[Love: My City & Me] DETROIT (what!) by Lindsey S. My Detroit isn’t just some hook of an Eminem song.It is more than 8 miles long.It rocks and it rolls.It plays Don’t Stop Believin’ at far too many sports games.It has amazing parks and lakes and people. I wish you could meet the people.They are hopeful and strong.They will rebuild, even if with their own 2 hands, and those hands alone.It is home to an auto industry - searching for a renewed relevance, stuck in a junkyard of poor decisions and debt. Where it will find it’s new place in this hybrid world… and if and win and how…we do not know. But we have not given up.There have been jobs lost.There have been homes repossessed.But we are brave. And proud. And strong. And we will never stop believin’…we will hold on to that feeling.….You know, the one that tells us that the city, our city, that we love, will once again be a haven of hope… (that goes on and on and on and on…) Send me your city story.

[Love: My City & Me] DETROIT (what!) by Lindsey S.

My Detroit isn’t just some hook of an Eminem song.
It is more than 8 miles long.
It rocks and it rolls.
It plays Don’t Stop Believin’ at far too many sports games.
It has amazing parks and lakes and people. I wish you could meet the people.
They are hopeful and strong.
They will rebuild, even if with their own 2 hands, and those hands alone.
It is home to an auto industry - searching for a renewed relevance, stuck in a junkyard of poor decisions and debt.
Where it will find it’s new place in this hybrid world… and if and win and how…we do not know.
But we have not given up.
There have been jobs lost.
There have been homes repossessed.
But we are brave. And proud. And strong.
And we will never stop believin’…we will hold on to that feeling.
….You know, the one that tells us that the city, our city, that we love, will once again be a haven of hope… (that goes on and on and on and on…)

Send me your city story.

[Love: My City & Me ] Bama, Bama, Bama by Christine Richter Alabama has always been my home. When I started to read all the city stories being shared by readers and friends of Sarah, I realized that I really don’t know anything else. To me, all hometowns would feel just like the various small towns I’ve always come home to in Bama- safe, warm, exciting, surprising, familiar, comforting, hopeful, the place that you just know in your heart- when you are there- you are home. There’s this stigma about being from a lot of places in the south like Mobile (pictured above, by far the largest city I’ve lived in) - like because our towns are a bit smaller and our accents are more southern - that we have this inward way of viewing life and the world….that we lack a perspective common with the cities of bright lights and lots of traffic. And maybe this is the case. Maybe because I’ve never lived anywhere else I’m missing some part of some massive picture. And maybe someday I’ll pack up my bags and move somewhere new and random - full of adventure, without any familiarity. Step outside that infamous comfort zone. But I have to tell you - If I never know any other home…. If this is all there is for my journey….if my perspective never gets wider and my view always stays this ‘simple’ - then I’m perfectly fine with that, too. That old southern song is true - happiness isn’t getting what you want, it’s wanting what you got. And home is where your happy heart is… Share your city story with me. :)

[Love: My City & Me ] Bama, Bama, Bama by Christine Richter

Alabama has always been my home. When I started to read all the city stories being shared by readers and friends of Sarah, I realized that I really don’t know anything else.

To me, all hometowns would feel just like the various small towns I’ve always come home to in Bama- safe, warm, exciting, surprising, familiar, comforting, hopeful, the place that you just know in your heart- when you are there- you are home.

There’s this stigma about being from a lot of places in the south like Mobile (pictured above, by far the largest city I’ve lived in) - like because our towns are a bit smaller and our accents are more southern - that we have this inward way of viewing life and the world….that we lack a perspective common with the cities of bright lights and lots of traffic.

And maybe this is the case. Maybe because I’ve never lived anywhere else I’m missing some part of some massive picture. And maybe someday I’ll pack up my bags and move somewhere new and random - full of adventure, without any familiarity. Step outside that infamous comfort zone.

