The New York Journals

I’ve never been one to write incessantly or spill my secrets to a diary, however on my most recent trip, where I traveled to New York for the first time and honestly traveled kind of alone for the first time, I decided to bring my notebook and I found unpredicted solace in its pages. Looking back on them now there is something strangely intimate to be found in these entries. Rather than try to pinpoint these emotions & changes I’ll let you read some of my favorite entries for yourself.

Sunday March 30th 11:27pm

I wish I could offer words on how amazing New York is today, but I am beyond tired. I am weighed down by drowsiness, it’s something even caffeine couldn’t fix. You must accept my apologies for this lackluster beginning to one of the most genuinely exciting times of my life. 

Monday March 31st 4:59pm

Well, I have returned from the MoMA and I can confidently say that my life has been changed. I promise the next time I step foot into that museum will be to see an exhibition of my own work. My feet are tired but they do not feel as if they are tired. Instead they feel heavy, as if I just spent the day with my head in the clouds and I would have spent the rest of time that way if not for my leaden feet. In that way they are a blessing and a curse. Art has enraptured me to the fullest extent and I can’t see myself ever letting go. 

Tuesday June 1st 7:42am

I was awoken by my father leaving the hotel. I figured he had gone to work, but as I got out of the shower I heard him return. He returned with quite possibly the best company, bagels and coffee. I also ate half of my mom’s bagel. So really I had 1 ½ bagels. Too good to be true. Reflecting on yesterday; after the MoMA we went to Bryant park, sitting there I loved how this bit of green was safeguarded from the rest of the city. It felt otherworldly. On my right was the public library as I walked the rows of chess players consumed in their matches. I stopped to spectate a particularly ruthless match. The young player got too cocky and the old-timer won. I suppose that's how the nature of the world works. 

Tuesday June 1st 11:25am

Idyllic just doesn’t capture it, I wish I could frame this moment. Sitting at this little table in Brooklyn, scribbling in my journal,  enjoying the sights of the bridge, the buildings, and this pizza. Forgive me, I must indulge in this pizza now.

Wednesday June 2nd 3:28pm

There is a fervor that arises from the thrill of being on your own, with not another soul who knows where you are. My life is on the other side of the country, my dad is at work, and my mom is lazing around the hotel room. Meanwhile I am leaping through central park. I do not know where I’m going. All I have is my book, my music (SZA), and this undeniable feeling of wholeness. If I were to go missing no one would be able to find me, I would really be gone. That thought floods my body and pushes a slight smile onto my face. My life is up to my own decisions. Immersed in this beautiful center of greenery & people I fall into pure happiness. 

Wednesday June 2nd 6:39pm

Here I am, at the top of the world. Endless, expansive, but man made. If I was on top of the world I would want to see green, more green than central park. The ground beckons me, the earth. I was not made to be up here. I cannot understand from up here. It is not human. It is far beyond strange. So I am beckoned back down. Which way shall I go? Should I take glorious flight down this building and land gracefully below, umbrella in hand and magic at the ready? Should I give up on the dreams that have shaped me and crash into the pavement? Or perhaps I’ll do what everyone else will do. I’ll use the elevator 43 seconds away. Then turn and go home. It seems like such a menially humane way to end an adventure on top of the world. 

Friday June 4th 8:10pm

The people of this city are the most wonderful and deeply fascinating people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.  New York is not made by a dream, idea, neighborhood or anything else. New York is the people. Everyone is doing their own thing and has their own story but the one thing everyone has in common is that they love New York. 

Sunday June 6th 2:53pm

Right now I’m at the Brooklyn museum taking refuge from the 90 degree heat and 87% humidity. It doesn’t need to be compared to the other museums, it’s its own thing. It has much more diverse and meaningful art by younger artists. I like Brooklyn, a lot. Strangely enough I don’t miss home. I don’t know if that's because I know I’ll see my friends soon enough or because I’ve accidentally mentally moved here. I’ve been here for nearly a week now. I don’t know if that has significance. It feels simultaneously shorter and longer. I’m forever searching for change, I want to see and do everything. 

Monday June 7th 3:37pm

You might be wondering why this page is stained with droplets, well I’m currently caught in a thunderstorm. Lightning, rain, thunder, the works. I’m sitting on a bench under a tree in central park. It is offering me minimal shelter. The rain is comforting, and seeing my ink bleed is also strangely comforting. The Guggenheim today was astounding. I found myself losing my sense of reality and time while observing the art, that’s how you know it’s good. I’m also extremely grateful to have seen some filmmaking artistry. It was perplexing and inspiring. Ok, the rain is a bit much now. Perhaps I will take shelter. 

Tuesday June 8th 9:00am

I do not want it to be my last day here. I don't even miss San Diego as much as I should. I could stay here for a lifetime and never get bored. There are so many people and they are all so lovely and I love all of them. I hope one day to be one of the people I love. To live here and to love it. 

Tuesday June 8th 2:32pm

I have fallen in love and her name is The Strand. This most marvelous 4 story bookstore stretches the lengths of my livelihood and gently nourishes my mind. Books! Shelves from ceiling to floor and need I mention the tote bags! It pains me that I will never be able to read every book in the world. My list seems to be ever expanding and I fear my wallet and my time won’t be able to keep up. At my funeral I will include a list of my favorite books and the books I never got to read. I hope those that have grown to love me and who outlive me will read these books and tell the wind about the ones I couldn’t read. Then she’ll carry the message to wherever I rest and I’ll finally have a glimpse of those books. Better yet, read the books to the wind so I may appreciate what I missed in my short time here. 

Wednesday June 9th 10:51am

I suppose this will be my last entry in the New York series. I am currently floating above the clouds. It is all so small and it is all the same. It seems at every waking moment I am caught between pessimism and optimism. Both seem rational in different ways at different times. 3 hours and 2 minutes until I arrive back home. I’m not so sure it’ll feel like the same home anymore.