On Being NYCentric for a Moment.

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I love New York*

*mostly.

I moved to New York City from Washington, DC several months ago, and it was probably the smartest professional and personal move I’ve ever made. So too will be my exodus from this city, when that time comes.

Gawker recently published a rather decent, if not somewhat obnoxious, article about the follies of becoming New York-centric, believing that New York truly is the best city in the world, and that a life outside the five boroughs is basically irrelevant. The attitude, in the words of Jay-Z, that “if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.” That by living here, one becomes tougher, smarter, a superior human being; becomes cool. Is successful just by surviving in the city, even if barely making rent and working a shitty job. You get the idea. Surely you know a few people who embody this attitude.

I too once held New York up on a pedestal. And in some ways, it has lived up to my basic expectations. This city is undoubtedly better suited to foster a creative career than any other in the U.S., is great for living small and being green, and there are a million fun things happening every day of the week. Shopping is great too (so much for living small), and self-expression is happily accepted. But otherwise, I have to agree with the gripes of small-town tourists. New York is dirty, does have rude denizens (no ruder than those in DC, however), and is exorbitantly expensive. Living in New York doesn’t make me feel cool. Instead I just feel kind of poor. Stimulated, but poor. And then tired.

A fickle partner, this town. To concur with the Gawker author, I love you, but one day I will have to leave you (and I’m taking the boyfriend, too).

Me and my beau on Governor’s Island in June.

 
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