By relocating to New York City, we had ripped the rug out from under our own feet, and even though I could feel the tension rising (made worse by having just a couple hundred bucks to my name), I was confident that the two of us would grow from the move.
I knew that healthy habits would be a big way to manage stress and face the city’s constant trials. I kept up with exercise, studying, writing, coffee drinking, and applying for jobs. We had hit the reset button, and at that point had just a few clothes, a couple notepads, our laptops, some key books, and certain personal treasures (double rainbow maker).
A week passed, and I noticed that most people on the hiring side of the job market only really started biting when I met them in person. I also began to realize that landing a salaried position--or even an interview for one--seems to require either a ton of luck, a mutual friend, or both (I had neither), but I was running out of cash so I took a couple part-time jobs to cover my bases.
Soon we were asked by our hosts to either fork over some money or ship out, and, unable to fulfill the former option, we took the latter and began playing shelter by ear. Often, Jake and I split paths only to reconvene the next day to fill each other in. By some stroke of luck, a very generous friend welcomed us to what space she had. Three weeks into our NYC batventure, we each had some part-time wages coming in.
One hostel, two sublets, one closet, four couches, and four weeks later, we toured a windowless bedroom in Bushwick. We pooled every last dollar we had together, and put down a payment on it the next morning.
We still don't have a mattress or windows, but we’ve got a roof, instruments, power outlets, bookshelves, and a little privacy: batcave sweet batcave.