But I have to tell you - If I never know any other home…. If this is all there is for my journey….if my perspective never gets wider and my view always stays this ‘simple’ - then I’m perfectly fine with that, too.

That old southern song is true - happiness isn’t getting what you want, it’s wanting what you got. And home is where your happy heart is…

Share your city story with me. :)

[Love: My City & Me] Florence, Italy by Laura (whose fantastic blogs you can read here and here) firenze, italia. My city makes me feel beautiful.  Maybe it’s the cobblestone streets or the history in these streets…maybe it’s the fact that Petrarch wrote poems about coming to this city to look for a woman named Laura. But I feel beautiful in this city.  I feel welcome and brave and belonging.  I come here to admire, to seek, to soak in all that so many have made their way here to see. The Grand Tour, the pilgrimage to this city of pretty, these visitors paying homage to all that happened here, all the artists and writers and lovers who came here, year after year, to find the beautiful.  I am not some stranger.  I’m at home amid these statues and stories, and somehow, this city sweeps me up in her swirling enchantment.  Somehow, the quiet beauty seeps its way into me. Maybe it’s the cobblestone streets.  Maybe it’s the Renaissance masters who say to me, “you are beautiful.  you are.  you too are my muse.”  I find the beautiful in this city and the beautiful in me. Photo originally on Laura’s blog here. Share your city story with me.

[Love: My City & Me] Florence, Italy

by Laura (whose fantastic blogs you can read here and here)

firenze, italia.

My city makes me feel beautiful.  Maybe it’s the cobblestone streets or the history in these streets…maybe it’s the fact that Petrarch wrote poems about coming to this city to look for a woman named Laura.

But I feel beautiful in this city.  I feel welcome and brave and belonging.  I come here to admire, to seek, to soak in all that so many have made their way here to see. The Grand Tour, the pilgrimage to this city of pretty, these visitors paying homage to all that happened here, all the artists and writers and lovers who came here, year after year, to find the beautiful.  I am not some stranger.  I’m at home amid these statues and stories, and somehow, this city sweeps me up in her swirling enchantment.  Somehow, the quiet beauty seeps its way into me.

Maybe it’s the cobblestone streets.  Maybe it’s the Renaissance masters who say to me, “you are beautiful.  you are.  you too are my muse.”  I find the beautiful in this city and the beautiful in me.

Photo originally on Laura’s blog here.

Share your city story with me.

[Love: My City & Me] London Calling by Pete Kennedy My city is probably a lot like yours. At times it’s filled with excitement and mystery. It surrounds me with this brilliant, infinite envelope of possibilities…of hopes…of dreams… It consumes me with its promises of new adventures, new loves….the perfect cup of tea. It fills my nights with witty banter with a charming stranger. It often leaves me breathless and broke. Confused. Unsure of my role in its big world that I seem to be such a small, insignificant part of. But then I realize…we all have our own world within this city. It takes us all on our own journeys. No two the same, although the cobblestone underneath our very different pairs of feet certainly is. Tell me your city story…

[Love: My City & Me] London Calling by Pete Kennedy

My city is probably a lot like yours. At times it’s filled with excitement and mystery. It surrounds me with this brilliant, infinite envelope of possibilities…of hopes…of dreams…

It consumes me with its promises of new adventures, new loves….the perfect cup of tea.

It fills my nights with witty banter with a charming stranger.

It often leaves me breathless and broke. Confused. Unsure of my role in its big world that I seem to be such a small, insignificant part of.

But then I realize…we all have our own world within this city. It takes us all on our own journeys. No two the same, although the cobblestone underneath our very different pairs of feet certainly is.

