I Miss You, I Miss You Not

It’s a bit if a cliché; I leave home to be with you, I stay because you make me feel alive. I leave for the adventure and stay for this thrill, to make you love me back. Somewhere along the way you did, and that was worth the world to me. It was worth becoming a foreigner, anonymous, homesick - or just sick sometimes. It was a demanding relationship with a maniac, but it was with the sexiest, most incredible maniac in the world.

You never promised me anything. I knew the deal, the terms were fair: when it stops being good, we’ll leave. But it didn’t, for a very long time. Sometimes it felt like an entire life. And when it did stop, I started making excuses; It’s just a phase. It’s February. Nothing a Caribbean vacation wouldn’t fix.

I got used to you, it felt comfortable and everything else disappeared for a while. We started our own little family.

We always knew it wasn’t going to last forever.  The truth is, we lasted longer than anyone, or even I, thought we would.

Just like that scene in every movie, 45 minutes in - or seven years in real time - CUT TO us all grown up, silver streaks in our hair, uncool jeans and Birkenstocks, spending our weekends between farmer's markets, ice-cream runs and children's meltdowns. You go through the motions but feel unfulfilled, the same bars aren't as fun, holidays start to sting. 

And then you realize; it’s time to go home now.

Thanks for all the memories. xox

Bring Yourself Back Online

Feeling sentimental lately. Maybe it's the long winter, maybe it's old age... But it must have something to do with the approaching milestone of my 10^th summer in New York, and it feels like one that must be reckoned with.

So, I’ve started to plan a virtual surprise party for myself, and in the process, I remembered - I used to blog.

Rediscovering this archive of my 20's reminded me a lot of things that were completely wiped from my hard drive. Like the fact that they were pretty good, that I had a blackberry and plenty of time for recreation and introspection.

It was strange to see how my- naive, fresh off the boat -self wrote with more vulnerability and less vocabulary. Strange, because it is embarrassingly raw, but it works.

In a way, I'm right where I started in July 15th 2008. I live in the same neighborhood, although it's almost unrecognizable.

Many of the landmarks and people who were part of my universe have left or relocated, and so has the Hope, and Change that were very present in those days.

Small bars and eclectic music scenes were rammed by tattooed soccer moms with double strollers. Now I'm one of those, no tattoos, though.

Instead of focusing on the decay, global and personal challenges I'll try to channel that romantic, younger vibe, jump-start my ancient crush on The Big City.

At the turn of a decade, a new chapter. Or at least a fresh post.