1st Month in Review

Most men, the herd, have never tasted solitude.  They are never alone, they never commune with themselves.  But blessed be he who has found his solitude, not the solitude pictured in painting or poetry, but his own, unique, predestined solitude.  Blessed be he who knows how to suffer.  To him comes destiny, from him comes authentic action. 

Herman Hesse

When I first came to New York, in the moment when I looked around my apartment, and out the window at the Union sign, highlighted in white against the blue background, I realized I was alone.  I didn't know a single soul.  There was no one I could call for a coffee, a beer, or for a brief word.  

On the flight from Seattle, I was destined for Baltimore, Maryland, to stay with a friend for a few days and soak in the new adventure that lay before me.  On this flight, I sat next to a nurse from Washington D.C., who was politically active and we discussed politics for nearly 3 hours.  I landed fully energized and anxious for what lay before me.  Driving into the city I felt this same sense of energy.  My first taste of the city came in the form of a romantic dinner in a dimly lit Italian restaurant, exchanging in broken Italian, with a good friend.  We then went to a comedy show in the village which was New York.  

But following the comfort of a friend in a big city, I was left with the reality that I was an hour away, in a small town, without a friend.  At first, I wrestled with the excitement of being in a new place, wondering what was in store for me, and this feeling of isolation.  For those first few days I wandered around the township of Bay Shore, trying to get a feel for the place I would call home for a couple of months.  As I took inventory I noted the Blockbuster, the Stop-n-Shop, and the gas station with a man, Ahmed, that would greet me every time I walked by with a "hey Jason...see I have a good memory."  

Soon after, my class at the law school began downtown Manhattan in the Graduate School building across from the Empire State Building and just blocks from the New York Public Library.  My first friend came by way of an email from a girl who was interested in me because "I was the only other student without a CUNY email."  I agreed to meet up with her the following Sunday and she was to show me the sights.  I had asked to see Central Park and after a mere 15 minutes walking, she complained of the heat and asked that we sit down.  She began a rather boring monologue about herself, namely her status as a Georgetown Law student, her posh internship at a major firm, and her story of her family.  Shortly after, she asked that we get drinks.  To that point, I had seen all but 15 square feet of the park.  

After drinks at a couple of lackluster joints, she was fairly intoxicated and made a rather crude sexual advance followed by a worse question.  I rudely bid her goodnight and made my way back to the train for the hour ride back home to Bay Shore.  On the train I wondered what had happened.  Was I just a naive kid from a way too laid back Seattle?  Was this what I was to expect?  Later that week I made friends with a guy from class and asked if he wanted to watch the basketball finals at a bar.  He said yes and took me to the equivalent of Beltown in Seattle, where "greek row" meets the "meat market."  Watching this 22 year old and his friends gather phone numbers, I felt old.  I remembered those days, what seemed like ages ago and took a seat and watched the game.  A number of young ladies came up and after about 3 minutes each asked for my number to which I declined.  I was wondering how anyone could be this forward, or this desperate, asking but not knowing the slightest thing about me.  I went out with him the following week to similar bars and after another disappointing night, I decided this wasn't for me.  

I then dedicated myself to trying things out alone.  Although my friends back home encouraged me to meet people, I felt I would meet the right people at places I wanted to be.  I knew I had not come to NY to party.  Later that month I visited the New York Public Library and Bryant Park.  To be honest, I liked the feel of the library but was disappointed to find most of the rooms locked for private reservations, security guards constantly asking to see my bag, and the wonderfully boring sight of clouds on the top floor ceiling mural.  I looked out the window and saw a skyscraper being built next to a 5 story scaffolded relic.  Maybe I had come too late.  

Bryant Park was a different experience.  Behind the library was an urban oasis.  A beautiful park with outdoor seating, a merry-go-round, a theater and a cafe.  Sadly the cafe was mostly littered with yuppies coming for happy hour.  But in the corner, sat an array of characters, listening to a folk singer bang out tunes in the garden, an event that happens daily.  A little bit of the New York I had romanticized came out that day and encouraged me to press on.  

After month 1, I had made only two friends, lived in a broken down suburb, had not heard back from a single employment possibility, and was suffering from heartbreak of numerous causes.  But something kept me fighting on.  It may have been that every time I came out of Penn Station I felt a rush of energy.  It may have been that I had not seen all that I could see yet.  It may have been friends and family from home reminding me to be patient.  But mostly it was because that I had been wrong.  I had assumed that things would come easily.  I had assumed I could not be disappointed.  I assumed I would not be alone.  When I read Hesse's words, I realized it was ok to be wrong.  But now I must embrace the choice.  I had left Seattle behind.  I had come on an adventure.  And words of wisdom from my childhood came back to me.  "It's hard to grow alone.  But that's when you have to grow."