Almost Official Residents

Last week we were finally approved for an apartment. We move in on Saturday and not a moment too soon. This hotel is getting expensive and becoming increasingly too small. There is no luxury of having someone clean up after you because the one time we let housekeeping through here, making the bed was all there was evidence of.

Our soon-to-be home.

The bathroom wasn’t cleaned and neither were the dishes. It’s questionable if they even vacuumed. Now, we’re adults and we have been keeping the room clean, including doing a load of dishes every day. We’re just annoyed that whoever was assigned to our room didn’t do their job.

We also signed up for a PO Box so we had a mailing address things could be sent to. For $22 for six months, it was worth having a secure location to send our packages. Not that we’re expecting anything too valuable to come through the mail, but I don’t trust having things locked in an office.

We’re getting to know Northwest Raleigh fairly well. There isn’t too much to know around here since everything is on or off of two  major roads, but it’s nice to have an idea of where things are. Eventually we’ll start exploring the other parts of town.

Things are starting to come together, but there’s still a lot that needs to happen before I can sleep soundly at night. Every time Chuck feels sick I go into panic mode and wish we never moved. He won’t be able to apply for insurance until he gets his hands on his social security card, which is back home.

He’s still unemployed (he’s been here two weeks so I’m not about to start riding him about it), but we have until the end of August before things start getting really tight. Hopefully, he’ll be able to find something by the end of the summer.

This move is costing us financially and emotionally. I just hope we made the right decision.

The Hunt

When you live in a hotel with no clear plans on when you’re leaving, your life ends up in this weird limbo.

The most obvious is not having an address. Sure, we can use the address for our hotel, but without knowing how long we’re going to be here, it’s not the best choice. Another option is having my mail sent to the office. That would be great if my job wasn’t moving to another location in a couple of weeks.

Home sweet home...hopefully.

Chuck and I went hunting for a permanent address yesterday. We had a handful of properties that we planned on checking out, but in the end, we only toured three. One was out of our price range, but one month free put it below. The other two were below our budget but when you threw in all utilities and pet rent all three became the same price.

It came down to which one we liked more. There was the woodsy place with the big bedrooms, big bathrooms and big kitchens, but was more than we could afford. The place next door was so small-town I felt like I was entering a commune for a cult. The last – off a busy street – was great, but our prospective unit lacked a fireplace and outdoor space.

We went with the woodsy place and decided to put our first month’s rent in the bank to put towards the rest of the year. It was the right fit.

I wish the application process was as easy.

The problem with applying for an apartment when you’re broke is, you’re broke. With only one income right now we have to rely on our savings to help pay the bills. The property managers seemed okay with this since they were willing to take proof our savings to supplement our meager income. It hasn’t been an easy process and despite getting a “welcome letter” I’m still worried that we’ll be without a home.

Chuck spent all day looking up tutoring services and scouring North Raleigh for Help Wanted signs in windows.

All we want is a chance and a place to come home to.

Last Day

It’s my last day at work and my desk is empty of any personal effects. I packed up most of my stuff yesterday when I finished writing all of my stories an hour before I was suppose to head home. It’s kind of surreal.

The last time I quit a job I handed my supervisor a letter and told him that it would be my last day. When he asked why I told him I didn’t want to work for a company with questionable business and moral ethics. The club members present suddenly looked interested in our conversation. It was easy to leave that job. I was cleaning toilets and scraping grass off golf shoes.

It’s harder to leave now despite the gripes I have with my job (By voicing my frustration I’m aware that it could one day bite me in the ass, but as a journalist I don’t believe in censorship, self or otherwise.).

Truth be told, there’s a lot I will miss about where I live and where I work. I won’t miss sitting in the car for an hour, but I will miss the views of the bay and the ocean while I drive on Ocean Parkway. I will miss meeting great people and telling their stories. While I have plenty of freelance work lined up, I will miss telling people that I write for a living.

I will miss my coworkers mostly. They make every day bearable. They make me laugh and offer a supportive voice when I’m feeling down. There is camaraderie in our office that I think most newsrooms lack. “Cut throat” is the last term I’d ever use to describe our office. We help each other with stories, share our sources, offer advice and a critical eye. We don’t think twice to add one’s name to a byline or give credit at the bottom of a story.

I think one of the reasons why I am hesitant to work in another newsroom is because I’m not convinced that this type of environment exists media centers outside this office. I think I just want to take the memories with me and never wish, “When I was working at the Herald, we weren’t like this.”

So I am writing a public thank you to all those that I have worked with. They all mean so much to me and words can’t describe how much I will miss them.

Two Weeks Notice

It’s always awkward when you give your two weeks notice. It’s even more awkward when you go in with your boss who is also giving his two weeks notice.