Tell me your city story…

[love : my city & me ] the city of dreams (not angels) by elliott my city dreams big. each morning when i wake up and walk down the flights of stairs of my apartment and my feet hit the pavement and begin to hear, feel and see the many stories that the streets of my city have waiting for me. some say this is the city of angels, i think it is the city of dreams. the city where you come - where you are drawn by the glitz and glamour and then learn to survive inspite of it. my city is a place where easily the allure of the stars in the sky and on the boulevard can take people on a ride that leaves them in a place they never thought would go, that is not as shiny and fantastic as they always imagined it to be. that’s why i love this city. because when you live here your dreams constantly change because you become wise enough to change them. they evolve like your story and your five o’clock shadow…and your friendships and your bank account and if you’re lucky - your heart, mind, soul, spirit. *** Share your city story with me (all cities, towns, villages, etc are welcome!)

[love : my city & me ] the city of dreams (not angels) by elliott

my city dreams big. each morning when i wake up and walk down the flights of stairs of my apartment and my feet hit the pavement and begin to hear, feel and see the many stories that the streets of my city have waiting for me. some say this is the city of angels, i think it is the city of dreams. the city where you come - where you are drawn by the glitz and glamour and then learn to survive inspite of it.

my city is a place where easily the allure of the stars in the sky and on the boulevard can take people on a ride that leaves them in a place they never thought would go, that is not as shiny and fantastic as they always imagined it to be.

that’s why i love this city. because when you live here your dreams constantly change because you become wise enough to change them. they evolve like your story and your five o’clock shadow…and your friendships and your bank account and if you’re lucky - your heart, mind, soul, spirit.

*** Share your city story with me (all cities, towns, villages, etc are welcome!)

[Love: My City & Me] Austin, Austin…how I love thee by Lindsey M. Tell me your story about your city, she asked me… I’m not sure what to tell other than I came, I saw, I danced, I laughed, I ate, I drank, I ate again and I fell in love.A few things in between: Tubing on the GuadalupeTwirling in the hot summer sunHook ‘em hornsBrunch at Fonda San MiguelAimless driving with the top down on 2222Hippies and singers and artists and cowboys and SoCal transplantsGuero’s fish tacosGhosts that haunt the DriskillMargs on the rooftop of Iron CactusAvoiding North Austin like the plagueEntire districts devoted to drinkingBBQ – Ironworks, Salt Lick – brisket, brisket, brisketRudy’s – fill up on gas & breakfast tacosBy George Burritos as big as your head (or bigger)Uchi (best damn sushi)Taco Cabana at 3 a.m.Casino El Camino – badass burgersSoCoSalsa bar at PolvosDevil’s Cove boating and boozingLazy Sundays at Hula HutAustin Chronicle reads outside at Austin JavaQuesadillas at Chuy’s2 for 1 burgers at HutsTejas rockin’ and rollin’ at StubbsTaking a dip in Barton SpringsArmstrong and Dell, Bullock and Wilson, McConaughey and Roddick. Kinky mother fucking FriedmanCowboy boots and sundressesCowboy hats and too short cut offsFalling in love, under the big, open, hopeful Texas sky…

[Love: My City & Me] Austin, Austin…how I love thee

by Lindsey M.

Tell me your story about your city, she asked me…

I’m not sure what to tell other than I came, I saw, I danced, I laughed, I ate, I drank, I ate again and I fell in love.

A few things in between:

Tubing on the Guadalupe
Twirling in the hot summer sun
Hook ‘em horns
Brunch at Fonda San Miguel
Aimless driving with the top down on 2222
Hippies and singers and artists and cowboys and SoCal transplants
Guero’s fish tacos
Ghosts that haunt the Driskill
Margs on the rooftop of Iron Cactus
Avoiding North Austin like the plague
Entire districts devoted to drinking
BBQ – Ironworks, Salt Lick – brisket, brisket, brisket
Rudy’s – fill up on gas & breakfast tacos
By George
Burritos as big as your head (or bigger)
Uchi (best damn sushi)
Taco Cabana at 3 a.m.
Casino El Camino – badass burgers
SoCo
Salsa bar at Polvos
Devil’s Cove boating and boozing
Lazy Sundays at Hula Hut
Austin Chronicle reads outside at Austin Java
Quesadillas at Chuy’s
2 for 1 burgers at Huts
Tejas rockin’ and rollin’ at Stubbs
Taking a dip in Barton Springs
Armstrong and Dell, Bullock and Wilson, McConaughey and Roddick.
Kinky mother fucking Friedman
Cowboy boots and sundresses
Cowboy hats and too short cut offs
Falling in love, under the big, open, hopeful Texas sky…

