Five years ago, as I emptied my bedroom at Countryside Apartments in Gainesville, leaving behind a shoddily painted magenta wall and an equally distasteful pastel pink one, my roommate at the time, also a journalism student at the University of Florida, said she’d really miss us being roommates and hoped that we’d be roommates again sometime in the near future. She was graduating and would be joining the New York Film Academy to study documentary production, while I was graduating and would be completing a newspaper internship in India and look for full-time employment afterwards.
How cool would it be, she said, if we were both reporting and producing news side by side in NYC one day and living it up in the city?
At the time, I thought it was a sweet thing for her to say, but I didn’t take it seriously because I wasn’t pursuing opportunities in New York City. Like I’ve said, I just never saw myself living and working anywhere near the Big Apple.
Now, five years later, I’m sitting here writing this blog post from a house in Queens, where I live with four others including … Juhi Desai, my awesome roommate from my days as a Florida Gator.
Except this time we’re housemates.
It’s just one of the many ways that life ties a pretty little bow around the things you’d never expect it to gift to you.