My life was seriously so close to the end of awesomeness that I tear up simply thinking about it. My dream was to live in a certain country, the United States of America. It’s just always been that way. And one day I found a way; going back to school. I cruised through college with a better GPA than anyone, including myself, had ever imagined. Graduation happened and summer came along. Summer in the city, goddamn it was hot and humid! But somehow I got used to it and I loved it, loved it so much that I lost focus for a bit. Forgot that the only reason I could keep living in the big apple, visa wise, was if I got a job. There was a deadline of course for when I needed proof of employment, and it was cutting close, frikkin’ close. A week before it was all about to come falling down I had the most insane day;
Went for a few beers too many the night before when the alarm rang at 7.26am on a Tuesday morning, mind you I have been sleeping in, meaning into the pm’s, for the past three months, so this was early. I was going to be a hair model, aka get a somewhat free sesh of highlights, at 9 am in Midtown. I am not one to spend a lot of money on my hair or anything, though it somehow looks quite awesome if I may say myself, sooo the $20 I spent on this was pretty rad already. I sat in the chair with aluminum foil all over my hair when my phone rang, it was my requiter calling to say that the one job that I had turned down already because they couldn’t offer me enough hours really did want me to come work for them part time (increasing the hours). My eyes teared up faster than Usain Bolt can run an inch, as they are now too writing this. I got a job, I GOT A FUCKING JOB! IN AMERICA! The pay was just enough to cover rent, no food, no phone, no fun. The thought of this didn’t even come close to cross my mind at that time. I texted my roomies, who were both, NOT COOL with me leaving the States just yet. The amount of joy shown in emojis made me cry again.
My hair turned out pretty awesome though it took forever, forever being a little over 4 hours. I then went to meet one if the roomies for lunch. We saw each other and started crying, the joy was real. We hugged, let go, looked at each other, and hugged, let go and looked at each other again. Then my phone rang (it never really rings, who calls anymore? I love it though, but it seems old school..), another job I applied for offered me another position. I ran back into the café and to my friend and told her, and we cried some more. Now I could stay for sure! Pay rent, my phone bill, food AND have fun! We went out in the sun, as it seemed to be the last day if summer, to finish our food. When we had just finished eating a man approaches me and presents himself as a street style photographer who had worked for Harper’s Bazaar for a decade, etc. He asked to take my photo, as I obviously looked fly as fuck. I was wearing my blue and white striped pants and posed like a boss on front of a blue Pepsi truck that matched my pants. The photos came out pretty dope as far as I could see on his little camera screen. Cant wait to see them. From there I went to catch the train home. Got home did my nails, crashed on the couch and did what I do best; chilled out and watched TV.
I am amazed how when things seem to look so dark and hopeless, my life still finds a way to make it work.. I thank the goddesses and spirits for this opportunity. What is meant to happen, happens, right? Now I gotta suck it up and work seven days a week because communication ain’t always that easy. My silly self is worried about when I will have time to have a few too many beers again..