[Love: My City & Me] 15 Years Later…and I’m still on Spring Break by Kellie Wilson I was never on Spring Break in the Joe Francis / Girls Gone Wild sense. When I first came down to Barbados my Senior year of college most of my friends were in Cabo or Panama City or at a Senor Frogs somewhere doing body shots of tequila with guys in board shorts. I’m sure it was fun, but that just wasn’t me. I came down to Barbados to truly relax - lay on the sand. Do a bit of diving. Sleep too late. Eat far too much. To celebrate my collegiate freedom - the same freedom I took for granted until the reality of the real world and a 9 to 5 life behind a desk (my seemingly inevitable future as a finance major) hit. I’m still here. I fell in love on that Spring Break. He was tall and Scottish and pale compared to his fellow Islanders. He didn’t seem to really belong at the time although now I can’t imagine either of us being anywhere else. I know it sounds so cliche or that I am naive but I just knew. Knew he was the one, knew that as soon as I met him, there I belonged. My city is small and at times rural and primitive, at times luxurious and extravagant. It has the most beautiful sunrise and sunset. Its weather keeps me warm, its breeze makes me feel safe…and at ease. Just because it is island life doesn’t mean it is without worry. My husband and I fight just like you do (or will) with yours. We worry about money and making ends meet, and when the clouds will yield that ray of light that we need to make it through a rough day. But this city is my home. Carried there by wind and a fierce determination to have one last relaxing hurrah, I feel so blessed that this hurrah has lasted 15 years and counting. I still wake up and look out at the beach below my  bedroom window and feel like I am in some kind of dream….and maybe I am. Maybe we all are. Maybe it is true and life is but a never ending dream. I know that the happiness I feel in my heart is shared with many others - those of us who find this deep bravery somewhere within us that we didn’t even know existed. The bravery that pushes us out in a limb…and into the life we never believed we would be lucky enough to have. I want to hear (and share!) your City stories. Send them to me here.

[Love: My City & Me] 15 Years Later…and I’m still on Spring Break

by Kellie Wilson

I was never on Spring Break in the Joe Francis / Girls Gone Wild sense. When I first came down to Barbados my Senior year of college most of my friends were in Cabo or Panama City or at a Senor Frogs somewhere doing body shots of tequila with guys in board shorts. I’m sure it was fun, but that just wasn’t me.

I came down to Barbados to truly relax - lay on the sand. Do a bit of diving. Sleep too late. Eat far too much. To celebrate my collegiate freedom - the same freedom I took for granted until the reality of the real world and a 9 to 5 life behind a desk (my seemingly inevitable future as a finance major) hit.

I’m still here. I fell in love on that Spring Break. He was tall and Scottish and pale compared to his fellow Islanders. He didn’t seem to really belong at the time although now I can’t imagine either of us being anywhere else.

I know it sounds so cliche or that I am naive but I just knew. Knew he was the one, knew that as soon as I met him, there I belonged.

My city is small and at times rural and primitive, at times luxurious and extravagant. It has the most beautiful sunrise and sunset. Its weather keeps me warm, its breeze makes me feel safe…and at ease.

Just because it is island life doesn’t mean it is without worry. My husband and I fight just like you do (or will) with yours. We worry about money and making ends meet, and when the clouds will yield that ray of light that we need to make it through a rough day.

But this city is my home. Carried there by wind and a fierce determination to have one last relaxing hurrah, I feel so blessed that this hurrah has lasted 15 years and counting.

