Big Apple Blues

I’m in New York this week for a work thing, stationed close to the Empire State building. The last time I was here it was almost a decade ago and...I didn’t have a great time. Actually, I haven't liked New York the three times I’ve been here.

I’m sorry! I’m absolutely not walking over here!

Despite how excited I was when I first entered the city, New York felt like a very sad place. It was lonely and isolating at a time when I thought I was as lonely and as isolated as I could be. Boy howdy was I wrong! Somewhere along Fifth Avenue the bottom opened up as I was blasting The Horrors into my sad little ears, and it suddenly didn’t feel cool or tough that I was alone in New York. Instead, it felt like my life had just exploded in a rather pathetic sort of way.

Perhaps it was bad timing? Or maybe it was just easier to moan about a city than it was for me to address the problems I was struggling with.

The second time I came to New York, I felt the same way but in a less dramatic fashion. I was here for a conference and at that time my somewhat-more-stable life had begun to fray and unfold once again. After the first speaker wrapped up I bounced and hiked around the city for days without talking to anyone, getting fabulously drunk alone in dimly lit bars.

I was a sad drunk child in the bowels of a giant machine. New York wasn’t built for me, it was a place for people who had figured their shit out, for those who had already conquered the world. New York simply didn’t require my contribution because it was already complete. In fact, there were 50,000 sad motorcycle boys called Robin who loved fonts and I was simply encroaching on their sad boy turf.

Now though? New York, man. I get it!

I still require stillness, quietness, great Californian skies and empty sidewalks. But as I’ve been hiking around the city this morning, I can totally see why folks love this place.

Here, just outside this cafe window right now:

  • A tree is being ripped out of the ground
  • A wall is being painted
  • Everyone, everywhere, is shouting
  • A lady is taking a picture of a flag
  • There’s a couple having a fight or...huh...maybe not? But this conversation doesn’t look like fun either way.
  • A dude is just absolutely slamming a sandwich (that dude is me in the window’s reflection).
  • Cars are cussing at each other with enormous, goose-like honks.
  • Everyone on the street looks so determined, so energetic, with some vital place they’re heading to next.

So this time is definitely better but—heyo!—I’m still sad. This time it’s for boring career reasons rather than serious life-choice reasons. I’m burned out: I want so much more than what I have! Yawn. I want a challenge again! Sigh. I want to be in rooms with scary problems that make my brain hurt! Yah, sure. I want a sense of momentum and purpose! Meh. I demand that work be fun! Okay whatever but I do though.

For now none of that matters. Today is for the hiking, the walking, the blasting of The Horrors and Deerhunter into the ears. It’s for the sad, unfulfilled boy to pace around the Natural History Museum until the feet hurt.