Gathering groceries

"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements." - E.B. White, Here is New York

Though Mr. White's observant description describes New Yorkers in the 1940s, it's strangely similar to the characters I see bustling down Manhattan streets in suits and sneakers today. It's funny because in only one short week (on contrary ... a New York minute truly is a whole different passing of time) I've already encountered the three types of New Yorkers. Myself and friends of course being the third.


Upon the initial excitement of working in New York at my dream job, I thought my goal was to succeed at work, to have fun in the city, and to never look back. While these might still be my goals .. I'm already seeing things in a new light (but that could just be all the flashing ads I see everywhere).

Moving to New York isn't only about an education and having fun in the city. It's about achieving a greater goal: a goal of self-actualization. I've always been a huge psychology buff; in fact, had I not chosen journalism as a career, I would be a psychiatrist. And I have to say, Maslow knows his stuff.

A for instance for you:

Friday I did my first-ever grocery shopping. Not just the "Oh-I'm-In-Panama-City-Let's-Stock-The-Fridge-With-Pizza-Rolls-And-Booze" or the "Hmm-I-Hate-Jodi's-Chicken-Nights-At-The-Sorority-So-I-Think-I'll-Buy-A-$5-Footlong" ... but seriously legit "Oh-Em-Gee-I-Have-To-Make-Real-Meals-For-Myself-Now-Because-Mom-And-Jodi-Aren't-Here" grocery shopping.

And let me tell you, grocery shopping in NYC is not that fun. I used to love frequenting the grocery store as a child. I got so excited for my fruit roll-ups that I'd open the box while still sitting in the shopping cart, and my mom would have to pay for an already opened box at checkout. "Uhhh.. you know that box is open? Do you want a different one?" "Oh no, my daughter was hungry." Fast forward 15 years... WHAT!? $5 for a loaf of bread!? I have to CARRY my groceries back to my apartment?! After an EXHAUSTING day at work? No help from mom? No car trunk? Talk about a wake up call.

So being the thinkers we are, my roomies (Allie & Morgan) and I decided to be smart poor New Yorkers. We hitched a ride on the 3 Train to Brooklyn. It was like a smorgasbord roaming the food aisle at the local Brooklyn Target... "Missouri prices! Hallelujah!" So I (double)bagged up my Target brand wheat bread, carton of soy milk (70 calories!) and a small stack of Lean Cuisine dinners and smiled at the receipt -- only $50. In this city, not too shabby.

Proudly we walked down Atlantic Avenue, beaming at our ability to gather the glorious food in our hands, and hopped back on the 2 to Fulton Street.



It's really, really ridiculous to say I felt proud and self-sufficient for buying my own groceries, I know. But it occurred to me then somewhere between my resting my aching feet and stocking our meager portions into the fridge (seriously, I now understand why New Yorkers are so skinny!) that I truly was proud of myself for my independence.




I've known many a St. Louisians who are more than content in staying in our little bubble in the Midwest. You couldn't get them to move away for anything. I get it, it's safe and it's easy. But you know what, here I am. Away in a city completely unknown, far in proximity from streets I grew up on, making my first baby steps at becoming a successful New Yorker.

Laugh... I know... I sound like a complete ruh-tard, but hear me out -- maybe even something as simple as your first time making your own meals (or creating a makeshift dinner table out of a clothing dresser) can truly be self actualizing.


It's that first small step in the quest -- to join the ranks of the accomplished in the big city and say, "Yep. I'm a New Yorker. Maybe not born and raised. Maybe not an east coast commuter. But still a New Yorker -- a title earned after a little hard work and a lot of worn-out pairs of shoes."