Jerry Maguire said it best in Cameron Crowe’s memorable film, “We live in a cynical world … of tough competitors.” I love this film and there’s a lot from it that we could all learn from. He’s absolutely right, though, for the record when he describes our world.

Having been in New York City for three weeks now, I feel like I’ve seen a little bit (or a lot) of what this world really is.

I work for a theater production company that produces some of Broadway’s best, and I pinch myself daily for getting this opportunity. Sometimes I don’t know why I got the job, but nevertheless it’s an experience of a lifetime that I will forever be grateful for.

The powerful women who are my bosses scare me and have, quite frankly, zero sympathy for me when I screw up. It’s not brain surgery, it’s theater, but they don’t get that and I’m not about to explain anything. They could kill me with their laser vision. Whenever I want to cry in my cubicle I remember how lucky I am to be here, in the greatest city on earth.

I wake up every morning with my heels and my tote bag and my cappuccino and swear to myself that I’m going to change Broadway, if not the world, today. I listen to my iPod and cruise 7th Avenue feeling fabulous. It’s pretty ideal. Clearly it’s not Muncie, but it’s a fun place to spend summer.

Not all people are fortunate enough to have this opinion of New York, however.

Although I’ve never felt fear on the subway at night, or walking back from the bars on the weekends, there are times when I just feel grateful that I am who I am. I know that might sound conceited, but I think we all need to put our lives in check for a minute and realize how lucky we are.

We’re getting an education (or did get an education) from a good university, and have, in one way or another, a goal for ourselves.

Excuse my tendency to get a little preachy, but be happy that you aren’t depending on the quarters someone drops into your paper cup for lunch.

On this afternoon in Union Square, I saw a woman sitting on a bench with a cardboard sign over her head reading “Sick of Prostitution. Please Help.” This was not a flaunting-patent-leather-boots-blue-wing-my-name-is-Starry-Night kind of girl, but a genuinely sad, helpless woman.

What a miserable life she must be living.

I also saw a pair of conjoined twins who were attached at the head. One was much smaller than the other, the other the average height for a woman her age. They needed money – and I’ve seen them on Discovery Health, too.

I suppose the moral, Danny Tanner-style, of this column is that we must continue to have drive and be ever-so-thankful that we aren’t without hope – even in one of the biggest cities on earth.

This summer, put your own life in check and understand the unbelievable potential you have to do something fantastic, and maybe you, too, can try to change Broadway. I know I will.