Yesterday I hit my two-month "anniversary" of living in the concrete jungle known as New York City. I've been collecting each week under my belt like a successful benchmark. Every time someone asks me how long I've lived here I describe its age like an infant, ___ weeks.

Now I can finally say "two months."

You know what I discovered during these past two months?

New York City fucking LOVES ME.

I can't tell you about my beautiful struggle, cause my experience here has been everything but a struggle. I'm not even trying to paint you pictures of fluffy clouds or a perfect life, or bullshit in general.

I'm just telling you. New York City loves me.

Trust me, if it didn't… I would tell you straight up. I would complain, bitch and moan about what a battle the Beast Coast has been. But its been anything but beastly to me.

Call me fortunate, because the universe & God are finally trying to point my life in the right direction again. My life was completely ripped apart last year, and I'm finally seeing the pieces falling back into place.

To recap:

I moved into the first place I saw. I went on vacation. I chilled. I booked another vacation for the end of this month. I chilled. I took my sweet ass time working on my portfolio/resume. I got a job as a freelancer as soon as my website was completed. I did not interview. I worked 1.5 weeks before I was offered a full-time Sr. designer position. I'm started my full-time position yesterday, on my two-month mark.

Now, if I could only meet a GOOD MAN... Damn.