Take a bite of the Big Apple, or it will take a bite out of you. 

When people say to me: “New York fits you perfectly!” I say thank you, and then I wonder quite exactly what that means. Does it mean that I’m loud? Does my voice sound like a honk? Do I remind them of the rats that scurry around? 

Or rather, does it mean that my productivity moves at the speed of light? Am I nothing short of honesty and reality? Do I have goals as high as skyscrapers?

Regardless, NYC is an amalgamation of things good and bad. Living here has taught me to see the good in the bad, the bad in the good, the good in the good, and the bad in the bad. But also: the good in myself. 

You can learn a lot about yourself in two years. Being raised by two New York natives, sharp and quick thinking (sprinkled with a little bit of Jewish neuroticism) has been at the forefront of all the choices I make. 

It’s more than a city, it’s a lifestyle. While it may cost $20 just to step outside and breathe, the invigorating adrenaline is free of charge. Plus, I don’t think that kind of energy is something you can put a price on. 

When the taxi honks a bit too loud, or your bodega runs out of pepper jack cheese, all you have to do is look out your window. All of the lights that are twinkling – those are people too. 

It’s hard to realize that others are living a life with the same complexity as us. But as I look out of my own window, I see my neighbor with the fairy twinkle lights and the penthouse across the street that loves to watch Seinfeld. 

While mundane details, the complexities of the “someone else,” lie no more than 500 feet away from you (in an overpriced box, nonetheless) just to show the person living directly next door to you, or even someone important like your CEO, has also paid 10 dollars for a smoothie and stepped in dog shit on their way to work. The potential of the city is endless.

Everyone is writing their own narrative here, and nothing is a final draft. For instance, any financial advisor you meet on Wall Street may moonlight as a street art vendor or soon-to-be Keith Haring inventing their style. New York City is filled with walking rough drafts. Meaning you have the tools you need at your disposal to change your narrative. 

The city is filled with semicolons; as I like to think about it. While a period ends a sentence, a semicolon is a pause. A pause for exploration, discovery, and even margin for error. And then I pick back up and continue with my personal narrative. You are allowed to be different versions of yourself, and unapologetically. 

Although some may be able to do their laundry, use the shower, and cook dinner within two steps of each other, square footage is the price paid to live in the epicenter of vibrance and culture. With it, comes your neighborhood bodega man– who knows how to make a turkey sandwich with just the right amount of mayo (hopefully, they have pepper jack cheese). 

Some may ask: “Why live in a city that will chew you up, and then spit you right back out?” Well, I answer that it’s bound to happen to you at some point in your life. Why not start at the rugged tracks of the 6 train? The beauty of NYC is that as much as it will humble you, it will bring you back up. 

Believe it or not, you can consider yourself lucky if the Big Apple turns you into applesauce.