Close Quarters

The couple next door seems adorable. He’s an out of work actor, she’s a working soprano. They’re thinking about having a baby and moving to Yonkers. Of course, I’ve never met them. If I bumped into them on the street I would have no idea who they are. But, I can tell you when they normally go to bed, what their favorite album is (Avenue Q!), and that she has a fantastic voice.

Manhattan apartments are notorious for their thin walls, and my fabulous little apartment is no exception. While it doesn’t really bother me (who doesn’t want to hear “do-re-mi” at 10:30 every night?!) it has been a bit of an adjustment. I find myself trying to be quiet so as not to disturb my neighbors, which means I’ve had to re-think my in-home daycare business. Maybe I can teach silent yoga instead? We’ll see.

What I’m finding is that privacy is a luxury in Manhattan, similar to shopping at grocery stores or driving a car. It’s just something most “normal people” can’t afford. On an island that has over 65,000 people per square mile it’s difficult to find a space where you are truly alone. Even the subway tunnels, which were my last hope for complete solace, don’t provide a ton of privacy (though those graffiti artists are actually quite nice).

In the end, though, didn’t I move here to be a part of a thriving city? I could have privacy in Seattle or Midland or Bakersfield. Who cares if people know my business? Everyone in Manhattan is an exhibitionist and I’m going to have to learn to become one too. The truth of the matter is, no one cares who you are or what you’re doing in this city – they’re just focused on making it through their own day. So, my neighbors might find out that I love Reba McEntire and that I watch too many episodes of Friends and that my date last night was awful. Who cares, right?

Note: I do not like Reba McEntire, nor do I waste my time watching Friends, nor have I ever had a bad date.

One step at a time, I guess…