Support Circle

The hardest part about moving away is losing your support system.

By moving away, I’ve lost the financial and emotional support from my family. When I need shampoo, I can’t just write it on my mom’s grocery list. Or if I’m too tired to cook, she won’t be there to make me a bowl of chicken soup.

I’ve lost the emotional support from my friends that come with seeing them periodically for coffee or a shopping trip. I spend most of my day alone even when I’m at work.

The hardest part about losing that support system was becoming Chuck’s sole caretaker. While in New York, when Chuck became ill, his parents would bring him to the hospital and get him settled while I made the drive home from work. If I was on deadline, I finished whatever I had to do before making the 45-minute journey to join him in the emergency room.

Now, when Chuck is sick he relies on me to make sure he has a bucket, hand towel and his medical records before getting him to the car and off to the hospital. This forces me to leave work early or come in late, a practice that I knew many prospective employers would not be happy about. Trying to explain the severity of Chuck’s condition will undoubtedly fall on deaf ears as I am being paid to do a job, regardless if I am clocked in for those hours.

We knew that this would be the hardest part about moving and during one bout of episodes I had wondered if we made the right decision moving away so far from home. We weren’t given too many options, but was our move worth it?

We decided that it was, no matter hard hard it is.

Becoming Mom

I didn’t realize how quickly a girl becomes her mother after she moves into her own place with her future husband.

Most of my actions are the result of having very limited funds, which my mother also had growing up. My parents were so money conscious that they are now able to help their children out when it matters, i.e. paying for the moving truck down to North Carolina.

For me, I’m living on one income and a quickly diminishing savings account.

I couldn't stand my mom's anger toward rotten roast beef until I had to start paying for it, and everything else, myself.

I find myself staring angrily at the light by my front door. For some reason it’s always on. It never was that way, but now it is and I can’t figure out how to turn it off. The switch by the door that I thought controls it no longer does. I stare at it angrily because I know that’s electricity I’m paying for. Not to mention a small blemish on the environment.

The lights that I can turn off, I do when I leave the room. Once again, more so because that’s another few notches on the electric bill than giving Mother Earth another swift kick. If I had a dollar for every time my mother harped on my habit of leaving the fan in my room on after I left for the day, I’d have enough to buy a beach house. Now, I spend a lot of time in the dark.

I also find myself silently, or not so silently, repeating slight variations of phrases  my mother uttered to me.

“Well, no one is eating the roast beef so I didn’t buy it.”

“The screens for the porch were how much?!”

“I bought you bananas. Please eat them before they go bad.”

“You still didn’t eat the bananas.”

I tried to save some money and bought my cold cuts at Walmart this week. I was saving about $3 a pound so it was worth a shot. My first sandwich proved that sometimes you get what you pay for. I decided that next time I’ll buy all the rest of my groceries at Walmart, but I’ll pay the extra money for Boars Head. Of course, I spent the money so I’m going to continue eating these terrible deli meats, right?

After one more half eaten sandwich, I went home and threw the ham (which was suppose to be Virginia, but the guy behind the counter gave me something else and charged me for Virginia. A rant that I’ll save for another blog) and the poor excuse for cracked pepper turkey in the trash. It just wasn’t worth it. Either way, it was going to end up in the garbage.

While my mother’s constant nagging about spoiled roast beef often annoying the ever living life out of me, I understand now why she was so angry. That was $10 I just threw in the garbage.

My parents were being frugal because they knew it would help them when they needed it. I’m reaping the benefits of that fiscal responsibility, something that I will be forever grateful for.

I’m being frugal because we can’t afford to live any other way. Either way, when the cash needs to go someplace important, the last place it should be going is the garbage.

Success

Well, we did it.

Last week Chuck and I moved into our first place. It was a success and a debacle in so many ways. Despite having enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment, the phsyical move wasn’t that bad. It was a lot of stuff but the dresser, couches and piano were the hardest and heaviest thing to move.

Somehow, I got out of moving the dresser and the couches. I’m assuming it’s because I’m out of shape.

Getting used couches from our friends saved us a whole buttload of money. Plus, it doesn't matter when the cats destroy them.

The apartment is coming together quite nicely.  The couches are in place as is my dining set and bedroom set. We had finally gotten rid of most of the garbage until I started opening up boxes of  cookware and now we’re back to messy. With a free weekend ahead of us, hopefully we can get everything where it needs to be.

Unlike some of my friends, Chuck and I had enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment. Between friends and family, we accumulated a good portion of everything we would need to get this place together. Right now, the only new thing we own is the bedroom set and that’s only because my mom wanted to keep the set I had at home.

