July 22, 2011 in Wordsmoker
Three years ago, at my goodbye party at Dublin House on the Upper West Side, a friend told me that she couldn’t believe that I was leaving New York, that I was so much a New Yorker that she couldn’t imagine my living anywhere else. I took it as a compliment, and I wholeheartedly agreed. After all, with the exception of one year in Jerusalem (which barely even counts since nearly every New Yorker I knew was there with me at the time), I’d never lived anywhere else.
It wasn’t even intentional, really; going to college in New York wasn’t an automatic part of my life’s plan. In fact, the only college I visited was Penn, where I thought I’d apply early. However, the one thing I did know was that I wanted to be a journalism major, and the one rule my parents had set was that I had to be a train ride away, and when I looked into schools with journalism majors in NYC, Boston, Philly, and DC, I was left with NYU. Read the rest of this entry →