At first glance the Highline can seem like your very own Chelsea roof deck. There are benches. Flowers. Shrubbery. Birds. A skyline. Views of the Hudson. But then you realize you have to share the roof deck with dozens of other locals, students, and (gasp) tourists.

the Highline = a Reason to Stay in New York

Lake Michigan is a beauty.  Having grown up on Lake Erie, I’ve never been impressed with Great Lakes.  Lake Erie was always dirty, smelly, and murky.  Lake Michigan gave me a new appreciation for fresh water swimming holes.  The Lake is blue, clear, calm, and ultimately delightful.  Chicago makes the most of being a city on the lake.  The city beaches are rocking and full of hot young things having a good time.  In Chicago, you really can go to the beach after work and hang out all night as the sunsets.  We can only do this at the Frying Pan in NYC.  And as awesome as that place is, it’s not a beach…and the Hudson River is not a lake.  Plus 1 for Chicago.

Chicago is cheap.  My brother pays $700 for a big, beautiful, and renovated brownstone apartment that has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a dishwasher, and washer & dryer.  I was nauseated just being there thinking about my lowly walk-up and found myself thinking “why do i live in new york?” over and over again all weekend.  Beer is also cheap.  Any bar we went to had $2 drafts of something.  Once again, New York – WHY?

Chicago is in the midwest.  Therefore people are laid back.  People leave the office not a minute later than 5 PM.  There is not unruly foot traffic on city streets.  The city is chill, yet very busy at the same time. 

Would I escape New York for Chicago?  I’d think about it.  Things that Chicago lacks:  It’s not on the coast and is not close to any other major cities or attractions that interest me (sorry Wisconsin).  Also, something about being “midwest” rubs me the wrong way.  Other than that, Chicago is my kind of town.

That is how I ended up in Spanish Harlem.  I had limited funds, a new job about to start, and no time to seriously apartment hunt and look for roommates.  As tempting as my aunt and uncle’s basement in the NJ suburbs sounded – I was not about to become anymore acquainted with the NJ Transit than I already was.  So when an old friend from home called with an offer for a 3 bedroom in “SpaHa” I jumped at the chance – convinced that having spent 4 years in the Bronx, I could deal with living in Spanish Harlem.

Like most naive new New Yorkers, I was shocked by the broker’s fee and monthly rent I was about to subject myself to.  I was continually shocked all year – I was living with 2 boys – one of whom I hardly knew.  I lived in a neighborhodd that lacked any sort of conveniences beyond corner bodegas.

This is why the first year is called survival.  Twentysomethings quickly learn that they can and must survive on very little luxaries.

It takes a lot to survive your first year in the Big Apple.  Courage to move away from home.  Patience to wait for public transportation.  Integrity to deal with an entry-level job.  Open-mindedness to not judge the hoards of people so vastly different from you.  And common sense to not get raped, mugged, killed, or simply exhausted by everyday city life.  Consider yourself a survivor  if you got that all under your belt in the 1st year.

The struggle of making it in NYC is what makes it so great and worthwhile.  It makes that dream all the more wonderful when it finally comes true.

My first year out of college and in Manhattan frustrated me more than anything.  I knew I could not live the NYC life I dreamed of living in Spanish Harlem.  I felt trapped by my neighborhood.  While my friends were off gallivanting the busy streets of the Upper East Side or spending carefree nights at the Beer Garden in Astoria, I was left in bodegaville -but hey, at least my apartment had 2 bathrooms, a dishwasher, and HBO!  However, these conveniences failed to provide much comfort.  If I wanted to sit inside every day and night to watch TV I would have saved my $$ and lived in Jersey.  It got to the point where everytime I walked off the subway uptown I would immediately become angry and jealous of all those NYers who were sitting in cute little cafes in every other neighborhood up and down the island.

I knew the city was testing me, and it was a test I was prepared to pass.  For every wasted moment I spent in bodegaville I knew that my true NYC dream was not dead.  I prayed for it.  I would stand at the Reservoir in Central Park and stare at the skyline before me.  I focused my eyes on the Chrysler Building – a piece of architecture that will always take my breath away.  I focused my eyes on that sight and prayed.  I love this city.  I am invested in this city and am not giving up on it.  I believe that someday I will live the NYC life I’ve always dreamed of living.  That is how I survived a year in Spanish Harlem with 2 boys who could never appreciate Manhattan as I do.

Once I made the obvious decision to move out of Spanish Harlem to save my sanity and not waste anymore time living a half-hearted NYC Life, I knew that I’d have to overcome an awful challenge: the hair-pulling hunt for an apartment in NYC.  There are many things you must accept and overcome in order to find a happy living space in this crazy city.  You have to get over being depressed about having NO $$ to afford anywhere even remotely nice.  You have to realize that your big apartment in Spanish Harlem only exists in Spanish Harlem – you won’t get that much bang for your buck anywhere else in Manhattan, or Brooklyn for that matter.  You have to ask yourself the question – “What am I willing to compromise to live in NY?”  I was willing to compromise space and money.

And that is how I ended up in a six floor walk-up in Yorkville.

