For me, it's the pinning that I craved--I started this blog at an attempt to better understand myself, who I am and how I think. It's just too hard to do that solely in my brain; I need to be able to see what I've thought and analyze it. This blog is a look inside my head. Think of it what you will, ultimately this is a journey of self-exploration and a productive way to use my free time. I promise future entries will not be so bland!
All right, so, the meat of this thing. I live in New York City and haven't quite figured out what that means (I moved here a mere four months ago.) Rather, I haven't figured out how the city relates to me. I feel almost as if I am a star-crossed lover, ogling someone frightening in gorgeousness and exceeding in mysteriousness. I love New York. It's a collection of tiny villages, all placed impossibly close to each other; I think this is where it's appeal comes from. In New York, I am in a completely different world within a ten block walk. The very fiber of the place has changed between W. 60th and W. 70th (or, even better, from W. 70th to E. 70th.) The city is broken into bands of differing energy.
The remarkable thing, though, is the coexistence--the compatibility of these little villages, their peaceful nestling. That's the thing outsiders don't understand about this place. It is peaceful. There is chaos, there is noise, and there are smells. There are freaky people. But, ultimately, there is a calm. Think about it: we have all basically agreed to allow for this layering of peoples, cultures, food, architecture, auras. And that's pretty amazing. New York's an island of overlapping islands, miniatures so intricately painted. The "big" city feels less big to me and more "intimate."
But, anyway (a note about my style: I ramble), what I've come to wonder is this: the city belongs to me, but do I belong to the city? Where do I fit into the fiber of the various communities? I don't know. Granted, I understand that the common assumption is that New York is a place for all people, that it accepts all as they are. But I disagree. It's very easy to love this place but very difficult to feel loved back. It's like, "The city's relevant to me, but am I relevant to it?" Essentially, how do I contribute to that which is New York? Hmmm.....thoughts on this?
I guess the essential bit is finding a neighborhood where I hit my stride. Really connect. The area I'm in right now is gorgeously kept and exciting, but I'm not really connecting with it like I'd like to. I think perhaps because it is such a "for-show" area. Not much I can do about that at present.
Places where I feel the most "at home", whatever that means: the Park. Definitely. There's something so safe there, being surrounded by trees and seeing the skyscrapers beyond, something almost mystical about that. Surreal, I guess. West Village. Love that the buildings are crowded together, but that they're on the squat side so that the sky surrounds you, so rare here. I love the uneven intersection of streets, the meandering that encourages. The Upper East Side (I have expensive tastes, no?) Ha! Much as I dislike the eerie quiet that surrounds this neighborhood, I do enjoy the elegant homes, the fairy tale-like architecture. And most of all, the Guggenheim. I would live there if I could. It's so warm, so inviting. The spiral shape of the building makes me feel safe but in an exciting way, almost like finding an unexpected but happy solution to a problem. Blah, blah, blah. I know, I know. I can wax a little too romantic. But I suppose that's just how I think. If it's of value remains to be seen.
It's getting late now, so I'd like to wrap this up. I'll finish by completely changing the topic, so keep your head in place. My sister visited me this weekend and we all know what that means: that she had to leave, too. It's that inevitable going that comes with the arrival that I dread in life. When I dropped her off at Port Authority tonight, it struck me with full force: I absolutely hate goodbyes, to the point where I've numbed myself to the knowledge of how much I hate them so that they're (a little) bit less painful. Goodbyes symbolize to me everything that's wrong with the world,that you have to accept things you don't like. Goodbyes are painful for me, wrought with some almost indescribable emotion. A goodbye forces me to acknowledge that there is a past and that the present is quickly speeding toward it. A goodbye forces me to realize all that I left unrealized when I was with whatever person, all the things we didn't talk about. Basically, it's me standing over an abyss, me willing myself to be molasses, willing time to be stagnant, even as my wincing against the reality renders me helpless in its wake. I drop quickly into that abyss.
I get over it, too. Don't think that I'm hung up on goodbyes, brooding over them for hours. I know that I'll see most of the people I say goodbye to in the relatively near future. It's just that, those first few moments after my friend or loved one leaves, I realize that the hug wasn't long enough, my emotions not in tune enough. The trouble with goodbyes is that they must end. No matter how long I stand bidding someone adieu, sooner rather than later, they're going to leave. It's the decision to leave, to turn away from the person, to acknowledge that the past has come and that the future is swiftly joining it that's the hardest.
And with this, dear reader, I bid you good night.
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