After many earlier complaints about the lack of a permanent bed, I’ve finally been whole-heartedly looking at apartments to rent.
Now on the cusp of actually signing a lease, I’m having a minor panic attack. A lease is a commitment I haven’t made since, oh, about August 2003. Seriously. My LA roomies and I all signed one when we moved into our C by the Sea apartment. After the first year, however, no new lease was needed and everything was month-to-month.
So, the prospect of committing myself to a room for a year or more is a little frightening. My normal commitment phobia (the last time I realized I was in a relationship, I had nightmares for weeks) has only been compounded by the lack of commitments I had to make over the past year. During my travels, everything was wonderfully temporary. My inability to say where I’d be, who I’d be spending time with, or where I’d be earning money from was not only accepted by those I came across, but kind of celebrated. People were actually jealous of my lack of commitments.
But not here.
Everyone wants a commitment from me. They want proof that I’m here to stay.
And here I am debating on how committed I am. Are my travels really over? Am I here in NY for good? Can I live with someone I just met for the next year? I’ve got about 12 hours to really decide.
I think this is the closest I’ve come to a bit of a breakdown since I got back.
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