Check it out!  I made the cool picture cut on my new favorite website: GuestofaGuest.com.  The New York Times wrote  a great article about this site last weekend and now I am hooked.

“An Evening at the Garden” was by no means a Manhattan red-carpet socialite affair….but it was a nice evening outside (sans the constant rain) in one of my favorite parts of Central Park – The Conservatory Garden.  Despite the fact that the Central Park Conservancy rejected me from a job after college, I still like to support them for making CP such an amazing place and lifts my spirits whenever I set foot in it.

Central Park will forever be a reason to STAY in New York.

The best thing about living in New York City is the amazing potential there is for greatness.  All it takes is a small buzz and a walk across Sheep’s Meadow to smile and feel like anything can happen.  To feel like the next step you take, the next corner you turn will bring you to greatness, to love, to dreams come true, to discover that New York you’ve always been looking for. 

Everyone has their own ideal version of New York.  For some it is landing that dream job on Wall Street or at ‘Vogue.’  To become the “it” girl of Page Six and Gawker.  To become the next Carrie Bradshaw.  To make it big on Broadway.   To experience a true New York love story.  Or, for some, all it means it to wake up here everyday and go to sleep here everynight.  Success in New York can be defined in anyway.  If you are physically here – that is already one success story and dream come true. 

This idea of greatness, the potential to live happily ever after in New York City is why I think I can never leave.  That possibility will always exist.  And if I leave and never reach that desired greatness, then what?  I will always wonder….what if I had stayed? Could I have found whatever it was I had always been looking for?  These thoughts make it hard for me to sleep at night.  Ugh.

The darker thoughts make me think this: what if this desire for NYC potential greatness is keeping me from finding the greatness that I could find in a heartbeat if I could just give up on my silly NYC fairty tale dream.  Who is to say that I could not find everything and more that I am looking for in another city? Maybe the longer I stay in New York, the further I am of finding any kind of happiness?  Am I sacrificing my own true love and fulfillment for my fervent NYC dreams? If I let go of New York, will I be able to move on and finally find what it is that will give me joy for an eternity?  For the longest time I always thought – if I had NY, I would be okay and know all was right in my world.  Now, I’m not so sure…

Despite this sad reality, a bff neighbor is on my nyc wishlist.  I would love to have someone next door that I could borrow a cup of milk from.  Someone I could watch trashy TV with at random hours.  Someone I could have game nights with.  Someone to have weekly “neighbor dinner parties” with.  Someone to pregame with and have sporadic dance parties with.  Someone who I could say hi to and talk to when I check my mail and walk up 6 flights.  Come on New York, is it really that much to ask for to give me a friendly neighbor?  It is the least you could do for making me live in a 6th floor walk up!

I’ve had a strange European neighbor for past year.  She is about ten years older than me and lives alone.  When I first moved in last summer I friendly knocked on her door to introduce myself hoping we would become lifelong friends.  She looked at me like I was crazy and didn’t even shake my hand.  Since then we haven’t had much interaction.  I’m also kind of weird about her after I spent one sleepless night in the winter listening to her and another European get physical together.  That was a lovely night.

this is how close I am to my neighbor...

Anyway – strange European neighbor is subletting for the summer!  Which means I have a cute new Texan neighbor.  She is an adorable college junior who is interning in NYC for the summer before heading to Argentina for a semester!  Nice life.  It is so cute to see how excited she is to spend a ‘life-changing’ summer in the city and then have a life-changing semester in South America.  Ah, to be young with the world at your fingertips, to have life just beginning to get great and think that this is how it will always be.  I was once that girl.  Now I am like any other single NY career woman – jaded, bitter, and mean to old woman and small children who I have to give my seat up to on the bus.  I am tired too, ya know!

New Texan neighbor is a step in the right direction to BFF.  We bonded earlier in the week because she was locked out and came to me for help.  We broke in with a credit card, which makes me feel totally safe about the security in this building.  Then we shared a bottle of wine while I asked her dozens of questions about her cute life and what she thought about the city.  To quote: “I feel like it will all go by so fast and I don’t want it to end!”  That is how I felt in college in NYC, now I live a life in NYC that has no end in sight and it scares the hell out of me.

In addition to sports leagues, ZogSports organizes “outdoor adventure” trips for young professional NYers. My roommate and I thought a trip outside the city to hit the rapids would be fun, different, get us out of Manhattan, and maybe create lasting bonds with people. The trip was a success in all but the last item. My dreams of meeting the love of my life on the rapids of Lehigh Gorge did not come true. Regardless, I had a great time.

Whitewater Challengers is a rafting company that sets up camp in the Poconos. The people who run the show are total river rats and adventure junkies. You know, the kind of guys that spend all summer in a kayak guiding cityfolk down a river and spend all winter working a chair lift at some ski lodge. Nice life.

My roommate and I were thrown in a raft with 4 strangers who ended up being totally awesome and probably some of the most normal people on our bus. We paddled down the river for 12 miles! I felt miles and miles away from my walk up. The gorge was fresh, the trees green, the mountains high, and the sky blue….until it started raining and thundering. But we rafted rain or shine for about 5.5 hours. I couldn’t help singing various river-themed songs like Pocahontas “Just Around the River Bend” and Boyz II Men “River Runs Dry.”

