Year One

365 days ago, my life changed.



Yeah, I know. That sounds really melodramatic. But, it's true. Exactly one year ago, September 28th, I packed up my boxy, red Volvo and, with two friends in the backseat, drove the 2 and a half hours from West Hartford, Connecticut to New York City. I knew when I was doing it that it would me a major and permanent life change, and I knew I would never actively seek out Connecticut as a "place to live" again. Living in Hartford taught me a lot about myself, but living in New York is making me reexamine myself. I want to be the best I can possibly be, whereas in Hartford I was coasting along and expecting any self-realization to come easy and quickly. As a fellow 20-something, it's tough to know the difference between the two, but, in the past 12 months, I think I've figured it out (to some extent at least).


So, here's what I've learned, what I've observed, and what I still need to work on. Hopefully you'll either, laugh, cry, nod in agreement, or scream, "WOW! Thank you for saying that! I totally agree!"


The Dream:

According to those who know me the best (parents, brother, best friends), I was never a "country girl," despite growing up in the southeast. I rejected a lot of aspects about living in North Carolina, mainly because the roots my family had in the New York area were just ... better. Thrilling. Exciting. Sexy. Always changing and never stagnant. One time, when I was in high school, I was trying to get to a cast party held at our theater teacher's house. She lived in Lewisville, North Carolina, the middle of nowhere, off of a long country road that wasn't really labeled too well. I had the directions in my hand (this was before GPS, iPhones, Google, etc), and was listening to my favorite Jamiroquai CD when I got abysmally lost. Like, not just "took a wrong turn" - I ended up in a different county. Once I saw that "Welcome to Davie County" sign, I called the house.



"Hey Joy!" One of my friends/fellow cast members answered.


"Hey, so I'm lost. I can't find the friggin' street sign! There are no streetlights! I think I ended up in Davie County...."


A pause.



"Umm...hold on. Here's Mrs. Lawson." As the phone changed hands, I heard my friend (let's call her "Lorey," because she was, in fact, Lorey in the show) say, "Joy got lost guys! She says she can't find the street sign!"


Another girl (we'll call her, Dancer 1) then says, "Joy can't do country roads I guess!"



Then "Lorey" says, "actually, Joy can't do country anything!"


I heard this story retold when I finally got there. I laughed pretty hard, then nodded in agreement.


The Reality:

It took me until September 28, 2008 to make the "dream" a "reality." I put that in quotes because there were times where moving to New York wasn't my Ultimate Dream. For instance, when I lived in New York for three months in 2005, I hated it. I had little to no friends in town, and (rightfully so) missed Joe, who was doing an internship in Boston that summer. But, then again, I was only there for three months, and I never anticipated having to "work" at it. Because, let's face it, if you have a goal, why would you need to work to make it right? Doesn't it just happen automatically? Well, in my world, I thought so, but after graduating and living in a fairly marginal city for two years, all those old feelings I had ever since I was 4 started to creep up again.


I had a feeling I really bored people around that time. It was all I was talking about for at least three months. I would lament about my current situation to anyone that would listen, over the phone, gchat, or any other means of communication. I would often begin sentences with, "when I move to New York, I'm going to shop at one of those specialty grocery stores instead of a big supermarket, and the clerk is going to know me on a first name basis and we're going to have this great relationship where he says, 'hey Joy! The usual this morning?' then I would say, 'Yeah Vinnie! Add some proscuitto to that, too!'"


As I look back on this time in my life, I am realizing two really important things: One, I am extremely impatient. That is, more than likely, a product of my chosen field and my bona fide, 20-something, short attention span. Secondly, for whatever the reason, I have this tendency to build up walls and control everything around me. In other words, I am a hopeless perfectionist. So whenever I would have romantic thoughts about my life and about living in New York, I knew I would have to will them to come true. Yes, I, Joy Piazza, am tempting fate, God and destiny by HAVING REALLY LARGE CAJONES AND DOING IT MYSELF! HA!


Oops. Someone forgot to tell me about how messy things can be.


I wasn't expecting the dissolve of contact from some people I left behind. I didn't bank on the feelings of "now what?" I was suddenly confronting after I sold that red Volvo. And I certainly didn't expect the loneliness.


Because perfectionists don't get lonely, right?


It's tough when you are forced to look at youself in the mirror and accept who you are. I never got a chance to do that before, because there was always a part of me attached to someone, or something, or some "dream" I needed to attain.


And in a loud, annoying, crowded city of eight million people, I think I'm getting a little closer. Whatever is waiting out there for me - whether it's an Executive Producer job, a brownstone on the Upper East Side, or a split level in Great Neck, I think I'll be ready. It might take me a while, and I might have to be (gasp!) patient...but when my "destiny" comes along, I think I'll know it. Do I have things to work on? Sure. I'm in my 20s. What the hell do I know?


But, then again, the best anyone can do is to take a deep breath, pack up the car, and drive.