My First Month in the City

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Written on October 6, 2016

September was my first month in the city. It was a busy month—at times blissful, at times volatile, at times overwhelming. It was a month of reflection and never-ending newness. I’m tired, that’s undeniable. My feet are blistered, my white sneakers are stained, my caffeine dependence has really ramped up, and my tolerance for other human beings has become…both higher and lower.


I am no expert, but if there’s one piece of advice I have for anyone moving from one place to another (be it for school or not, on his/her own or not, many miles from home or not, etc.)…don’t detach. Don’t desensitize. Don’t neutralize. Instead, dive in. Feel scared. Feel lonely. Feel awkward. Got that, Libby? I won’t sugarcoat things—I didn’t and I haven’t done these things. I did detach, and I didn’t feel those feelings. So, listen up self—you can do this.


I love this place. There’s an overwhelming about of realness that surrounds me on a daily basis. Manhattan is a Mecca of contrast—trash litters the sidewalks, designer handbags dance by on a block-by-block basis, burly owners escort their petite dogs; $1 pizza joints neighbor pricey vegan bistros. And the people, the PEOPLE. There are so many people! And so many kinds of people—races, faces, religions, sexualities, styles, personalities, and so on. Within this contrast is an overwhelming amount of beauty—so much beauty that it hurts.


Getting used to living with a roommate is hard. I’m probably/definitely not very good at it (sorry, Grace). It’s not hard in the sense that the two of us don’t get along or anything. Instead, I think that having a roommate has just made me realize how…strange I am. Little do you know, when you have your own space, you engage in habits and customs that you (likely) don’t even realize are a part of your lifestyle. Once you’re aware that someone else has a firsthand account of you and your life—in your most private, personal space—those idiosyncrasies and bizarre rituals emerge…Or maybe they don’t/won’t. Maybe I’m just weird...Doesn’t everyone wear socks to bed?


I woke Grace up the other day due to the potency of my nail polish’s scent. Truly, it was eye-watering (…and why was I painting my nails early in the morning? Good question—not sure why I felt such a pressing need to have red nails upon heading out the door that morning, but it must’ve been important).

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More to come soon.

NYCLibby KingComment