A ridiculously overwrought reflection on NYC

“Hey There Delilah” just came on my iPod. I listened to this song constantly when I first moved back to NYC after grad school. It was one of the few songs my roommate could legitamately play on his guitar. And this decidedly-not-in-NYC boy used to sing the first line to me over the phone (What’s in like in New York City?/You’re a 1000 miles away/But girl tonight you look so pretty” )YES, I KNOW, SHUT UP.

This ties perfectly to what I started to write about yesterday and was distracted by work disaster, among other things – New York City. I really want to compose articulate essay-type work on the subject, because New York is so many things to me. But I’m also not sure what it is to me. I read Joan Didion’s essay about arriving in, living in, and leaving New York, but that is not quite appropriate for me, because I lived there briefly (too briefly) moved for grad school, moved back, and then my life sort of fell apart. I had plenty of romanticized experiences my first go around in New York and it was without a doubt the happiest time of my life. When I moved back there after grad school, I rarely left my apartment, other then for work.  

But I’ve said all this before, and that was years ago now. On the way to work I heard on the radio about them putting up the X-Mas tree at Rockerfeller Center, and even though I don’t see the magic of XMas in NYC (mostly, I just see even MORE tourists getting in my way) I worked in Midtown Proper and there was something to being there at Christmas.

The city is something it’s easy to be a romantic about and so I have to catch myself. It was this attitude that sent me scrambling back to New York after I finished grad school, even though it was clear even then that with my interests, I’d be better off in DC. Perhaps I’m paying for that now, though I still wouldn’t call it a mistake. It does emphasize to me that even if this Libertarian Fellowship doesn’t work out, I really need to give DC a chance anyway. Basically, after grad school I had the choice between giving love a second chance and a career. I chose the former, and it crashed and burned.

This metaphor is entirely tiresome, so I’m going to quit now. But I hate the notion that New York is for the very young, the place to come after college and live out your cliched dreams, and that if the opportunity ever presents itself to move back I’ll be too old and too jaded to really enjoy it.