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::Uptown Girl::


So I have an admitted obsession with New York City.
I guess it began when I used to skip classes in H.S. to go to central park and rollerblade. There was just something so liberating about it. So free.
I remember being 17 and packing up my little gold Ford Escort with all my clothes in garbage bags, and tons of poetry and journals and books, and moving up there.
For the first week I sat at this little coffee shop in the east village literally drinking espresso until my head exploded while “people watching” and writing naïve little poems.
I had little index cards tucked in my journal with subway directions to all of these places I’d read about. Obscure poets homes. Cute little designer boutiques. Places to get the best pizza.
Walking around the city with no make-up, no heels, a cute little suburban bob and floral skirts, I felt like I had finally found my little place in the world.
I had a boyfriend who was a male model/stockbroker/overbearing control freak. But we were happy for the most part. I would listen to him go on and on about stocks and bonds and all that very important crap, while I tried to perfect the Dominican recipes his mother passed on to me.
And then I somehow found my way into a buying office for a retail store, and my whole life changed.
Suddenly I was opened to fashion, and parties, and this whole “other” life. It was literally like The Devil Wears Prada.
In came the make-up, the stilettos, the fab clothes, the friends, the drinking, the networking, the partying. Out went the housewife. And husband lol.
And for the next 8 or so years, I was New York.
There’s something that comes from the complexity of sitting on a subway next to a stockbroker, next to a homeless person, next to a felon, next to a nurse and so on and so on. Just so many different people together in the same place, but so alone. It’s really beautiful.
You can get lost in the beauty of 5th avenue. Mesmerized by the store windows, everyone rushing by speaking different languages. Staring onto the street your eyes get fuzzy staring at the yellow cabs. The dirt flying up from the buses. The tourists snapping pictures. You think how many times have I been in the background of one of those photos.
It’s easy to find yourself when no one’s looking. Easy to really be yourself when no one else cares.
You can stroll into any bar on any night and start all over. Be a different person. Have a different crowd. Learn new things everyday.
For a person with a.d.d. it’s the most amazing place to be.
The things I’ve seen and done could fill a novel. That I might write one day.
From the shooting, to the eviction, to living in a hotel. The v.i.p. rooms, the Marcy project hallways. Design studios. Fashion shows. Anger management courses. Lol
I think I’ve been everywhere there is to be. And a lot of places I wish I’d never been.
I think about those days now, and I prepare to go back to Brooklyn tonight to one of my favorite clubs, Deity.

de⋅i⋅ty
   ˈdi ɪ tiShow Spelled Pronunciation [dee-i-tee] Show IPA
–noun, plural -ties.
1. a god or goddess.
2. divine character or nature, esp. that of the Supreme Being; divinity.
3. the estate or rank of a god: The king attained deity after his death.
4. a person or thing revered as a god or goddess: a society in which money is the only deity.
5. the Deity, God; Supreme Being


New York is my God in some way. The place where I go to clear my head. The place I go to confess sins and forgive myself.
The place where I’d lost so much, but gained so much more. It literally made me who I am today.
For better or worse.
So big ups to Brooklyn. And dollar vans. And stoops. And uptowns. And fitted Yankee caps. Thank you.
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