I had to wake up fairly early this morning to go do some work at 440 Studios-- the studio space that I spent all 4 years of my college career attending classes in. I made the mistake of going to bed far too late last evening, so dragging myself out of bed this morning proved to be a task so difficult, I had to reward myself with a Slurpee from the 7-11 for simply completing it.
With Slurpee in tow, I soon found myself standing outside of the building I lived in for most of college, with my free hand high in the air. This task- standing outside of this luxury apartment, trying to hail a cab during morning rush hour traffic, 10 minutes before I'm supposed to be where I'm going- felt comfortable in a way I imagine making love to an old lover must be. And by old, I do mean elderly, because, while I totally got off on the situation, I knew I was just feeding a sick, dirty habit of mine.
As I sat in the back of the cab, and made the familiar trek down 2nd Ave, two questions came to mind:
ONE why hadn't I grabbed an umbrella? it was clearly raining.
TWO could this moment of recognition (regarding mainly the cyclical nature of my cab riding, but also the umbrella forgetting) be a chance for great self-realization and growth? Maybe even a little self-acceptance?
The past year has flown by. The hours turned in to days, which turned in to weeks, which turned in to dollars, which turned in to weight watchers points, which turned in to bar tabs, which turned in to taxi fare, and clearly I haven't taken a math class in over 6 years, but I'm ok with all of that. There's been a few bumps in the road, but the positive experiences have been exponentially rewarding, and certainly more frequent. I think life is supposed to feel like it's speeding up at my age-- it means I'm doing enough things that my mind doesn't have the time to think about time.
So, maybe it's ok that I haven't broken this taxi habit just yet? Maybe I've been busy doing other things?
Maybe ending up in front of my old building, going through the motions that I had repeated every morning for 4 years, to get to the same building that I sat in for 4 years, was less a sign of staticity, and more of coming full circle with something.
The point I'm trying to make here is that time is relative. In the grand scheme of things, in 50 years from now, after what I'm sure will be a seamless transition in to senility, this one year of my life will probably seem like a mere blip in time. Sure, I could make a little bit more of an effort to keep track of where it's all going (honestly, I can't remember if I'm two years overdue for the gyno, or two years overdue for the dentist), but life is always more enjoyable when you learn to let go a little and enjoy the ride.
In related news, I spent $12 on an umbrella today, and left it in a cab on the way back home from work. Figures.
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