Five Hundred Twenty Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes...

Four seasons.  One lease.  Twelve electric bills.  52 People magazines.

Last night, I chatted over cupcakes with a good friend of my best friend and watched as he convinced himself that there was no better fate for him than moving here to New York.  It was probably a realization he'd had, just as I had, a million times before.  Even after living here for a year - easily one of the toughest years of my life - I could sit there and respond to his wide-eyed excitement in resounding agreement.  He should move here.  Everyone should.  It's the most valuable education that anyone could invest in.

If you can stand it.

Today, a young man had his first day of work at my store.  He moved here last week from Oklahoma, transferring with the company.  He's waiting on movers to bring him his stuff, meanwhile sitting on the floor of his new, presumably tiny apartment as these first days of acclimation are soaking in.  The trains were dependably ridiculous, and thus, he was late.  It wasn't his fault, but he was kicking himself.  He's not yet learned how to balance impatience and hurry with the knowledge that really, we aren't in control.  On my first day on the job, I got the horrific news that I had to wear a hat everyday.  Today, I had to tell this guy to go buy new shoes.  And where he could do so.  And what train to take to get there.  It all seems so simple now, but I hope that I never forget how hard moving here was, and I hope that I am always sympathetic to those who do so, and to those who visit.  I hope that I always know and understand just what a peculiar and fascinating place this city is, because I really feel that it's unlike any other place on the planet.  I've tried to explain to people, like my co-workers in preparing to welcome this new kid or our friend who also dreams of making the big move: there is no way to describe the vast different-ness of New York City.  It's not one thing - it's everything.  It is it's own world, it's own strange, gritty, surprise-twist of a fairy tale.  Our local news is everyone else's national news.  Our skyline is everyone else's postcard.  It is the center of the universe. 

And I moved here, a year ago this week.  For no good reason.  I serve coffee everyday and try to make a positive impact on other people that serve coffee everyday.  I stick my toe in the melting pot, pondering on the novels and scripts and poetry that it should be inspiring me to create, only to find myself occupied, at times, with staying afloat.  Depending on the day, I ask myself one of two questions:

Why would anyone ever want to come here?  And why on earth would anyone ever want to leave?

Today, a year in... the second question rings in my ears and brought tears to my eyes this evening as I walked down Lexington Avenue on my way home from work.  I've been fighting this stupid notion lately that now that my big dream has become reality - I live in New York City - where do I go from here?  What do I dream next?  It's been this impending crisis of direction.  Today, and thank God for days like it, I find myself not needing to think about going anywhere from here.

Here is just fine...

Comments

[Valerie]

Hey Jessica --

Valerie (Norman) from the OBU days. I saw your blog listed on your facebook page and thought I would check it out! Man, I enjoyed just reading this first post, so I'll definitely be looking forward to more. Makes me totally want to visit NYC -- never been yet. Oh, and I finally saw Rent in Tulsa this past week for the first time, too, so I was happy to recognize the title of the post. :) Glad to see you are doing well!