Someone once told me that New York City is for the commitment-phobic.

Actually, I could have very well just made that up on my own because I really couldn’t tell you who said that.

Which is why this city the place for me. You don’t really need to remember who said what anyway because chances are that whoever it was is already out of your life and is replaced by someone new. This is completely accidental. For all I know, I stopped seeing so-and-so because they moved to Jersey. More likely we didn’t keep in touch for a month, and by the end of it, forgot each other existed.

Another person told me that she has become more comfortable being by herself since moving to New York. I couldn’t possibly forget her: we share a room. After a long day of eerily-silent subway cars, there is always the danger of becoming philosophical with one’s roommate at two in the morning. I think we also tallied the ethnicity of our cat-callers and debated whether or not American Eagle has turned ghetto with it’s new affiliation with Payless.

(My vote? They have.)

If you’re like me, desperate to cram every idea in your head, the city’s solace makes it easy to pick apart history and our future simultaneously. Bonus points if you’re experiencing the world’s Vodka selection while reading up on speakeasies.

Therefore, if you manage to maintain contact with someone for over a month, there’s a possibility they will be there for you the rest of your life. Which is both comforting and creepy, but then, so is my favorite band.

So here I am. For those who know me from my (now buried) Novel, I can’t understand your patience. For those who are unfamiliar with my past-cyber life, I will refer to it at various intervals to allude intrigue you.

That said, I have much more to say. Stay tuned.