A letter to New York

(The corner where I used to live for 3 years)

Dear New York City,

I love you. I hate you. I lived in you for 7 years, and then left you. I couldn't deal with you anymore and I felt a calling to the west coast that I couldn't ignore. And now, 7 years later (do you notice a pattern with the number 7 or what?) I return to you. For how long, I have no idea.

In thinking of returning, all the reasons I left boil to the surface. Too many people, too much of a rat race, too much pressure, competition. Cold winters. These reasons make me question my return.

But I am 7 years older, wiser, stronger, I hope. There are reasons to come back. Family, a niece and nephew's childhood that I am missing out on, music opportunities, a room in Brooklyn with an old friend that was too good to pass up, a need for change.

I am excited and scared to be back in your depths. Excited to be in your hot summer nights, sitting on the side walk at 11pm in a tank top, day trips to the beach, your delicious restaurants, your abundance of taxi cabs, my anonymity, everyone's no- nonsense attitude, their straight forwardness, their un-flakiness. Old friends, new friends, new adventures.

I am scared to feel the pressures of such a big successful city, the pressures I put on myself, to be so close to my family that I love and that I have become so independent of, the unfriendliness of east coasters, the expenses of life, the quality of life so different than the one I have come to know in San Francisco, the WINTER. I am scared that I am seeking something no place can give me and thus I will be searching forever.

But I come to you with the the sole purpose of change, of igniting inspiration and adventure. I can come for a few months, or for longer. I come to Brooklyn, a place less intense than the city, or so I hear...or so I hope. I come to my niece and nephew who I miss dearly and whose lives I want to be in, to influence. I  come with the hope of simmering those reasons for leaving down. Perhaps they will only be confirmed and I will know that New York is not my city. But, I do not know that yet.

The future is unknown, new york. It feels good. It feels scary. It feels right. I'll bring it if you will.




You can read my letter to San Francisco here