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March 27, 2014

There’s still an epic East Coast-West Coast battle going on, years after the death of both Biggie and Tupac. This isn’t a rap battle but an inner struggle. Or maybe a cultural struggle, it’s certainly bigger than just me.

See, I was brought up to hate Los Angeles. Maybe not technically, but it sure felt that way. It was worse than just hating LA; I hated every city that wasn’t New York. The myths are true, New Yorkers are bred (whether intentionally or not) to be completely short-sighted about other cities. I don’t think my younger brothers feel this way, but maybe it was those few early, formative years in the city, before becoming a product of the suburbs, or maybe it has just always been my personality, but I truly hated other cities. Once, on a trip to Chicago in the late 90s, my aunt tried to sell the merits of the Windy City to me and I remember having some condescending, evil response to the likes of, “Ugh, but if its not New York it just doesn’t feel like a real city to me,” which probably caused my mother a lot of parenting grief when the report came back to her. To be fair, I disagree with this now, especially after living in Los Angeles. I certainly recognize that Chicago is a real city. Hell, Boston is even a real city, but let’s not get me started…*

The point is that I don’t live in New York CIty. In fact, of all the permanent addresses I’ve ever had, New York City is the place that I’ve lived for the shortest time. Seriously. I know. Seriously. I’m more of an Angeleno than a New Yorker. I have become my own worst nightmare, my biggest fear. My iPhone lock screen may display a black and white snapshot of the Brooklyn Bridge (or the Empire State from Tompkins Sq Park–they’re on a rotation) and I may wear a small silver pendant with “NYC” pressed into the metal around my neck, but my Instagram feed is all bouganvilla, sunsets, palm trees, & #chia smoothies. With each passing month the thought of returning to the tiny apartment caves that cost almost twice as much as my huge spanish style studio with sunset views…well, to be honest, ICan’tEven. Also, I really like being able to buy my toilet paper in bulk. And these are all things that I SWORE I would never say because I mean how can you EVEN compare life in New York to life anywhere else? But see, the thing is, you don’t have to compare it…you just have to live it.



*I don’t actually hate Boston for any real reasons, especially not sports related ones (see: fuck the Yankees), I’ve just never REALLY had a good time there. Also, a lot of people I don’t particularly like live there (no…not my brother, he’s cool by me).




PS: I would like to apologize to my former self, my family, and all of my friends on the east coast for even writing this. At least you can rest easy knowing that I hate myself for feeling it more than you can possibly imagine…but you can’t fight the fever.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. March 28, 2014 5:08 AM

    I love you anywhere.

  2. March 28, 2014 5:09 AM

    I love you anywhere!

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