At 22 years old, recently graduated from college...I had a choice to make. Follow my fiercest, wildest dreams and move to New York City. Or choose love.

I chose New York. And me. I chose me.

And love came chasing after me all the way to New York from Houston. One thousand, seven hundred and ninety-three miles to be exact.

The Texan arrived in New York the same way I did. With a few suitcases. A smile. And a promise.

Riding a crowded B train into work this morning, I couldn't help but notice all the different New Yorkers around me. Everyone was minding their own business; either reading or listening to their ipods. Strangely, I felt a kinship with them. And thought, in what other city will I ever have the experience of riding alongside strangers in a subway, being exposed to the whole diverse lot of them, and feeling that we are all somehow connected? If I was any where else in the world, I'd perhaps be tailgating some lunatic, with pure road-rage and trying to beat morning traffic...

It's true. One of the main reasons I moved to New York is because I hate driving.

my love-hate relationship with New York continues...