My whole life, it felt like I was promised that if I got an undergraduate degree from a great university, I would get a good job and build a stable life for myself. Reality has been a lot messier.
In May 2024, I graduated from New York University with a degree in media studies and a minor in the entertainment business. Throughout college, I held multiple internships in political campaigns and magazines, was active on my school’s newspaper, networked, did well in my classes, and learned as much as I could.
NYU was my dream school for so long, and my experience turned out exactly how I thought it would. I fell in love with New York. I was living my dream life: spending late nights with my best friends, exploring the entertainment scene, discovering new restaurants and bars, and taking advantage of every park the city had to offer.
But when I couldn’t land a job after college, I had to leave my dreams behind and move back home with my parents.
I couldn’t afford New York without a full-time job
I always felt inspired and hopeful in New York, like I finally arrived somewhere that matched the energy I had always carried inside me.
I did everything I could to stay. I applied to many entry-level jobs during my last semester of college and the summer after graduation. I knew I wanted to pursue a career in journalism, so I mostly applied for entry-level reporting and copyediting jobs, as well as some marketing and social media management roles.
I was able to score some interviews, but none turned into full-time offers.
When my lease in my East Village apartment ended in July, I faced a hard truth: I couldn’t afford to stay. I also didn’t want to ask my parents for more financial help, knowing how much they had already supported me through school.
Though I have a part-time job mentoring high school seniors through their college applications, I knew it wouldn’t be enough to sustain living in New York while I tried to find a full-time job, and I had no idea how long it would take.
Moving home to California was tough, but it’s not all bad
I grew up in Santa Clarita, Calif., about 32 miles north of Los Angeles. It’s a safe, quiet suburb where the pace of life is much slower than in New York.
Coming back after living in New York was a serious whiplash. My childhood bedroom suddenly felt smaller and quieter, and the absence of my college friends made the town feel emptier than I remembered.
Courtesy of Diana Solis
There are some parts I am grateful for, though. After almost four years of seeing them only a handful of times a year, I finally get to spend more time with my parents. I also hated the harsh East Coast winters and definitely do not miss schlepping my Trader Joe’s groceries down 10 blocks and then up four flights of stairs.
The pace here is gentler, the streets are quieter, and while it’s not Manhattan, it’s given me a space to breathe and reflect in ways I couldn’t before.
Visiting New York every few months reminds me why I fell in love with the city, but living at home has also shown me that slowing down is not the same thing as standing still. I’ve been creative with my career, focusing on writing, networking, and mentoring, while appreciating the small moments I took for granted in the city.
I’m still learning a lot
I sometimes catch myself wondering, “If I did this differently, would I be living and working in New York by now?”
I have to constantly remind myself that I am only 23 and I have a lot of life to live. New York will always be there. There have been many times when I doubted my career in journalism and considered quitting, but I love writing, and I have never been the type to give up.
I am still looking for a full-time writing job in New York, but I’m learning not to let it define my entire identity.
I am such a strong believer that life happens for a reason. Maybe living in Santa Clarita again is teaching me lessons I need before I return to the city I love.
Liz Lindain is a freelance entertainment journalist based in Southern California. Connect on LinkedIn, X or Instagram.
