trading spaces
over at finslippy, the question “is the only thing worse than being finslippy in brooklyn being finslippy outside brooklyn?” generated over 100 responses. a complicated question. though i didn’t offer my two cents, i read everyone else’s and discovered people sure are passionate (and defensive!) about their lifestyle choices.
me, i grew up in a city. on unicorn lane, yes, but within the technical boundaries of washington dc. the closest i’ve ever come to spending an extended period of time not in a city was being at swarthmore for four years — and even then i had a train that stopped at the foot of campus and deposited me in between skyscrapers. the question of whether to move out of a city becomes academic to me. how could i consider it? i have no frame of reference. i’m like a child that wanders into a movie … and by the way, dude, chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. asian-american, please.
you might not think “city mouse” to look at me. i know that. i don’t wear heels, for one thing. if i did they’d always get stuck in sidewalk grates. i don’t have a sidekick, a blackberry, or an ipod. i must blend in to a certain degree though because people are always asking me for directions. and sometimes other things:
BUSINESS SUITED MAN IN ELEVATOR: (furrowing brow at chocolate bunny)
ME IN ELEVATOR: (standing quietly)
MAN: (suddenly turning to me) is this bunny angry?
ME: (peering) i’m not getting angry exactly … he’s definitely feeling something; that is a strange expression on his face. oh, i got it. he’s sneezing. he’s mid-sneeze.
MAN: (peering) you’re absolutely right. you’re absolutely right. … how am i going to sell that?
ME: it’s allergy season?
MAN: great idea!
i wonder if i can be happy in the long-term in this city without being either brilliant in art or brilliant in business. it seems like those are your two options. in the short-term, i’m quite happy with a free internet connection and a tofuti cutie.