I’m almost positive our boss had a slight stroke when we told him. Our departure makes 10 people in about a year to leave. After we leave, there will be three open positions, with one on the way with another reporter leaving to return to school.

My two weeks isn’t exactly so, as June 16 will be my last day at the Long Beach Herald. Two days later I will be driving down to Raleigh, N.C. where I will be working as an office manager at Four Seasons Sunrooms.

I worked at Four Seasons’ corporate office for a year during that awkward time between graduating from school and finding a job in my field. I didn’t love my job, but I had an amazing boss and amazing coworkers that made me happy. I got laid off, but remained in the good graces of my former colleagues.

The job fell in my lap.

I contacted my soon-to-be boss just to find out where the good areas of Raleigh were. Chuck and I were planning to move in August and I wanted to have an idea of where we should be looking for apartments. I jokingly told him that if they needed an assistant I could start right away. Three days later he was asking when could I start? Four days after that I was on the phone with his boss, talking salary ($2,000 less than what I’m making now, but the cost of living factor actually turns it into a raise). Two days after that I’m putting in my resignation.

While the job will be stressful, there isn’t much reason for me to work after six or on the weekends so it gives me plenty of time to freelance. With so many Heraldians now at Patch, a few said they would give me features, including my boss who is also heading to Patch.

Being an office manager isn’t my dream job and the gig will barely pay enough to pay the bills, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to work during a recession. Ultimately, I want to go back to school to teach kids how to read and write and continue being a journalist on my own time, at my own pace.

I think these days it takes a few more steps to get to where we’re going. Not too long ago, you went to college, got a degree and started a job in the field you paid to study. I’m just trying to find the balance of doing what I have to do and doing what I want.

Right now, I want to make a new life in a new place and if takes me a little longer to figure it out, I guess I’m okay with that.

Finding Our Humble Abode

The hardest part about deciding to move out of state is finding a place to hang your hat.

Sure, there’s that whole employment issue, but with the cost of living so low, a minimum wage job could pay the rent. Finding a place to rent is where the problem lies.

Chuck and I are still deciding where in North Carolina we want to move. Raleigh was at the top of our list until the school district imposed a hiring freeze. It would be the best place to find a minimum wage gig, but with no chances of even finding work as a substitute teacher, what’s the point?

The plus side of Raleigh is that I know people in the area who can tell us what areas are great and which are the ghetto. My friend Jess in Durham ended up in a nasty apartment complex and ended up calling the police on multiple occasions, three of those times was because her place was broken into.

We haven’t done much legwork for Winston-Salem, but with Chuck’s cousin living in the area and her husband being a local cop, finding a good place to live will be pretty easy. Jobs are an issue since the unemployment rate hovers around 10 percent, whereas in Raleigh and Asheville it’s a couple points lower.

Asheville was one of our favorite towns, but it’s also the one we spend the least amount of time in. We also don’t know anyone that lives in the area. While we plan to visit again in June for an extended weekend, there isn’t much we can go on when it comes to finding a safe place to call home.

Apartment listings on websites don’t exactly have an “Avoid places that will require me to have the cops on speed dial” option. Apartments may also look great on paper and then a quick search for reviews leads you to some disappointing information.

Take The Meadows for example. Sure it’s pretty and reasonably priced. A quick Google search leads me to this awesome review.

Now, most of the reviews on this site are a few years old and you can’t take everything you read on the internet as fact so where does that leave Chuck and me when we try to find a place to live?

I guess we’ll just have to wing it and hope for the best.

The Risk Takers

My former co-worker, Vicki, amazes me.

She left us last year to head down to New Orleans to bartend at a dive she used to work at in college. In the month or so she was there, she banked enough money to spend a month traveling Asia. Camera in hand, she took amazing photos and experienced amazing things. She did it again not too long ago, visiting other parts of Asia, India and the Middle East. She’s settled down and applying to grad school for photography.

My cousin’s friend, Vanessa, and her boyfriend moved to San Diego a few years ago. Itching to come back to Long Island they packed whatever they could carry in a backpack, hopped on their bicycles and are in the process of cycling cross country back to New York. Believe it or not, there’s an entire community of people that do this.

Another Vanessa I know is leaving dirty Jersey for the nicer climate of Florida. No real job prospects on the horizon, but she and her man have a date set and they’re heading south. She’s already begun selling her belongings.

My friend from college, Jenn, who has always been a free spirit, told me that she and her girlfriend just bought an SUV and plan on buying a pop-up camper. They are taking that SUV and pop-up on an extended road trip to California.

When I wondered, via Facebook, if I should pick up and move to Asheville to live in one of those mobile homes I saw for $50,000, Jenn was my biggest supporter (via Facebook. Savanna and Katie also encouraged the move via email) noting her intent to live in a camper attached to her car for an extended period of time.

