Bizarre New York Shitty
Bizarre New York Shitty
I'm in New York City again.
I really fucked up the timing of this trip. I thought it only took a day to get a tourist visa to Brazil. When I last got a visa to Brazil 7 years ago the visa took like 15 minutes. They did it on the spot.
So the day before I was due to leave for Brazil I went to the Brazilian Consulate just off Piccadilly Circus. They told me it takes 5 (count em FIVE) days to get a tourist visa.
WTF?!? Why do you need a visa to visit Brazil anyhow? And for the love of God tell me why it would take 5 days? So I've had to change my plane ticket and come to New York because it only takes 2 days to get a visa here. So it's just before 8:00 here in New York and I'm getting ready to go to the Brazilian embassy.
The weather is miserable. It's cold wet and rainy. I left sunny 80 degree weather in London for this! Unbelievable!
There's flooding here. The flood waters are driving the rats above ground and that really freaks me out. Last night I was on a very narrow subway platform. I had a choice between:
a. walking into a huge puddle of water
b. falling off the platform edge
c. walking into a very intimidating-looking family of rats
It's never an easy decision. It's madness! That's what New York does to you. It drives you mad. It drives you mad but it doesn't do it all at once. New York City slowly drives you mad so one day you wake up and you are a complete freak – but you're not a freak to other New Yorkers because they're all freaks as well in some strange pool of collective insanity.
It's only when you venture across the tunnel and rejoin a 'normal' society that you realize that it's really fucking bizarre to be living in an apartment who's total size is smaller than the bedroom you grew up in. And the rent is 3 times higher than your parent's mortgage.
It's bizarre that you go day after day without leaving a six-block radius from your apartment.
It's bizarre that every twenty-something friend of yours is single.
It's bizarre that you have more contact with the local guy who runs the corner shop than you do with your own friends.
It's bizarre that none of your friends own property.
It's bizarre that you regularly go out at midnight and stay out until 7 AM.
It's bizarre that you have brunch with your friends at 3PM because you've slept all day.
It's bizarre that you get into arguments over which is the best restaurant on Avenue A. And no, Two Boots doesn't count.
It's bizarre that even if you live alone you actually share your apartment with New York's finest rodents. I once impaled a rat with a stiletto that I was wearing. I'd like to think that he was on a suicide mission.
And it's really bizarre that without exception every single one of your friends has a therapist and / or has an eating disorder and / or a has coke habit and / or smokes too much weed and / or has no savings account and / or has attempted suicide and / or has herpes.
All of that may seem bizarre to an outsider, but it's what New Yorkers call home.
Yeah, people speak about the glamorous, "Sex and the City" New York, but no one ever mentions the other New York. The New York where despite the fact that you're making over $60K you're still struggling financially and mentally to get by.
The New York where you spend year after year in the rat race and it amounts to nothing. You're still single. You're still broke. You're still stuck in that dead end job. You're still not famous! What ever happened to that novel / album / band / screenplay / photo exhibit / dot com start-up /performance piece / film you were working on?
You still haven't paid off your student loans. You still need to lose weight despite the fact that you belong to Crunch but you don't actually go. You drink too much (for an American).
You still hate your apartment. You're still jealous of the friends of friends who have somehow managed to achieve some sort of stardom. You're still unhappy, but in too much of a rut to do anything about it.
Despite all that you have illogically convinced yourself that you still love New York you wouldn't live anywhere else.
And Londoners wonder why I left?
I'm in New York City again.
I really fucked up the timing of this trip. I thought it only took a day to get a tourist visa to Brazil. When I last got a visa to Brazil 7 years ago the visa took like 15 minutes. They did it on the spot.
So the day before I was due to leave for Brazil I went to the Brazilian Consulate just off Piccadilly Circus. They told me it takes 5 (count em FIVE) days to get a tourist visa.
WTF?!? Why do you need a visa to visit Brazil anyhow? And for the love of God tell me why it would take 5 days? So I've had to change my plane ticket and come to New York because it only takes 2 days to get a visa here. So it's just before 8:00 here in New York and I'm getting ready to go to the Brazilian embassy.
The weather is miserable. It's cold wet and rainy. I left sunny 80 degree weather in London for this! Unbelievable!
There's flooding here. The flood waters are driving the rats above ground and that really freaks me out. Last night I was on a very narrow subway platform. I had a choice between:
a. walking into a huge puddle of water
b. falling off the platform edge
c. walking into a very intimidating-looking family of rats
It's never an easy decision. It's madness! That's what New York does to you. It drives you mad. It drives you mad but it doesn't do it all at once. New York City slowly drives you mad so one day you wake up and you are a complete freak – but you're not a freak to other New Yorkers because they're all freaks as well in some strange pool of collective insanity.
It's only when you venture across the tunnel and rejoin a 'normal' society that you realize that it's really fucking bizarre to be living in an apartment who's total size is smaller than the bedroom you grew up in. And the rent is 3 times higher than your parent's mortgage.
It's bizarre that you go day after day without leaving a six-block radius from your apartment.
It's bizarre that every twenty-something friend of yours is single.
It's bizarre that you have more contact with the local guy who runs the corner shop than you do with your own friends.
It's bizarre that none of your friends own property.
It's bizarre that you regularly go out at midnight and stay out until 7 AM.
It's bizarre that you have brunch with your friends at 3PM because you've slept all day.
It's bizarre that you get into arguments over which is the best restaurant on Avenue A. And no, Two Boots doesn't count.
It's bizarre that even if you live alone you actually share your apartment with New York's finest rodents. I once impaled a rat with a stiletto that I was wearing. I'd like to think that he was on a suicide mission.
And it's really bizarre that without exception every single one of your friends has a therapist and / or has an eating disorder and / or a has coke habit and / or smokes too much weed and / or has no savings account and / or has attempted suicide and / or has herpes.
All of that may seem bizarre to an outsider, but it's what New Yorkers call home.
Yeah, people speak about the glamorous, "Sex and the City" New York, but no one ever mentions the other New York. The New York where despite the fact that you're making over $60K you're still struggling financially and mentally to get by.
The New York where you spend year after year in the rat race and it amounts to nothing. You're still single. You're still broke. You're still stuck in that dead end job. You're still not famous! What ever happened to that novel / album / band / screenplay / photo exhibit / dot com start-up /performance piece / film you were working on?
You still haven't paid off your student loans. You still need to lose weight despite the fact that you belong to Crunch but you don't actually go. You drink too much (for an American).
You still hate your apartment. You're still jealous of the friends of friends who have somehow managed to achieve some sort of stardom. You're still unhappy, but in too much of a rut to do anything about it.
Despite all that you have illogically convinced yourself that you still love New York you wouldn't live anywhere else.
And Londoners wonder why I left?
Labels: bizarre, Brazil, New York City
posted by Naive London Girl at 4/17/2007 12:02:00 PM
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2 Comments:
Wow, that is a great summation of New York life. It's all about Desire and Reality.
"WTF?!? Why do you need a visa to visit Brazil anyhow? And for the love of God tell me why it would take 5 days?"
Because Brazilians need a visa and an interview to visit the US: it's all a game of 'you restrict our lot, we'll restrict your lot.'
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