Soft Eyes

It’s kind of funny. I started this blog to talk about how different and crazy New York is. It was pretty easy in the beginning.

Everything was weird and most people seemed crazy. Here rent is a bazillion dollars, apartments are closets, and the fast pace is nonstop. New Yorkers are loud, straight to the point, work long hours, and commute everywhere by bus, subway, train, and then ferry. The lifestyle adjustment was big, and the city proved to be unlike anywhere else I had ever lived.

Twelve months ago, a good day meant that I avoided injury from flying taxis and passing pedestrians. A really day meant not getting cussed out during the five o’clock rush at the grocery store by somebody’s grandma. But, now, I hardly notice any of that.

Everything is different because now I am a New Yorker (almost). I elbow people in my way and I get around the city without help; without the fear of getting lost or flattened by something tougher than me.

It’s harder to notice the “crazy” things in the city because it’s finally become normal. Granted, a homeless man posed as the Statue of Liberty holding a tree branch while humming the national anthem will never really be normal, but the daily hustle and bustle of the city and its people have become routine. Now, a lot of it seems kind of… comforting. Kind of like, well, home.

I’ve successfully adjusted to the good and the bad of big city life, which is huge to say because one year ago, I didn’t know if that would be possible. From a writer’s standpoint, this means that I have to work a little harder and keep my eyes open to the wildness that still goes on in this concrete jungle. It will be difficult, but as a New Yorker, I am up to the challenge.