I read two different posts on other blogs today about those authors’ NYC anniversaries. Weird, right? My four-year NYC anniversary was this week as well…I guess August 15th is a popular move-in date. They both reflected on their time here so far, and how they at times feel like they belong and don’t belong (sometimes at the same time).
I’m in that “sometimes at the same time” category. New York has never been my endgame. It’s been my “I’ll hang out here for awhile with friends and see how it goes” game. Four years later, I’m looking at staying here for at least two more years. I’ve got a wedding to plan in the area. I need at least a few more years of job experience before I can transition to management. I sure as hell don’t feel like going through that moving process again after only being in this apartment year. So I’m resigned to the fact that I’ll be here at least through summer 2015.
And then I look at the word “resigned” and I get confused. I’m not unhappy; I live so close to many of my friends and family. I’m not discontent with New York City either. I don’t mind the subways (except for when the delays are ginormous). I still love doing things like heading to Prospect Park or the beer garden. I used to do more of that, though. I’m not in love with NYC anymore. It’s just there, and I feel indifferent.
Am I too young to feel resigned? To feel indifferent about my job, where I live, how I’m spending my free time? Or is it okay, because it’s temporary, because I have goals and this is just until I get to the point where I can make those happen? Or is temporary not okay at all, should I just go out and do something I don’t feel wishy-washy about?
I don’t know.
Well, I do know. I’m too chicken to quit my job, to pick up and move, to be spontaneous. I have too much here (and that’s a good thing!), and besides, I can’t afford to quit anything without having a backup plan and paycheck.
This past weekend I had a great time with my friends. Friday, I went to Prospect Park and ended up stopping by three bars before I got home and promptly fell asleep at 11PM. On Saturday, a few friends had a brunch: the drinks were abundant, the company was excellent, we ended up staying until it was dark and I went home and made it to midnight before I fell asleep.
Who the heck am I? I’m stuck between wishing I was still young enough to get away with doing things like an all-day drinkathon, and actually being an adult and getting tired and not making it til 2 or 3AM like I used to. I need to grow up. If I’m so disillusioned with NYC, I need to stop sitting around (at bars, in the park, or otherwise) and just do things. Go to a crappy comedy show. Check out a street fair. Go to a Cyclones game. I like to think I do these things but my excitement and participation has really worn off since that first magical summer where everything in NYC just seemed to be the best ever.
Sorry for the major word vomit and the five thousand idea threads shoved into this post. This is what happens when you schedule student appointments during your lunch break so you don’t take lunch and then they don’t show up so you have a little bit of time to reflect on where you are and what you are feeling in that moment. Stream of conscious blogging: it’s cathartic. Try it some time.