What Good is a Horse if She Isn't Broken?

The "New York Spinner" is what I called the thing that I thought it was to live and work in New York City.

I came up with this phrase because I thought that the living I was doing was too easy for New York. Even from the little knowledge I had, the lore alone made it clear that I was in the minority.

I moved to New York because the guy I was seeing on a campaign I worked on lived here. After we lost he suggested it a good idea to stay a while. See the city while I had no other obligations.

This seemed to be a really great idea.

I lived with him in his tiny apartment in the center of the universe. Or "center of the universe" as described by Kramer on Seinfeld. Houston and Essex. Essex is Avenue A below Houston. This was, and will continue to be, the center of the universe. This means to me that all is accessible, the neighborhood is relatively dope-although goes down hill routinely-and a junction of development, inertia

ANYHOO!

LIving there I was unemployed for four months. This was the racking up debt and see New York part of my life. I guess, now that my feet are itching to get off this continent I should remember that when I was living here for those four months, I was living on a different continent. New York is untouchable. It is a life unto itself and full of success and failure-available to those who want either.

When I had my job as an executive assistant, I sat all day. Started this blog, actually. And kept it up routinely-a.k.a. most days because, well, like I hear of many jobs, there just wasn't much to it. I had gotten lucky to meet the woman who connected me with the job-[I was temping at a huge media conglomerate and the woman who came out to relieve me of the task at hand (answering phones, reading blogs...) was Rachel. Once we got started talking, we couldn't stop. I took my "break" talking to her and the rest of my afternoon emailing cool things to each other (she worked on a really cool, and unfotunately, doomed, project called Terminal 5 at JFK). We had lunch and became fast friends. Soon there after I had the great opporunity to sail in the Vrgin Islands for a week and a half. Upon returning to St. Thomas, I received an email from her saying that a friend of hers was looking for a personal assistant (taking calls, knowing clients, keeping time and being part of the operational staff), would I be interested in that. I left him a message upon landing at JFK that night and two weeks later was quiting the job I'd worked for a week, to go join the branding folk.) that felt like New York. I just wasn't working how I'd imagined it would be to work in New York.

I started the job and the long work weeks killed. The time it demanded was familar from the campaign, but that didn't matter much, I was leaning so much, so fast. I was exhausted.

Soon after, I realized, here I was. In the New York Spinner. Kicking my ass and taking me for all I'm worth and then asking for more. This is the knock about I was looking for. I found it; it made me tired and a little crazy-but that's the New York Spinner. The rumors are true. I don't make plans anymore. I find commraderie among the people I work with--all of them. They're the only people I really see...

I'm in the middle of the spin now.

But, to the original point: In my first weeks there I was fortunate to befriend, and be befriended by, a very competent, astute bartender. He told me, "don't get jaded." I questioned it-couldn't understand what he was directing me away from. Nor could I see myself cold or calous. Here I am, though, doing what millions have done before me.

I've been broken by the New York Spinner and I think I'm jaded.

Unfortunately, I don't have an excuse. I was warned, after all.