Concrete jungle where dreams are made up
In the past two days, I’ve discovered that I’m too anxious a person to go gallivanting about as if life were a game, or to move to New York with one (1) suitcase and no (0) plans.
Unfortunately, that’s what I’ve done.
I might be stupid, to imagine I could seize my own future without a plan in a city that wants to eat me alive, or I might be a visionary.
Some cute and quirky anecdotes from the last 48 hours:
My suitcase was 12 pounds overweight, so the lovely ladies at the counter told me I could pay $75 for the weight fee—or $25 for a new duffel bag. Guess who owns an exclusive piece of Southwest merch?
After deciding I would become TikTok famous for NYC content, I uploaded a video of my flight. It received a whopping 6 views.
I did eat a sauerkraut hot dog yesterday in Battery Park!
After which I had the pleasure of discovering that a year in lockdown had some perks after all. I would like to thank all the men who catcalled me yesterday for enlightening me in that regard and deepening my appreciation for the months stuck in the house.
Also, I just now received a notification that, after the city’s Covid-19 state of emergency expires tonight, bars and restaurants can no longer offer to-go cocktails. I’m devastated.
And I’m happy. I’m stressed beyond belief. I’m convinced I’m going to amount to nothing; I know I’m destined for greatness, or at least stability. I’m too hard on myself for being too hard on myself. The world is my oyster, and the subway confuses me.
In short, I’ll have a lot to tell my pool boy when I’m 80.
In the meantime I have a photo editing app, a Shakespeare & Company tote bag, and Spotify to keep me company.
A playlist for the not-so-main characters, the visionaries who need glasses, the bright-eyed and terrified hopefuls trying to revive their dying dreams (ranked from mortifyingly earnest to genuinely aspirational):
Welcome to New York, Taylor Swift. Not going to explain or defend this one.
Empire State of Mind, Jay-Z and Alicia Keys. I’m a sucker for 00s hits.
Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield. Case in point.
Moving to New York, The Wombats. “So I'm moving to New York / Cause I've got issues with my sleep.”
Brooklyn Baby, Lana del Rey. Would love to know if Lana has any tips on apartment hunting.
Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen. It reminds me why I had to leave my hometown.
Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson. Kelly gets it, more than anyone else. She’s been there. The tears I’ve shed for her…tell me it’ll be okay, Kelly, please!
Wait, but someone did compliment my Islanders hat today. So I have that going for me.