Posts tagged life
on new york
[photo credit: the blue hour]
After one official month of residency, some observations:
- You’ll start to appreciate life’s tiny victories, such as riding the subway without spilling coffee on yourself and finally learning the difference between “Avenues” and “Streets.”
- You’ll see beauty everywhere - in people, places and shiny things - but that means your eyes work a bit harder to notice details that you might otherwise have missed or ignored. This adjustment in sight is invaluable.
- You’ll make the naive mistake of believing that you can orchestrate a quick trip to Trader Joe’s. Hahahaha. You’ll be wrong.
- You’ll make many concessions on living spaces in return for a prime location that’s in walking distance to a park, a gay bar and/or a Korean taco restaurant.
- You’ll meet many people, and some of them will even be fun and cool, but you’ll spend most of your time with your nearby 24-hour deli.
- You’ll stuff your face with $2.50 falafel from that place in the East Village at 4 a.m., but your stomach will shame you five hours later.
- You’ll learn about “donation based” yoga that doesn’t limit the number of people who can practice in one room. Related: You’ll become more tolerant of random feet in your face.
- You’ll realize that now that you’re here, you can’t live anywhere else. Seriously. New York City has ruined you for other men.
the young and the restless
I can’t say that I’m not scared.
The truth is, I’ve invested a lot of time and money and energy in this town. The very idea of starting over somewhere new is terrifying. I have friends here. I like my neighborhood. I have a favorite bar, coffeeshop, and brunch spot. Did I mention there’s some great yoga? What’s equally terrifying is the thought of moving back in with my well-meaning, but far-too-different-than-me parents. Would they even take me back? We get along just fine … when there’s some distance between us. When we’re under the same roof, our patience wears a little thinner and our voices get a little louder.
Yet I remain somewhat excited / hopeful / optimistic. Maybe it’s because I know I’ll probably be okay no matter what happens. I just wish that in my lexicon “okay” meant something a little more comforting than “not homeless.”
Hi September. Let’s do this.