My Own Holiday

"Sometimes it's not holding on...but letting go that makes us stronger."
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It's beautiful today--an almost perfect Autumn day in New York, but more importantly an almost near perfect day in my own life. The sky is clear, there are no clouds and the temperature is such enough to have lunch in the courtyard with a friend. Inside at my desk, things are getting done, projects are being finished, laughter is plenty and the happiness is written all over my face. I could not ask for anything more.

Two years ago to the day, I sent an IM to a friend that said: "I have really big news." A few minutes later when she saw it she immediately replied with her congratulations because she assumed, and almost rightfully so, that I had gotten engaged. It was only after I told her "actually no, we broke up" did she feel like a total ass. Yep, it was two years ago to the day. It was two years ago today that I became single for the first time in over six years; the first time I walked the New York streets alone, cold and vulnerable; the first time I wasn't a "we," I was just a "me." And I stumbled. For a long time. I cried, I slept, I cried some more and I hurt. A lot.

And then one day, I woke up and I was okay. It didn't hurt anymore. I'm not sure when it actually happened; that day wasn't quite as memorable as the break-up itself more so because it wasn't one day, it was an entire process of healing, growing and changing. Some say that the freedom really comes when you stop counting, but I disagree. The counting just means I recognize it. And that too, is important. I am not a robot. I am not void of feelings even if they are two years in my past. I think that if I had just turned around and gotten myself into another unhealthy and codependent relationship or shut down completely and not allowed myself to love again, I think that would have been a bigger tragedy. What I did do however, all the right things in the right order, has led me to where I am today--in this big and wonderful place in my life. And I suppose that's why I choose to act as if today is a day to celebrate. It's not so much that I'm celebrating having my heart broken or being "free" (though in a way, I sort of am) but in so many other ways, I like to celebrate it because that day eventually bridged the gap to where I am today.

Autumn in New York

I had the most amazing weekend; the kind where on Sunday night as I was pulling back the comforter to crawl into bed, I almost couldn't remember everything I had done and when I really thought about, like really really thought about everything, I couldn't believe it had taken place over the course of 48 hours and not say...148. And not just because I had done my fair share of drinking in those 48 hours.

It was the kind of weekend where I was reminded why it's so much fun being a girl and so much fun having girlfriends to gossip with in the meadow at Central Park on a Saturday in October that felt more like a Saturday in July; or girlfriends to have an al fresco brunch with on a quiet street of the UES; where meeting a friend's mother and getting a peak into her childhood almost makes perfect sense; where laughs and giggles and 'remember whens' far outnumber any present matter, pressing or not; where a quick stroll through MoMa reminds me that I really should partake in more cultural activities and that even an hour's outing always make me feel so humble and grateful all at the same time; so incredibly fortunate to live in this city where, at any given moment there are 50 zillion amazingly fun things to see, to do and to love; where dinner at a new-to-me Italian restaurant makes me stop and wonder why I rely so much on the old standby favorites; where a meal shared by five friends is so much richer both in taste and price than a meal shared with myself, in front of the TV and an old episode of Jeopardy on the DVR; where a Belgium beer at 5:00 is the perfect appetizer; where the lights of the Empire State Building still make my heart smile; where another walk across the Brooklyn Bridge literally makes me stop in my tracks and smile and sigh and almost have to pinch myself to realize yes, I live here; those tall buildings I'm walking towards...that's home; where walking across the bridge shoulder-to-shoulder with my dear friend feels more like a movie than real life but at the end of the day is more real life than any movie; where the sun is in the perfect position to cast brilliant shadows and make for wonderful pictures and the sky is a color that even a master couldn't replicate; where there are no clouds, no smog, no nothing. just pure and rich blue; where watching football at a bar on the UWS while my friend steals sips of my beer during her double shift feels absolutely like home, even if most of the time, I have no idea what is going on in the game; where a friend from our kickball team stops by and together we share laughs and embarrassing stories that really belong in an issue of Cosmo; where the bus ride back across town through the park feels more like a beginning and less like an ending, like another chapter in my NY life and not the close of one; where the weekend reminds me of where I live and who I am and why, just the very reason why I am so incredibly happy and why, yes, at times, I need a reminder. We all do.

New York is incredible and has a way of doing that every now and again, of tapping you lightly on the shoulder and saying YooHoo, get off the couch and get outside; discover me; enjoy me and remember me. There will be a day when I'm 40 that I'm glad she did. Hell, I'm grateful that she did this weekend. In turn, she gives me fabulous memories. And meals. And friends. And laughter. And a life unparalleled to anything I could dream up on my own. And I am almost always entirely grateful. I have to be or the next time, she will just kick my ass instead.

Kid at Heart

There is something to be said for the sheer innocence of a child; the way the outside world (which right now is in literal shambles) has no affect on their day; the way things like paying bills, getting to work on time and doing a good enough job to keep your job never even cross their minds. They want to play. And build really tall buildings out of colored blocks and then knock them over. They want to throw sand and eat worms and play pretend tea party and dolls. A child is a window to a simple world.

