Ray LaMontagne Told Me Not to Move

I’m a big fan of Ray LaMontagne. About the time I decided to move to New York City, I also coincidentally discovered his single “New York City’s Killing Me.” A telling prophecy of what was to come? Surely Ray was telling me not to move.

 

We Walked to School Uphill Both Ways

Quitting my job as an email marketer was the easiest and hardest decision I’ve ever made. It wasn’t a fit; I knew that. But I, with my pride and blue-collar roots, felt like I had quit too soon. Recalling all those “we used to walk to school uphill both ways” conversations my parents and grandparents told, here I was ending a job just a month after it began.

 

Upon My Shoulder Sat an Angel With My Mom’s Face

People often say that finding a job is easier when you have a job. I suspect that’s true. Yet when the marketing agency closed its doors in April 2011, I panicked little. Maybe it was the fact that everyone else was in the same boat. After all, misery loves company.

Perhaps it was because I had gained some much-needed confidence in my last position, that someone would surely need my services. Or was it simply that I needed a mini vacation after what had just happened?

 

So How Did I Get Here?

How did I get here? That’s a difficult question to answer. It means pinpointing the origin of the snowball rolling down the hill. And it has been rolling for nearly 32 years (my friends would say that I’m “just so negative,” but my realism mixed with sarcasm creates a much-better story, don’t you think?).

So I guess you could say it started when I was born, but that’s a little unfair to my mother and the birthday gods. In fairness, my story is about my most-recent experiences, namely what happened between being 31 and 32 (let’s leave mom, who has saved my ass countless times, out of this). To add clarity to how I got here — this situation, this exact place, this very moment in time — I find it necessary to rewind a bit.

 

Why I Decided to Start Blogging

Welcome to my blog. And thanks for reading.

The day I turned 31 (August 25, 2011, to be exact), I did what most people do on their day of birth: I told myself, “This year is going to be different.” I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions, but I figured that I’d give the whole yearly optimism thing a try. As I sit here recollecting just one month from my thirty-second birthday, I can honestly say that 2011-2012 was different, and not necessarily in a “Wow! That was an epic year!” kind of way. It surely wasn’t the year I had in mind, and it almost makes me nervous what to wish for this year (a Keurig coffee machine, if you’re wondering).