I still wake up and look out at the beach below my  bedroom window and feel like I am in some kind of dream….and maybe I am. Maybe we all are. Maybe it is true and life is but a never ending dream. I know that the happiness I feel in my heart is shared with many others - those of us who find this deep bravery somewhere within us that we didn’t even know existed. The bravery that pushes us out in a limb…and into the life we never believed we would be lucky enough to have.

I want to hear (and share!) your City stories. Send them to me here.

Pushing Me to Move, Begging Me to Stay.

[Love: My City & Me] : Pushing Me to Move, Begging Me to Stay. My City is Me

By: Mark Nielsen

My city tries to sleep but has a bit of insomnia.
It acts as a green screen in the background of my journey.
My city shows me all its colors and shades, its personalities and its pitfalls, providing the perfect ambiance for the scenes that unfold that day.
My city knows I’m fickle. I might not know it is perfect at the time - it is often rainy, and feels boring, and without surprise. Its consistency can prove to be…
But later, when the curtain closes on the scene, I realize it was all kinds of perfect, I was just too entrenched in the pursuit of something more to notice the beautiful scenery that continues to unfold behind (and beyond) me.
My city lives deep somewhere between my heart and my soul. It is my home and it isn’t.
My city morphs and changes and yet always looks the same.
It is full of adventures yet full of familiarity.
It always seems to be tiptoeing around in a quiet murmur yet is vibrant and alive.
My city provides a dot on a map. One that is covered completely by a red thumbtack.
It beat boxes and moans and honks and groans and wails a symphony that sounds different to each pair of ears.
My city loves me. Hates me. Pushes me to move. Begs me to stay.
My city has all those forks in the road that your city does….a choose your own adventure for an adult who yearns adventure yet is terrified of change.
My city shows me where the light is and rocks me to sleep with its hope.
My city dares me to be all I can be. Even if that means saying goodbye to it.
It tells me not to worry, it will always be there for me.
It knows no boundaries or obligations, it doesn’t know it’s name nor does it care.
It doesn’t know where the next town starts or what happens in the woods when those roads diverge. It just knows me.
And that no matter what, I will be ok.

Conversations with Meaning & Adventures with Purpose

[Love: My City & Me] : San Francisco by Josh Loomis

I ended up in San Francisco as a total fluke. I didn’t used to be the kind of guy who doesn’t ever throw caution to the wind. I’d always lived my life in a meticulous way – paying special attention to “what makes sense” and following my mind far more often than my heart.

I was burned out in my DC suburb of Arlington, Virginia. I went to Georgetown so staying in the area was the natural progression. Many of my classmates lived nearby in one burb or another, and there were still so many nights in Adam’s Morgan. I grew beyond exhausted of the smalltown mentality that seemed to permeate so many of the minds there, despite the DC proximity. Bored with the political aspirations and rigor that seemed to plague the expectations of so many of the potential ladies I was dating, and wary of my career path that seemed to be leading me straight towards some type of lobbying career becoming exactly the type of person I loathe. I was afraid I’d go down that road so far, I’d never be able to come back.

The infamous straw that broke this camel’s back came when a girl I’d been dating for 8 months started to criticize me for not being more involved in the politics of our little burb.  She perceived my disinterest in going down that road as a lack of ambition, when really it was just a lifestyle choice. We’re all entitled to those aren’t we?

I got lost with my backpack, camera, various language dictionaries, moleskin journal, and a heart opening to the reality that life didn’t have to be something I didn’t want it to be…..that I could, in fact, carve my own path.
For the first time in my 32 years, I lived.

Coming back to the states was inevitable for me. Although I loved the adventure, I always saw it as a period of self discovery.  The question was just where I would come ‘home’ to. I love my family but couldn’t stomach returning to my hometown. And from the trip I learned so much about myself I knew immediately I could never go back to any place that didn’t value diversity, a person’s right to choose (their political affiliation, their career, their path) without universal overarching judgment.

