Challenge

So this week I’ve been asking for feedback on my blog posts, and in response, I was issued a CHALLENGE. This post is to only be about positive things.  Before my friend issued me with this task, he warned me not to ‘get mad, okay?’ I suppose because requesting a more positive outlook implies that my posts up until now have been negative and bad. I didn’t get mad. I readily accepted this momentous challenge, because, in all truthfulness, I know that’s exactly what it will be. And I’m interested to see if I can do it. Literally. My mum gave me a similar mission 5 or 6 years ago, when she said that if I (then her sullen teenage daughter, complete in purple lipstick, netted sleeves and chains clinking as I walked, like an eerie gothic morris dancer) gave up insulting her for lent, she would reward me in cash. I think I responded with some derisive comment about how having to buy politeness and respect must be quite a low point for her, thus forfeiting almost immediately (Sorry Mum). So never before have I actually tested whether my brain is capable of just, like, giving the verbal thumbs up to stuff that is good. No sarcasm or abuse included. I’m genuinely intrigued to find out.

I also think this will be a healthy exercise for me while I’m over here, as I’m conscious of becoming one of those horrible expats that just sing the praises of their homeland, and never shut up about where they’re from to the point where you just want to tell them to go home. And I DEFINITELY don’t want to come back one of them nationalists, ew. So here goes. These are some things I have noticed in New York, which are just good in and of themselves, and deserve no scorn on my part. Things that have brought me nothing but enjoyment and happiness, and deserve some recognition:

Good Things About New York

1.   The number of people begging on the subways: I know a lot of them are trying to fund drug habits etc etc., and regardless of whether they are or not, it’s depressing to see these real life reminders of the level of poverty and homelessness in the city, all met with silence and disdain. But as I watch them all go by, I get some twisted satisfaction to know that before the Wall St bankers can return to their uptown apartments, they have to come face to face with their antithesis. For half and hour every morning and evening, they can't stay in their wealth-bubble. Plus, having the subways as such a free space means you get treated to some pretty cool shows there too. Travelling underground on the weekends you can buy sweets, listen to mariachi bands, watch break dancing, and much more without even going out of your way. It’s like a lovely, creative pic’n’mix. You can make eye contact with people on the New York subway, too. Sometimes people say words to eachother. OMFG. 
2.  The pervasion of left-wing propaganda: It’s shielding me from the tide of fearsome Republican announcements probably coming straight from the Deep South to the U.K., striking fear into the hearts of informed British citizens. Living here makes it hard to believe the polls are near tied. I forget the size of America and the insignificance of the Williamsburg electorate, most of whom are probably too hipster to vote anyway. I’m potentially in for a shock on election day
3.  The soldiers in Grand Central Station: They always wear camouflage even though it doesn’t help them fit their surroundings. I never stop finding that amusing. 
4.  The surprising lack of pigeons for such a dense and crowded city
5.  The abundance of public water fountains

That list awkwardly fizzled pretty quickly. I don’t think the tourist board are going to be hiring me any time soon. And despite the scant nature of my ‘good-things count’, I still find it hard not to end my positive post with some kind of final cutting remark; an injection of balance is needed in this overly optimistic and celebratory piece, this unapologetic, unrelenting cringe-fest of HAPPY.  Perhaps I see the bad in everything. Or perhaps I am unfair to America. On reflection, I think it’s the latter. I have a feeling that what made me study the States, and what made me come here, wasn’t deep interest and passion, but a wild obsession which has transfixed me from afar for years. I didn’t come here with the intent of immersing myself in the culture, but rather as a curious observer; someone with a morbid fascination with spray on cheese and the electric chair. Rather than dismissing them as marginal and not worth my attention, as I might do with the EDL for example, I lap up American right-wing vitriol about ‘slut-pills’ and ‘legitimate rape’, and spew out my resulting outrage in big Daily Mail headline font. With the concentration of a child sitting over an ant with a magnifying glass, I sat on twitter late into the night, awaiting the judge’s verdict on Troy Davis. Fox News is my equivalent to voyeuristic 80p gossip magazines. In my first year of uni, I remember being ever so slightly disappointed, after being told that a new girl had moved into our halls from Georgia, to discover that she didn’t have a southern-drawl, red-neck politics or bible-belt religion, but was actually the friendliest, nicest new flat-mate any of us could have hoped for.  So I suppose I am incapable of observing with balance and sincerity. I seek out the strange, maddening aspects of things, and am constantly in the mode of sarcasm, looking to be provoked. And that has made me represent you unfairly, America. I am very sorry. I know you have moderate politicians and unbiased media outlets, and normal, agreeable people. But they’re like the quiet child in the class that does all their work without a fuss and so gets no attention. The naughty ones like Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin with their hands in the air throwing their books on the floor, telling on the immigrants and blaming the ‘abortionists’ for 9/11 are unfortunately impossible for me to ignore.

So how did I do, Mark? I feel like I might have failed. I hope you will believe me when I assure you that despite what my writing might suggest, I am not spending my whole time in New York City holed up in a dark room, writing snide hate-mail to the outside. If you were looking for some reassurance that I’m not depressed or sad, but am really getting an exciting and new experience, please set your mind at ease. Angry and ranty happens to be my modus operandi, but please don’t take me too seriously. 

(If you were just trying to make me a bet, then I owe you a beer.)

This is a picture taken from East-River State Park in Brooklyn. If you jump the fence, there’s a wall by an old warehouse that you can climb to and sit right on the East River, and see the New York Skyline. The Empire State Building was just yellow that night, but it shines a different colour for special occasions. Sitting there, it’s hard to forget where you are. 

See that massive glow in the sky? Like a dangerous chemical attack, or space-time cracking? That’s the light from Times Square. That’s the effect on the sky every night; that’s the amount of energy being consumed and spat out by that small section of land 24/7 365. I mean fuck. Just Fuck.