紐約：想說愛你不容易

New York City was never on my radar1） growing up； I mean， I read about it in books and saw it in movies， but I never intended to scrape my way from one side of the U.S. to the other in order to live here.

Once the wonder of bodegas2） on every corner wore off， the magnificence of the skyscrapers transformed into walls， and no matter where I stood—on the isle of Manhattan or a far-flung borough3）—I felt trapped， panicked. I grew up surrounded by mountain ranges， wide-open spaces， endless expanses of bright blue sky.

Whenever my dad would call to check in， he’d ask how things were in “New Yawk City，” drawing out the sound in a bad imitation of a line from a movie I’ve likely never seen. Every time he said it， it sounded more and more like he was trying to remove a slug of phlegm4） from the back of his throat. The association between the city’s name and hocking a loogie5） seemed somehow accurate.

Lots of people love it here—they use terms like The Big Apple and all sorts of other Midwestern nicknames picked from any number of6） moving pictures produced before the movies were in color. That’s just how it is—there are a lot of perpetual tourists here. All that being said， I never wanted anything the way I wanted to love living in New York City. And like most great desires， the more I wanted it， the further out of reach it seemed.

I can’t think of a better way to explain the daily experience of living here except to say this is the most inconveniently convenient city on earth. Most things feel like an uphill7） battle， one waged8） while constantly within an eight-foot radius9） of at least one other person. When you are down， this is the place that will lodge10） a boot firmly in your gut. And the next day， you have to get up and do it again， because that’s just the way things are done.

The adages11） about this place are innumerable， and with good reason； it is a place that has always demanded the full attention of its occupants. The coining of catchphrases12） is inevitable and the one I find most annoying is also the most accurate： “If you can make it here， you can make it anywhere.”

It’s true. If you can withstand the pressure cooker13） that is living and working within this city， if you can make ends meet and maintain friendships in the self-aggrandizing bubble of a city， if you can keep your head up even when you’re in the midst of getting punched in the soul （because you’ve lost your job， place to live and really hot significant other14） within a single day）， then you， my friend， will flourish anywhere and everywhere else.

I have a friend that talks about moving to New York， though she has yet to make the leap. Knowing that I’m about to leave， she asked if I would suggest she go elsewhere. To that I say not just No， but Fuck No. I fully encourage anyone that wants to come here to do so， to scrape by15）， to be absolutely miserable from October ’til May， and to make up for it with as many questionable decisions as possible during the five months of slightly better weather.

It was hard to realize that I was the only person I knew in New York that didn’t really want to be here； harder still to book the flight and make the plans necessary to move away. It’s hard not to think of leaving as quitting， or something similar.

At times， I’d fall down a Tumblr16） rabbithole17）， landing on any number of blogs written by a 20-something， all of which used the same one-liner18） to describe their life： “a love letter to New York City.” That sentence never resonated with me， and it proved to be a source of endless frustration. If everyone who moved here loved it so much， why didn’t I？

Even now， I don’t think I could ever write New York City a love letter. To be fair， I don’t think it would write me one， either—I’ve done my fair share of19） crying on the subway and taking its name in vain20） on the Internet. But I can tell it and the people living here thank you； thank you for bringing me to some of the greatest highs and lows I could ever hope to experience， often within a single day.

New York City beats something out of you—something hard to lose， something visceral21）. Living here made me grow up in ways I didn’t realize I needed to， made me resilient in ways I didn’t know I needed to be. It’s been a rough few years， but they were well worth it for the lessons learned， insights I doubt I could have gleaned without living here.

We just had our first taste of nice weather last weekend. You could tell how much New Yorkers needed it by the sheer volume of people walking around aimlessly all weekend， trying to milk each moment in the sun for all it was worth22）. Winter was， as always， too long—and for the time being， the feeling of good will and positivity is oozing23） from everyone’s pores. My last week in the city will be golden because of this， and for that I am thankful.

在我成長的歲月里，紐約從來不在我的關(guān)注范圍內(nèi)。我是說，我雖然在書上讀到過它，在電影里看到過它，但從未打算千里迢迢地跨越整個美國來這里生活。

當(dāng)遍布街角的雜貨店帶來的驚喜逐漸消退，當(dāng)壯觀的摩天大樓還原為一片林立的高墻，無論我身處何地——在曼哈頓島或是偏遠的郊區(qū)——我都感到像籠中鳥一樣驚慌失措。我長大的地方可是群山環(huán)繞，地域遼闊，蔚藍、明亮的天空一眼望不到邊。

每次爸爸打來問候的電話，他都會問起“扭腰”的情況怎么樣，拖著長音笨拙地模仿著大概是我從沒看過的某部電影里的一句臺詞。每次他這樣說時，那發(fā)音聽起來越來越像是他正努力把喉嚨深處的一口痰清出來。把這座城市的名字與咳痰聯(lián)系起來，這似乎也莫名地貼切。

許多人喜歡這里，他們用“大蘋果”和其他各式各樣的昵稱來稱呼它，那些都是黑白片時代的很多電影里中西部居民給它起的綽號。情況正是如此——這里的許多人都是長期滯留的游客。盡管如此，我卻非常渴望能愛上在紐約的生活，這種渴望超出了我對其他所有事物的渴望。但就像大多數(shù)強烈的愿望一樣，我的這種愿望越迫切，實現(xiàn)起來似乎就越難。

我想不出還有什么更好的方式來描述在這里生活的日常體驗，只能說這是世界上最為便利卻讓人感到麻煩的城市。大多數(shù)事情都感覺像一場艱難的戰(zhàn)斗，而這場戰(zhàn)斗常常發(fā)生在至少另一個人周圍八英尺（編注：約2.4米）的范圍內(nèi)。……