I haven’t been into the city in what seems like forever. I miss it. I like really miss it. Every time I step foot on those streets, a part of me comes alive again. I remember when I was young beginning my career, the energy that literally zapped through my body when I was there. That is what I feel still.
It seems like anything good is possible there. Life. Energy. My parents used to take me there often when I was a kid and teenager. We would visit museums, see plays, go to eat. Vacation there. There was one time, when we were in traffic trying to get to Penn Station, where my love for that place was zapped out of me in an instant. Traffic halted, we were stuck on some side street. I happened to turn my head and saw through a work zone fence a pimp literally pummeling his “girl”. In that instant, I hated it and refused to ever go back. I think it took me 10 years to get that vision out of my head and to find new parts to love. It was a huge lesson for such a young kid. That ugly can exist in the midst of beauty. How power can be deadly and that terrible people exist and they prey on the weak.
I feel in love again with the city when I was a student at UCONN. I took a class that was all about New York City. The professor was amazing and his love for those very streets that scared the sh*t out of me , stirred up my initial feelings again. I learned about the vast differences in the boroughs and the areas of Manhattan. I learned about how to find a decent apartment and where the “locals” ate. It was brilliant. I left that class determined to work there one day. It happened.
Anyway, I miss it. I respect the vitality and at the same time I keep my rose colored glasses in my pocket, to take out at the right moments.