I've been giving a lot of thought to the NYC life lately. There are a lot of sacrifices I make to live here and I haven't always optimized it or done what's best for me. Due to a lot of things shifting over the past two years in my work, personal, and family life, it's leading to a pretty intense re-evaluation process which is still ongoing. It's taken about 2 hours to try to properly express myself about this.

For years I've held the 3-5 rule which I saw happen many times. Even those who intend on relocating here for the foreseeable future usually hit that breaking point between 3-5 years when they decide they're done with NYC and move on.  Those who stay beyond that mark tend to stay permanently. We become uncomfortable with driving constantly, yet are completely at ease charging through Grand Central at rush hour, or watching the street and the traffic light simultaneously to figure out when to jaywalk, or when to cross and gesture a WTF at the asshole that just tried to run you over despite you having the light. There's the smile you break into (subtly) on a clown car subway train when you hear someone, whether it's a New Yorker or a tourist, bemoan the press of bodies and realizing that you don't even think twice about it any more.

There's an old 2005 NYC guidebook left by my cousins when they were here temporarily which I've been paging through. Recently I've been trying to skim it from the perspective from an international visitor and it gives me an idea of all I take for granted and how suited I am to be here. Con games, fake homeless, and other types of scams are everywhere here but you have to be skeptical enough to see through it. During my suburban upbringing I was naive for a very long time. Once I'd experienced parts of life and committed to working in NYC, however, there is a particular revelation from an encounter (coincidentally from 2005) which is always in the back of my mind

A young kid, maybe 22, hobbled up to me on crutches in the marbled NJ Transit lobby as I was waiting for my train to arrive in Penn Station. Instinctively I suspected a scam, but it was 5pm and crowded so I knew I'd be safe (clue #1 that if you think that way, you probably belong here). I figured I would give him a chance to try his best.

He had a sob story about how he was drunk and tripped getting to the tracks, was trying to get home; he just needed $7 but New Yorkers were so mean! He claimed he'd offered his license and cell phone as collateral, and that he was really in pain and no one would help. I think normal people would either ignore him, nervously say no, sorry, or just give him money. I took a minute to really look at him and his expression, and the conversation went something like this.

Me: You offered your cellphone?
Him: Yeah!
Me: Ok, let me see it.
Him: What?
Me: Let me see it.  You said you'd offered it to people.
Him: Well, I don't really...
Me: No, just let me see it.
Him: I don't have it here...

I cut him off at this point.

Me: Look, if you're going to do this for a living, you never offer what you're not willing to give or over-promise in general. It blows your whole story. Just state the situation, see if you get sympathy, and if not, move on.
Him: *pause* Yeah...thanks.
Me: You're welcome; good luck!
Him: Ok, bye!

I still have that kind of chutzpah (to be Brooklyn) in spurts. This was the conversation yesterday in a bodega while I was buying cigs.

(PS, the cashier knows me, so I knew I could joke)

Random Guy: (as I walk in) But there's got to be something that we can work out.
Me: Marlboro Lights, please.
Random Guy: Well what about getting few scratch-offs? (You could tell he and the cashier knew each other as well)
Cashier: $13.50. (directly to me) Customers come first. Right?
Me: Unless he's busting your balls; then we come second.
Random Guy: I like her!
Me: Thanks!

In other cities, other milieus, this would be an offensive exchange, but here it's comfortable. I've been in this neighborhood almost 6 years. I've seen a lot and yet I don't think I'm done with this attitude, this life, this flippant, joyful side of myself.

Afterwards I walked to pool. And won. That feeling, that dominance, is the slice of life I treasure and gives me confidence. It's a strength I have in me to assert myself that I almost never felt before being in NYC. It's tenuous and sputtering often lately, but moments like these make me proud that I still have that fire and sass. I feel that there's some core knowledge I might someday channel into something great, and that if it starts and succeeds, it would happen here. I don't need to move. I need to channel this differently, be more rational, and use that wit, insight, and motivation in a better way over time.

I'm coming up on 10 years here. I hope I'm right!