Much of the kitchen could have previously been found in my Nana’s Glendale apartment. Her dining room table and chairs are now in my dining “room” and her dishes , cookware, glasses and flatware are in the cabinets and drawers. Her end tables and lamps now furnish my living room.

Also in the living room are the couches from my friend Tommy and Lisa who were going to put them on the curb about two years ago. They sat in my garage until now. Tommy’s cat tore them up pretty badly prior to getting declawed, but considering I have my own cat that likes to use the couch as his personal scratching post, I don’t feel too bad about it. For as old as they are, they sure are comfy.

Sabrina and Pete gave us a set of pots and pans that were left behind from some previous roommates. I thought they were gently used. Turned out the box was still closed. Randomly, I’ll find something that my parents decided they could do without and ended up here in Raleigh, like a couple of pasta bowls. The rest is ours from Chuck previous apartment or my days in college.

Our apartment, and this stuff inside, my not be new, sparkly and clean, but it’s ours.

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.

Week One

I’ve been in Raleigh for a full week and I’m sort of starting to feel like I’m a resident instead of just a visitor. What I do feel is calmer despite having to deal with some pretty stressful situations.

Take my commute, for instance. My hotel is five miles from the office. It takes me 15 minutes to get there, but not because of traffic. The main road I travel, while busy, has a decent amount of lights. Also, being that I drive a red car with out of state plates, I’m not about to be booking it at 70 miles per hour.

When there is traffic, it is because of build-up at a red light and not because of congestion. As soon as that light turns red, it’s off we go. Glenwood Avenue, or route 70, where my office is located is a hybrid of route 347 and Sunrise Highway. Like 347 it has lights that are spaced out a few miles. Like Sunrise Highway, once you get past I-540 it becomes a real highway with exits.

The lack of traffic ultimately makes me feel more at ease.

What also makes life easier, are the type of people here in the South. All around, the people are much nicer. For example, yesterday I had to call a woman to tell her we needed to push back her window installation. The woman did acknowledge that she was frustrated no one told her until the morning of the original appointment (in my defense, I found out 10 minutes before I called her and I’m sure my boss found out 10 minutes before that). While slightly annoyed, this woman understood that the installers are working in 100-degree heat and are doing the best they can under some tough working conditions. The same call in New York would have resulted in some yelling, cursing and an angry request to speak to my supervisor.

Working with more understanding people makes dealing with problems a little easier. I’m bound to have a few arguments and a few crazies. One guy wouldn’t tell me his name but wanted me to pass on the message how irritated he was that no one was retuning his calls. In the grand scheme of crazy, he was nothing.

Sure, life is still hard.

We’re living in a hotel that is costing us two months rent.

We don’t have an address to attach to any paperwork.

We barely have enough money to be approved for an apartment.

Chuck doesn’t have health insurance.

Chuck doesn’t have a job.

But, for some reason, life seems better.

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.

Holy Life Changes, Batman

I was just beginning to mentally process that I had quit my job and was taking another in a city and state 500 miles away when Chuck reached across a table at Trish’s Café in Babylon Village with a diamond ring.

I knew this moment was coming at some point. Hell, being the girl that I am every time Chuck and I did something together I was silently hoping for it. Realistically, I didn’t expect us to get engaged until after the move. It was too much for my brain to process.

I went from being 27 and feeling like a teenager to being 27 and feeling like an adult. It was a little overwhelming, but the happiness that I felt was beyond words.

Sorry, no actual engagement pictures. You'll have to deal with this one.

I knew that this was a step in our relationship that would have never come had we not decided to move down to Raleigh. You can’t get engaged and plan a wedding when you don’t have the funds necessary to move out of your parents’ house. Sure, plenty of couples live in their parents’ basement or attic apartments for a few years to save some money, but that’s not really an option for us.

Converting part of my house into an apartment would cost the equivalent of two years rent for an apartment in North Carolina and Chuck’s basement looks like it could be featured on an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive. That’s not to mention the tax jump that would happen if our parents made these hypothetical apartments legal.

Moving wasn’t something we wanted to do, but something we had to do if we ever wanted to tie the knot. All the people that aren’t my parents or Chuck’s parents that know about our move believe it’s a great idea. Most of the older people I talk to tell me that after they retire they’re heading off the Island too.

It breaks my heart that I have to do this. Now, I have to plan a Long Island wedding from 500 miles away. Dress shopping, hall viewing and vendor meeting will all be done on rushed weekends before I hop on a flight back to Raleigh.

All this because Long Island is just too expensive.

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.

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.