breaking New York

There's not doubt that New York has a magnitizum to it. That there is this gravitational pull forcing hundreds if not thousands of people here every day-- be it to live or vacation. It's the buzz. The hype. The glitz. The glamour. The prospect of success. The hope of starting over. The American Dream. The melting pot of the U.S. The culture. The fashion. The entertainment. The struggle. The challenge. The idea is all consuming. It's all encompassing...it's an identity of itself. It takes on its own character. It's own personality. It lives and breathes through its hustle, the commotion and the players within it.

They say it takes 7 years to consider yourself a "New Yorker." But what does that really mean? That by year 7 you're so tainted by the mysticism the city provides? That by year 7 you're so far beyond the ever changing expansion of the city? That by year 7 you've become so cold and accustom to the concrete, urban jungle? Is it in 7 years that you develop a "New York state-of-mind?" Are your first 6 years practice? A scrimmage for the rough-n-tough lifestyle of a "real" New Yorker? I don't know, but without question there is a sense of pride that comes with those 7 years. Perhaps its paying your dues because so many have walked through the city, left their mark or perhaps failed and were spit back out into the world. New York is not for everyone-- not so much that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. I've come to learn that it does take a certain "type" of person as diverse and cultural as this city is...there's some underlying thread linking people on this island (and its neighboring boroughs).

I've been prompted for this post by the thought that New Yorkers are jerks, cold-hearted, rude, selfish, pretentious souls. They're bitter, aggitated, rushed and frantic about life, work and the pursuit of happiness. I mean....really? Here's my perspective on that whole stigma. Yes, you encounter hostility, perhaps unwarranted disrespect and selfishness, BUT (there's always a but) I truly feel that it is a mechanism of adaptation. That's not to say that everyone in New York is out to ruin the party or is full of themselves (though it may seem). My observation is that in a city that draws so many people, from so many corners of the world, in a tiny mass of land whereby the disparity between the rich and poor is present no matter which block you walk down... if you don't suck it up, step up or speak up... you're more than likely becoming someone's doormat. You'll either pay for something you didn't want, pay more than you should be, be undermined, undervalued, unappreciated, misunderstood, trampled, chewed up (or out) and you'll be pissed, frustrated and aggitated. So what's left to do? Develop a hard outer exterior-- a "New Yorker" attitude. Fuggetaboudit! Don't sweat the small, protect your intergrity, character, dignity and self and pray you dont' lose sight of the person you once were when you first arrived on the island. It's Darwin's survival of the fittest. I'm not saying anything new here.

I've come to learn that its not joke trying to make it in New York. It's daunting. It's tiring. It's tough. You have to be tough. You have to be willing to accept things you may have never though twice about. You have to be comfortable in your solidarity, confident in your actions and have a stance on issues, but (there it is again) this is not to say that you should remain closed minded or (the horror) unwilling to let yourself change, evolve, transform, develop, grow, learn and live. You'll miss out on a lot....duh!

Perhaps one of my favorite moments in the city occurred this past Monday night when I was meeting MS and KM for dinner in Chinatown. The restaurant was Wo Hop deep in the heart of Chinatown off of Canal St. at the very end of Mott St. It was late and the street were sparce. The garbage was piled up on the curb for collection, the cages on store fronts were down and people were scattered about....but it wasn't that late. As I walked down the narrow street it was lined with the usual garb of apartments stacked upon small restaurants, bubble tea shops, bakeries etc. It felt like (you guessed it) like Europe. As I walked to the restaurant, the street glowed from the neon store signs shining there chinese scripts. It was as you'd picture it in a movie...capturing the heart of New York's Chinatown. To the newcomer, you'd feel hesitant walking down the solemn street alone. You'd fudge your nose up in disgust at the odor, be weary of the man standing smoking a cigarette and think twice about eating anywhere in the neighborhood. I loved it and what made me love it even more is that as I walked down Mott and passed people...I heard not a lick of English. I heard simply a foreign language I could unknowingly characterize as Chinese, but could easily be Mandarin, Japanese etc. etc. etc. It was fantastic. It made me happy to know that even in America you can still find cultured people and that people like me can see just a snippet of that walking down a street.

I don't think you come to New York to find yourself. I think when you get to New York you're merely here to evolve upon the person you already are-- because if its naivety that's pulling you in, then its naivety that'll spit you back out-- at least that's how I see it.