Saturday-Sunday

On Saturday, I went to Coney Island to watch a professional ultimate frisbee game. I have not done these things separately before, but never together. And let me tell you, together is better. There is a soft spot in my heart for Coney Island. That place is all New York. Also, I once had a pretty wonderful Fourth of July there.

I also have a soft spot in my heart (is that the correct phrase? it seems weird, now that I've said it twice) for professional ultimate. It was a great game. New York Empire beat the Montreal Royals 24-6.

Afterward I got to play spikeball on the beach with some pretty awesome people. I also went for a nighttime dip in the water, because a beach visit feels incomplete to me without a swim in the water. It was cold, but it felt meditative and refreshing under the moonlight.

Then, to the bar, where I changed into a dry bra and tank top. Dancing, drinking, all the good stuff. Hung out with my friend #9 a bit. Curled up with my Kindle and fell asleep on the train ride home, which made the hour and a half journey breeze by.

Sunday was a quiet day, in the grand tradition of Sundays. Not gonna lie, I was freaking out a little about the long week of freedom ahead. That may sound weird. But, trust me, sometimes freedom is just as scary as drudgery. Or maybe more scary. But less depressing. Definitely less depressing.

So, anyway, I walked in the summer sunshine down to Bouchon Bakery to get a croissant. I have heard the almond croissants are amazing. I got a chocolate almond croissant, which was good but not amazing. Clearly, I have to go back to get the almond croissant. For science.

Then, I read at Lincoln Center triangle, walked back, bought plants, ran in Central Park, and watched the Tonies with Jill. I watched them all the way through. They were actually pretty entertaining. But let's be honest. I would watch Hugh Jackman do anything. Even hop for four hours. Which I was worried might actually happen based on this opener:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRO-pNXUTKw

Aaand that's the weekend!

Running Home

On the flight back to New York, I was seated behind the mother and sister of a former teenage nemesis. We exchanged pleasantries, and I honestly wished all of them well. I felt a calmness settle on me along with excitement to be returning to the city. It was as if my apprehensions were not banished, but were now running out in front of me, harnessed. For weeks I thought it was the idea of returning to New York that was making me anxious, but on the way back, I started to think maybe it was the not being there that was making me anxious.

I thought, I am returning to the woman I am in New York. I realized that I love that woman, and I don't want to lose her when I move to Chicago. That may sound dramatic, but I feel like every time I make a really big change in my life, a small death occurs (and not the good, French kind ;)). The person who emerges is necessarily built out of the old one, but she's not quite the same. She can't be.

While I was home, I went back and excavated some of my old journals from storage. I felt like I could handle the embarrassment of looking at raw teenage me. Teenage me was, as I remembered, kind of embarrassing and confused and naive and really, really angry. But she was also brave and strong and funny and thoughtful. I'm still her, reborn though I have been and will be, over and over again. I'm also different in good ways - I like to think I've gotten too wise to collect enemies anymore. And I am not nearly as angry, ha!

We all have to do this in life. Trying to hold onto one static identity forever is a) impossible and b) would leave no room for growth. I don’t think I can summarize it better than this brilliant scene from that American classic Bridesmaids:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7L2sVq4bzQ

Let’s pause for a moment to appreciate the brilliantly understated comic tension of this scene.

Done? Okay.

Not to sell out my girl Kristen Wiig, but I think they’re both right. We may not get to choose what stays and what goes away, as Florence + the Machine once spaketh*, but a little faith in the permanence of character and love helps a lot in overcoming the fear of changing. That’s the other thing. We get to keep the people we love, and they keep us, and remind us of who we are even when we might forget, and let us become who we need to, all the while loving each iteration. Or at least the really good ones do. Thank God for them. And thank God for New York. Running home to you is the best feeling in the world.

*THAT IS A WORD. DON’T QUESTION IT.

Beginning

I’ve lived in this beautiful, trash-laden, and frighteningly full city for eight years, but now I’m moving out. I have one last summer here before I move to Chicago for law school. Getting ready to leave New York is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and I hear I’m not the only one. The Leaving New York Syndrome is known to cause freak-outs, premature sadness, and a burning desire to pay homage to the amazing, bleeding mess that the city is and what it has been to you. So, that’s what I’m going to do. The last one. Pay homage, and write about my final adventures here. Because that’s basically all I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid – have adventures. Or at least write about them.

New York City summer, you beautiful beast, here I come.