Quite possibly, the worst part about living in New York City is the morning commute. Swarms of businessmen, start-up hopefuls, and retail hipsters fight over the last spot on the subway, squeezing into spaces that are not really spaces, before the doors slam shut, and everyone is enclosed inside the subway car in what resembles the world’s worst group cuddle.
Everyone is in a hurry. And the anxiety is palpable.
New York is a city built on hustling. But too often the quest for the almighty dollar takes us away from our own happiness. We’re affording Manhattan rent, sure, but are we enjoying it?
We all have deadlines to meet. This is part of life. However, I believe we are doing ourselves a disservice if we let deadlines define us. Life is not what happens inside the office. Life is what happens when we break away from expectations and stumble across lasting memories.
We are artists, not machines, and life is an adventure, not a punch clock.