…and still classy, as you can see.
And yes, it is true. I have finally left the motherland am currently living (attempting to at least) in NYC. It’s been a big change for me, and while there definitely was an adjustment period, I’m thinking NYC suits me just fine. Lots of good coffee, gin establishments, and friends (minus my eternal partner in crime, Fritas). Also, know what NYC has a lot of that I never found in Miami? Asian markets. Like the really awesome ones with tons of unrecognizable foods and an absurdly large selection of Pocky. And it’s the real stuff – the ones that my college roommate would bring me back from Hong Kong. Anyway, this is totally not a post about my obsession with Asian chocolate snacks, although it could very quickly devolve into that.
This is a post about how, regardless (or irregardless) of the fact that I am no longer living in Miami, nor do I have any plans to return, there are certain inalienable rights that come along with being from Miami. And those things pretty much never leave. An example? Some things are small, like the fact that I could never leave the house without a pair of earrings on. I’ve walked outside, realized that I’m not wearing earrings, and turned right back around to put some on. Side note: maybe I should carry a back up pair in my wallet, just in case? Anyway, all real Miami girls know that you are not fully dressed if you are not wearing earrings. You’re just not. You wouldn’t want to run into your future husband on the street and not be wearing earrings. Just imagine the horror.
Another thing that I’ve noticed is that I wasn’t that girl in Miami who was super proud of the fact that I was from Miami. I mean, it was just a fact of my life. But for whatever reason, whenever I have lived outside of Miami, I become so pro-Miami. Like during the NBA finals this season, I was the first to rail on anyone who hated on the Heat. You don’t like Lebron? Sorry I’m not sorry he took his talents to South Beach. You think Chris Bosh looks like a raptor? He totally does, but he crushed it. Ray Allen is a traitor to Boston? Kind of, but at least in Miami he can get a ring. So I saw this picture after we won the championship last year (2014 – year of the threepeat baby!), but I think it totally sums up the Miami way of thinking about all the haters:
Also, apparently in New York, I have an accent. Wha??? Moi? An accent? I guess there are some Miami-isms and speech inflections that I can’t get rid of, regardless of years of education. (Side note: one of the most embarrassing days of my life was when a writing tutor in college asked me if English was my second language. OMG. According to her, my writing style betrays my Romance language roots; not totally sure I agree with her on that. Like how good is my English?) I wish I knew what my accent sounded like to other people. If it sounds anything like this, I will literally crawl into a hole and die. But literally bro. I am very honestly making a concerted effort to stop calling random people “bro”. I know, it’s hard, but I’m working on it.
Anyway, sorry for the rambling, but these are just some things I’ve been thinking about ever since leaving the 305 (but obviously haven’t taken the time to write out). Caro + I are going to be writing on here more. We promise. For real.