During our first week as a publication, our wonderful contributing editor, Jimi Stine, wrote a similar reflection on the suburbs, highlighting a beauty that often goes unappreciated. He was completely right; we don't truly appreciate the little wonders of the life we lead before we achieve our dreams. Some of the biggest things that helped me pass those small hours and survive the oftentimes-banal life were the adventures I had with my friends.
Seeing as I was always 30 minutes away from the action of the main city—a struggle any kid living near, but not in, a big city can relate to—and did not readily have access to a car until my senior year, most of my adventures happened in the little suburban wonderland my friends and I had affectionately dubbed "Satan's Asshole," a well-earned nickname, if I remember the humidity correctly.
My suburb in particular always had a bit of a metropolis complex, the mayor always vying to build new things, cutting down every tree, stifling a small place with enough traffic to choke Midtown Manhattan. It was with this backdrop that my friends and I came of age, going to Denny's at 3 a.m. after a day at the beach, sneaking into tennis courts to run around drunkenly, exploring parks at night, most likely doing things we weren't supposed to do. Looking back, it was a bit like New York on training wheels.
One night in particular sticks with me. A year before I was accepted to NYU, my friends had discovered a lake at the end of a community that was under construction. For a few months, we would go there whenever we wanted to get away. In this small, loud town, it was by this lake where quiet reflections took place, where we would watch the sun set while joking and laughing and dream about leaving someday. In my daydreaming, I would look at the chimneys of the garbage-burning facility across the lake as the sun would set behind it and (disregarding the smell) imagine watching the sunset over the Manhattan skyline.
This week, The Odyssey at NYU presents the fruits of hard labor and the results of dreams becoming reality. We take you inside the discovery of "Earth's bigger, older cousin." One of our writers visits Pixar, and continues to dream of making films for them. For those still in a New York state of mind, we showcase lovely views from the top of the Orchard Street Hotel to fuel your daydreams.It's important to remember, as we dream for a better future, the struggles of our past, whether we fought the battle to learn to be happy or to be seen as an equal.
I admit to being in the privileged position of being able to choose my own destiny. Growing in a stable family and a sea of gated communities and public parks, my biggest worries were bringing home decent grades. Now that I'm so close to becoming the New York writer archetype I always dreamed I would become, I need to remember the first trope I ever came to embody: the angsty suburban poet who dreamed of the city; the kid who blacked out with his friends in the park and had to compose himself before walking home; the kid who took his dates to watch the sunset over the Florida Turnpike, sharing a bottle of cheap wine next to a canal; the kid who dreamed of Manhattan while looking at garbage towers. As I move forward, I'm going to honor the boy who was dying to be a Skins character; I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't been him first. I urge you all to never forget those formative years, because you're only a teenager with dreams once in your life.
One final note to my suburban dreamers, looking at any tall building and imagining the Empire State: the Manhattan Skyline sunset is best seen from a rooftop in Greenpoint, and it's waiting for you. Don't you dare lose your fire.
E.R. Pulgar
Editor-in-Chief, The Odyssey at NYU
