It's Been One Year ...

I remember when I first entered New York City. The plane landed, my ears still hurt and I saw a sign on the runway that read, Welcome to NY (complete with a big red apple in the sign). In my head I said, "Shit ... what have I done?" I had my computer, purse and two suitcases, and I got into a taxi for the second time in my life. This time it wasn't a Badger cab. I was excited, happy and scared beyond belief.

Then, I remember walking out of the subway station with one of my new roommates. "Here we are ... welcome to Bushwick," he said. In those next three seconds, I thought about grabbing my suitcases and fleeing back home at least 10 times. But I didn't.

Three-hundred and sixty-five days later, I am in love. No, not with a man, but with a city ... with my life.

You see, I don't stick with things very long. I'm still shocked I never changed my major in four years of college. Seriously, I've never had a relationship last longer than a year, and in five years I've lived in five different apartments. It's as if the concept of renewing a lease terrifies me. Well, I think it always did ... just like long-term relationships. It was all too much commitment for me. For some reason, I didn't want to become comfortable where I was. That reason is this city, and the people that fill it up.

In this year, I've had a horrible job, and now a great one. What I thought was a silly fantasy of go go dancing, turned into a pretty awesome reality. I went from walking the Brooklyn Bridge by myself on Friday nights, to finding a crowd I fit in perfectly with. And, even though I didn't move to the city for love, I at least met someone who reminded me that there are good men in this world ... good men that look great in a pair of faded, black Wranglers. Oh, and there's been some rock n' rollers along the way ... isn't that every little girl's dream?

To be honest, I've made it through this year with the help of some great advice given to me by great people. I believe in these words of wisdom, which is why I'm going to share them with you - right here, right now:

Day 2 in NYC, one of my roommates told me that you need an addiction to survive living here. She's right. It may be shoes, lipstick, broadway plays, or whiskey ... we all need something to turn to when this city overwhelms us.

Week 2 in NYC, the manager of the first NYC bar I went to, told me that the key to good hair is cheap shampoo and good conditioner. The man has good hair ... and he's right. My hair has it's own personality, so when the summer heat hits, I need all the help I can get. And this tip does seem to work.

Month 1 in NYC, an assistant at an interview I had told me the men in this city are jerks (actually, I think she said assholes first, then apologized, and changed it to jerks). She said I should meet a man in Wisconsin and bring him here. Trust me, at times I've thought she was right. But, like I said, there are good men out there, and her little spiel made me more determined to find one.

Month 2 in NYC: After meeting someone who told me they pissed their pants on the train, they also told me to always go to the bathroom before you leave. Even if you don't have to go, try to squeeze a little out. You never know when the train will be "held due to train traffic ahead."

Month 3 in NYC, one of my other roommates told me to give up on planning things in this city. He said, "Everything is spontaneous and people are always late. At least if they're late, that means they actually showed up." I'm a planner and time-obsessed person. This one is a challenge for me - still. I like to think I'm getting better.

Month 5 in NYC, my good friend, Gabe, taught me how to paint on an amazing cat eye. He helped me find my signature look, perfect it and own it. He also taught me to define my eyebrows, how to brand myself and the importance of always being brave.

Month 6 in NYC, a friend who loves handbags said that every woman needs a statement bag. You know, one that makes her feel like Superwoman. My statement bag involves leather and metal, because that makes me feel like Superwoman. This is necessary when your main form of transportation is the subway and the sidewalk. You don't have the front seat of your four-door sedan to throw your stuff during the morning commute.

Month 7 in NYC: The best songs in the world were recorded before this century ... I learned that from a number of amazing DJs. You should think about this, realize it's true and delete the Top 40 hits on your iPod (unless there's a few you just can't part with).

Month 8 in NYC, a rocker friend of mine said that you can always be yourself in New York City. Here you can shop at the Salvation Army store with the cool kids, fishnets can be considered pants and leather can always be studded. Find the people that believe money doesn't matter, creativity does ... and stick with them!

Month 11 in NYC, one of my best friends (who is three or four years older than me) told me to "Always do what's right for Amanda." Right there, that's what everyone should live by (of course, please insert your name in the sentence ... or else we'd all be a bunch of aspiring writers who dance on bars). It doesn't matter who thinks you're crazy or delusional. You know what's right, so do it. The moment you live your life for you, is when you actually start living your life.

Now, when I land in New York and see that welcome sign, I do a little kick line in my head while listening to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. Tonight, at 7:18 p.m., I  walked out of the subway station and laughed. On a Monday night, one year ago, I was terrified. Now, I'm so happy to walk those same blocks every day. It's been one year … and I have no intention of leaving this time.