First of All: It wasn’t my intention to take a hiatus from blogging so quick into the game, but life has a way of doing that to ya sometimes. And boy, did I pick the wrong time to stop writing! Between the Democratic National Convention, the three-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and scare of Gustav, and the announcement that former Detroit Mayor, Kwame Kilpatrick, would be leaving office and heading to jail, among a few other happenings—I had some posts I was really looking forward to writing, and just never got the chance. The journalist in me is a stickler for timely news, but I may still post them anyway, we’ll see.
But over the past few weeks, my decision to relocate to NYC has begun to stress me out more and more with each passing day. Seriously—NYC and I are in a love/hate relationship at this point in time. Some days I remember why we fell in love…its beauty, its ambition and drive, diverse and well-traveled, not afraid of being different…Other days NYC rears its ugly head and I remember its lack of patience, unforgiving disposition, expensive taste, et cetera. To all of my native New Yorkers, please don’t take offense, I’m just talking from a NYC transplant’s perspective.
Exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time, even a year after making the biggest decision of my life to move here permanently, it’s still a huge adjustment. It’s a decision that I’m sometimes proud of, but more often than not, I beat myself up about it. Over the past two weeks or so, the weather here has been gorgeous, and today as Spanish Harlem and I were driving toward Brooklyn on the FDR alongside the water, it dawned on me how beautiful this Concrete Jungle can sometimes be. I never realized how on a nice day the mere mass of architecture that seemingly capacitates each possible inch of landscape—has an attractive quality to it.
But over the past few weeks, my decision to relocate to NYC has begun to stress me out more and more with each passing day. Seriously—NYC and I are in a love/hate relationship at this point in time. Some days I remember why we fell in love…its beauty, its ambition and drive, diverse and well-traveled, not afraid of being different…Other days NYC rears its ugly head and I remember its lack of patience, unforgiving disposition, expensive taste, et cetera. To all of my native New Yorkers, please don’t take offense, I’m just talking from a NYC transplant’s perspective.
Exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time, even a year after making the biggest decision of my life to move here permanently, it’s still a huge adjustment. It’s a decision that I’m sometimes proud of, but more often than not, I beat myself up about it. Over the past two weeks or so, the weather here has been gorgeous, and today as Spanish Harlem and I were driving toward Brooklyn on the FDR alongside the water, it dawned on me how beautiful this Concrete Jungle can sometimes be. I never realized how on a nice day the mere mass of architecture that seemingly capacitates each possible inch of landscape—has an attractive quality to it.
But then I remember that as I’m on my way to work tomorrow during the tail-end of morning rush hour, I’ll more than likely get annoyed by the folks who get on the train at 86th St. “Why in the world do you care,” you might ask, so let me explain myself. I grew up in the Midwest and attended college in Kentucky, and while I don’t consider myself as being incredibly well-traveled, I’ve also been to several of nation’s larger metropolitan areas. But Never in my life have I noticed such a blatant display of the difference in social class than I have since living here (It’s a subject that bothers me a great deal, and I’ll probably blog about a lot, so brace yourself), and for me the difference truly manifests itself through NYC’s public transportation system. It doesn’t make sense to drive in this city; and with the public transportation system being so advanced compared to other areas, many people commute by train or bus. I guess it’s a daily opportunity for people from all different walks of life to collide in a way that you won’t see in many other places.
So some mornings when I’m riding the 5, a lil stressed out about rent, food, yada yada yada, I find myself getting super irked when the train gets to 86th and in comes the folks dressed in their Corporate America best with their Blackberries and Starbucks fix with a copy of the Wall Street Journal in tow, looking as if they haven’t a care in the world (More than anything they might look a lil annoyed that the 'rest of us' who've been on the train 1/2 an hour already took all the seats HA!). Flat out pisses me off some days. I know I shouldn’t judge people this way, but how about you get on the train in the south Bronx (or even some stops in Harlem) and ride to say….Grand Central Station…and just try and tell me you won’t notice the same thing. Sometimes I feel as if I’m being taunted, as if I’m not good enough to live on the Upper East Side--or hell anywhere other than the Bronx, which is the cheapest borough. Or even though I work just as hard as someone pulling in an upwards of six figures or much more, my little salary is somehow classified as ‘low-income’—wtf? Hmmph, everyone always tells me “Well you’re young, so you’re going to struggle,” UMMMM—who wants to hear that? I’m ready for this phase in life to pass. I work hard, I deserve better, and can't wait until it comes. Until then, bear with me folks!
HARD WORK, SECOND EFFORT, DEDICATION, LOYALTY & LOVE--The only way I'll ever be proud of the days I spent in the Concrete Jungle!
