Apparently the most difficult part of blogging is coming up with title

I was having a conversation with a friend about blogs and she told me that the only blogs she ever reads are the cute married/mommy blogs or train wreck blogs--you know the ones where they're sharing so much embarrassing personal information that it makes you cringe, but you just can't look away. I'm hoping that my blog will help her diversify her reading materials because I'm neither married nor pregnant and I'm not going to be sharing my deepest, darkest secrets (they're not that exciting anyway.) You'll just have to settle for things I've done or learned and the occasional funny story.

So apparently I'm a shoe thief. The other day I put on a pair of my black flats and one of them felt really stretched out compared to the other. I was pretty impressed that I stretched out only one of my shoes, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it, so I eventually forgot about it. A couple days later I was cleaning my room/organizing my shoes when I picked up the same black flats--this was confusing because I thought I had just put that pair very nicely in the back corner of my closet. I'd thought right. Turns out I have two pairs of the same exact shoes, plus or minus a half size. To assuage the guilt that I somehow stole someone's really cute shoes I've started telling myself that my closet just must be shoe baby-making central.

Also, am I back in high school? A couple days ago I was driving home from Salt Lake when a car pulled up beside me and stayed there for the entire on-ramp. I may have a mild (ok severe) case of road rage, and this just bothers me, if you're going to pass, man up and do it. The two lanes eventually merged so I had to pull in front of him. He continues to follow me as I change lanes and it was pretty obvious that he'd never mastered the two-second rule in driver's ed. At this point I'm ticked, I hate when people ride my ass, especially when I'm in the fast lane going 80 and I couldn't merge right if I wanted to. After a couple minutes of this he gets into the HOV lanes and pulls up right beside me and stays there. My road rage almost rears it's ugly head when I turn to ask him what the hell is wrong with him. Luckily I only got the "what" out because he proceeded to tell me that I was hot and that he wanted my number. I did my best to mouth thanks but sorry, I can't handle your driving even when I'm paying attention to the road, I am not going to try to multi-task. (Don't worry, I mouthed it more nicely than that) The whole thing reminded me of going down the St. George with Steph and Lauren and cruising around specifically just to get people's number. I would always freeze and stare straight ahead when we pulled next a car full of hot boys. Lauren and Steph on the other hand had it down to an art. Apparently I'm not any better at it now than I was then. After this he did start driving like a sane person, with appropriate spaces in between cars and everything. I almost feel guilty for not giving him my number so I could say sorry I have a boyfriend and I'm moving across the country in less than a month but thanks for the ego-boost. Oh and don't worry folks, I was pretty immediately knocked back down to size. That same day I was wandering in Target waiting for my prescriptions to be filled when a man walks up to me and asks me if I know where the nursing bras are. Um...what the? Now instead of feeling super hot I'm left wondering what about me would make a complete stranger think I know that answer to that.

Concrete Jungles Where Dreams Are Made Of

I've been meaning to start a blog for a little while--I feel like it's a pretty decent way to avoid doing the things that I actually need to be doing, while feeling a little more productive than staring at the same Facebook photo albums for the last hour. Plus, I'm planning on having insane adventures in New York that I will want to share with everyone.

So there it is, the main reason I'm doing this. I'm moving to New York City, in less than a month, for an entire year, and it's going to be an adventure. I somehow doubt I've missed telling anyone because I've been talking about it every chance I've got for the last 8 months, but if you haven't heard I'm doing my dietetic internship at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital in the Big Apple. It's an unpaid internship, I'll be working at the nation's largest not-for-profit, non-sectarian hospital doing rotations in endocrinology, oncology, end stage renal disease, peds, obstetrics, and much much more. I'm staying in housing provided by the hospital. It's 8x11 room, (did you know that is a common size for area rugs? yup, I'm going to living and fitting all my stuff on an area rug) sharing a bathroom with who knows how many people right by the east river.

At this point it all seems a little overwhelming. I was born in a town with 800 people, went to a high school that had 600 students, moved to a city with a population of 118,500, went to a university with 30,000 students, and I'm now moving to an island with 18,976,500 people. I'm not great with math, but I know that a lot more people than I'm used to. I may be a little out of my league. Would you judge me if I told you that I've been watching Gossip Girl just because it's set in New York? (Ok that a lie, I was watching it before then, it's a guilty pleasure; everyone has them) I have religiously been reading the guide book that my wonderful brother and sister-in-law bought me for Christmas. Did you know that no one in New York calls the subway lines the "blue" or "orange" lines--it's the A-C-E and the 1-2-3, and that most New Yorkers think that Times Square is the most commercialized, overrated place ever? I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm probably going to look like a tourist for most of the year I'm there. I do however plan on becoming a street-savvy New Yorker eventually.

So this next month is going to busy, a lot of ending the old and starting the new. I'm sad that so many things that are really important to me are in the "old" category. Even though I'm sure most of you have probably heard me complain about it once or twice, I'm going to miss Provo. I'm freaked out about leaving my friends and family. (It's only a year right? People please keep on reminding me this isn't forever, I'm not losing anyone, they're still there, just a little farther away than I'm used to.) Again, I'm sure you've all heard me complain about it, but I'll miss my job and all the amazing girls that I've had the chance to meet there (and the fact that they feed me every time I work--I think I've forgotten how to cook).

I guess it's coming, whether I'm ready or not, so here's to the new...New York that is.