Staying, Leaving, or Quietly Imploding Beneath a Serene Facade - Considering New York

As time goes on, more and more of my friends who came to New York from far off places are starting to hate the city, and a lot of them are making plans to leave. I've been thinking about this myself for months now, changing my mind depending on my mood and my career prospects and whatnot.

But slowly yet surely most of the people I get along best with here are making motions to head elsewhere. And nothing makes somebody seriously consider their attachment to a place quite like the prospect of being left alone there.

So, after a long think (and an even longer rant/self-scolding diatribe below the cut), I've reached an honest-to-god decision.

I don't like living in New York because it makes me uncomfortable. And because of that I'm going to stay.

Killing the Bar, but Keeping the Change - Bar Quest, Part Two

Work is insane, so obviously any real post involving TV or books is simply not possible. I haven't got the time to get my work done properly, much less type up my (oh so sophisticated) thoughts on popular culture and literature...

Or I'm just super lazy and can't muster up the energy to talk about things in a semi-intelligent manner. Which ever option you like best. So what the hey! Let's talk about NYC bars again!

Nearly a year into living in NYC, and my list of frequented bars has increased! I would claim to be cultured, but let's be honest - I'm too broke for culture. As is, I've got me a huge list of dives I've been to and liked, and as such I feel the need to share them all with you. Note that my original aims of finding 'the' bar have faded into a desire to not spend all of my money for a particular pay period in one night. As such, this list is not only limited, but incredibly biased. But cheap! Which could be a deal breaker when chilling in one of the most expensive cities in the world. See? Look at me. Being useful. Maybe.

...

Look! Stuff about bars!

Social Awkwardness and Making Friends for Dummies (AKA, Me)

At the hardened age of twenty-two, I've come to a depressing realization.

I have no idea how to make friends.

I'm terrible at it. Which is hilarious, because back when I couldn't form a complete sentence I could still sit in a circle with a bunch of other toddlers and play with my blocks in a companionable fashion. Now, I sit in a group of unfamiliar people and I stare as charmingly as possible at the table while trying not to say anything too unintentionally offensive. If I can stumble my way through small talk without making anyone chuckle nervously before edging away, I consider the evening a success. Making an actual friend during one of these awkward encounters? Only if they have an even greater social handicap than I do, and who really wants to hang out with those guys anyway?

Don't Kill The Bar, Man - Finding "The" Bar

McGee's Pub, West 55th Street

There are lots of reasons why people want to move to New York City, and I feel like a tiny part of every person wonders what it would be like to live here. (Not that any of the sensible ones would ever admit to it.) Whether for the Broadway shows, the 'ultimate' experience of "city life," an amazing music scene, more different types of diversity (oh yeah. I just said that) than you can shake a stick at, a culture of reading that I haven't seen in such concentrations anywhere else (yay!), or some omitted gem of wonder that I can't guess at, New York has a lot of dreams taking residence in its dirty streets and crowded subways. (And well it should.)

That's not to say that everyone who secretly yearns for a bit of New York would ever actually want to live here. After all, a piece of New York is way different than the whole shebang, and god knows I wouldn't have worked up the gumption to move here if opportunity hadn't have come knocking, despite my little dream. (Or how much I'm enjoying the city now that I'm here actually here.)

But a dream I did have. A small vision of what New York City could offer me. A reason beyond all others to quest after this indomitable city, to aspire to one day exist in this bustling metropolis.

I want to find the bar, dammit.

Artistic Visions and Other Illusions of Grandeur

There's something about New York that makes me want to be an artist.

And it's incredibly irritating.

Don't get me wrong - I admire the great creative, holistic, and embracing romantic spirit as much as the next person, and I don't mean to dismiss the pursuit of it. But me? Being an 'artiste' (with an 'e')? It doesn't compute.