Today, I received my first Birchbox in the mail with deluxe samples of new beauty products. I love skincare, and I especially love gifts in the mail. However, while going through samples, I thought about how excessive these once-a-month boxes could be, especially since I may not enjoy or even want to use so many samples. The product that annoyed me a bit claimed that your skin isn’t the only part of you that needs anti-aging help; your hair needs it, too! It seems like overkill in my book. Sooner or later, we will “need” to start applying anti-wrinkle treatments to our nails and nose hairs.

I decided that I would change my workout routines and begin going in the morning. I thought that if I took the train earlier in the morning at 6:15, it would be less crowded. Unlucky me, this was not really the case. And while commuting to work at 8:50am last week, pre-morning workouts, was crowded, one thing it never had been was loud. For some reason, the people on the trains at 6:15am feel that it is okay to talk louder and have everyone listen to their life stories. Initially, I thought that a fight was happening, but it was just a regular conversation. Just a regular morning on the 6 train.

It’s strange to leave the house at 6:15am on a Monday morning and see how quiet it is in a place as bustling as Manhattan. When I got out at Herald Square for my early morning workout, it stunned me how deserted it was. For the first time, I noticed the plaque on the sidewalk in front of the sixth avenue entrance, noting that this is the original Macy’s. I even looked up and noticed the surrounding architecture for the first time. Being there this morning was almost surreal, as though I wasn’t even in the real New York – at least, not the New York that I know.

For four years, I had to deal with constant subway construction, train alternatives, and delays while commuting between Elmhurst, Queens and Manhattan. The weekends were always frustrating, especially when I would come back from a weekend out of town, because I always had to anticipate subway construction, which would result in trains being re-routed and ultimately not running often at all. Now that I live on the Upper East Side, even when there are skipped stops or subway construction, the wait has never, ever been as long as it was when I lived in Queens. It’s another major reason living in an outer borough frankly just stinks.

I love Queens. Maybe it’s because I spent my first four years in New York living there, but I have a lot of Queens pride. I love the fact that you can find the most authentic ethnic food in New York in Queens, whether it is five different Chinese cuisines, Thai, Greek, Colombian, etc., and simultaneously pay little for it. I love the unique ethnic neighborhoods, the random shopping centers, and even the Wendy’s where Coming to America was filmed. Brooklyn may have all the trendy neighborhoods like Williamsburg, but Queens retains its authenticity. Maybe having lived there gives me “street cred,” 🙂 especially since I didn’t live in Astoria or Long Island City, which are considered “acceptable” areas to live in by Manhattanites.

One of the best things about living in New York is the incredible access we get to live theater and performances, and I’m not just talking about Broadway — off-Broadway, off-off Broadway, underground theater in unknown basements in the Lower East Side. Can’t afford Broadway? That’s okay, because you can see live theater for as little as $10-15 if you know where to look. You name it, and New York has it. Budding actors and playwrights can get their start at these smaller theaters. Yet I’ve always wondered where one draws the line between creating actual “art” and just creating something incredibly depressing or nonsensical that should then as a result of that be viewed as “art” or “creativity.”

Yesterday, my coworker showed me photos from the house that his parents bought as their retirement home. This sprawling four-bedroom, five-bath house in Arizona was going to cost them in the ballpark range of $550,000. As I marveled over the photos of the gorgeous interior as well as the grounds, I joked out loud that this same dollar amount couldn’t even get us a  one-bedroom condo in Manhattan. In New York City, unless you are living way out in an outer borough, you pay a premium for small square footage. Some “bedrooms” here would literally be considered closets in another city, yet they’d go for three to five times the rent. Choosing to live here means a compromise in space and value to the extreme.

Girls are mean. I thought that if I attended a women’s college like Wellesley, it may force me to reexamine how I view other women, and maybe I could then have a more positive attitude toward them. This did not happen. If anything, I left thinking that women are just out to tear each other down because when one woman succeeds, it is at the expense of another. I experienced the fiercest competition I’d ever seen, and left thinking even more that I just get along with men better. In New York, I have met similar competitive women, even during job interviews, where it seems as though when I am answering questions, they feel threatened by me. Why does it need to be this way, or is it just me…?

As the popular saying goes, New York is the city that never sleeps. It’s also the city that never shuts up. Wherever you go at whatever time, there always seems to be noise in multiple forms – people talking and laughing, a train passing underneath you, cars and buses honking (this is also the only city where I have seen signs that read “$250 Fine for Honking”). Over time, I’ve gotten used to all the different sounds and the lack of quiet and learned to block certain things out. To enjoy and ultimately survive New York life, I think this learning is almost a necessity.

It’s common to hear that most who live in a city don’t really do many of the “touristy” activities that visitors will do. I am guilty of a number of these: in San Francisco, i still have not visited Alcatraz. Here in New York, I still haven’t been to the top of the Empire State Building, having favored taking guests to the Top of the Rock, and I still have not been to the Statue of Liberty. Like other locals, I detest Times Square and avoid it like the plague, and I take pride when tourists ask me for directions because it’s almost like a badge of pride that, yes, I do live here.