NYB in NYC

I feel like a New Yorker. I’m not. But I feel like one. I regularly eat questionable street food. I have come to take for granted the endless pizza slices available. I eat sushi a lot. I haven’t driven a car in 4 months (that is killing me, by the way). I no longer feel guilty for not giving my pocket full of quarters to the schizophrenic homeless people begging for change. I live for central park. I walk more than I ever have without my fragile (read: mangled) feet hurting. Paying $6-$10 for a drink no longer makes me mutter “for christ sake” (I still think it, though)

Although, there is one thing I do not have in common with most new yorkers. I still don’t have a New York Boner for New York City. Parts of it are great, I’ll admit. But other parts I might describe as a disgusting shit-pile. And yet, it is still described publicly as “The Greatest City On Earth”, “Capital Of The World”. Maybe it’s Hollywood’s fault.

I just have a problem with over-hyping, I guess. Over-hype chairs and I’d be skeptical to sit in one. “No really, chairs are it! Why stand when you could sit!?” *shrugs* And trust me, New York is over-hyped, and conceited. For most of the world the grass is greener on the other side. For New York, the brown grass they’re standing on is as green as it comes.

Regardless of my true opinion of this city, it’s feeling more like home. I know my way around, I’ve gotten the lay of the land, and overall I’m pretty comfortable. It certainly helps that the weather is improving, and I’ve found a way to fill the time during the day.

I finally landed myself a job. Again, just like the last time I was jobless, the job I ended up getting was the first one I interviewed for: the job at Columbia’s Medical Center. It’s pretty great, so far. Of course, I am ever haunted by the paradox that Columbia will pay me an exorbitant amount of money to write programs for them, but I can not pay them said amount to teach me how to program. Weird.

Also weird, of all the places in Manhattan to get a job, I get one in Washington Heights, literally 2 buildings away from where the wife-to-be works and schools. Odd. This job is very unlike the last job I had, in that it’s strictly 9-5 (so much so that I was ordered to go home at 5 on my first day), with an hour lunch. Further, unlike the standard 10 days of most jobs, this cushy university job gets 23 days. Plus 2 personal days, plus sick days. Christ, when do people work around here?

I’m not complaining, though. I lucked out, again. Took me 4 months of vacation (well, unemployment), but I lucked out.