City marathons and donuts with sprinkles.