Life has been enjoyably calm this summer as we gear up for the subway issue, but perhaps it’s been too quiet. While attending an annual party for alumni of the Columbia Publishing Course last week, Realcity was treated like a charity case. I was asked, “Oh, you’re still doing that?” far too many times. The party was hosted at an Upper East Side townhouse with publishing royalty in its blood and Emmys out in full force. Wine flowed and conversation consisted of where you were and who you knew. I tried to mingle in between bites of chicken and gulps of wine, but found it hard to connect. That the program director gave me an odd look wasn’t so surprising (the course puts a premium on jobs as status symbols and waiting tables isn’t exactly prestigious) but I’d expected it to be different with my former classmates. During that first summer it felt like we’d all come to conquer the city by whatever means possible, but now it feels like they’ve decided there are only a few acceptable paths to do so. It’s exactly that kind of insularity which made me realize the concept of realcity in the first place and now that I have, I can’t just pretend it doesn’t exist. Our office may be attached to my kitchen, while others’ are up in skyscrapers, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less a part of the action. Realcity will keep exploring every corner of this city until people start to realize that their reality is just one of many. If they don’t know we’re still going strong, it’s only because we haven’t been telling them loudly enough.