I am a 25-year-old single white male that was born in a foreign country and immigrated to the U.S. with my parents when I was just over a year old. Since then I have come to grow up in two different cultures. The first is my native culture that my parents instilled in my sisters and I growing up…the culture in which we celebrated Christmas and Easter, the culture of my native tongue, the culture that is rich in history and tradition, the culture that is what I am. Then there was the second culture, the culture that surrounded me in my everyday life, the culture that I developed in, a culture that I fell into deep love with in its history and what it stood for, the culture that has made me who I am.
I have lived in Southern California for 80% of my life and have loved every bit of it; to me there are not many other places where you can enjoy seventy-degree weather 75% of the time yet have the snowy peace of the mountains and the thunderous clamor of the ocean within an hour of each other. The diversity of the people, the variety of the cuisine and the true sense of urban living is undeniably attractive. I’ve held a variety of jobs while in Southern California and have grown up living the fundamental lifestyle of school, work and responsibility. Our family being immigrants, my parents raised me the “old school” way of discipline and structure. As the only son in the family, I was raised to constantly focus on family and responsibility.
About five years ago I worked for a communications company that sent me across the country to various conferences. I went to mostly small towns outside of large cities and enjoyed every moment of it. I loved to travel, even if it wasn’t to the most desirable or touristy locations. The thought of being plopped into a small town for a week and getting to know the people, getting to know the way they lived, nothing excited me more. I’m still of the thought that despite being raised in the perceived materialistic region of Los Angeles/Orange County, small towns are the backbone of this country, and without delving too much into the philosophical aspects of it, this fascinated me. I enjoyed making temporary friends and it infused me with a desire to see more and speak to more and learn more and LIVE more. See, despite what your perceptions of Los Angeles are, not everyone out here is a screen writer or actor or trying to be famous; some of us are trying to discover what else is out there and what is bigger and better than us.
That’s where this blog comes into place. When I was eighteen I moved out from home to “find myself” and lay my own life in front of me. At first in an apartment with a friend of a friend that didn’t work out and in fact terrified me of living on my own all together. But I was determined and a bit lucky, so when a friend of mine bought his own house at 22 years old, I moved in and have lived there ever since. Unfortunately for me (fortunately for him), as life goes, we grew up; he got engaged, she moved in and it was happy times…until they actually set a date. And here I am today, I’m 25 years old and am finally on the cusp of what most would consider successful. I have a career that I have worked on, and have long term options with, that offers excellent benefits and salary. I moved out of my roommate’s house and back with mom and dad three months ago to save for a house of my own. See, this seemed like the perfect plan, after all, it is time to grow up.
Get a job, get your ducks in a row, buy a house, find a wife, start a family.
Except for one thing…is this really how life is supposed to go?
For me it seems like there’s something more to life than working to live. More than working to afford a house payment and a car and that nice watch and those Christmas gifts and the material objects that make us think we are happy day in and day out.
No, my dear friends, this is not what I feel I was born to do.
I’ve always had an incredible infatuation with the city of New York. Everything the movies and pictures portrayed it to be seemed so amazing. The fact that the city never sleeps, that everyone is right on top of each other, almost as if forced to interact in a congenial manner and be a neighbor for one another. New York was a wonderful place where it seemed like dreams could come true as quick as they could be crushed, where the commingling of people forced each one to be themselves yet work together for the better good of the city. See, here in SoCal, everyone is an independent person or thinks that they are or wishes that they were. Here in SoCal you have no central mix of people, you have a 100 square mile metropolis of individual cities all trying to be better than the other. You have people who are materialistic, people who pretend not to be but are, and those who truly are not…but who we kidding, they’re just weird. You have fake bakes, frost tips, bro dudes, hot chicks, hipsters, hippies and everything in between. Now you might be saying to yourself, “Self, of course these characters preside in the friendly confines of the Gotham City as well,” and you would be correct. But after the tragedy that was 9/11, the entire country and world saw that all of that no longer mattered, everyone was willing to share their shoulder for a tear. Not only were there the self-sacrifices of all those helping others get out of the buildings, but for days I watched on TV that people just wanted to be together and help one another. And while I love this mini-world that I live in called SoCal, let’s face it; during fires, floods and terrible earthquakes it looks and feels nothing like what I would imagine the people of New York are like.
So as I grew up and saw what New York was like on television, a desire grew for me. Friends, When Harry Met Sally, Die Hard With A Vengeance and Seinfeld all formed an image of New York that made me yearn to attempt to take a bite out of The Big Apple. Then, I visited. I went to New York in April of 08 and naturally, I did the tourist stuff. I went to Ground Zero, the Empire State Building, Museum of Natural History, a Yankee Game (they got trounced by the Rays, by the way J…that’s one thing I will never assimilate with…I hate the Yankees!), and of course the various pubs, clubs and bars that The City has to offer. I walked through Central Park and then went off the “beaten path” and just walked the Upper East (or West…not quite used to the direction of the island yet) Side. I wanted to get a feel for what it felt like to live there, so over the entire time I was visiting I would leave the tourist areas and just walk the neighborhoods. I walked Brooklyn, the Village, the aforementioned Upper Something Side, and the Bronx. I went into coffee and tea shops, checked out the restaurants (and yet didn’t see a single grocery store…perhaps something I need to learn to look for) and went into random high rise business buildings just hoping to catch for a second of time how it felt to be a New Yorker. I left New York with the feeling of, “Yeah, I could live here, but it’d never happen.” Until about June ’08 when I really started to think about where my life was headed. I was so fucking focused on my career and attaining the things that I had desired for so long that I forgot the passion of life that I promised myself I’d never lose when I first lived on my own. I got so pissed off at myself that I became determined to do something about it…and, for the first time, the actual logistical thought of moving to New York entered my mind.
I went sky diving in 08 on a whim and decided that life was too invigorating for me to sit on the sidelines and let it pass me up (cliché eh?)
So here I am…January 1, 2009. I WILL NOT CALL THIS A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION. New Year’s resolutions in my head are a fucking waste of your, mine and everyone’s time. When will people realize that it’s so effing pointless…if you decide that you want a change in your life, I’d hope it’s more important than waiting for the New Year to act on it. This is NOT my New Year’s resolution, no my friends, I decided this on a cold, rainy day in late November 2008.
I am moving to New York. This is the beginning of my journey. I am taking all the money I am saving for a down payment on a new house and moving to New York. My goal time frame – July through October 2009. I deny, no, reject the notion that I will be a Southern Californian at the end of 2009. Now I understand that it takes some time to assimilate and learn The City, but damn it, I WILL BE A NEW YORKER.
Up to this point, no one but my sister (the eldest of the siblings and the one I am closest to) knows anything of this plan. Not my closest friends, nor my family. It may seem crude, but I don’t plan on telling anyone until I am 85% saved and ready to go. I’ve done a bit of research on the costs and difficulty of living in New York, but my trip has just begun. This is living. This is my epic.
New York will be my new home and you will be my friends along the journey.
“We do what we do to get by, and then we need a release” – Against Me!
