New York City; population 8.5 million and no two stories are the same. The transplants of New York, approximately 3.5 million (according to Wikipedia so it must be true) likely moved there with ideas of grandeur and big dreams. It is the city where you can be anything, do anything, or at least try to. There is no one right way to explain the appeal of New York and everyone there has their own interpretation. For some, there is no magic. Just an overpopulated concrete trash dump with rude people. The real NYC lovers will dispute that and defend their city of dreams. “The people aren’t rude, they just know what they want, where they need to be and they don’t want their time wasted.” An exact quote from the city-loving me.
I was 18 years old when I moved to NYC. Wide-eyed, booshy-tailed with great plans of becoming a wealthy and famous lead in any renowned dance company that would take me. Hold your laughter, I hear it now and how naive I was. But If I knew then what I know now, I still would not have changed a thing. Not one single thing. My 13 years in NYC have given me so much. For every great I-can-conquer-the-world moment there has been a fuck-this-city-walk-home-crying moment. Everything that has happened here has made an impact on who I’ve become and I’m proud of that. (So cliche right? This whole blog will be cliche so you’ve been warned)
I begin this blog today because in one year to the date, our lease is up, all my students will age out of my services and Tom and I are moving out of manhattan. (Insert appalled gasps here) Its bittersweet for me. I’m ready for a change but my heart aches a little leaving this city. I’m proud to have made it in New York. According to good ol Frank Sinatra that means I can make it anywhere right? I’m proud of my city, proud of the life I’ve made for myself in it, proud of the people I’ve chosen to be my friends turned family and proud of the memories I’ve made. It’s those memories that have inspired this blog.
So often I ride my bike through the streets of New York and see a street corner or building that reminds me of a memory once made at some point in my 13 years here. It is because of those nostalgic moments that I begin this blog. Each post will be about the experiences I’ve had, some good and some super shitty, the people I’ve met along the way and some of those classic only-in-NYC moments.
I’m not sure who will read my posts besides my mom but at the very least I will have these memories written down so that when I’m old and gray and this City I’ve made my home is a distant memory, I will be able to look back and remember and give thanks to everything I’ve gained from my time here.