It’s totally fair to say that I have a love-hate relationship with New York City. This is the city where I grew rapidly and rigorously, where I burned tons of money, where I cried all over the place.

Everyone comes to New York with an idea of “New York.”

New comers have dreams, bearing presumptions of what the city has to offer.

Indeed, this is a city where all the cool people gather, doing something dope and trying to make something out of it. This is a city where loads and loads of internationals arrive to pursue their “American dreams,” if I may say so. This is a city that the entertainment industry has praised and depicted over and over again for decades. This is a city that is open to one’s true identity and one’s genuine self. This is a city that’s both accommodating and intimidating. This is a city where everyone can find a niche and eventually fit in.

I came to New York for graduate school, hoping for better career options, for better life experience. Indeed, I learned a ton, and suffered a shit-ton. My life at Columbia Journalism School was the best and the most rewarding experience I’d never want to repeat.

I learned to report, to write, and most importantly, to listen. I parachuted into neighborhoods and neighborhoods, talking to Chinese, Italians and Jews. I shadowed an orchestra teacher who was the first certified music teacher in 16 years in a middle school in the Bronx, one of the most underserved boroughs in New York City.

As a journalist, I was supposed to be a fly on the wall. But in reality, I was pretty engaged in the classroom at some point, interacted with the kids at the school I “broke into” and since then embedded in. I guess and personally assume that this is what long-form, non-fiction writing is really about.

I believe that everyone has a story. It’s the job of the journalists to spot it and tell it. Each kid I encountered at the middle school had a story. They grinned at me with eyes beaming, calling me “Mr. Timmy.” It was a blessing to have spent five months with them, reporting for my audio master’s project, documenting how music can change young lives in a borough with such high crime rates.

It’s a cliche, but I’m still going to say it, without feeling self-conscious: it is New York that shaped who I am today. The 19 months I spent living in New York thoroughly changed all facets of my life.

I don’t mean to sound like a poor, pathetic international student. But the truth is: there’s no such thing as surviving in a city like this without making any sacrifice or without suffering.

I struggled a lot in the city, financially, physically, and emotionally. I’m really grateful, though, that I met my besties during the hard times. They truly are my life savors in many ways. It is the people you meet that adds up the value of living in New York. You never know if this random person sitting next to you in a subway train to Brooklyn would be the next Pulitzer Prize winner or the future POTUS.

“Subway” artists are regular “installments” on the platforms or in the subway cars.

Strange as it may sound, but I really miss New York’s subway, the MTA, if you will. Although New York City’s subway may be notorious for its nasty smell with rats running around, the subway rides, however, are hardly boring if you’re a fan of street artists' performances.

I’ve seen quite many performances by slews of artists during my daily commute. There was this group of teenage dancers of all colors, who rushed in the car with a large speaker. As soon as they hit the play button and took the “stage,” within seconds they climbed up the poles here and there like nobody’s business, attempting to articulate the moves. Funny enough, some of the commuters were trying to avoid the kicks that could possibly land on them. After a couple of front flips in the shaky subway train, the group wrapped up the flash show by passing a well-worn hat to collect tips.

I, personally, have shadowed a subway drummer group for an audio profile assignment. That was a group of two conga drummers, who rushed from car to car with their heavy instruments to get the most of a single ride. I carried my recording gears and followed them for an entire morning, totally wiped out afterwards. I had no idea how they managed to move and perform like that regularly.

This is a city that you'd be hesitant to say "goodbye" to but utter "until next time" instead.

Somehow I know I'll come back to this enchanting city. Don't know when that'll happen, but bearing this idea in mind makes me feel happier and less hesitant to leave.

Now, I have to repeat this song, better to put it on loop.