new york city

i guess this is some sort of a love letter to new york city. i only have 3 weeks left of this semester n i'm actually sad. it went by almost too fast n i still remember every moment from welcome week. without a doubt im glad i chose nyu and nyc because even tho i don't kno what the Fuck im doing, i think i might be in the right place. anyways this was a mini essay assigned for my writing class, but i kinda like it n wanted to share. here ya go.

My version of New York City started on the big screens. It was filled with scenes of Blair Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen living the elite lifestyle of the Upper East Side: designer clothes, personal drivers, Sunday brunches, and Chuck Bass. It was everything I dreamed of and more. From then my preteen self further imagined a glamorous lifestyle that New York City holds through the Carrie Diaries: 80’s dance parties, magazine editors, and more designer clothes.

I manic pixie dream girl-ed New York City without actually knowing anything about it besides what was shown in tv, movies, and pictures. Still, I believed it was destined to be my escape plan for all of my troubles and traumas back home in Los Angeles. And on August 26, 2017, I moved into the East Village on 3rd Ave between 11th and 12th Street.

Since then, I have fallen into a routine with the city. Walks through Astor Place at nine in the morning trying to make it to class in ten minutes. Lunch at Washington Square Park when the sun is out and children are playing with bubbles, dogs are at every corner of the park, old men are playing chess, and a small man painted in white is climbing up the arch. Hurrying to Think Coffee across from the Stern building after my first class trying to get a bagel before it turns eleven or even worse, they run out of plain ones. Grabbing munchies and getting discounts, or even some for free, by the cashier who winks way too much at Heavenly Deli, the bodega underneath my dorm. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights are spent at a liquor store on 2nd Ave buying a handle of Tito’s, New Amsterdam, or Jose Cuervo. Or sometimes it ends up being the 7-11 on 14th street for Strawberries or Smirnoff Ice. When New York City still had those summer nights, those bottles were drunk on the street walking with no actual destination besides Joe’s Pizza and Insomnia Cookies once it hit one in the morning. But once the snow days came, we stayed inside and post mated McDonald’s chicken nuggets and french fries. It didn’t matter what the weekend had held, every Sunday was spent recovering at Saigon Shack with their classic beef pho that basically cures everything along with the fresh air from walking to MacDougal. Occasionally, I took the L train at the Union Square subway station when I needed to head to Brooklyn for dinner at Acqua Santa, an Italian restaurant with the best shrimp pasta and an indoor garden set up, concerts at Brooklyn Steel, Baby’s Alright, Warsaw, and other intimate venues, or the Knitting Factory for a 2000’s indie and alternative dance party.

I almost never go past 23rd street, unless it’s for picnics at Central Park after clearing out the fruit sections at Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods, but this is the New York City I know and love. It wasn’t what Gossip Girl made it out to be. Actually, the area around Columbia is exactly like how it’s pictured in the show; it’s just that I’ve only been there once. Still, I think this version of New York is much better. The mustiness of the East Village is part of the charm and reminds me of Downtown LA. Especially, Saint Marks which is filled with crackheads and vendors selling everything from juuls to cheap sunglasses. And yes, there are random moments of smelling actual shit on the street, but it only lasts for a couple of seconds. Just look up at all of the old architecture that can’t be seen anywhere else to cancel it out. It amazes me almost every day, and I still can’t believe that I’m actually here. 

Maybe one day I’ll be a real New Yorker that sees it all, but probably not if I’m being completely honest. The tall buildings and guys in suits walking anywhere in upper Manhattan scare me. They’re too rich and make me feel as if I have to be doing something productive towards my future every single day in the city. And for a nineteen-year-old who has no clue to what she wants to do with her life, that just gives me anxiety! I know Queen B would be disappointed, but I do think that this part of the city is the perfect place for college, the early 20s, and me at the moment. It’s alive, young, musty, but still kind of cute just like me. It also holds the perfect balance between freedom and growing up. But who knows, I recently traded Gossip Girl for Sex and the City which sometimes makes me feel like I can be a knockoff Carrie Bradshaw for the rest of my life.

xoxo