slaying? in this economy?

melting down about capitalism, taking a break from new york city, and getting out of my flop era

[in Frank Sinatra’s voice] New York, New York…I’ve wanted to live here ever since I had to reject my NYU admission because taking out more than $200k in student loan debt at 18 years old seemed terrifying. I moved to California, enrolled in a community college, took a gap year, transferred to a school in Boston, worked three different jobs, and always kept my eyes on the prize - eventually I was going to make my way back to where my journey should have started. I thrifted a New York City crewneck (I lost it in the LA subway), I claimed I was a “city girl”, and the weather and the chill life on the West Coast were so nice and repetitive anyways that I was longing for a change of pace and a Christmas with snow. 

Every other movie set in New York has either a protagonist who is up for sharing a tiny overpriced apartment with three roommates in hopes to make it big, find themselves or fall in love, or a white guy with daddy issues who is failing to take over his family’s empire. The message is clear: if you want to make it in this city, you have to either come from generational wealth or suck it up and be ready to struggle, hustle, and smoke cigarettes like your life depends on it. Although, if your media intake is limited to TikTok, then New York is this vibrant place full of young people getting coffee and strolling around SoHo in carpenter pants, pearl necklaces and with a Susan Alexandra beaded bags in hand.

When I moved to New York, I wasn’t thinking about the struggle. I’ve struggled enough. I put myself through college in a country that does everything to make it hard and expensive for kids to stay in school, especially if you are not a citizen. I got a job in tech right out of college without ever having to go through a real job search process, I channeled my inner white man to negotiate my salary up, and as the rental market was still recovering from the pandemic, I found an apartment with AC and in-unit laundry in the most gentrified part of Williamsburg that I was splitting with a roommate. Moving to New York was a happy ending, a long-waited reward for years of hard work and sacrifices…or so I thought. 

Naive? Delusional? Maybe. But I am convinced it’s being delusional that gets you far in life. If you listen to how dangerous and expensive the city is and try to save up for a year before making a leap, you might never leave your hometown (and you will definitely have a better credit score than me). The beauty of not knowing exactly how much things are going to suck and how much time it’s going to take before you make any kind of progress towards the dream you took the leap for is that you aren’t always waiting for the other shoe to drop and deal with whatever life throws at you with grace and naive optimism. 

At first - it was a dream. Commuting to an office in SoHo with tall white buildings out of movies (it’s a shame that most of them are turned into chain stores, startup offices and $15,000 apartments), befriending local waiters and baristas, peaking at the Empire State Building out of the tall beautiful windows in my room, meeting strangers for drinks after work, and getting to host my friends from out of town made me feel like the big city girl that I imagined when I scrambled to pay for the next semester in college. It was all for her and it was all worth it.

The romance of living in New York wears off quickly when the average rent in the city hits $5,000 a year, student loan payments kick in, and you are starting to feel like you are getting underpaid at your cool “high-paying” tech job. The rooms in your tiny apartment get smaller when you can’t get out for a $7 coffee in the morning, $50 dinners in the evening, and $60 shows at night. The space. There is no space and escape here. Only restaurants and bars with an hour long wait.

You are starting to question “how do people live here?”. You find out that some guy who does your job worse than you at a hyped-up startup that raised money in the bull market makes twice as much. Every other conversation with the founder and swe dudes infiltrating my friend circle ultimately narrows down to putting money in “beans”, 45-day exits to Facebook, and figuring out how to get the fattest paycheck while doing absolutely nothing at Stipe, Google or a buzzy startup that hired their whole team from tech twitter.

In normal people’s world — the world where capitalism works and rewards real effort — the money I am making and the bar that’s set for my work seems fair. But in the world where white men land jobs they aren’t qualified for, where companies that are building Uber for NFTs party it up in Miami in the toughest couple years in many people’s lives, and where 19-year olds with no skills can’t shut up about “making more money than both of my parents combined”, I was starting to feel like a loser. We aren’t building flying cars (only cars with hot glass roofs and software malfunctions), saving people’s lives, or even letting people have fun without monetizing their data and getting involved in politics. Is it worth it to actually care about my work or is it smarter to game the broken systems in a way that benefits me financially? Is there a way to do both? Hanging out with a bunch of self-important lunatics is awful but I didn’t sign up to be exploited by them either. 

