"It's just that there is so much to do and I want to do it all. If there are that many cuisines available for takeout, imagine the number of events: rock concerts, comedy benefits, book launches, TV wrap parties, art openings, restaurant openings, theater openings, even the opening of my mail is a fete if you add champagne... It wasn't my fault, you see. New York was tempting me. It expected me to participate, always, the way a gregarious person's friends expect her to always be "on"... The city lures its inhabitants, seduces us; it's an evil hypnotist, a nefarious prankster..."
-Jane Borden, I Totally Meant to Do That
Last week in New York! I'm not sure how it happened, but as usual, the days creeped past faster than anticipated. One month turned into one week, and now here I find myself FedExing cardboard boxes of books and shoes back to South Carolina- because there is no way this extra baggage I've managed to accrue will fit into two fifty pound suitcases plus a carry on. Who am I kidding... I couldn't even make it to New York in two bags before I purchased all of these "must-haves."
While I stare at my summer list, noting the handful of to-do's I have yet to check off, I cannot help but find joy in knowing that several unhighlighted tasks will remain as such: sans pink highlight. As much as I wish to do and see everything worthy of my list, I find more comfort in realizing many things will remain un-done, un-seen, and un-appreciated. Because the more I still have to accomplish, the more "pros" I will be able to tally under their respective column on my anticipated NYC post-graduation list. I should definitely move back to New York, I mean, I haven't even made a trip to the Bronx Zoo! And how could I have gone all of last summer without visiting Caroline's Comedy Club in Manhattan. Idiot! Whether or not I choose to move back is a decision at least nine months premature, but my stacking up of benefits in favor of New York can't hurt, right?
Although my lack of checking off is in some respects embarrassing, it is both consciously and subconsciously intentional. I discovered this crafty "method in my madness" on one of my many subway slogs under the East River today. I had travelled into Manhattan with no real purpose other than to stroll the streets. I stopped at a few jewelry vendors, touristy retail shops in SoHo, and even Eataly, an upscale Italian marketplace packed with nice restaurants, fresh markets, and gluttonizing gelato. But somehow nothing was able to fulfill me; I realized just how stuck between New York and home I currently feel. Like I'm in some waiting room. I'm still in New York, yes; but I'm not really here. I'm merely wallowing in the aftermath of my experiences here, reflecting back on both the unexpected challenges and the privileged episodes. Essentially, I'm trying to make sense of it all, when I should be taking advantage of what's currently still in front of me. And the struggle ensues.
On a lighter note, to continue along with my ongoing theme of perfection in unintentional book selection, I had yet another serendipitous moment today as I walked through Madison Square Park. My friend, Rebecca, had suggested I read I Totally Meant To Do That by Jane Borden back in May. I somehow just got around to buying and reading Borden's memoir, and the timing could not have been more perfect. The book juxtaposes the post-grad, city life of New York with the cliched southern environ as it was experienced in the rearing of its author. Through humor, reflection and a knack for story-telling, Borden struggles both to define and choose a home: New York or North Carolina? NYC or NC? Her witty tales strikes multiple chords within me as I strive to define New York in terms of its role in my continual coming-of-age. If I could choose one book to erase the author's name and in its place scribble my own, this would be it: the first of three Magic Genie-providing wishes. Did I mention that the girl is downright hilarious? Jane Borden gives Chelsea Handler more than a run for her money. I cannot wait to read what Jane comes out with next. Twitter stalk: successful. Fan-mail list: you betcha.
But I still have yet to arrive at the providential point: today, as I walked through Madison Square Park, searching for a shaded bench on which to sit and finish the last chapter of Borden's memoir, I almost ran square into a signboard of the park's events. And what did I find at the bottom of the list but the name Jane Borden itself. I'm not kidding! I only wish I could conjure up this kind of story all by myself. On July 28th- after I am gone- Jane will be visiting Madison Square Park, the exact place I had chosen to finish up the last few pages of her book, to share her story. I'm so sad I won't be in New York! Maybe I should move back sooner?
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