For the length of time I've lived in this city I've written remarkably little about it. I have paid attention to it though, a glance and a pause here and there. I suppose I hadn't cared to say much about it because I knew that this was just the beginning. Too early to jump to any conclusions, particularly if I knew I would stay long enough to realize how foolish they are.
But knowing I could completely change my mind about these things, I'm going to stumble forth anyway and make my statement about this city, if only to document for the future just how hasty and foolish I've been at this very moment. After all, who's to say I will only become wiser over time.
People in this city are the most unaware as I have encountered. They are the most skilled at pretending they are alone. Whether there is just one other person on the subway car or 500, they carry the same blank expression or perform the same rhythmic nod to the beats of whatever music streaming into their heads directly from their headphones. They have become experts at being alone: when to look down, when to stare, how to scratch their sideburns or do their makeup - even when they're not.
People in this city are the most aware as I have encountered. They know who to keep a distance from, who has the more expensive jeans, who's carrying a 100$ bill, who doesn't belong here - all this while doing their makeup on the subway. Most of all, they know who they are: white, black, Dominican, grunge, hipster, Jewish, rich, poor. And they know where they're going, it's either up, down, crosstown, or out. Don't know where you're going? Then get out of the way.
This is a city that knows it has made mistakes and knows it will make them again. Hell, it knows it's in the process of making a huge mistake this very second and yet carries forth unalarmed. You won't find many tears of remorse or cries of guilt around here - of course it feels such things, but there's so many things to feel and so little time.
This is a city that pretends many things but never pretends to be perfect. Flaws! it screams. That's what makes me me, that's what makes me New York City, the apple of the world's eye!
This is a city full of big dreams - dreams that dream about being bigger than all other dreams around. It is the epitome or perhaps abomination of what our forefathers envisioned when they first dared utter the words 'the pursuit of happiness.' Could they have imagined 18,696 restaurants, 13,237 taxis, or over 250 feature films produced every year in one city? So much happiness pursued annually, it might be too much to attain.
This is a city that forgives the most unforgivable sins and forgets the most unforgettable victories. No matter how atrocious your history, they've heard worse. No matter how moving your accomplishment, they've heard better. 'Don't you worry, honey,' they say, 'you're just like any other one of us now!'
This is a city in which the tracks of the train have been worn flat by protest and rebellion and life has finally become the field in which one can travel infinite directions from any given point. Nothing here will keep you confined to paths laid out for you. You can go anywhere from anywhere. But the question is, where are you going to go?
Where am I going? Who am I to be? When am I alone? Which mistakes will I forgive? Which won't I forget? What will I pretend? What will I dream? What can I attain? What the hell am I doing here?
This is a city that asks me the questions. For this, I'll be sticking around.