The money is tempting, especially when the bills eat up the biggest check you’ve ever made quicker than you get to spend it on anything that’s supposed to make the struggle worth it. Mentally, you understand that being one of the good guys, approaching what you do with purpose rather than gain potential is likely the right way to go long-term, and the quality of your work and your values is the thing that earns you a spot in the cool crowd but oh man… I want the cool shoes and a tropical vacation while I am still young and hot enough to enjoy both. Although if Kim Kardashian can be on the Sports Illustrated cover at 40, does it mean life is actually long or is it long for billionaires only? 

Boomers love to say how unemployable millennials are but I keep wondering - did they go far enough? Did they actually change something or did they leave us with a similar system with changed up theatrics of pink power suits and “hustle” and “entrepreneurship” branding for what sounds like being exploited by a broken system? Growing up with Sophia Amuroso whispering “you are a Girlboss” in my ear and Gary Vee telling me I need to dream big and hustle (how old is this guy anyways?) put me nowhere but the ocean blue couch in my therapist’s office. I thought I had a game plan and a way around living a boring life where I come home from my 9-5, plop on the couch in front of a huge TV and watch reality shows while eating some take out because I don’t have energy for much more. Yet, there I am - watching the latest Bachelor every Monday at 8 pm. 

I thought there was no way I would make my job my whole personality. I thought we were making money moves in pink power suits and Realisation Par dresses, so how come I am still making less than the white boy next door? I should work more hours to be able to afford the fun things I want to do but if I work these many hours, I don’t have the time or energy to do the fun things I want to do. How do I not lose my sight of what matters but also don’t spend all of my 20s struggling? I’ve got two states - numb and upset - and there isn’t a page in the #Girlboss book about what to reply when your manager says “you don’t seem excited about your job anymore” a week after you proudly announce to everyone you know that you have “quiet quit” your job.

I couldn’t wait to graduate college ever since I started my junior year, I was “mature for my age” ever since I was 16, and now everything I thought I knew about the world is crushing all around me as I am sitting there - still, tired, and kind of numb.

***

There is this small grocery store that also sells coffee (for just $4!) and vegan gluten-free croissants (neither as good as the coffee and croissants in Brooklyn) around the corner from my sublet in LA. I come here every other day because even though I don’t drink that much coffee lately, it’s still a nice little habit that gets me out of the house in the morning and helps me start my day. The one thing I missed about a place with a lot of space is walking into a coffee shop in the middle of the day and finding a table to break up the work from home routine. I bike over to a nicer coffee shop in Silver Lake to do just that a few times a week.

My calendar has been pretty empty and I’ve got nowhere to be unless I decide to venture out to the beach all the way from Griffith. Going a full day away from my laptop still gives me anxiety but I close my eyes and push myself to do it every once in a while. “I will work for the rest of my life” I remind myself. The sunsets here are as beautiful as I remember and the tan looks really good on my skin. I live alone but I don’t feel that lonely until the sun goes down anyways. 

I picked up writing again, which might be one of the very few things (dare I say hobbies?) I’ve been able to enjoy lately. I have a Notes app list titled “Passions” where I jot down things that make me feel or used to make me feel something. I am trying to remember what it’s like to make videos and tell stories that aren’t driven by KPIs, engagement, and potential brand deals. I feel a bit more comfortable saying I like fashion, filmmaking, publishing, and music even though I didn’t go to art school or write professionally. I still can’t bring myself to make videos. I don’t know why.

Time moves slowly here. I miss the crowd but I don’t miss the awfully humid and sweaty New York summer. I am staring at the blank canvas of what my life can look like and it doesn’t intimidate me as much as it used to. I am trying to figure out where to be and what to do next but I am also letting myself take it easy and rest. I am waiting for the strong and wide eyed Viktoriia to come out of the little shadow she’s become in the past year but I know it will take more time and more effort than barely two weeks of vacation and I am going to do everything to get her back. 

The space. There is lots of space here. But I think I am starting to miss walking everywhere. And you know what…maybe $7 is a good price for a really good coffee.