Tough town.

There's a popular phrase down under: "Toughen the fuck up". I have had cause to think of this phrase often, living in this town. Moving countries isn't easy. Moving countries and changing jobs is even less so. Doing it all in New York Fuckin City takes the cake. Don't get me wrong, this city is one of the greatest. It's exhilarating to be here, right up against so many amazing possibilities and amazing actualities every day. But therein also lies the problem: you're up against it. New York has a way of showing you at extremely close range just how sensational things can indeed be, while simultaneously making sure you're aware just how hard it will be to get to a point where those sensations are your own. Even when you're not trying to reach the lofty heights, just trying to get your basic shit together takes a lot of hard work. Holding down a job, getting an apartment, getting from A to B (via the L if you're me), finding people you want to hang out with, finding time to hang out, finding time to sleep, exercise, take any care of yourself whatsoever. It's a struggle. And I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been stressing me the fuck out. That's probably one of the reasons my skin has been breaking out (city grime hasn't been helping), which has also been stressing me the fuck out. I routinely wonder if I may have made an enormous mistake, or if today might be the day I discover the joys of having my first panic attack. But I keep reminding myself this isn't meant to be easy, and I'm doing okay. Next week I will move into my own apartment - my first fixed abode in six months. That's progress sister. So toughen the fuck up.