I think over the past few weeks, I’ve documented my time in New York as something entirely bittersweet.
Well, things are starting to get sweeter.
I’ve always had such intense expectations of people, my future, and of myself. When I first came here, I expected to make friends within a few weeks (like, two), and be the best writer in the classes, and have everything figured out within a few days.
I also expected to love every minute of it.
And I think that was the major difference between going off on my own this time as compared to Italy. I had really no expectations of what living in a foreign country would be like and so I just took it as it came.
Somewhere within the past few weeks, I just decided I wasn’t going to have any expectations. That I was going to just see how life went for a while.
Having expectations meant that the sweet occurrences I had been missing, like a girl offering me candy in class or a professor telling me my work was very good, were supposed to be there all along. That they were nothing special. They were, well, expected.
Having no expectations made those moments nice and special, and I realized I had been having more of them than I thought I had.
It’s the little things in life. Like going to the Halloween Parade in the West Village with a roommate, having someone like your poetry, if even only one line, and meeting someone in Uke club who loves The Decemberists as much as you do.
“The city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald
How have your expectations been changed?
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