Four beds, 3 baths and a fireplace on an acre of property for $50K? Not bad for "trailer" living.

I’ve always admired people who were able to leave everything behind to do something risky that made them happy. Raised by a financially conservative mother, my first question is, “How will they pay their bills?”

Ultimately, that is the question that keeps me from doing anything risky. Sure, packing my bags and moving to North Carolina would make me happy, but how will I pay my car insurance?

Or, my car payment?

Or, my student loans?

Or, my credit card bill?

Or, the rent?

People tell me that I’d figure it out. I see them make their lives work with less. I’m financially responsible enough to make sure the bills are paid, so I guess I would figure it out.

Bolstered by my friends’ courage, I’m slowly putting my fears aside and giving serious thought to banking as much money as I can, renting a truck and just figuring it out.

Even if I have to live in a trailer.

Two Years Later

Two years ago today, it was a Monday and I walked proudly into the Herald offices. It was my first day at my first real job in journalism. This was everything that I had worked so hard for. Almost two years after graduation I was finally stepping foot into my career.

Despite the ranting, raving, complaining and crying I do on a regular basis, my job has been good to me. I write at least 12 articles a month and contribute to many more that don’t include a byline. In two years, my writing has come a long way and I think I’m pretty damn good. My editor and copyeditor make me look pretty awesome so thanks are in order for them.

Not a fan of Justin Bieber, but it was pretty cool to interview the hottest teen idol in the world right now.

My job does provide me with a paycheck that does pay the bills and allows me to put a little away for a future away from Long Island. In today’s economy and in this industry, it is nice to feel some job security. Yesterday, though, was a hard day to see the bright side of this place.

It started with sitting in 45 minutes of traffic to move five miles. Sure, there was a massive accident, but it didn’t help my sanity as I inched along the Sunrise Highway service road. Two years of traffic is starting to take its toll on my mental stability. I considered pulling over just to have a good cry.

I had two stories to write, only one of which I was mildly interested in. But, after writing a story about an animal control officer getting arrested for animal cruelty, I had to force myself to get through my lame story on beach erosion. With 99 percent of my stories being on topics that I don’t have any interest in, it’s getting harder and harder to push myself to write a good story. I always do though, since my name and reputation are literally on the (by)line.

I found it extra hard to push through because earlier in the day my good friend from college informed me that she and her boyfriend are taking their savings and picking up and moving down to Florida. Without a job lined up, like Tommy and Gina they’re going down with a prayer and a dream. “Should we just do that?” I asked myself. “Should we just go?”

A tweet from my friend Lauren answered my thoughts. She sent me a link to this Wall Street Journal article: The Next Best Career Move: Actually Moving

Wow. Thanks, WSJ.

The rest of the day was spent pondering if Chuck and I should pack our bags and hightail it out of New York. The WSJ article confirmed my beliefs that we would be better off if we moved down south with our savings and a dream. Easier said than done when you have minimal savings and every other article you read is about North Carolina’s 11 percent unemployment rate.

The mountain town of Asheville is the next area to be bombarded with resumes from Chuck and me.

Another blow was reading about the hiring freeze in the Wake County School District. This was great news after spending an hour printing out cover letters to accompany the 12 resumes that Chuck was planning on sending to various schools in the district.

So, what do we do?

Stick to our original plan on having a loose deadline of January 2011 to move?

Or, push up our deadline to August, save as much money as we can and just go?

Or, give up and take my mom’s offer of renovating the upstairs living room into an apartment?

I think some serious conversations need to be had between Chuck and me. The game is changing and we might have to change our strategy.

Doing Everything Right

Last weekend Chuck and I drove 24 hours just to spend double that in North Carolina. The purpose of this trip was so that Chuck could attend a career fair for the Wake County Public School System.

While we were disappointed that there were no schools taking resumes, the district held an informational presentation on the lateral entry process. The lateral entry process allows those who want to teach, but do not have an education degree, begin teaching while they work towards their permanent certificate.

To compare, in New York, one must have a BA in education, or at least a minor in education, before they can apply to work at a school. Those without education, like Chuck, must go through a master’s program before beginning his career as a teacher. That means more time and more money. Time he has, but money he doesn’t.

Anyway, we walked out of the presentation feeling incredibly informed and less confused. We spoke to a couple of representatives from Wake County Technical Community College and when we told them we drove down just for the fair, they were shocked and impressed.

It seems as though Chuck and I are doing all the right things to move. We’re visiting the area, speaking with residents, applying for jobs, attending job fairs and even reading the local news.

I’ve been applying for almost anything I feel that I am qualified for. Unfortunately, there isn’t much for someone who is above entry level but below management. I got my first official rejection email while I was in Raleigh. This week it’s back to the drawing board.