The trip was very reminiscent of summer camp. Maybe this was because there were about 10 rafts of boy scouts surrounding us on the river. They had squirt guns and engaged in a 12-mile long water war with each other. Kids were falling out left and right and the chaperones aka Dads were worse than the kids when it came to plotting and scheming against other boats. They seriously acted like they were storming the beach at Normandy and kept screaming “STROKE! STROKE! STROKE!” and “Ready – Aim – Attack!” Entirely amusing.

Back at the Whitewater Challenge campsite a band was playing The Eagles and Johnny Cash to a swarm of more boy scouts and girl scouts. There were signs everywhere for a Magic Show later that night. Too bad we weren’t staying! I also caught an 11 year-old boy smoking a cigarette behind a fence. I was really embarrassed for him.

The bus ride home felt like a college frat party. We got cases of beer and listened to ’80s music on the radio for 2 hours. I drank one beer and quietly watched the strangers around me form bonds with eachother.

Whitewater Challenge/Lehigh Valley: Interesting day escape from NY – but NEVER could be a permanent escape from NY.

It is on this commute that I feel incredible coffee shop envy.  I can even name them in order:

New World Coffee
Starbucks
Starbucks
Arte Around the Corner Cafe
Starbucks
The Muffins Cafe
Magnolia Bakery
Starbucks
Starbucks

Yes – there are that many Starbucks.  I counted.  These coffee shops make me so jealous every morning.  There they are – tempting me to come in, sit down, order a drink, and forget about Microsoft Outlook and the “to-do list” waiting at my cubicle.  And then there are the people in these coffee shops. 

They walk in wearing sweats, jeans, flip flops, pajamas, etc.  They sit there with their MacAir Books and ipods in their ears, probably writing blogs about how great it is to be in a coffee shop every morning instead of a cubicle.  They sit there reading the New York Times or some great new book in a comfy chair with a latte and muffin on their table.  They are in absolutely no rush and I cannot help but hate them.  I loathe how free I think they are, because I assume all of them are relaxed people with a stable income that affords them to live on the Upper West Side and not work.  While my morning routine consists of hitting the “snooze” button 10 times before shooting up in bed realizing I’ll be yet again late, taking a hurried shower, throwing a dull outfit on, and racing across town – their morning routines probably consist of a run through Central Park, followed by a delightful and long breakfast at a Columbus Ave coffee shop.  Then they will go home, shower, change, read books, write novels, and spend afternoons in the park with their dogs.  SO ENVIOUS. 

However, the reality could be that these coffee shop dwellers harbor Commuter Envy.  Maybe they see me rush past them everyday and think “look at that sharp young professional with health benefits & a 401K.  I totally wish I could work 9-5 everyday instead of waste time in this coffee shop.”  Yeah, they could be thinking that…but they most likely think “there goes another sucker stickin’ it to the man in corporate hell!”

Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever get over my Coffee Shop Envy.

Yesterday I decided to find out what this island was all about.  The result was a beautiful day stepping back in time to the 1920s.  The 4th Annual Jazz Age Fest was held on Governors Island this past weekend – an event I’ve been very curious about.  Aside from waiting in an hour long line to hop on the 7 minute ferry to Governors Island, the Jazz Age Fest was just as great as I imagined it to be.  How could anything 1920s-themed not be great?

I felt like I was living in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel – Jordan Baker from The Great Gatsby.  Everyone was dressed up in pearls, hats, bowties, and suspenders looking ever so dapper in the lovely June sun.  The event was a “Lawn Party” that allowed all the Jay Gatsbys and Daisy Buchanans to lay on the grass and picnic.  St.Germain cocktails were served on the Lawn.  I normally am strictly a beer and wine girl, but those cocktails were heavenly – the perfect summer drink, and the fact that I was drinking them on a lawn with a jazz band and people dressed up in flapper costumes was amazing.  The band – the Dreamland Orchestra – was the best part.  They played swing music all afternoon as people danced to the beats of a bygone era.  How great would it have been to live in the Roaring Twenties? I can’t imagine a more classy decade.

Best Sunday afternoon I’ve had in awhile.

Governors Island Jazz Age Fest: Plus 5

p.s. Spotted Alexis Bledel (Rory Gilmore) there!  She was standing behind me on the ferry.  I then spotted her strolling the Lawn with a boy and eating a popsicle.  Awesome.

• Crank up your ipod to a fast jam that pumps you up (Kelly Clarkson works well) and dash up those stairs!  Focus on the lyrics and beats, not the aches in your leg muscles
• Keep your mind active.  Think about something going on in your life that either really excites you or really has you stressed out.  These emotions will distract the physical pain of 6 flights
• Sort through the mail.  Usually I don’t have a lot of fun mail.  But when I do, I always use my stair-walking time to go through letters, bills, magazines, and the assortment of junk menus that get stuffed in my mailbox everyday

These methods work well for me and before I know it I’m on flight 5!  One more to go!