Thursday, April 08, 2004
In My Solitude
Sometimes, I crave the solitude I experienced when I first moved to the city. In about the first year I lived here, I went to the New Yorker Festival poetry reading by myself in Bryant Park. I saw "The Misanthrope" in Central Park & the entire 1999-2000 Public Theatre season by myself. I went to the Met & attempted to draw one of the statues. I sat in the library reading room on 5th Ave & read under one of the green lamps. I saw "American Beauty," "Being John Malkovich," and many French films by myself. I ate at restaurants with only a book as my company. I was almost recruited for a cult (long story). I sat in the park & read "Anna K." I went to the New Museum in SoHo & saw these strange, free videos. I went to the Guggenheim SoHo & saw Andy Warhol's "Last Supper." I ushered "Cabaret." All this -- but mostly, I wasted time simply walking along the streets or sitting somewhere & reading or writing in my journal.
I was so lonely the summer I moved here that I cried almost every night, thinking about my friends at home, my quiet block, my porch, the theatre where I'd worked, the students I'd taught. After a few months, I cried less frequently -- once every couple of weeks, on the phone with my friends. I thought less & less about my porch, the brick street where I had lived, the fresh air in Florida. I went out & did things.
My first birthday here, when I turned 26 (!!!), I went to my sister's about 2 hours away because I didn't want to spend it alone. I helped her move into a new apartment & then we went to a park & played catch & ate grilled swordfish & ice cream cake.
Then, by the next year, I was so fortunate. I had made some close friends, some wonderful friends, and we ate at Yaffa Cafe. I went to Shakespeare in the Park with Stephen & his friends (though it was rained out). I saw "The Graduate" in Bryant Park with a group of people. I considered it a sign that I'd made the city my home.
Now, I feel like I want to do some of the things I used to do. I want to see French films by myself. I want to spend a Saturday alone. But, somehow, it's harder.
My schedule is fuller. I have a boyfriend. I am pulled from here to there, invited to go places I want to go with people I want to spend time with.
I love my life. I love working on theatre projects. I loved going to Dan & Dena's baby shower last Sunday. I loved ushering for "Assasins" with Erin. I love playing softball on Saturdays. I love Joe.
But, I feel like I've lost a part of myself and that centered feeling that comes from spending a lot of time gloriously alone, even if the price is sometimes loneliness & crying on the phone. I miss my solitude.
-m
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Sometimes, I crave the solitude I experienced when I first moved to the city. In about the first year I lived here, I went to the New Yorker Festival poetry reading by myself in Bryant Park. I saw "The Misanthrope" in Central Park & the entire 1999-2000 Public Theatre season by myself. I went to the Met & attempted to draw one of the statues. I sat in the library reading room on 5th Ave & read under one of the green lamps. I saw "American Beauty," "Being John Malkovich," and many French films by myself. I ate at restaurants with only a book as my company. I was almost recruited for a cult (long story). I sat in the park & read "Anna K." I went to the New Museum in SoHo & saw these strange, free videos. I went to the Guggenheim SoHo & saw Andy Warhol's "Last Supper." I ushered "Cabaret." All this -- but mostly, I wasted time simply walking along the streets or sitting somewhere & reading or writing in my journal.
I was so lonely the summer I moved here that I cried almost every night, thinking about my friends at home, my quiet block, my porch, the theatre where I'd worked, the students I'd taught. After a few months, I cried less frequently -- once every couple of weeks, on the phone with my friends. I thought less & less about my porch, the brick street where I had lived, the fresh air in Florida. I went out & did things.
My first birthday here, when I turned 26 (!!!), I went to my sister's about 2 hours away because I didn't want to spend it alone. I helped her move into a new apartment & then we went to a park & played catch & ate grilled swordfish & ice cream cake.
Then, by the next year, I was so fortunate. I had made some close friends, some wonderful friends, and we ate at Yaffa Cafe. I went to Shakespeare in the Park with Stephen & his friends (though it was rained out). I saw "The Graduate" in Bryant Park with a group of people. I considered it a sign that I'd made the city my home.
Now, I feel like I want to do some of the things I used to do. I want to see French films by myself. I want to spend a Saturday alone. But, somehow, it's harder.
My schedule is fuller. I have a boyfriend. I am pulled from here to there, invited to go places I want to go with people I want to spend time with.
I love my life. I love working on theatre projects. I loved going to Dan & Dena's baby shower last Sunday. I loved ushering for "Assasins" with Erin. I love playing softball on Saturdays. I love Joe.
But, I feel like I've lost a part of myself and that centered feeling that comes from spending a lot of time gloriously alone, even if the price is sometimes loneliness & crying on the phone. I miss my solitude.
-m
