I really wanted to make this post something epic, or particularly significant. But it’s taken me a week to write and now I’m just going to smash it.

Last Friday, September 11 was my one year anniversary in New York City.

The cold hard numbers look like: 4 apartments, 12 room mates, countless friends, a job for 5 months, unemployed for 7 months, 3 trips home. Soaring highs, plummeting lows.

Am I where I thought I’d be after one year? No. And that’s the tricky part to cope with. But I’m in love with this city and I’ve put up with so much bullshit I never thought I’d get through because that’s what love does to you.

I chose this photo because I took it during my first days in the city last September, when NY was still a mystery to me, when the reality of the Financial Crisis hadn’t really hit home and I was really hopeful about all the city had to offer.

I’m a long way from that girl in September ‘08 and now I’m staring down the barrel of making it work in the next couple of months or going back to Australia for good.

I don’t know if this is a positive but I plan on giving my effort to stay so much that if I have to go home I’ll be an exhausted pile of rags. I want to be sure I gave it everything I had to make this dream work.