Williamsburg, 2015 |
In no particular order, New York has been at its very best lately. I mean almost embarrassingly, movie set-calibre gorgeous. I had a doctor's appointment in Soho yesterday and met up with a friend in Washington Square Park and couldn't quite absorb all the yellow leaves and blue skies and energy in the air.
It also reminded me of my first months in New York, when that part of the city had this magnetic pull for me. I adore Brooklyn and the city still but it's always lovely and amazing when it hits me: "Oh yeah, I get to live here."
It makes me think of this essay, on feeling nostalgic for the New York of your youth, whenever that was. I especially loved the line: "I remember what it felt like getting ready to make something exciting happen, to feel a sense of the city and time radiating out in all directions, like the spokes of a wheel, with me and that night at the center." I most definitely stood under the arch in Washington Square at 22 and felt exactly that.
We also had a growth scan and the baby is clocking in at five pounds, eleven ounces. It feels like it's racing past and I am getting excited (and trying to make peace with the chaos that is my everyday existence.)
And I've been reading the usual essays and articles, like this one on Pre-K, and this one, on how crazed two income families in America are these days.
I also love thoughtful advice columns, particularly Ask Polly in New York magazine. Even when the question itself doesn't resonate exactly, she has such great insights, like this one:
"Nothing has made my life richer than coming down off my pedestal and, instead of spinning in neurotic circles, working hard to enjoy the pleasures of everyday life... In my finest moments, I'm working hard at something that feels very difficult, or I'm taking in the grace and humor of the people around me, or I'm just staring out the window, watching the wind whipping through the trees on a late October afternoon. To feel fully alive and calm and in the zone is to also be, in some ways, in the background, borderline invisible, a vessel for something bigger than yourself. That's also, not coincidentally, practically the definition of relaxation and peace. It's not a lobotomy. It's using your brain to focus outward, until the whirring machinery in your head is silenced."
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