In the last couple days I’ve seen a dozen articles on Facebook
about how New York is such a lonely place to live, and while my initial
instinct would be to disagree considering how many people cram themselves in,
I realize that I can’t argue this point.
This city will chew you up and spit you out and then it will
piss on your face. The city of New York just does not give a shit.
To live here you have to be incredibly strong and focused,
glutton for punishment or Crazy with a capital C.
Or a little of each.
To be successful in New York City, you have
to be independently rich (or supported by the bank of Mom and/or Dad),
completely disinterested in having a personal life (as you’ll be working too
hard and too long to support your city-choice and you won’t have time or energy
to fit in socializing) or a superhero whose superpower is living without sleep
or food.
I’ve lived in New York for just over four years, and if I
take a step back I can and should honestly say that I’m doing awesome
here.
I have a day-job that pays me more than I need (NOT – mind
you, more than I’d like or more than I spend), but a job that’s (mostly) supportive of my acting career with a boss whom I respect. I have
an acting career - an actual acting career.
I get called back more often than not, I perform weekly in the city and
tour outside it at least once a month and I’ve shot three commercials this
year. Doesn’t sound like much to people
outside the industry, but from within, I’m doing awesome. I have a tiny incredibly strange little dog
that I love more than is reasonable. I
have a great and big apartment that I share with someone who isn’t home very
often, pays their rent on time and who doesn’t steal. I have made several good and true friends
living here. People who are kind and
like-minded and who are supportive in every way I need them to be. People who make my life better. I can afford a gym membership and a monthly
metro card. I eat at least three times a day.
Big picture? Life is good.
However, the reminder to take a step back and appreciate things comes from a very
tiny voice in my brain that rarely has the guts to speak up. She's usually crying in the corner somewhere feeling lousy.
Living in NYC means you are constantly comparing yourself to
other people and are, 100% of the time coming up short. There is always someone within a hundred feet
of you who is smarter, prettier, thinner, and funnier than you. Whatever hat you’re trying to wear in that
moment, there will always be someone right behind you wearing it better. Someone stronger with better
connections. Someone nicer with a
savvier sense. Someone who wants it more
than you and who is willing to pay less.
New York is filled with people who have something to prove. And being a success in this city means
sacrificing a little piece of your soul in order to get what you want. Not necessarily a piece you’re sad to lose
but a piece none the less.
I just got back from a visit to LA and for the first time in
my adult life, I can actually picture living there. My dog would certainly prefer the constant
sunshine to the bits and pieces of sunlight she finds here. While NYC is still the city I need to be I
finally can see the door thru which I will exit living here. I don’t want to grow old here. The ways in which you have to harden to
survive as an elderly person in Manhattan is terrifying. When I’m old and gray I don’t want to have to
schlep up two flights of stairs to get somewhere. I don’t want to be the crazy woman who mumble
yells at everyone for being too close to her.
I don’t want to have a stroke in the middle of a subway car and have
people around me too engrossed in whatever is happening on their phones to
notice. I don’t want to die on a park
bench and have people assume I’m napping.
New York, while I wouldn’t call what we have a love affair –
it is certainly a relationship, one that I put way more effort into than
you. A relationship that will always be
lopsided.
But I’m not ready to break up just yet New York, so screw
you for thinking it. You’re not rid of
me just yet.
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