Day 1

I live in Brooklyn. I'm 27. I'm a designer by blood and desire and a corporate schlub by necessity. Soon I hope to change that. Designer only. No more corporate schlubbery. One day. One day not too far from this day. I will break free and no longer be a spoke in the wheel. Good gawd may that day come quickly.

I'm short. I like cheese, but my digestive system doesn't. I'm funny - sometimes in a witty way and sometimes in a way that makes you think I've got a few screws loose. I am a sucker for a fabric store and notions of any sort. I always think that random handful of sequins in the clearance basket will someday grow up to be the trim on the most fabulous dress I have yet to make. I have a great affinity for footwear and will never own only that which I need.

I made the move to NYC in December and it's been a good ride so far. But, sometimes I feel rather alone in this big city all by myself. My love for this place is peppered with bitter drops of sadness that only reveal themselves at my weakest moments. I think that's pretty typical. Not sure if that's something that ever truly goes away. All New Yorkers carry with them some sort of conflict. It's a badge of courage, honor, stubbornness - whatever it is it's stamped into you the day you cross over the bridge, come through the tunnel, glimpse that Gotham skyline.

I'm figuring me out. I'm figuring New York out. I'm figuring life out little by little. This is the strange chronicle of that trip.