Showing posts with label new york city. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new york city. Show all posts
In Praise of New York City: Revisited
by Alex Shippee in Labels:



I've been living, and working, in New York City for almost a year now. New York City, and the streets especially, have a kind of unguarded significance to them. Everything that happens here could be the ultimate conclusion of whatever events are taking place. There's no grand authority figure or reliable order. It accepts what is put into it. That's why corruption is so feasible and opportunity so endless.

When I wrote about this eighteen months ago, I  said that, despite coming from a small town that I "...enjoyed the busyness of it all." Since then, I can honestly say that the busyness is one of the most pointlessly seductive things about life in Manhattan.

The guy dressed in a power suit, ordering an extra-large coffee, and talking on the phone the whole time...

The high-powered executive championing a series of  ambitious projects...

The young go-getter burning the midnight oil to keep bosses and clients happy...

What are they actually trying to accomplish? Can they even articulate it anymore? Or have they distanced themselves so far from legitimate work that they're just in a constant state of shuffling papers?

Everybody's busy all the time. Busy with phone calls, emails, giving updates, running around, putting out fires, talking and explaining things in an exciting way. It goes on forever. The sad part is that this becomes the focus - moving and staying active. It gets to the point where you're working yourself to exhaustion just so you can BE exhausted. Insanity.

One time, towards the end of a meeting, someone asked if I was from New York originally:

"No," I said. "I'm from Connecticut actually."

"I thought so," she replied. "You don't seem stressed enough."

"Thanks. I try not to stress myself out."

In retrospect, I probably should have phrased that differently. The point I was trying to make, that might not have come across at the time, is that freaking out and working yourself into a tizzy accomplishes nothing. If anything, being able to stay calm when everyone else is losing their mind should be an asset. You avoid overreaching and making easily avoidable mistakes.

But the thing is, I like being busy. I like starting early and ending late. I like being able to contribute something to so many different projects and groups. It's a feeling very similar to being needed. But at some point, being needed and having people fight to talk to you loses its appeal. It's a shallow pleasure.

There's so much more to New York City than the churning mobs and being so stressed out that you can't even feel it anymore. Stay away from the people who idolize that lifestyle. They're much more likely to take the boundless opportunity and corrupt it into a pointless collection of low-hanging fruit. Just so they can keep moving.

You Never Have to Change (Although You Should)
by Alex Shippee in Labels: , , , , , , ,


Seriously. You can graduate college on Monday and continue excessive partying and shirking adult responsibilities on Tuesday. And years after that. Until the tiny little pressures of the "real world" push you where they want you to go.
You can get a job somewhere, anywhere - waiting tables or in the professional world - and never have to confront the anxiety and fear that crops up when you think about some far away dream.
It could be anything: travel, living in a particular place, starting a family, writing that novel...literally anything. The thing about dreams is that they are limitless and resist compromise. They belong wholly to yourself and don't depend on others.
But that type of freedom can be terrifying at first. That's why I think I gravitate towards rules and guidelines; they help me focus and stay on track. I can safely avoid the discomfort of scary thoughts and risky choices.
I'll have graduated from college a year ago next month. It made me stop and think: how have I changed? Was it for the better? Have I made the choices to go in a certain direction, or did I only respond to the pressure?
I'm not sure, but I'm starting to hear the gentle undertones of something more being spoken under gilded words and stern reprobations. I'm learning what needs to be said in the right situations and what to avoid. It's getting easier to play the game.
And I don't know if that's what maturing feels like, or if it's just dishonesty.

In Praise of New York City
by Alex Shippee in Labels:

New York City is endless. It seriously never stops. When I returned from a week long vacation one day I was amazed that the massive, amorphous crowd still had the same nuanced looks of stress and hurrying on their individual faces. It was like returning to a city thousands of years later and finding all the buildings intact. Why doesn’t anybody slow down?

Commuting into the city isn’t the same as living there. You get to see all the massive buildings and hear the tangled conversations on the street, but you don’t get to enjoy it. You don’t get to stand still, with a whole day stretched before you, and do all those New Yorker things. I don’t know exactly what they are because, well, I’m not a New Yorker. I’m from a small town in Connecticut actually. Life is very different there. Instead, I get off at Platform 112 at Grand Central and take the 6 Train to Canal Street and walk to my office before I’m late.

For a few days in a row, I passed the same woman walking her tiny little dog who happened to have three legs. It broke my heart and, one day, I asked her about him (his name is Lick-Lick) and why he had only three legs (he got into a fight with a coyote) and we got to talking.

I told that woman about a farm cat I know, named Super-Cat, that also got into a fight with a coyote and lived to tell the tale. We agreed that that was awesome. Lick-Lick peed happily on a tree and it didn’t seem so sad anymore. I said goodbye to my new friends and headed off to work, smiling happily.

