So here's an interesting paradox: I moved to New York for school. I moved here because I wanted to go to King's. Before I visited the school, I didn't want to live here.
And now I can't imagine living anywhere else.
The longer I'm here, the more I love the city. There is so much to do and see and explore. I haven't even been outside of Manhattan and Brooklyn yet.
I love the people here. I love the guy who jumped in on Amelia's and my conversation about the fall of Rome on the subway and talked about cities and names of things are really just labels and ideas in our heads. I love the people who perform in subway cars and on street corners. I love the girl at Target who commiserated with Kelsey and I about paying for groceries on a college budget. I love the man who worked at the theater tonight who was telling people about the theater's ghosts. I love the woman who pointed me toward the Manhattan-bound subway when I got lost in Brooklyn my second week here. I love the people at King's, of course. I love anyone and everyone who lets me pet their dog(s).
Don't let people tell you New Yorkers are rude. They're really not. There's just a different kind of courtesy here. It's not the same code of conduct as in the south or the Midwest. For the most part, it is assumed that people have their own agendas and time frames and are trying to get somewhere. They don't want to be talked to, so it's polite to not talk to them ninety-eight percent of the time. At least, that is my take on it.
I love the places here. The hole-in-the-wall pizza joints, the parks, the bookstores, the rooftops from where you can actually see the stars. I love Times Square at night, all lit up and crowded and feeling like a movie scene. I love Battery Park and looking out at the water and the ships and the Statue of Liberty. I love the Farmer's Markets that are all over the place if you know where and when to look. I love the Met. I love the designer stores that I am too poor to even look at.
I love, love the experiences that are possible here. Impulsively deciding to go to concerts and winning discounted Broadway tickets and watching late night shows get filmed. Stumbling upon street fairs. Meeting super cool people who actually live in China now. Going to book festivals and getting free books that you were going to buy anyways.
And I am sure that this "honeymoon stage" must end at some point. I will suddenly realize how many issues the subway system has, how annoying tourists are, how incredibly small and cold/hot/loud my apartment is, and how many rats are actually in the city.
But for now... For now these are just part of the charms of living here. They are the details that reassure me that I do not live in a cliche movie (although if I was in a movie, a) I would have met a tall, handsome stranger by now, and b) there would have already been at least three musical numbers and a ballad.)
And now I can't imagine living anywhere else.
The longer I'm here, the more I love the city. There is so much to do and see and explore. I haven't even been outside of Manhattan and Brooklyn yet.
I love the people here. I love the guy who jumped in on Amelia's and my conversation about the fall of Rome on the subway and talked about cities and names of things are really just labels and ideas in our heads. I love the people who perform in subway cars and on street corners. I love the girl at Target who commiserated with Kelsey and I about paying for groceries on a college budget. I love the man who worked at the theater tonight who was telling people about the theater's ghosts. I love the woman who pointed me toward the Manhattan-bound subway when I got lost in Brooklyn my second week here. I love the people at King's, of course. I love anyone and everyone who lets me pet their dog(s).
Don't let people tell you New Yorkers are rude. They're really not. There's just a different kind of courtesy here. It's not the same code of conduct as in the south or the Midwest. For the most part, it is assumed that people have their own agendas and time frames and are trying to get somewhere. They don't want to be talked to, so it's polite to not talk to them ninety-eight percent of the time. At least, that is my take on it.
I love the places here. The hole-in-the-wall pizza joints, the parks, the bookstores, the rooftops from where you can actually see the stars. I love Times Square at night, all lit up and crowded and feeling like a movie scene. I love Battery Park and looking out at the water and the ships and the Statue of Liberty. I love the Farmer's Markets that are all over the place if you know where and when to look. I love the Met. I love the designer stores that I am too poor to even look at.
And I am sure that this "honeymoon stage" must end at some point. I will suddenly realize how many issues the subway system has, how annoying tourists are, how incredibly small and cold/hot/loud my apartment is, and how many rats are actually in the city.
But for now... For now these are just part of the charms of living here. They are the details that reassure me that I do not live in a cliche movie (although if I was in a movie, a) I would have met a tall, handsome stranger by now, and b) there would have already been at least three musical numbers and a ballad.)
