Forgetting Galileo: Me First and the Gimme Gimmes

If you are a New Yorker, the sun, stars and planets really do revolve around the earth. And for the inhabitants of this city, all of the earth, and thus the entire universe, revolves around Manhattan. Making you, a New Yorker in sheik bar in midtown drinking champagne at noon on a Sunday, the ONLY person on earth who matters.

Humans are naturally a bit self-focused. Its instinct. We are natural companions, pack animals, given that without others our own survivial would be comprimised and perhaps less fulfilling. But when it comes down to it, lets admit it - you want a bigger chunk of the buck's hind leg than your best friend. And you want it while its still warm. Even if he did help you take it down.

Manhattan is like all the world's hunting grounds condensed onto one island, with an abundance of fat, nice-looking deer but many, many more wolves. The result of which is that New Yorkers are totally, completely, inescapably, excessively, visibly and eternally self absorbed. To those of us who inhabit this city, everything and everyone we could ever want, desire, need and not need, is right here on our little island Manhattan. No matter where you are in New York City, the nearest deli, laundromat, bar, grocery store, gym, taco joint, sushi hot spot, clothing store, drugstore, Starbucks, loanshark, tailor, hitman, cupcake bakery...(I could of course go on) is no more than one mile away at any given moment. Gauranteed. My favorite sight in Manhattan is seeing all the people on the subway in the late afternoon on a Saturday, myself included, their hands stock full of bags -- lunch leftovers, shoes, groceries, Burberry's newest raincoat, toiletries, cupcakes, wine, chinese takeout, internationally acclaimed political novels, designer fragrance--looking at each other saying "WHAT a day that was! I do say, I'm exhausted!" And it IS exhausting, attempting to consume ALL that there is available to us at any given time, without leaving a single sock, blueberry muffin or lip plumper unconsumed, no designer sample sale or brunch place unexplored. And we are all, of course, on our way home to put away our things, digest for an hour, and then squeeze into those new shoes in order to fashionably inquire about the opposite sex over $25 martinis in a posh downtown bar. So much to be HAD, so little time. Any addiction you might have - drinking, eating, shopping, working, romancing, one night stands, fraternizing--whatever it may be, this city can give you your fix to the 9th degree and fast (Did you know that apparently there is a legitimate industry here called the "fetish industry"? Not stripper per say, not prostitute, just fetish worker. This kind of thing still blows my silly-little-Boulder-girl mind.) A friend of mine said the other day "If a girl can't find a man here, then you won't be able to find one anywhere. And here he is sure to be better dressed." How is that for a can't-sleep-at-night kind of thought? If romance is dead then I know who killed it. I'm not sure how, but I do know that Christian Dior and Manhattan were in on it together. Its as if we are all voluntarily stranded on a tropical island in paradise with absolutely everything (and everyone) at our disposal, left to either live in peace and slowly eat ourselves to death on coconuts and bootleg rum, or rapidly destroy ourselves a la Lord of the Flies.

Not only is there 24/7 access to our wildest and most whimsical desires, but we also feel we are the epicenter of all that is good, trendy, fun, important, impactful, exciting, meaningful, hip, and worthwhile. In New York City, it seems that all of the world's media, music, art, movies, shows, famous love stories, etc etc ...are made by us, for us and about us. If globalization is the future, then baby, we Manhattanites have already put first man on the moon - (and the reality show airs next fall). Apparently, we've got the whole world watching and talking about us - and its our job to keep doing things worth watching. So we will- and we will look good doing it. And can you blame us? We dont mean to be self-absorbed, its just easy to forget what life looks like if you ever get "off the island".

I realize how bad this sounds. After all, you are reading MY blog about MY experience in New York, MY perceptions of the New york that is just so good at being percieved. And for all of you fellow Boulderites who have ever lived in Manhattan, I KNOW you understand. ("Bubblehopping", verb--the act of hopping from one bubble to another, small to big, big to small.) But this is not the whole story. There is absolutely a choice involved. The pursuit of happiness in the land of plenty was never designed to be mindless, or easy for that matter. And evidence of this, of people making or not making the choice, is everywhere. Its not the choice to be happy, persay. Its the choice around what exactly you allow to make you happy. Tell me, New York, when is enough enough?

If New York were a person, it could be Paris Hilton and the Dalai Lama, all at once. More specifically it would be Paris Hilton leading a meditation retreat in the Himalayas (now that I think about it, this analogy would actually be a good PR stunt and a good excuse to film her in her underwear) AND the Dalai Lama promoting his new fragrance (I can see it now - it would be called "Silence" and the tagline would be "To reach Nirvana, you must smell like it"). My point, made in bad taste here, is that this bubble is a really big and alive one... and along with the senseless indulgences you have 24/7 access to, you also have access to many different very real experiences, very interesting people and very meaningful human work. There are so many remarkable people here, some of the most remarkable in the world - people who have larger views of the world than anyone anywhere. People who have titles, success, achievements and primetime slots on Oprah... and people who don't. People who make an impact on everyone they come accross. People who are the best educated and people who help educate others. People who are always looking to help those islanders who have been lost or misplaced in the mad rush for not only survival but prosperity. People who can walk in the park alone, take in a museum exhibit, buy something nice, drink an exceptionally good cappuccino or just share dinner with a good friend and say "This is enough. This is just enough for me." People who could have everything (money, beauty, love, sex, etc) but choose to have just enough instead and give the rest to someone else. The unfulfillment and haunting despair that comes with chronic overconsumption of things and people just can't take hold in the heart of one of these people, who not only ask for just enough, but also recognize something good when it arrives on their doorstop... That cupcake could have tasted a lot better if I wasn't already thinking about my next bigger, better but miraculously less fattening cupcake. With all the overindulgence here, there are also these other more humble qualities, mixed into a throng of loud and quiet, feux and genuine, seen and unseen.

One of the reasons I came here is because the city is screaming in your ear to succeed - with the resources, support and training that I have been lucky to have had so far, there is no excuse not to. But in the mad rush to get, have and do everything, I hadn't thought about what I would do once I did succeed or once I did actually buy, eat and ensnare everything available to me. I suppose I'm glad I have not succeeded at much at all since I got here, save finding a place to sleep, good food to eat and good friends to eat it with. But maybe that is success enough for the moment, depending on what my requirements are for success. Self-diagnosed with a raging case of the Gimme Gimme's, I'm now given pause to remember--its absolutely crucial that a brand new New Yorker never gets "ambitious" mixed up with "insatiable".