Sunday, April 28, 2013

Other People's Love Stories

Gabe and I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens Saturday for the Cherry Blossom festival. It was really beautiful and fun (and crowded. With people dressed up as Anime characters. Who knew? I didn't.) I included some pictures at the bottom if you want to check them out.

We were walking on the Upper East Side to hang out with some friends when we passed a stack of books on someone's apartment stoop. This kind of thing happens a lot in the city where people put their unwanted things outside for the taking. It looked like they were moving or spring cleaning and had done a book shelf weed-out. This is the sort of thing I can't pass up. I don't know what it is... if someone invited me into their home, I'd have no interest in snooping around in their things. But something like this feels so exciting to me! Like a glimpse into a stranger's life - so I stopped to look at them. (It might be weird - people have told me before. Whatever. I'm gonna do it again next time, I don't care. I'm a honey-badger). I ended up taking one of those little monochromatic books with little pictures of animals in it. That's where my heart lead me that night. Guess I wasn't feeling particularly profound. Here's the prize:

I forgot I took it until tonight when I was cleaning out my purse (which is a miracle since it's like a semi-annual event). I got about 5 pages in and noticed there were tiny hand-written notes in the margin. Commentary on the little story - about falling in love.

I was like omagod! This is so an ex-girlfriend gift that he couldn't burn because he lives in a studio walk up so he threw it out on his steps! Maybe that story is more exciting... but it turns out that's not the case.

It's an engagement gift - from a mother-in-law-to-be. There's a note in the back to Lindsey about how excited she is to welcome Lindsey to the family. How she knows they are soul mates and will be forever.

I closed it for a minute. I shouldn't be reading this! Why would someone throw this away? Did they not go through with the wedding? Did she forget why this book was significant and just deemed it clutter? Did she not mean to throw it out?? It's sitting on my bed and I'm actually considering putting it back just in case she misses it. But I ended up reading the whole thing anyway. Honey-badger.

Obviously every one of these millions of people bumping into each other on the subway every morning have rich stories and complicated lives, but it feels so strange to actually have a glimpse into one. The Mom was so excited about the engagement. They met at a bar in New York.

I hope it worked out. I'm putting the book back. OK.

In other news -- Brooklyn Garden Photos if you want to check them out. So pretty. They don't grow 'em like that in Texas.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

What "home" means to my Pops

I received so many messages/texts/emails last night about how much yesterday’s post about “home” resonated with people – and it made my SO HAPPY! It means so much to me that other people are working through these same things – or did at one time. We have to put on a brave face so frequently (and often for good reason) and sometimes it feels good to be able to say “Uhg! I’m so glad you said that! Me too!”

I wanted to take a minute to share one message. It’s from my Pops who is not struggling with these ideas now, but did at one time, and was thoughtful enough to share with me how he dealt with them. I’ve read his email over and over again (it makes me the-good-kind-of-cry every time) at this point and will keep it forever. I love you, Pops.

Hi Drew!

I just finished reading your latest blog. That part about “home” resonated with me. While I have not been isolated from “home” for as long as you have by time and distance, there were times when I was traveling extensively for NASA that I would miss home. To me home is always associated with family. So what worked for me when I got those lonely feeling was to go home in my mind. I would think of the fun times we had as a family, think of individual family members, or certain activities we had enjoyed together, the visits (in the case of my parents and brother), the good stories, even sometimes the sad ones too. If you’re away from it, home is never where you are, it’s where your family is. And you can go there any time in your mind and know that while they are not with you physically, they are always there for you, will love and cherish you, and miss you as much as you miss them. Through all the good times and the bad, your family will always be “home” for you.

I love you so much, peanut – keep your spirits up. Pops

Keep your spirits up, ninjas!

Keeping you posted,

- d

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Back to Reality

#latergram blog post style. Apologies for the delay.

It's our last day at Myrtle Beach and I'm sad to be leaving. I woke up with this unexpected feeling of melancholy that I haven't been able to shake.

When I get nervous or anxious or sad, I tend to get very quiet. It happens before a performance, any time I have to sing in front of people or give a speech, if I'm going to an event where I don't know a lot of people. Some people get overly chatty or irritable; I deal with it by getting very quiet.

It happened this morning. All the girls were chipper and drinking mimosas together and I couldn't think of anything to say. I thought maybe I was just tired, but then I realized I knew this feeling. So I came down to the beach- I felt like I might start I bring everyone else down. I think it was a good decision – there’s so much breathing room here. We have to leave for the airport soon, but I have a couple minutes.

There's hardly anyone out here and it's cool, quiet, and beautiful.

I've been walking, trying to "change my mood" and thinking about how displaced I feel. I don't really feel like I'm leaving to go home. I've lived in this same apartment in New York for 2 years now, but it still doesn't feel like home, not really. I'm comfortable there, it's familiar, I have friends and my own room (and a guinea pig, which like…how much more dedicated can you get?), but somehow it doesn't feel like home and I'm not sure why. I don't know what makes something feel like that. I imagine it’s the people - family. Which makes me think- maybe the only home that really feels like home is the one you grew up in, until you have your own family? Is that when you feel truly connected to a place again? I'm sure it's different for different people. I've heard people say that their group of friends is more of a family to them than anything they've ever had. So maybe for them this does feel like home - or maybe nothing ever has. I assumed that deep feeling of connection and establishment would evolve on its own out of something, just like it did growing up. You don't even know you're growing dangerously connected until you leave. But maybe now, it's something we have to make happen since we don't have parents to create it for us. Maybe it comes from making a decision to commit to something, someone. A place, a city, a person, a job and therefor a “hometown”. A friend said to me the other day that grownups always talk about how wonderful it is to be committed – to a marriage or home or city – and I imagine (hope) that’s true, but I doubt they remember how difficult committing actually was at the time. Maybe finding that “home” connection comes from biting the bullet and committing to something.

Our generations are very different in this regard. There was more of a specific path expected of our parents, but we “have the world at our fingertips”. It’s no longer: go to school, find a husband, get married and have children. It’s: go to school, get a job, then do whatever the hell you want! Get married or don’t get married! Start a business! Become a lesbian! Anything goes! For my family at least, college was expected. It was up to me where I would go, but that was the last stepping stone that was laid out for me. And while it’s wonderful to have complete control over your life, there’s some fundamental need that is met with the feeling of simply fulfilling a task that is expected of you. It’s clear, finite, and it feels good to live up to it. You can check it off a list. But now there is no list. Not even the subconscious or “suggested” list that past generations had – and it’s wonderful. And terrifying. We have full ownership of every. single. life. decision. It’s what we wanted. And I’m grateful, but God it’s easier to caveat every decision with an “out”. “Yeah, you know, I’m doing this for now… we’ll see!” Right now I feel about as committed to my East Harlem apartment as I do to this beach chair I'm sitting in. It's both exhilarating and isolating, not being "tied down" to anything of real consequence. Staying in this land of “I could get out at any time” is way less scary (less fulfilling?) than committing. But I have this sinking feeling that this middle ground doesn’t create a life that feels like home.

So. I'm feeling melancholy and missing my family and home. Wishing I could stay on this beach forever. In other news, I think I’m watching a little girl play on the beach for the first time in her life. She was nervous about all the sand at first, but now looks comfortable enough to have been born on the beach. She spent 2 whole minutes telling her friend about her brand new “bading” suit with watermelons on it. I know you probably shouldn’t take photos of other people’s children…. But you can’t tell who they are, and I thought it was such a special moment that I wanted to share with you.