730 Days

Today marks my two-year anniversary of living in New York City. I always feel pressured by myself to churn out some sort of sentimental gesture/diatribe on occasions like this for reasons I will never understand. So here it is, homies:

The first year of living here was the most monumental for obvious reasons; the initial rush that flooded through my system when I was catapulted into an entirely new and exciting living environment. The second year, however, is special and monumental in its own sense. The soot of the city has really sunk into my skin in subtle, yet distinctly New York ways.

I've noticed elements of my character have started to shift for both the better and worse. I've definitely become far edgier, cynical, and impatient. I can't walk down the street without getting tempted to push some slow pedestrian/tourist/geriatric into bustling traffic. I've become privy to swearing outloud in public to myself whenever I miss my train by a hair, spill coffee on my coat, or if I'm ignored while trying to hail a lit taxi. Of course, Tourette's syndrome is pretty common in these urban parts, so I don't feel too out of place. Along with becoming a cynical, angry, and impatient banshee- I've also been sprinkled with a bit of pretension.

For example, the other night I was hanging out with my friend, Jodi, and she was relishing me with the details of her weekend. At one point in her story, she told me that a friend and her "went to The Grocery Store on Saturday night." My initial reaction was, "Oooo, is that a new bar or club?" After guffawing tremendously, Jodi replied with a stunned, "No, no. We bought groceries at an actual grocery store."

While I'm not necessarily proud of the fact that I regularly hate on sluggish yet innocent pedestrians and swear over trivial things, I'm glad that the city has done its part in changing me. Perhaps it's part of settling into adulthood, or perhaps it's living 3,000 miles away from my entire family that has helped me establish my independence. Perhaps it's a combination of the two? Whatever the catalyst, I'm grateful for the fact that I'm now facing my life priorities with a newfound determination.

I've never been one to follow any sort of conventional path. Conventional paths are typically paved by society rather than the self. The only path I've ever been interested in going down in this life is that of self-actualization and happiness. I realize I sound like a new-agey, Buddhist-esque douchebag now, but so be it... it's helping me prove my point. ANYWAY, living here and brushing elbows with the wealthy families with their stocks, hedgefunds, Ivy League educations, and "keeping up with the Jones" attitude towards life has shown me what I never want to become. I've learned that happiness isn't about always obtaining what you want, it's about being content with what you already have. It's a simple thought, I'm certainly not the first to think it, but it's surprising how easy it is to forget.

That being said, I'm happy that I've managed to move to and stay in a city that I'm in love with through good times and bad. I'm happy that I started with no friends here and have managed to accumulate many. I'm happy that I have a regular coffee guy (Juliano) and a regular bartender (Lucy). I'm happy that I've maintained a job with employers that care about me and treat me like a member of their family. I'm happy that I have access to one of the best Goddamned public libraries in the country. I'm happy that I'm as entertained at a free comedy show as I would be sitting in an $80 seat at the Metropolitan Opera. I'm happy that I live on Park Avenue rent free at the ripe age of twenty-two. I'm happy about a lot of things. Mostly though, I'm just happy I mustered up the courage to move here a mere 730 days ago.