It’s 11:15pm on Wednesday. I just got back into my apartment.
This also means it’s 2:15am New York Time. I’ve been up since 6am Eastern Time. Started working at 8am. Stopped at 3pm to get in a cab to go to the airport. Boarded at 6pm. Landed at 10pm Pacific Time.
How did I do all that I did in 75 hours? I didn’t get nearly enough done in 75 hours!
Date: September 16, 2015
Days Spent on Project: 939
Location: Hell’s Kitchen, New York City and NW Portland, OR
Person I would have sent it to: TBD
Music I listened to while sewing: I’m sure my neighbors love that I’ve got Spotify on right now… I’m keeping the volume down, but I need music on to get through this post.
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: Don’t even know where to start.
I met up with four friends last night. We met at a restaurant called Trailer Park, which I love, but few other people do. It’s tacky and pretentious and weird and over-priced, but I’ve been there several times and had way too many strong margaritas and plates of tater tots to really care. It’s fun there.
I walked from 23rd and 8th to 48th and 11th last night afterwards, by myself. New York was still buzzing and moving and vibrating and pulsing and glowing all around me. It was a fantastic walk back to the hotel.
I woke up at 6am Eastern Time to check my work email and get ready for the day. I left at 7:30, walked through Times Square as it was waking up, and headed to one last fabric store. I stayed there for 3 hours, swatching fabrics for Portland. Almost immediately, I was stopped: one of the employees came up to me and told me how good it was to see me again and where the hell have you been?!
I met a friend for coffee quickly, hugged, talked for a bit, and then parted ways. I worked until 3pm, called an Uber car, and then spent 80 minutes trying to get to JFK. I arrived at the airport at 4:30pm, got through security, and boarded by plane at 6pm.
And now, here I am in Portland again.
I walked into my apartment at 10:25 and the streets around my building were dead. They were quiet. No one was driving. No one was walking around. A few people sat outside at a few bars, but the atmosphere was… quiet and lonely and small. Again, my life is so different than it was.
And I’m not sure what I like better. I’m not sure what I like.
It’s frustrating that New York City can be so amazing when it wants to be amazing; since Sunday, I’ve had the kind of days that I always enjoyed there. I was busy (trying to swatch an entire show that isn’t completely designed by another designer is difficult, especially the day after the Jewish New Year when some businesses are still closed). I worked hard. I didn’t get to see the shows I wanted to see (Sleep No More or Fun Home. Dammit.). I didn’t do the shopping that I wanted to do for myself.
But I saw more than a few friends. I walked around and talked. I gave lots of hugs, and I meant to give them. I smiled. I felt like A PART of something, instead of APART of something. I miss having old friends and old connections and backstories with people and relationships that extend beyond a few weeks. I miss the crazy ambitious ways that people live life there in New York. I miss that everyone wants to do this work (theater) because they have to. I miss that it’s difficult and you have to push yourself. I miss feeling like you’re invincible and capable and someone, even if you’re not. I miss so much of that city.
I needed to leave New York in July of 2014. I did. I’m not sure what would have happened if I had stayed. I needed the break.
I’ve had that break. I have had a break.
I don’t want to get soft. I don’t want to lose my ambition. I don’t want to work at a company that refuses to see me as a designer even though I’ve spent my entire career designing. I’m giving them access to a lot. I’m working hard for them. I’m making improvements. I am helping them. I am making sacrifices for them.
(But what are they giving me?)
I don’t know. Life isn’t a linear narrative. It’s not direct. You don’t get from Point A to Point B easily. You make hard choices and then deal with them.
I wonder what happens next.
I miss so much of that.