Almost two and half years ago I was living in New York. Well, more specifically, I was living in Queens. I frequented my bodega on the corner of Main Street and Queens Boulevard almost daily, I went to Starbucks almost obsessively and drank margaritas at Pianos so often the doorman once asked me out on a date. And then I wrote this post. It was (for those of you who don't have the time to visit) about leaving my life behind for Texas, a state I been to once during a cross country trip. Yes, it was also about Friday Night Lights and the universal love of Tim Riggins, but it was also about abandoning what you thought you wanted for what you needed. Now, 2 years and 85 days later, I live in Texas. I didn't know at the time but I was writing about a great love, perhaps my greatest.
Now, instead of sitting in the snow-covered center of the universe, I sit in the balmy, sun-kissed South. And I couldn't be happier. I am about to leave my home to go back east for two months and 18 days and I am feeling just as terrified and thrilled as I was back in August of 2009. But, this time, I know I am going to come home. So this is my love letter to Austin.
The internet is a scary thing. It will follow you, quite literally, everywhere. In June 2009 my cousin C and I landed in Barcelona after a 15 hour journey from New York that involved a stupid brat punching the headrest of my plane seat repeatedly until I asked her to stop. More specifically, I waited until 6 hours into the trans-Atlantic flight to confront her only to have this discussion:
Me: "Hey there, I know you're playing a video game on the video screen in front of you but that video screen also happens to be on the back of my seat. Could you... not... do that?"
Her: Huh.
Me: Yeah, I know it's fun but when you play scrabble and poke the letters on the screen in front of you, your pokes get transferred through the coils into the headrest and directly into my skull so, yeah..."
Her: GRUNT.
Me: Ok. Cool. So if you could not do that, I would be, like, amazingly happy.*
*Needless to say, I don't have an actual recording of this so it may not have happened EXACTLY as I said.
ANYWAY. C and I landed in Barcelona quite turbulently (read: terrifyling) and once we landed the stupid jerk kid behind me turned to her father and said in Brooklynese "I wanna baygull." I was exhausted.
I was so exhausted that by the time we reached our hotel all I wanted to do was sleep but in the grand scheme of Europe being better than the United States, the flight was overnight and hadn't landed in Spain until the early morning so, naturally, the hotel wasn't ready for us. C and I decided to go around the corner and have coffee (and cry-literally- we cried from exhaustion and a language barrier) until the hotel would accept us.
At 3pm, full of cappuccino and exhausted from the flight and tears, we got into our hotel room. It had wi-fi which meant that I could check my email which, despite being awake for 36 hours, I did. I opened my gmail and saw immediately that the NY school I had applied to for grad school had emailed me their decision letter after having put me on the wait list for three months.
I just tried to find the email but I must have deleted it. To paraphrase, it said this:
"You're awful. We hate you. Never come to our school."
I immediately did the following: read the email, read it again to my cousin, called my mother in America at a rate of $7/second and then proceeded to hyperventilate. Actually, I proceeded to cry my self to sleep which would have been fine if C and I hadn't been in Europe and sharing a bed so with every sob I shook her awake.
The next morning I got this email from my dad which is real:
"I am so sorry to hear about their stupid decision. Someday they'll find out what they missed out on! At least you know, though, and can move on. That must feel like something of a relief. I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you'd hoped."
And he was right! I could move on! Finally. I also had this email from my aunt:
[REDACTED} stinks - there will be no more donations from me, I can tell you that. Of course, I don't think they're all that concerned about my $100. bucks, but it is the principle. I know you're disappointed. Fortunately, you are in Spain and don't have to think about it too much. I'm still rooting for Austin, because I think you will love it.
AUSTIN? Was she kidding me? NEVER.
I spent the next three weeks crying and- in general- having a bit of a nervous breakdown. I had to leave New York. I wasn't planning on leaving New York but I had to because this bullshit [redacted] university had strong me along and now I was left with nothing. I would have to move, leave my life, leave the only dream (living in New York) I ever had.
I talked about it constantly. Where should I go? At the time I applied to a bunch of universities with the intention of only really going to the one in New York, but that was gone and I had a bunch of appliances and books and dear friends I couldn't imagine living without.
In Rioja, about 10 days into our trip, my cousin and I missed the wine tour so we decided to make our own. During the day (and couple bottles of wine we consumed) she waxed poetically about Austin. "It's a tiny place in a big state," she said, mimicking the smallness of the city within Texas.
This was supposed to be a representation of Texas:
And this was Austin:
So you can only imagine the predicament I was in. All through Spain I debated, having what I now realize was somewhat of a breakdown. And for that, C, I am so sorry. But at least we ate mad churros.
A few weeks later I landed back at JFK and called UT " Thanks, but no thanks." I said.
I began packing my things. I knew where I wanted to go. I would stay on the East Coast, I would move close to my folks in DC and friends that had moved home after college. But then one I woke up in panic, "You're making a huge mistake," I thought. En route to a nearby U-Haul to pick up boxes I called UT (by the way it is illegal to talk on your cell phone in New York). "Hey, my name is Katherine and I was just wondering if it was too late to say yes to the program cause I know I said no but I think I've made a mistake." The graduate coordinator put me on hold. When she came back I was sitting in the parking lot of the Jamaica U-Haul. "Actually, no," she said. "You're paper work hasn't been processed." I paused. I wanted to cry. "Ok. I'll be there at orientation," I said.
A few days later I was on my way to Austin. I had been with my entire extended family on the Jersey Shore while we all debated where should I go. My aunt eventually drove me to the Philly airport and I hopped a non-stop (!!!) flight to Austin. I'm not sure why, but I don't remember getting off or getting to the hotel but I do remember being at Garden Inn the first night. My room overlooked I-35, one of the highways that serves as a sort of border around Austin. I remember opening my blinds and looking out on the skyline which overlooked the highway, the capital, DKR stadium and some of Austin's East Side. I remember saying to myself, "you can do this." I remember loving the art deco chair in the corner. I remember wondering what my life would be like if I was a Texan. I remember thinking "it's only 18 months and you'll go back to New York. You have to do this. It's brave."
I was brave.
And I fell in love. I fell in love with a city I wasn't meant to. I began a life I never expected. I found friends and opportunities I had only dreamed about. I began living the life that Oprah and my mom and my 13 year old self imagined I would. And so, 2 years and 85 days later, I am so grateful to the Katie that dared to say, " Because deep down, I think everyone wonders what it would be like to live in a small town in Texas where football is life." Football may not be life in Austin but it's still darn important along with music, friends and the knowledge that even a Yankee with a dream can be successful.
I'll see you in 78 days my love.
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