Noo Yawk II

[View from Brooklyn; 9:15am, 9/8/07]

As I write this, it's Red Sox 7, Yankees 2. Maybe it will be the reverse of the last encounter between the teams, which was, well let's say unfortunate for the Sox. But they've remained ahead, so it was not exactly disastrous. Never mind.

On Sunday of my visit to New York last weekend, the weather was a tad cooler (thought still pretty hot) and I'd had a bit more sleep. My lodgings turned out to be as safe and clean as they looked, and I discovered a health food store and a good New York bagel deli around the corner.

[My lodgings on St. Mark's Ave, Brooklyn; 4:30pm, 9/8/07]

I wouldn't say I was scared traveling alone on the subways (during the day only, taking cabs at night), nor walking the three blocks between the brownstone I stayed in and the nearest subway stop, but I was very alert to the character of the neighborhood, the businesses, the sorts of people I saw walking around, the upkeep of the residences on my street. It all seemed pretty safe, but still I felt a stranger, which I am to New York. I made a couple of fairly insignificant errors in taking trains the wrong way or waiting on the wrong platform for quite a few minutes before figuring it out. I relished the adventure of it while bemoaning the stress on my system, relished having time to myself without the need to put on my social face while feeling left out of the camaraderie I'd chosen to miss. Though I'm quite social and like being with people, I'm constitutionally an introvert and need a full tank to do the social thing, especially in a marathon version with so many bright and interesting people. Unfortunately a variety of physical discomforts last weekend sank some of that energy, making me feel shy and inarticulate at times, and thus inadequate. But mostly I enjoyed listening to and watching the others; if that was all I could muster, then at least I could enjoy that.

["White Cabinet and White Table," 1965, Marcel Broodthaers;
at MoMA (thanks, Teju :-)]

But it did raise for me the continuing dilemma of finding balance when I have competing needs for stimulation and avoidance of overwhelm, a desire for deep connection coupled with a need for space, also the need to take care of myself running up against the expectations and demands of others. It's always felt like a bit of a zero-sum game. Maybe in the second half of my life (heh, if I live to be 100) the contradictory sides will find more peace and acceptance one with the other, more balance, and that will in turn make it easier to manage relationships with others.

Comments

[dave]

I hear you. I think I just need better drugs.

FWIW, your crash-pad appears to be the very same shade of green as my newly renovated living room. With the addition of ceiling fan, it now looks like a cottage in the Hamptons. (That is, until I move the ratty furniture back in.)

[Rachel]

For me, one of the biggest challenges of this kind of group weekend is that I'm so often prone to worrying that all the "cool kids" have gathered somewhere and I'm out of the loop. *g* So your lodging situation would have been really hard for me; I opted for the slumber party in part because I needed to feel like I was in on the action. That was my self-care; sleeping elsewhere was yours. I think we're both brilliant for figuring these things out, frankly. :-)

For what it's worth, my memories of you last weekend are all of your triumphant arrivals at our impromptu inn, and feeling delighted to see you, and you being very much present. "Shy and inarticulate" weren't even on the map.

[Leslee]

Dave: Better living through chemistry. And through paint (best cheap re-decorating, isn't it?).

Thanks, Rachel. Glad I didn't *appear* to be out of sorts! But really I did feel like all the cool kids were having more fun and I was out of the loop. That's just the problem - can't seem to have my contradictory needs met. If I were two people, we'd have divorced a long time ago! Alas, we are joined at the hip (and every other body part) and have to figure out a way to get along. :-)

[dale]

I'm so inarticulate I always already know I'm not one of the cool kids, so that takes the pressure off a little :-)

Your presence is always so lovely, Leslee. I was so glad you were there.

[dave]

If I were two people, we'd have divorced a long time ago!
Is that a quote, or an L.M. original? I love it.

[Leslee]

Thank you, Dale. :-) I'm glad you were there, too.

Dave: Just occurred to me in responding to Rachel. And it's true. :-)

[rr]

This so resonates with me. Having chosen to be a journalist I then discovered, shock horror, that I had to *talk* to people. So I acquired a relatively socially capable persona, frothy zippy articulacy. But it was a huge effort. Putting that burden down has been an enormous relief. I can still do it, for short bursts, but it's exhausting. And yes, I always feel that the cool kids, the bright ones, the interesting conversations, are elsewhere than where I am.

I'm so glad you were there, Leslee. And that you've written about it in this way.

[Jean]

Oh, I think you mustered a great deal more than that - what I most remember is your gentle attention and kindness to myself and others, and how easy you were to talk to... It was really lovely to meet you, Leslee.

[Leslee]

Thank you, rr. It was great to see you again.

Jean: Thank you. And I could say the same of you. It was lovely to finally meet you, too. I'd have liked to have talked to you more, but there were so many people and so much pull not to miss anything.