Still sick. Feeling terrible. It was 10 A.M. and I heard a car alarm honking over and over and OVER. For 30 mins. I thought I'm gonna call the cops. I was schwitzing like a dawg, hallucinating again in my fevers. The car alarm kept honking. I thought it would never stop and I would hear it for the rest of my life. And then it was done. Finally.
Nothing really happened this day, except that the next day was my first day of work and I was freaking out. Therefore I shall write about New Yorkers.
New Yorkers are a fascinating breed of the whole world. If you want to go for a trip around the world, save money and come here. You'll meet every single person from the world here, every culture, every type of mental disease, every single type of lifestyle. And what I love the most is that you see every style possible here. In fashion I mean. From posh to hood, from hobo to polo. I wish I could take pictures, but a) I'm still not sure if I can and don't want people to see me and b) I don't want to be sued by Humans of New York for almost copying them. BUT, please do check out the website. Humans of New York is an awesome website showing people's life here (I'm trying to find the guy who takes the pictures of people and get a photo done. :D ).
There are many things I've noticed about people here, but the biggest thing is, that everyone here has a serious life story. And probably a post-traumatic syndrome. Actually, if you only have a post-traumatic syndrome, you're basically considered normal. Everyone has a past. Something happened to them in their life.
I met a elderly man in a bar, who is a local in our neighborhood. He goes to the bar every night, which I consider sad, but that's his thing. He told that when he was 17, he traveled around Europe and stopped by in Prague. Communism was in full. He took a train around the country and encountered a check-up from the police. In front of him was a family who had torn clothes, a tiny bag full of their possessions and a tiny bag that had food. It seemed that it was the only food they had. The police stripped this man down, completely naked in front of them. He passed the check-up and put his clothes back on, completely humiliated. The family gave him the bag of food and smiled. No word. While he was telling me this story, he teared up a little bit. It was a beautiful story, but I would not tear up. But he went through it. That was his syndrome.
I spoke to this girl. She looks like a normal girl who goes to work, pays her rent and bills and takes care of the family. When she was young, she used to belong to a local gang. I couldn't believe it.
I like to watch people on the subway. Mostly they're sleeping. You know how they say that New York never sleeps? Oh darlings, it does. The subway is a place where you take a power nap. That's where New York sleeps. You see girls with Michael Kors bags, but also women with two kids and a light jacket, totally skinny, even though it's super cold. I saw a mother like that. She was a gorgeous Afro-American lady, face and body like a model. In front of her was a stroller with a boy playing with a light-up plane. Next to her sat her daughter. She had syndrome-down. This mother had to guard both kids from not getting lost within all those people, make sure that her daughter doesn't accidentally kick someone because she had a slight twitch and at the same time she was entertaining her son with the light-up plane. It was obvious that she was low on funds, could barely support her family. But she was smiling and laughing like she was sitting on a beach with her kids and playing and enjoying the sun. Her aura was incredible. I could not stop looking at her, she lit up the whole train.
They say that New York is for the most strongest people on planet Earth. I think it's true. That's why I am a little bit in a freak out mode. Am I strong enough? Will I handle it? Because honest to god, it's not about the life style or my job, it's about the people around me. Just seeing the struggle gives you this fear that one day it could be you. And it could. You can slip so easily here, and when you do, it's hard to get up.
There is one thing New Yorkers don't understand. The privilege of just being a New Yorker. I told this to my roomies and people I met on the way. Most of the world wants to be here. And even though there are 9 million people on the island itself, it's hard to get here for people outside. For us "outsiders" it's a dream to get here. And when we hear that you were born and raised in New York, we treat you with respect. When I told people this, they all of a sudden realized it and smiled. And I could sense a tinge a pride.
It is really great to be a New Yorker. Everyone is a salad. It's a home for people like me who are searching for their home. Who belong to more than one culture and/or live in a cultural limbo like me. Still got 11 months and 2 weeks left to see if this will really be my home though. :)
Oh and I'll try to take more pictures of New Yorkers. In the meanwhile, really check Humans of New York.
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