Truth be told, it would probably be easier to find a job if we were already down in North Carolina. Our problem is having to pay all those pesky bills each month. Well, my pesky bills. With his student loans deferred, Chuck is doing pretty well. Because so much money goes out to pay off my debt, there isn’t much left to put in the bank. Our savings are meager and not nearly enough to keep us going for a few months before finding work.

It’s mid-March and we’re hoping that all the work we’ve been doing pays off at some point. It’s still too early to get discouraged so I’m just trying to stay positive. Numerous people, actually in education and not just a few news-reading idiots, have told us that science and math is in high demand in most NC districts. This gave Chuck and me some hope that his resume, which includes teaching experience, awards and published research, is appealing to at least one high school down there.

As for me, I’ll just keep sending out resumes, hoping that someone likes what they see and offers me a job.

No…well, some…regrets

I generally live my life with no regrets. I know that all the mistakes I’ve made and paths I’ve chosen helped me become the person I am today; A person that, inside, I’m generally pretty happy with. But, I am lying when I say I have no regrets, because I do.

My first regret is taking my high school figure for granted and not doing all that I could to stay as trim as I was (Ehh, maybe plus a few pounds, I was pretty frail). I was given a second chance when I was 10 pounds away from my goal weight after graduating Manhattanville. Instead of hitting the gym, I hit McDonalds and have been watching my waistband slowly increase since. Sounds pretty vain, but in the end, I’m unhappy with the way I look, I’m self-conscious and instead of having 10 extra pounds to lose I have….much more.

My next regret was only taking my mother’s financial advice half to heart. My mother used her powers of Italian Catholic guilt to make me feel bad about using my credit card without the means to pay the balance in full when the bill came due. Too bad for Capital One, since they didn’t make a dime of interest off me until two years ago.

That’s not to say that I didn’t spend my money. I did. I really couldn’t tell you what it was on either. I didn’t party in college so I didn’t really drink it away and I’m not much of a shopaholic so my closet wasn’t exactly overflowing. I made a few, and paid for, a few trips to and from Virginia when I was in a long distance relationship, but one year of flying SouthWest doesn’t account for the thousands of dollars I can’t account for.

Despite talk of saving money for a new car all through college, I never actually did and when my Escort died I had to borrow money from my parents for the down payment. I never really made that much, but I should have been able to put away a decent amount of my paycheck.

Sorry, I’m getting to my point.

Now I’m here at 27 years old, itching to head out of state, but my modest savings isn’t enough to make the trip without being employed. I ignored my mother all those times she talked about my IRA and how I could use it to buy a house one day and now that times are ripe to purchase a new home, I’m pretty short the required amount to actually use that investment.

Sure, hindsight is 20/20 and had I known I’d be in the this position 10 years ago I would have thought twice about making all those purchases I can’t remember. Maybe I needed to be irresponsible to learn the value of being responsible, but had I just been responsible in the first place, I’d be writing this blog from an apartment in North Carolina.

Cute Hockey Boy

Two years ago at this time I was Brunos, a bar in Lake Ronkonkoma, sitting next to this amazing guy, Cute Hockey Boy, talking about something. I can’t remember what because the conversation glided easily from one topic to another. We had just finished watching the Islanders lose to the Flyers and the bar was starting to fill with its Saturday night regulars. When it finally got too loud to hear each other speak we hopped in the car and drove to Starbucks and finished our conversation over coffee until we were sent away by a weary barista. We returned to the Applebees parking lot where I had left my car and I returned home giddy as a schoolgirl nearly seven hours after my date had started.

My love affair with goalies came true when I met this goalie in 2008.

In the present day that amazing guy is still in my life and the Islanders are still losing (6-4 Penguins…ugh). Chuck and I have been through a lot since that first date: weddings, funerals, hiring, firings, weight loss, weight gain and more trips to the emergency room than I care to count.

I knew early on that Chuck was the person that I wanted to strap a ball and chain to and keep around for the rest of my life. I’m glad he feels the same way about me, because otherwise this would be one awkward blog.

We’ve been ready to take the next step in our relationship for a while now and unfortunately the thing keeping us from doing that isn’t a fear of commitment, but an inability to pay the rent. If I had to choose between the two, I would take the fear of commitment over high cost of living.

We decided to relive our first date today by heading to Applebees for dinner. Everything was great until the end of dinner when Chuck’s stomach began acting up. We had end the night early because he forgot his medicine at home. “I wish we lived together,” he said as he drove me back to my house.

While we have come down with our fair share of misfortune in terms of school and employment, the simple act of starting your life together should not be hindered by an extreme cost of living. Why should my life be delayed because salaries are low and taxes are high? Why is rent for the same exact apartment two hours north $200 more expensive?

Next year we won’t be celebrating the third anniversary of our first date at the Patchogue Applebees. We’ll be in our own place in a city hundreds of miles away.