Dear New York
I should probably write something about this at some point.
"I’m beginning to form a crusty exterior shell. One that not only protects me from the cold, but also shields me from excitement. As a New Yorker, it’s important to look as boring and all knowing as possible. Nothing is allowed to faze you. This works for the hard working majority of the boroughs, the working lower and middle class who are always a paycheck away from poverty. They deserve to care less about the movie of the week. But then there are the middle to upper class media types, who are mostly students and transplants to Manhattan who watch too much TV and read lifestyle magazines and make Sex in the City real. And as for the upper-upper class, I don’t know any, but why they would choose to spend their money to live in a deluxe apartment in the sky is beyond me. Sure, New York has culture and art and all things expressive, but therefore only becomes the battleground for the latest trends and mergers and big ideals, things that only seem to reduce our free will. Decisions made here affect the rest of the western world. In a way though, it’s great that all these things happen in one place. It would be a shame to see the whole United States piled up on top of itself the way New York is. It’s no wonder there are so many tourists. New York is like one big reality based pro-wrestling show that comes on during the accident portions of Nascar related activity. You can’t help but want to watch… New York, New York, a city so nice they named it twice. No they didn’t. They were TELLING you twice, warning you (in case you are hard of hearing or assuming you’re stupid. It’s how the New Yorkers look at tourists.) So you can’t complain when you get here and ask, 'What the hell am I doing in New York?' 'Is this really where we decided to take a vacation?' You can’t say they didn’t warn you..."
- Jason Mraz
I am leaving Marymount Manhattan, and subsequently, New York at the end of this semester. It's the end of an era. For so many years, I bet my entire future on this place. But what kind of life is that? Basing a future on not even an actual place, but the image of a place. The image that no single locale could ever hope to live up to.
This is not to say I hate it here. That is absolutely false. New York City is amazing. It just isn't the ONLY place where life is well worth living. Which was an ideal that I held so closely for so long.
Maybe five years this is where I'll need to be. But not now.
Not at this college that will grant me an, at best, vague Communications Degree and a toilet-paper Bachelor of Fine Arts in Acting.
I need a campus for the kind of growth I need to experience.
So, I'm transfering to Niagara. I can't help feeling like a sell-out. It pains me to see the captions on the handmade collage that read, "From Hamburg to New York."
But, I learned quite a valuable lesson here.
I'm just not quite sure what it is yet.
The point of all this is, I think, that you just know when something isn't right. You just know, and you just have to jump right in and change it, which is, ironically, how you found yourself in the mess in the first place.
As for regret? I can't let myself regret. Decisions are based on what is right at the time. This is all I've thought or (much to my friends' chagrin) talked about for over a month. So, suffice to say, it has been rationalized and over-rationalized to death. This is right.
I truthfully can't wait to be on a campus. Away from creepy, bullshit pseudophilisophical Suzuki method Stanislawski. Away from the dungeon that is the mailroom. Away from the debt this place is getting me into. Away from the bullshit classes and the false sense of community. Away from the ever-increasing shallowness of a continuously glorified, shallow and overzealous gay community in which I will never fit. Away from the lingering pee smell and rude homeless people.
Away from the dream that isn't a dream at all, but a harsh reality.
Home awaits me with open arms. 6 weeks. Home for good.
And then I start real college.
and real life.
Who knows where I'll be in ten years?
Boston
Chicago
Philidelphia
New York
Hartford
Miami
Buffalo
I can go anywhere.
That's the real dream.
and the real reality.
"I’m beginning to form a crusty exterior shell. One that not only protects me from the cold, but also shields me from excitement. As a New Yorker, it’s important to look as boring and all knowing as possible. Nothing is allowed to faze you. This works for the hard working majority of the boroughs, the working lower and middle class who are always a paycheck away from poverty. They deserve to care less about the movie of the week. But then there are the middle to upper class media types, who are mostly students and transplants to Manhattan who watch too much TV and read lifestyle magazines and make Sex in the City real. And as for the upper-upper class, I don’t know any, but why they would choose to spend their money to live in a deluxe apartment in the sky is beyond me. Sure, New York has culture and art and all things expressive, but therefore only becomes the battleground for the latest trends and mergers and big ideals, things that only seem to reduce our free will. Decisions made here affect the rest of the western world. In a way though, it’s great that all these things happen in one place. It would be a shame to see the whole United States piled up on top of itself the way New York is. It’s no wonder there are so many tourists. New York is like one big reality based pro-wrestling show that comes on during the accident portions of Nascar related activity. You can’t help but want to watch… New York, New York, a city so nice they named it twice. No they didn’t. They were TELLING you twice, warning you (in case you are hard of hearing or assuming you’re stupid. It’s how the New Yorkers look at tourists.) So you can’t complain when you get here and ask, 'What the hell am I doing in New York?' 'Is this really where we decided to take a vacation?' You can’t say they didn’t warn you..."
- Jason Mraz
I am leaving Marymount Manhattan, and subsequently, New York at the end of this semester. It's the end of an era. For so many years, I bet my entire future on this place. But what kind of life is that? Basing a future on not even an actual place, but the image of a place. The image that no single locale could ever hope to live up to.
This is not to say I hate it here. That is absolutely false. New York City is amazing. It just isn't the ONLY place where life is well worth living. Which was an ideal that I held so closely for so long.
Maybe five years this is where I'll need to be. But not now.
Not at this college that will grant me an, at best, vague Communications Degree and a toilet-paper Bachelor of Fine Arts in Acting.
I need a campus for the kind of growth I need to experience.
So, I'm transfering to Niagara. I can't help feeling like a sell-out. It pains me to see the captions on the handmade collage that read, "From Hamburg to New York."
But, I learned quite a valuable lesson here.
I'm just not quite sure what it is yet.
The point of all this is, I think, that you just know when something isn't right. You just know, and you just have to jump right in and change it, which is, ironically, how you found yourself in the mess in the first place.
As for regret? I can't let myself regret. Decisions are based on what is right at the time. This is all I've thought or (much to my friends' chagrin) talked about for over a month. So, suffice to say, it has been rationalized and over-rationalized to death. This is right.
I truthfully can't wait to be on a campus. Away from creepy, bullshit pseudophilisophical Suzuki method Stanislawski. Away from the dungeon that is the mailroom. Away from the debt this place is getting me into. Away from the bullshit classes and the false sense of community. Away from the ever-increasing shallowness of a continuously glorified, shallow and overzealous gay community in which I will never fit. Away from the lingering pee smell and rude homeless people.
Away from the dream that isn't a dream at all, but a harsh reality.
Home awaits me with open arms. 6 weeks. Home for good.
And then I start real college.
and real life.
Who knows where I'll be in ten years?
Boston
Chicago
Philidelphia
New York
Hartford
Miami
Buffalo
I can go anywhere.
That's the real dream.
and the real reality.