Dear New York

https://spowblog.wordpress.com/2016/07/31/dear-new-york/

Dear New York,

(Or instead, Hi New York- a phenomenon I've noticed from the email correspondences I've had whilst here, the salutation 'Dear' seems to be obsolete in this country.)

Hi New York, this is not a love letter. Before this, having only seen you on TV, I always found you too... overwhelming, like a Christmas tree whose blazing lights never turned off, whose every decorative article spoke so loud in character, nothing made sense when they came together and whose golden star on top, so luminous, so bright, threatens to blind anyone who dares look directly at it. I had no desire for you, New York and knowing you as a friend of a friend was enough for me.

It was only up until this year when I felt- London and I, we've become complacent with each other. There were no longer questions or conversations. There was no longer any curiosity or inspiration. London is always so perfect, too well-polished and too perfect; and when I was drowning in uncertainty and doubt, London had to keep moving and I could not keep up. I needed a break, not a getaway and when an opportunity emerged to come say Hello to you, I took it. I must admit, I was really nervous about our first meeting. I knew how you looked like; I've seen the posters, I've seen the movies. Everything I knew about you were mere illustrations and snapshots of scenes and everything I heard about you were lyrics that worshiped and painted you as a masterpiece. You too, sounded perfect and I was feeling dubious about my decision.

Despite all this, I've dreamt of you for months.

I've dreamt of the most cliché images, after all, I only know you so well- I've fantasized speeding pass city lights on tan leather seats in the back of a town car, surrounded by blaring sirens and impatient honking as sound effects in the background. I've pictured myself sipping on a Manhattan at the King Cole bar while inhaling smoke from the finest Bolivar cigars. I've imagined buying a train ticket at the Grand Central, just like in the movies, only to pretend to run away all the while watching those around me reunite in embrace or part after one. I've envisioned a selfie with Lady Liberty herself, I'd have on a blue outfit to match as best I can because I can never pull off that green like she does. I've constructed in my head the view from the top of the Empire State Building and I would let emotions take over, going deaf to the chaos down on the streets.

When I first set foot in the city, there were mixed feelings. First was that it was unreal. All the lights will really put you in such a daze. I'm finally in this city that I've always thought to be in a land far, far away (but nothing like the fairy-tales, of course). Next came something I still can't quite put my finger on. I wasn't overwhelmed and it wasn't disappointment; I felt this sense of relief. New York is plagued by imperfections- horrendous traffic, the noise was even worse than I've imagined it to be and the smell! Oh, New York you smell awful (a concoction of terrible sewage, mountains of unkempt trash bags, topping it off with a whiff of ammonia). I would apologize for all the trash-talk but I know you're sorry not sorry yourself, New York. All these imperfections and yet, you lay them bare for all to see (and smell). It definitely wasn't love at first sight but I do hope that you and I end up being more than just acquaintances, New York.

First week in, I find myself spending most of my time comparing you to London; I've even come up with a score board- if you're curious, the scores are currently neck and neck.

But I must say this-

Oh New York, you're such a charmer. What I appreciate and love the most is your sense of humor.

Oh New York, I love your split personality. The difference before and after sundown- from nice guy by day to seductive gentleman by night.

Oh New York, you're so proud. You have a star-spangled banner in every direction I look, as though to constantly remind me that I'm in one of the most amazing countries on Earth.

Oh New York, I love how you are for everyone; for the strugglers and the dreamers; no judgement whatsoever. Even during times of doubt, you will never dim, always giving hope to whoever is in your presence.

Oh New York, although you are a far cry from the description of clean and tidy, we both know you can clean up good. I love how your views are ever so breathtaking and exhilaration and inspiration are always just a look up away.

Birthday

Blogged this as my first post on WordPress! Find me on: https://spowblog.wordpress.com/blog/

Happy 23rd Birthday to me. As you probably can tell, the excitement… is lacking. Status at the moment? Not sure how to feel or what to say.

If I really must decide, I would say it feels… weird. It’s weird because as much as I want to feel happy and positive about things, times are hard right now; just in case you didn’t know, I have exams in a few days (did I mention I’m in medical school?). I’m sitting at my desk trying to avoid eye contact with that open Dermatology book I’ve been putting off the whole day.

For now, I’m treating this as my little getaway from reality and a little gift to myself.

Do you remember the birthdays in your first few years of life? Me, neither. I remember I used to get my birth date (8th July) wrong- can’t remember if 8 came first or 7. Birthday, it was like a ritual- every year on a particular day, people gathered and brought you cakes and presents. ‘This is niiice, ' you thought to yourself.

Years later, you kinda get the idea, you sorta dig it too- must have been all the presents! On the same day every year, others got together and celebrated YOU; your mere existence was worth celebrating. Oh and the parties! There were always so many people at the party! Who are these wonderful people who has taken their time out to honor the day you were born?

Fast forward a few years, it wasn’t just about the presents. You start remembering the faces at the party. There definitely were a few constants (you know who you are). Birthdays became the excuse for you to spend time with friends, to come up with wacky ideas of what could be fun to do on that special day. It was pretty miraculous in the sense that I come from a very small town and went on to an even smaller town to study. It was such a challenge to plan an event without it being vaguely similar to the year before (credits to my incredibly unpredictable friends and their beautifully brilliant minds).

Fast forward another few years and you think to yourself ‘Gosh, where has the time gone?’ Yesterday I was 17, today I’m celebrating my 23rd.

In your 20s, birthdays become the time for you to- warning: cheesy word ahead- reflect.

You realize it’s no longer about the presents, nor is it about what you do on the day. It really is and always has been about the people, who made that day so special for you that you’d look forward to it every year. And for that, I am very, very grateful.

You also realize that as every year that you age up, your family does too. ‘The 20s is when you will begin to really humanize your parents’ was a quote from a commencement speech I watched the other day that really hit me hard. The more I think about it, the more frustrated I become. I am very much a family person. I really want to do my parents proud and at the same time, spend more time with them. My frustration stems from the fact that I’m not doing either well and it really is breaking my heart. This is still something I’m trying to figure out. *long sigh*

Anyway, personally, birthdays were always kinda like Disneyland; it’s always such a magical time. And I really hope that it stays that way; that it continues to inspire me and that it continues to be MY special day when I can choose to escape into a world filled with my loved ones and be able to trust that the promise ‘everything will be okay’ holds every ounce of truth in the universe.