The thing is, I like people. And in New York there are more lives taking place, concurrent and intertwined, than I can even imagine. In just three months of working there I met a three-legged dog, debated Harry Potter with a mother of two, got into an argument at an Internet Café, and just, in general, enjoyed the busyness of it all . I don’t live there, but when I walk to work, I like to imagine the entire space of Manhattan stretched out around me; all the people packed homes, the dogged determination of the businesses, the melody of all those cultures mixing together and that strange swath of life it must look like from afar.

I hope we can agree that that is awesome.

Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 3 (End)
by Alex Shippee in Labels: , ,

In case you haven't read the first two parts (they're short) here they are. Part 3 won't make sense without them:

Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 1
Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 2 (Acedia)

My friends would say stuff like, “Darby’s is cool, but it’s nothing compared to this bar I went to in Spain,” or, “Don’t get me wrong, I like our friends here, but at home – where I’m from – we just have more in common.” I’d zone out when people start talking about that stuff and the tiny cosmic figure would scratch his head. He didn’t know how to react either, so we’d just wait.

The thing is, it’s all just a way to fight off some kind of spiritual torpor (Dante would call this acedia). That’s what I’m doing when I try to make a moment awkward instead of being polite. That’s what I did when I took an internship that demands 70 hours a week between work and travel. I knew it would be tough, but the tiny cosmic figure was silent when I was considering it. He didn’t comprehend what that entails because all it meant was that I wouldn’t be bored.

That’s why I don’t buy all that, “I was happy back when I was somewhere else,” or “I went to this place and it changed me.” That stuff may be true, but it’s always inflated. I think that’s why everybody talks about travel and why I instinctively tune it out.

But now that I’ve graduated, I don’t want to just keep living in Connecticut. I want to travel, but before that happens I’m going to take my tiny cosmic figure aside. I’m going to invite him outside my head and into the real world. We’re going to talk it through first.

I just don’t want to turn a good moment into a bad one by regretting where I am now.

Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 2: Acedia
by Alex Shippee in Labels:


You can read Part 1 of 3 below (it's short). This part will make more sense if you do: Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 1 
My time at Marist developed my partnership with the tiny cosmic figure. Him and I learned when he needed to come out, and when I was fine without him (rarely, it seems). We discovered, together, what it was like to have relationships grow and friendships deepen. When it came time to let my guard down I’d look to him for guidance and he’d rub his chin, idly. I’d ask, “Should I let this person closer to me? It might fuck me over later.” He’d stare at me for a moment, pensively. Then he’d shrug his shoulders as if to say, “Why not? Can you think of a good reason not to?” It’s impossible to lie to him so I’d say, “No. I guess not.” I’d get a little closer to somebody and usually it paid off, but his track record isn’t impeccable. It never is.
The tiny cosmic figure would mess up and I’d put my arms out, beseechingly, “Why didn’t you see this coming? I got completely screwed over there.” He’d nod, nervously, knowing he had made a mistake. But he would only be apologetic for a moment. “Would you really want the alternative? Never taking that risk?” And I wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. Because even when he messed things up, he’s still kind of right.
I’m one of the few people I know that spent all four years at Marist. Most people studied abroad or transferred at one point, but I stayed put. That stability has been really helpful and I wouldn’t trade it even for an unforgettable semester in Europe or an awesome freshman year spent somewhere else. I lived in Poughkeepsie for eight semesters and it wasn’t easy, but it was just me and the tiny cosmic figure. We bonded.

Read: Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 3 (End)

Tiny Cosmic Figure, Part 1
by Alex Shippee in Labels: ,

My favorite moments are awkward moments. If I can’t make a situation enjoyable, the best I can do is to make it awkward. Generally, there are thousands of pounds of pressure pushing me to ruin something or to make something weird. Every so often though, I’ll see what I need to do – to be awkward and to keep people sufficiently distant from me – and I won’t do it. What happens in that moment is nothing short of miraculous.

Somebody will have said something that I think is dumb or obnoxious and I can prove it. I open my mouth to respond, but then I stop. A door in my head opens and some tiny cosmic figure invites me to enter. There, he shows me the consequences of my actions. What it looks like differs form moment to moment, but usually it’s people looking uncomfortable or kind of dazed or pissed. That tiny cosmic figure watches as I see this and makes a face like, “What do you think? Is it worth it?” I meet his gaze maturely, unsmiling and say, “No, I guess it’s not.” And I leave.

Back in the moment, I’m happy. I look around at the conversation going on around me and I chuckle to myself. “They have no idea,” I think. “I could have ruined this moment for them, but I decided not to.” I smile. “You’re welcome,” I think.

Other times, he gives me the go ahead, but not just a little. The tiny cosmic figure only comes out in big moments, so when he’s encouraging me, he’s not just looking up from a paper and saying, “Sure. Go for it, I guess.” He’s running from deep in my mind all the way to the front, waving his arms and yelling, “Do it! Holy fuck! Do that shit! Come on!” So, invariably I do it. He has about a 50-50 success rate (depending how the little guy’s doing that week) but I always follow his advice when he shows up because he never tells me to lie.

If he did, I promise I would stop.

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