So I got in my car somewhere in the middle of Virginia and I drove cross country to San Fran. It has been 2 years and I still feel like everyday is a new day here. I found my home in the world of high tech and my heart in the constant journey of discovery that is my life in this city. I don’t have it all together. Far from it really. I don’t have a steady girlfriend, some days I still hate my job, I’m not sure if I am on the final path towards what I want to “be” in terms of defining purpose.

But, I know who I am. And what  I don’t want.  I know I value quality of life over my bank account balance. I know I will always take one huge vacation a year. I know I want to laugh often and smile because I can’t help grinning ear to ear. I know my future wife will have laughter in her heart and eyes. And that she will love me just the way that I am and not feel the need for me to fit into any life trajectory she planned out when she was 16.

And I know who I want to “be” as a person. This city allows me to breathe, and think, and grow, and have conversations with meaning, and adventures with purpose. It is the right place for me. And I know that. And for now, the journey towards reaching the life I want is in full swing, because my heart has traveled from empty to full and back again. And it teams up with my mind and guides me towards who I shall ‘be.’ And day by day, I take one step closer to determining the multiple facets of exactly who I am.

Note: Send me your story of you & your city. Email me.

[Love:City] My City & Me Most of my Texan friends still don’t understand exactly what I’m doing here. They all can “like totally see me living here” but don’t understand the stigma. Why or how I ended up in this place that some people find so hard to navigate. I guess the truth is that I was having a hard time navigating my life UNTIL I got here. In Texas my life consisted of a crazy start up job with a man who serial-dated my friends (25 years his junior) and made me travel weekly to places like Champagne, Illinois and Norman, Oklahoma. When I wasn’t working I was out drinking like everyone else - listening to live music, on a lake, in a bar, in a field, and sometimes in a car. Life was an endless stream of boat parties and hangovers and djs and bands and breakfast tacos. And I loved it. And I was in love. And he was a part of all of my best moments there, and at the root of my worst. He made me know what real love was like and he gave me my first true heart-break. The kind that makes you feel empty and lost and scared and a prisoner in your own body, unable to tell your heart to let go… After him I went on a relationship binge -a  Real Worlder and a return to my would-be Bachelor and a sex toy mogul later, I ran away to NY. I decided three weeks before I moved here on a boat in the middle of Lake Travis after a three day holiday weekend bender (Happy 4th of July!) that I was going to leave. And I left the way I came- without any real plan other than to go. My company let me keep my job so I had an income and my (at the time) best friend had moved from Texas to NYC so she flew down with me and we made the long drive away from the longhorns and cacti and carefree humid Texas breeze above the Mason Dixon line, weaving through the deep south doing a BBQ tour eating brisket, pies, chicken wings, and sweet tea in the homes of complete strangers. It was magical. I can still feel what it was like to run through the grass in Tennessee chasing dandelions. It was the first time in a long time I’d felt really happy. When I got here I was lost, often. Even today, I still turn the wrong way down streets, get on heading uptown when I wish to go downtown. But I was only lost in the physical sense - my mind was wandering, and my heart was still mixed up, but I felt home, I felt found. It’s been 2 years and 9 months and I still get excited when I see the NY skyline - a little internal squeel runs through my body and I just feel lucky to call this place home. Like many films and tv shows, NYC is not only the city in which I live, but it is an active character in my life. We’re in it pretty deep, this city and I. Sometimes it kicks my ass. I haven’t been on a good date in 2009, I am broke more than I’m comfortable. It is loud and often manic. It has given me a bevy of first dates but few second - the men of Texas seemed to love me way more. I am so pale I’m almost clear. This city is increasingly unfriendly to dogs, has rents that make me cry each month around the first, and sometimes appears to have so many choices it is frustrating to settle on one. We have our ups and downs - this city and me. But for every hurdle there’s a surprise, an adventure, a painting that I find myself staring at for hours wondering the stories it could tell, a wrong turn leads me to an amazing block with fantastic gelato, good food finds me at all hours, a random conversation with a stranger in an Irish dive bar results in a life long friendship…THE FOOD! The culture. The laughter. The life. The POSSIBILITY. How can I blame this city of mine for giving me a rough go sometimes? For every bad moment he blows my mind. He continually teaches me that I can do it. That it will happen. And that all I have to do is try. And resoundingly, repeatedly…I find myself saying….ONLY IN NY. My City. [This is part of a weekly series on my blog where I am asking my friends, mentors, confidants, and strangers to share their city story. If you’re interested - email me]

