New York, I Like You - Part One

First of all, when I began writing this story, I did a quick Google image search for cool pictures of New York to pepper this post with. Because I know it's more fun to read blogs with photos. It provides a nice mental break from my ramblings. But I found so many breath-taking images! After much deliberation, I picked this one. Mostly because it's striking, but it's also the most Batman or Blade Runner-esque, which is a great qualifier.

Hopefully, it will trick you into thinking my life is much more badass than it is.

As with every great coming-of-age story, when I turned 18, I packed my bags with dreams and clean socks and moved to New York.
The hitch is that it was upstate New York. And for college.
A slightly less romantic vision than turning up at Port Authority with $25 and all my possessions in a small tattered suitcase. But probably one that has allowed me a much healthier relationship with this state.

At first, when I was looking at colleges with my mother, I didn't like upstate. "It's boring!" cried my faux inner-rebel. "I want dirt and danger. Bright lights and sparkly things." I'm guessing until around age 25 or so, everyone has the mentality of a squirrel and is attracted to shiny things (big cities/sunlight) and danger (big cities/running in front of cars). So 18 year old me scoffed at the quaint and quiet college town. But I went there anyway. Why? Because the Huge City University I also got into wasn't as impressive. It was obvious that no one there really wanted to know me. They wanted me to pay, get processed, and get the eff out. So I journeyed to the epically gorgeous Adirondacks, to what I now affectionately call "hippie college."

Hippie college was exactly what I needed. Coming from "Uptight Competitive Religious Republican Highschool" this complete 180 of scene and type was the perfect counterbalance in helping to shape me into the relatively well-rounded person who is typing this. It's like, I'm an uber-liberal, Obama super-fan, who also secretly yearns for an expensive house on the ocean. I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way. But spending several years running wild in the cold and beautiful woods of upstate New York was pretty perfect. I found my best friend. I did some seriously fulfilling artistic work. I fell in and out of love. The small town that I had haughtily dismissed as boring became more of a safe haven. Even now, years after graduating, when I return the feeling of safety and comfort envelopes me. That, and I eat everything that's not nailed to the floor. The town is FILLED with amazing restaurants, gelaterias and coffee shops. On a recent stop-through, I managed to knock down multiple sandwiches, some pomme frites, a box of cheese crackers, life changing orange chocolate gelato, and half a dozen bagels which are sitting in my freezer like that golden idol Indiana Jones wanted to steal.

Finally, upon finishing school, I made my way down, at last, to the asphalt jungle. I got an apartment (1st apartment - right under the bridge, next to the strip club, and with a major gas leak that got me pretty sick.....aces!) and began to seek out work. I was COMPLETELY overwhelmed. I loved the city. But it was expensive. And hectic. And lonely. So I jumped on a job offer that came through shortly after, which took me out of the city and travelling for a year (more on that soon). By the time I returned nearly 2 years later, I was much more prepared for another go-round. This time I would make New York City love me back.

And it worked. For some reason, 23 is a much better age to get here, at least it was for me. I got a better apartment, this time with a good friend. We lived squashed together, railroad style in a great neighborhood for 2 amazing years. Every holiday was decorated for, notes of love and encouragement were left, and even bizarre plumbing incidents (our landlord was convinced we were flushing tree branches down the toilet...seriously) could not quash our joy. Boys and jobs come and go, but if you have a great friend to come home to, there's pretty much nothing that can't be dealt with.

Even though I had a small circle of close friends, I wanted to try new things, meet new people. This was SUCH an important thing to do. Honestly. It doesn't make your college friends less important, but establishing a new social circle is a great way of marking your life transition. I called it "grown up friend project." I decided to take an improv class (because I'm funny, damnit!) and met the woman who has become one of the dearest friends of my life, M.

M and I were, as she put it, an instant meeting of souls. We bonded during and after class, over fries and beer, on the various topics of life, including how much we loved New York. We were both so in love with the city, and because we lived in different parts of town, had fun showing each other what our hoods were like. One night, as we walked to the subway following our regular viewing of Harold night at UCB, I was talking, yammering on about something (probably boys) when M suddenly screamed "EWWWW!" grabbed my hand, and we took off running! Fortunately my "flight" instinct is a strong one and we zipped into the Chelsea night, her screams dissolving into laughs, and me just yelling "What is happening?!" When we finally stopped, she said that while I had been talking, some crazy man had exposed himself to us! (Thank goodness I am such an arrogant narcisisst that no one can distract me from my fascinating self.) Finally safe, we burst out laughing, and kept on to the point of tears. Even now, we will text each other that story, as if to say "Remember how much fun it was to be great friends, and young and free in New York?"