Self.
I got up early on Saturday morning, around 8 am, got my coffee, camera around my neck, the new Roots album in my ears, no hangover from the Friday night before, brimming with excitement about the day’s possibilities. I entered my local 1 subway station, ready to head uptown, and I noticed this young guy kind of gearing up for something, you could tell he had an outfit on that he felt cool in, he looked cute, urban, he was spit shining his Nike high-tops, positioning his Yankee hat perfectly to the right side, pulling his jeans down just enough so you could see his whole ass, he had plans. I was watching him intently, I was so curious, trying to figure out what he was up to, where he was going so early, it was too early for a date, but I could tell that it was something important to him, he was nervous. The subway came and I made sure I got on the same car as he did, I had to see more, the doors closed, there was a few other people in the car with us, he put his bag down and proceeded to practice an entire dance routine right there in front of us all. It wasn’t a weird, I’m gonna use this pole and perform for you dance, he was obviously working on a choreographed, I have an audition for Jlo in 20 minutes and I don’t give a shit where I practice kind of dance. At first I got a little embarrassed by him for some reason, he was dancing about a foot away, I didn’t really know how to react, but then I saw that he had no self consciousness, he was just doing what he had to do and didn’t care about what anyone thought. And then I realized that New York kind of erases a bit of everyones self consciousness because we’re all faced with each-other so much, we just start to care less about people looking at us. When I first moved back here I was so aware of everyone being so close to each other all the time, I was nervous about each move I made, what I was wearing, what someone thought about the book I was reading, was someone staring at a zit I had. But then as I got more comfortable with the presence of everyone, I started to realize that no one gives a crap, we’re all just doing our own thing, and staring at one another on the subway usually means that we forgot our Time Out at home. It’s relaxing in a way, my guard drops when I see a guy in a suit on the subway change from his dress shoes into his gym shoes, or a cute girl finishing her makeup on a Friday night, it’s a little more exposed, and that vulnerability can lead to a closeness that not many cities can duplicate.
LIRR
I just went to visit my uncle who lives about an hour and a half outside of the city, on the north shore of Long Island, this adorable, never changing, small fishing town that looks like it was painted by Norman Rockwell, it’s called Northport. My uncle has this great modest little house right on the beach, you can see right through to the water from the front of the house, and when I walk up the front stairs and open the door, I get kissed in the face with that warm sea breeze. It’s such a charming place, a sunfish resting on the dunes ready for anyone that wants to take it for a spin, kayaks to wander through the canals of the plover and blue fish filled marshes behind his house, a wind-surfer, tons of homemade food, and fresh pies from a man who sells them out of the back of his truck down the road.
I really enjoy my journey out there too, the Long Island Railroad goes through such a range of unfamiliar places. My ride heavily contrasts my destination. Unlike the pristine beauty that I described above, there’s much more of a gritty view from the train windows. But even though it’s rugged, it’s still beautiful in it’s own way, the colors, the machinery, the houses butted up against the tracks with swimming pools filling their whole back yard. It’s almost voyeuristic, glimpsing into these towns and homes and factories, and speeding by without ever knowing their names. And it always seems different every time I ride, I guess it depends which side I pick, and which direction I decide to face.
Patience.
Patience is something that I didn’t have much of when I lived in Los Angeles, I think it might of had something to do with the 10 freeway, but who knows. I definitely find myself a little more composed when I get frustrated here in New York. Maybe it’s because there’s so many people around, I’m not as inclined to lose my shit when something goes wrong. In Los Angeles, you’re mostly confined to your bubble of a car, a safe little haven of cursing and flipping people off, where you can release all your rage with the AC on.
There’s a couple of things in New York City that definitely test my ability to keep cool. I thought I’d share one with you. Now mind you, it might sound absurd when actually written down, so don’t judge me. One of them is this; walking up the stairs, ascending from the uncomfortably warm subway station and finding myself stuck behind a very slow person who has to start texting before they even see the light of day. I find myself behind them willing them to move faster with all my might pushing the air with my hands as if I was giving them a mental nudge, unfortunately that never works, they climb at their own pace and then stop at the top, right in the middle of the stairs, and try to figure out which side of the street they’re on without moving out of the way. Yay.
Like I said, it does sound trite when I read it back to myself, but I can’t really deny that it happens.
Every city has their annoying little quirks that come out over time, when the honeymoon is over, and your faced with the every day of it. But I guess you learn to fall in love with those flaws, it’s the next chapter in the relationship, the one that solidifies the loyalty. And the ones that leave their city, and find those flaws too much to take, well, I guess the city and them weren’t meant to be together.
Saturdays
Every Saturday for me is like Christmas morning, I get so excited to get out into the city, I can barely sleep past 8am, even if I have a hangover. It’s very still on Saturday mornings in Manhattan, there’s not a lot open, and the people of the city are usually recovering from their Friday nights.
I get up, grab my camera, get my coffee and sit on a bench outside and figure out where I’m going to wander off to. The lighting is a little gold, the weather is usually mild, not too hot and accompanied by a morning breeze. All of the street vendors are setting up their tables full of wares, the summer outdoor markets and street fairs are starting to prepare their foods, and there’s a faint smell of egg and cheese on a roll on every block. It’s wonderful.
Throughout the day, throughout the miles of walking, you can encounter so many different activities, from concerts in central park, to sailing lessons on the hudson, there’s something for all of us. I love that everyone seems so happy on Saturday, you can just feel the cumulative joy exuding from the city. And then there’s the food, street carts with roasted nuts and grilled meets, endless outdoor cafe’s to brunch at, gourmet delis, bakeries, italian ices, the smells permeate my journey through the city. And even though I’m spending my Saturday alone, I never once feel lonely.
Belief
Belief has been the topic of my week. I’ve gotten into a few discussions, which got a bit heated because the beliefs were not shared, and when two people don’t share a belief, they both use their energy to convince the other that their belief is right, and the other’s is wrong. It would probably be more useful if we spent a little bit more energy listening, and trying to understand one another’s beliefs, rather than trying to disprove them. I have fun believing in a lot of different things, magic, aliens, the holographic universe, vitamins, true love, that’s the way I am, there’s more positivity in belief, it’s a little more entertaining to me than disbelief. I am not bound to my beliefs like an addict, they change with my growth, I refuse to be afraid to change my views or beliefs about anything. I do think it’s unfortunate that people find it so difficult to acknowledge the beliefs of others simply because they don’t share the same views. I wasn’t raised in a religious home, I was raised to learn all that I can, and to find my path my own way, and even though I don’t know enough about religion to believe in it, I never doubted the beliefs of anyone who celebrated Jesus, or God, or the Virgin Mary, their beliefs are held so close to their heart, who am I to give my small, insignificant opinion about something that brings so much joy and beauty to people. Jesus seems like he was an amazing person. That being said, what’s the difference between believing in the existence of Jesus or presence of aliens, or the existence of someone who can levitate? Why is one person’s belief s disregarded, and one’s celebrated based on the commonality or popularity of the belief? Why do we want to impart our own beliefs on everyone else? Why do we think we know so much, when really, we know absolutely nothing outside the realm of our small existence? I love life, it’s fun believing in things that aren’t right in front of me, it opens my mind up to new ways of thinking, I get to explore the space outside the box, which is infinitely vast. But please, please, if you don’t believe in something that someone else does, don’t say anything negative, don’t impart what you think you know on them, don’t ruin their smile, it will never change their mind; it will only give them a bad day.