[Love:City] My City & Me

Most of my Texan friends still don’t understand exactly what I’m doing here. They all can “like totally see me living here” but don’t understand the stigma. Why or how I ended up in this place that some people find so hard to navigate.

I guess the truth is that I was having a hard time navigating my life UNTIL I got here. In Texas my life consisted of a crazy start up job with a man who serial-dated my friends (25 years his junior) and made me travel weekly to places like Champagne, Illinois and Norman, Oklahoma. When I wasn’t working I was out drinking like everyone else - listening to live music, on a lake, in a bar, in a field, and sometimes in a car. Life was an endless stream of boat parties and hangovers and djs and bands and breakfast tacos.

And I loved it. And I was in love. And he was a part of all of my best moments there, and at the root of my worst. He made me know what real love was like and he gave me my first true heart-break. The kind that makes you feel empty and lost and scared and a prisoner in your own body, unable to tell your heart to let go…

After him I went on a relationship binge -a  Real Worlder and a return to my would-be Bachelor and a sex toy mogul later, I ran away to NY.

I decided three weeks before I moved here on a boat in the middle of Lake Travis after a three day holiday weekend bender (Happy 4th of July!) that I was going to leave. And I left the way I came- without any real plan other than to go.

My company let me keep my job so I had an income and my (at the time) best friend had moved from Texas to NYC so she flew down with me and we made the long drive away from the longhorns and cacti and carefree humid Texas breeze above the Mason Dixon line, weaving through the deep south doing a BBQ tour eating brisket, pies, chicken wings, and sweet tea in the homes of complete strangers.

It was magical. I can still feel what it was like to run through the grass in Tennessee chasing dandelions. It was the first time in a long time I’d felt really happy.

When I got here I was lost, often. Even today, I still turn the wrong way down streets, get on heading uptown when I wish to go downtown. But I was only lost in the physical sense - my mind was wandering, and my heart was still mixed up, but I felt home, I felt found.

It’s been 2 years and 9 months and I still get excited when I see the NY skyline - a little internal squeel runs through my body and I just feel lucky to call this place home. Like many films and tv shows, NYC is not only the city in which I live, but it is an active character in my life.

We’re in it pretty deep, this city and I. Sometimes it kicks my ass. I haven’t been on a good date in 2009, I am broke more than I’m comfortable. It is loud and often manic. It has given me a bevy of first dates but few second - the men of Texas seemed to love me way more. I am so pale I’m almost clear. This city is increasingly unfriendly to dogs, has rents that make me cry each month around the first, and sometimes appears to have so many choices it is frustrating to settle on one.

We have our ups and downs - this city and me. But for every hurdle there’s a surprise, an adventure, a painting that I find myself staring at for hours wondering the stories it could tell, a wrong turn leads me to an amazing block with fantastic gelato, good food finds me at all hours, a random conversation with a stranger in an Irish dive bar results in a life long friendship…THE FOOD! The culture. The laughter. The life. The POSSIBILITY.

How can I blame this city of mine for giving me a rough go sometimes? For every bad moment he blows my mind. He continually teaches me that I can do it. That it will happen. And that all I have to do is try.

And resoundingly, repeatedly…I find myself saying….ONLY IN NY. My City.

[This is part of a weekly series on my blog where I am asking my friends, mentors, confidants, and strangers to share their city story. If you’re interested - email me]

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Themed by: Hunson