I dated a guy one time that said the reason we were so compatible is that I, like him, never want to grow up. And today, after a business lunch that went two hours longer than predicted, two hours of arguing about last night's Presidential debate, the economy and whether or not a woman is qualified to be our next VP (strike that, whether or not Sarah Palin is qualified to be our next VP) I found myself back at my desk dizzy, drained and wishing I could throw a pretend tea party at my desk complete with pink plastic tea cups and kettle.

So instead, I opened YouTube and watched a cartoon. It's the one where Bugs Bunny plays the piano, that really difficult song called 'Hungarian Rhapsody No 2' and the mouse ends up stealing the show at the end on his own mini piano. Bugs actually gets up on the piano and hops down it like a real bunny, on all fours. He picks up all the keys and lay them down. He gets a phone call during the performance and claims he doesn't know who "Mr Liszt" is. Clever. Smart but yet totally silly all at the same time.

Growing up, it was always one of my favorite Bugs cartoons. If DVR existed back then, it would be permanently saved on my list for easy access whenever I needed a fix. I only watched it once because it is over seven minutes long, but the entire time I was giggling and smiling just like a child. For those seven minutes, I felt like a child stuck in a big kid's body. Kind of like the movie Big but without the whole falling in love with an adult part. I was totally transported. And it was...awesome. I don't ever want to grow up. I want to watch cartoons with my kids because I want to not because I have to. Man, being a kid is so much fun!

Thrills

I waited once, for two hours in line at Six Flags Great Adventure to ride the world's tallest & fastest roller coaster. It's ridiculously scary. As far as thrills go, it was pretty high on the list. I mean bungee jumping is definitely a helluva lot scarier but it's ranked pretty high nonetheless. Was it worth the two hours on line? I guess so. The way the line was set up and snaked around the grounds, my friend and I spent half the time standing right in front of the boarding area. The fun of that was watching people freak out right before the coaster takes off and zooms from 0 to 128mph in 4 seconds flat. Every single person was just screaming at the top of their lungs. I was too when we finally got our own shot on the ride. Right before it takes off you sit there as the operator counts down: "3-2-1 enjoy your ride." You then fly forward at quite literally the fastest you've ever done anything. This isn't Germany; we don't drive cars that fast here. You reach the top of the hill, you're there for a half-a-second and then you start falling, your hair standing up almost completely on end as you feel weightless in your seat. And then you twist and turn a few times and then....just like that it's over. There is so much anticipation, so many moments leading up to that <40 second ride that afterwards, you aren't even quite sure what really happened. We stood in line for two hours for what breaks down to forty seconds of thrills and screams. Looking back, the anticipation probably outweighed the actual ride. The two hours in line freaking out watching everyone else freak out was probably more scary than the actual ride. But I'm not sitting here three years later wondering why I did it. I know why I did it; the same reasons anyone rides a roller coaster, jumps out of an airplane or off a bridge attached with what equates to a giant rubberband attached to their ankles. We do it for the thrill. For the joy. For the rush. For the experience. For the merit. For the bragging rights. And in those instances, it doesn't matter whether or not it's worth it. You do it and it's fun and it's okay when it's over. You expect that from a roller coaster.

You don't expect that same thing from life or from love.

The Tenth Month

I woke up this morning and realized that it's October. I know technically yesterday was the first day of October, but yesterday I wasn't paying attention; that whole September only has 30 days thing always throws me for a loop. I don't really remember October. For me it's a forgetful month, no offense to all your Scorpios. Maybe it's because October lacks a federal holiday for that long weekend or a much needed day off. Maybe it's because the air starts to chill and this year my feet are still firmly planted in August; my mind stuck back in May or June when things were just starting, when the flame was a mere flicker and the sun stayed up well into the evening's breath.

Last year I spent October preparing for the marathon. I spent it sleeping and icing and popping blisters along with Advil. This year, since I have officially opted out of the marathon due to a too-busy-to-train-the-right-way summer, I'm not sure what October has in store for me. I kind of feel like I've been given the gift of time, like suddenly there's an extra month in my year. My summer went by in a blur, like a college graduate backpacking in Europe, rubbing my eyes each morning wondering what train station I had just pulled into. I want my Fall to feel differently not only than last Fall but different from all the rest. I want to feel it all, slow and winding, like a drive on a country road through the backwoods of Vermont. But I don't actually want to go to Vermont. The last time I went to Vermont, my heart was broken and my life, forever changed. I want defiant moments that don't feel defiant until months later when I look back and think that moment, that moment was a good one. While it's happening though, I don't want it to feel like I'll remember it. I want to be fooled by my own mind. I want it to matter less but yet more. I am a walking paradox. I'm done spelling it out, each detail planned out so that every moment matters as much as the next but yet, not less than the one before. I'm freewheeling and free falling all at the same time, or at least, I want to be. Maybe that's it; maybe I just want to be free?