A Year in New Amsterdam

Today I've officially been in NYC for one year.

I've been told that the way you celebrate a milestone reflects the type of person you are. I woke up early, packed a few things, left for Queens and returned about an hour later because I'd thought I left my stove on. (Which I hadn't) I returned to Queens and spent the afternoon watching TV and sporadically applying for jobs. To finish the evening, I will have a beer, make dinner, write a bit and watch a movie. By those actions, I must be a self-starter, anxious, a couch-potato, ambitious, a writer, a chef and a film fanatic. 

I'll have to think about that.

Didn't You?

"we used to...laugh about...what everyone else was talkin 'bout"

There are still moments when I look outside and wonder where the time has retreated. when i look into my bag and notice the books Im reading are penned by others. So I think about my earlier days…

Can you look at the sky and remember a time when Wednesdays meant spaghetti for lunch? when 2 pm never seemed to come and dinnertime was way too close to snack time. No one ran off to answer a phone, and staying inside meant playing Nintendo. Bike rides were all day events and no one looked at you funny when you pulled out Huck Finn to read under the tree. Can you look at a school bus and remember the smell of the leather? Do you think you could roll your saftey patrol belt the way they taught you? What about the mornings when getting up late meant missing Gilligan's Island at 8am and staying up late meant watching Roundhouse?

AND I RETURN TO REALITY-

The ink that seeps out of my skin lacks sufficient luster to form coherent thoughts and plots on the pages of my journals. blank. BLANK. Nothing comes to mind in the moments when I need inspiration. I've eradicated many distractions from my life- cable. So my ramblings and musings will cease to grace the blogged out pages of my meaningless cyber existience. FEAR NOT! As the wanderlust are apt to excl.. focus, focus, focus! I shall retreat from these momentary minstrels on paper to exhort all energies towards one goal: publication, of what? of anything. I shall hitherfore be a submittal slut, provocating wisdom of the literati kind towards any and all (nay, only the attempts deemed decent by my risk-analysis theory of work) chances for submissions yielding monetary rewards. In short: writing for cash. Next stop, understanding. Final disembarking at: printed word. 
Yet, will my young, naive, blase and self-depreciating fick-tion be deemed worthy enough for your personal entertainment? 
I begin, a knight errant in search of futon with the structural integrity equal to the weight of the three-volume novel that awaits uncovering in the grey matter I have yet to deplete.To end: "the answer my friend is blowing in the wind"

My Southern Comfort

This was not the South I experienced. Yes, it would be wonderful to have a place that looks like this. With acres of space and lots of parties. I'll admit, its a dream. But my childhood wasn't full of mint juleps and savannah-ian accents. Think of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Those are the fellas I grew up listening to. Grits weren't served often- they heat up a kitchen and take too long. Breakfast is cereal or eggs if you are lucky. Every summer day was spent outside, with a hose nearby if you were thirsty. We spent our days thinking of Huck Finn or the Rascals and maybe Swiss Family Robinson. Maybe fishing, but usually not because of alligators. Ask me what I want to eat and I'll tell you biscuits, mashed potatoes, fried chicken and green bean cassarole. Water? No thank you, sweet tea'll do mighty fine. Dessert is pumpkin pie in the fall and strawberry shortcake in the summer. You name it- we fried it. Elvis found his way into the hymns, heading off to the church for sunday evening service or near the holidays. Summer began as school let out in June and the Fall officially started the middle of August when you went back to school. No one owned snow boots or rain boots or even an overcoat. Flip flops can be worn year round and winter has officially begun when your pool is under 64* Which is usually some cold day in December. I spent many Christmases at the beach or a bbq. But like any place, living your life is a whole different experience. Just how many new yorkers go see their city? I do. One new thing a week. You only live once.

School's Back in Session!

I continue to resist the constant urge of being a language arts teacher. Tomorrow, a dozen of people I know will greet youngsters on their first day of school. Their day will be full of smiles, tears, lunches and crayons. Another dozen will head back to their classrooms to construct that welcoming room for their future students. Sometimes I wonder if that's where I should be- in a classroom. Teaching the times tables, reading Bridge to Terrabithia, and assigning book reports and scheduling pizza parties. Maybe one day I will be there. Not this school year.

The Time Has Come the Walrus Said....

Why don't more people look up when they walk? It's more attractive when you do. You discover things on your walk. Like this building. I like this building. It's on Central Park West. I don't know if I'd appreciate it if I lived here. You don't really stop to look at your building before going inside. Plus, I'd probably have a lot on my mind if I lived there. More money, more responsibility. For some reason, I always think it would be a good place to sell something door to door. (Not that that is allowed inside.) I don't even like doing door to door things. But it would give me a chance to see inside other people's homes. Not in a stalkerish way. Just in a "wow. I would NOT have put red curtains in THAT room" kind of way. Now you know.

My Moveable Feast

About once a month, our apartment throws together a brunch. We make the main dish and ask our friends to bring what else is needed. Some days it's impromptu- someone had leftover potatoes, so we have home fries. Another time, an excess of Bisquick. Whatever seems to work. We've finally gotten to the point where there's a base of people that come by and spend a couple of hours eating good and catching up on the past few weeks. It's funny to think that in the short time we've had it, a couple of legit business deals have gone through, a couple of jobs have been discussed and none too often, words of encouragement for a passionate shift into art or creating are passed around. Although by the time the brunch is over its usually 4pm, I'm settling in for a sugar coma of sorts and I've only managed to clean the dishes; I still feel that the day is an accomplishment. I also notice that the words and ideas percolating in my head for the past month spill out onto the page faster.

There are gorillas in the mist?

They found 125,000 gorillas recently. In the Congo. Apparently, you don't really "tag" or "count" these gorillas, you just look at their nests and count them. (Called nests, I prefer- pallets to sleep on) Have you seen the size of the Congo? Where do 100,000 gorillas hide for 10 years. (The last count was in 1992) I misplace a sock or my eye glasses for a week- but gorillas? The WCS located the "mother lode" (I take this direct quote) and also discovered 6,000 gorillas they didn't even know were in a isolated swamp. This fascinates me. I understand the concept of the forests. I understand the concept of a secretive species. But misplacing and underestimating 125,000 gorillas? They're not mice- how does this happen?

In other news, you can now get a camera, mp3 player and other small electronic needs at vending machines in the Dallas Airport. ...Maybe we can pick up a tracking device on the way to the Congo.

I don't believe in Sundays.

It's a lot like finding your borough. When you find another one that's "almost" yours, you realize just how much your current borough isn't for you- even though this other one isn't yours as well. Does that make sense? Being here reminded me that my time is short in NYC. Not because I don't love this town. Don't get me wrong. I love NYC. But it's not my borough. Not forever. I'm still searching for mine. Vermont isn't where I belong either. I'll know when I get there.
In the mean time, I'll enjoy the side trips from NYC to places I've never been before.