East Coast Ramblings of a West Coast Girl

I wasn't in the city when it happened. My memory of the event is shallow because I was on the other side of the country, watching what was going on on the TV and listening on the radio.

I remember trying to be really patriotic, and we were mailed paper flags.

My grandmother from Taiwan called, terrified, but I reassured her that it was happening over 3000 miles away.

Mom was with me when we saw it early morning on the TV, and Dad joined us shortly after I began shouting...and even at school, there were teachers who hadn't known what happened.

Ever since I've arrived in New York, I've wanted to embrace the city, become one of those people who give directions to tourists, to really be a part of its glorious culture, and learn about its amazing history (recent and past). It's not difficult to do: Since arriving, I've already read several books written by New Yorkers, compilations of articles about New York, read the brass plaques around the floor of Union Square...everything.

Yet, today walking down the wet streets of New York, I really feel like I don't know anything about the city. Around me, people were walking with their heads held high, yet with their hearts heavy. It was only six years ago when everything from 14th street down (basically NYU territory) was closed to others, Manhattan itself was cut-off from the world temporarily, and dust filled the skies. I don't know how to feel. In a matter of days after the tragedy, New York revitalized and the bonds between the city-dwellers and Manhattan strengthened (or so I've read/heard).

The thing is, we can't come into the city and walk its streets without knowing anything about it. With each great place comes great stories. Today, for once, I felt apart, I felt out of the loop. I feel like I don't have the "right" to go commemorate this date along with the other New Yorkers who have experienced more pain in that one day than I had in that entire month (or perhaps in my short life). Still, though, the city is oddly welcoming...it's like they truly understand the meaning to "love thy neighbor" (sorry to be so cliché). So, what I'm trying to say is that you are welcome to love the city for the food, hate the city for the humidity, love the towering buildings, and hate the constant honking horns...but with all your opinions, you are...you are...actually turning into a New Yorker.

No judgments. No strings attached. Love what you will, hate what you want. The mere fact you're here and (at the very least) trying to fit in (whatever that means in the city), you are a part of the city.

Now go get a copy of the Times and drink some black coffee! Well, I'll get some coffee, at least.