“I love New York.”
“I visit New York a lot.”
“That’s New York for you…”
I have to admit that I have never connected with the city in that way. It is not an old friend, though it has been the home of many of mine whom I love to visit, but I would never have thought to make it my own. I’ve always felt controlled by some unnatural force in this place. For example, if I’d like to stroll one day and that is not a “strolling” day for the rest of the city, then I am out of luck, and rushing it is. If the weather is bad and everyone is in a bad mood, I will also be in a bad mood, because they will be shouting at me, or pushing me, or honking, or hitting me with their sharp umbrella points. This is clearly not the place for a waving-to-strangers type of southern girl.
But now it is my home. Yes, you read that right. I have moved to Brooklyn from Los Angeles with my lovely boyfriend because he got a promotion and needed to be closer to his family.
When everything went down, and the decision was made, I decided it was an adventure. It was an opportunity to figure out why this place seems to be everyone’s favorite city. It was a chance to explore, to start over, to have seasons, and to fall in love with New York.
I’m sure that one day this will happen, but so far, it has only rejected me…
I have spent the last two months fighting to renovate our garage/loft apartment, and everyday something goes terribly wrong. My nerves are shot, I am homesick, and I have no idea what I’m doing in this place.
I am still hoping that I will find the greatness of the city, but for now, I can only handle one project at a time.