Night on the Town

We went to see Mamma Mia! (absolutely no photography allowed) and the city at night.

Big Stuff

There are big things on my mind.

Things like what classes I should take this fall.

And how I should be filling out the "All About Me" form.

The one that asks deep questions about me that will require some actual thought.

I'm really not interested in thinking. At the moment.

Things like this fire.

The hundreds of people who have lost their homes.

How lucky I am.

How I actually feel about it all.

Because I think it's pretty well known that to get through I go into "don't think about it" mode.

Which is great, because it gets me through the moment.

It allows me to do what needs to be done without being emotional.

But still, looking around at my house and knowing that what I might never see it again--that's big.

I know, intellectually, that it's big.

But I don't think that emotionally it's sunk in that it's big.

Or maybe I just think it should be big.

Whatever.

Big stuff on my mind, so I am going to continue listening to show tunes and not thinking about the big stuff.

Because it's big and I clearly don't yet know how I feel about it.

Fire

I was blissfully unaware, sleeping until 1:30, curled up in my own little bubble.

It wasn't until my neighbor called, wanting to know about the fire, that I knew something was different.

And then that bubble popped.

Even though I couldn't smell the smoke, I imagined I could.

Imagined it wafting ahead of the flames.

My parents drove home from their weekend away.

As much as I love my time just to myself, I was so incredibly relieved to have them home.

To no longer be the only person responsible for myself, the cat, our belongings, and our home.

I actually slept, although I know people who didn't, because they had gotten that call, and were packing up their cars and families and heading out.

I have had time to walk through the house, to consider each piece.

Everything holds a memory.

Every little thing makes up my home, my safe place.

Yet I realized yesterday when I was madly dashing around, trying to grab it all, that I didn't need to grab it all.

I need myself and the cat.

End of story.

I would miss it all, but all I really need are my parents and my cat.

Of course there are things I would grab; that I have grabbed.

Of course I'm terrified of this being the last time I'll see all my things.

But at this moment I am safe and so are my family and friends.

And that is all I need.

Staten Island Ferry

New York City, continued.

On our first day we took the Staten Island Ferry.

Last Night

I so needed that.

A friend with whom I can laugh and beat at Monopoly and share secrets and feel completely comfortable.

Utterly me.

It is so refreshing to be me, without any reservations.

It was a time of comfortable silences.

Of honesty and not looking away.

Of discussing in great detail things that don't matter.

But they do.

I keep saying this, but it's the little things.

Sometimes there are big things, but all the big things are made up of little things.

And I just crossed the line from being vague and poetic (or maybe it just sounded poetic in my head) to completely confusing and ridiculous.

But please keep in mind here that I'm going on three hours of sleep.

Probably the most restful three hours of sleep I've ever had.

Although my hip hurts and back aches and I did something funny to my knee (when did I get old?), my mind is fresh and clear and my heart is full and happy.

I am content. At peace. 

Different

I used to know it. 

I used to be okay with it.

It was more than I ever thought I would be able to do and so it was perfect. 

And then something happened. 

Maybe I conveniently forgot, or maybe it was the rush of graduating high school. Maybe it was the energy surge that comes from no school.

It crept up on me, this truth I used to admit so freely.

It came up and smacked me in the face.

I’m not sure why I was so surprised. 

After all, I’ve been filling out forms and calling doctors, trying to make sure I have what I need.

But, without even thinking about it, maintaining that it would be normal.

Because why shouldn’t it be?

Now, I don’t like the idea.

It is what haunts me during the quiet moments late at night.

I don’t want to be different.

I don’t want accommodations.

In this, yes, I want to be like everyone else.

Breakfast and the Subway

I am making my way slowly through New York photos. Instead of waiting (possibly forever) for me to finish all of them, I thought I'd post them in chunks.

These are from the first day;eating breakfast from a cart in a little square, surrounded by water and traffic and then starting to figure out the subway.