So it goes… (written the day after Vonnegut’s death)

his morning I found out that my favorite author died yesterday. Kurt Vonnegut was dark, cynical, and brilliant. I discovered him at a formative time in my life, starting with Welcome to the Monkey House and Cat’s Cradle (both of which remain two of my favorite books of all time), and relished reading every book he’s written. In college, I would distract myself from more pertinent schoolwork by purchasing a Vonnegut novel and simply enjoying his words. Living in Manhattan, it was always a secret hope of mine to hang out in his Turtle Bay hood, hoping I’d see him going for a stroll, and then somehow persuade him to let me buy him a beer. Anyway, my words don’t do his words justice, but I’m sad, even though he always wanted to die. And even though I never met him, he will be missed. So it goes.

Insomnia… (written before the first day back from Spring Break)

“With insomnia, you’re never really asleep. And you’re never really awake.”

How true, indeed.

Right now I find myself trapped in that dysfunctional sleep schedule that 10 days of vacation has induced. No doubt a time-change trip to the other coast and a road trip to Montreal (where sleep was not the top priority) have had an effect. Not that I’m complaining. But my overactive brain doesn’t help. I envy those who can drift away once their head hits the pillow, while I’m contemplating the lyrics to “Rift,” if I can squeeze in a run before grad school work, who my favorite Latino director is and whether honey mustard is better than spicy. My brain is a complicated place to be.

Tomorrow is the first day back to school, after a blissful spring break (though it felt more like winter if you ask me). So my brain is especially consumed: how to keep the kids busy, how to keep myself busy, what time do i need to wake up, will there be time for coffee, I really need to work on my CAP, I really need to find a new job, and oh shit, I have to deal with co tomorrow!

But more importantly consuming (and more importantly exciting) is something that will be occupying my brain for the next few months: my trip to Europe! After months of talking it up, putting a deposit on the AmeriCorps program, and generally being vague about my travel, I have finally purchased my ticket. I will be arriving in London July 4th, starting my Barcelona program July 19th, ending it August 3rd, and returning to the States August 21. Still vague, but at least I have a flight. So now my crazy little brain is plotting, planning, speculating on everything to be done before and in between. What should I bring? Backpack or rolly bag? Where am I going to travel? Will I be lonely? Am I insane? Will I ever sleep? (Um, and if you’re going to be in Europe during that time, or know anyone who will be, please give a shout!)

And so I lie in bed, perilously tired, but strangely awake, feeling as I will likely feel tomorrow. With insomnia, you get accustomed to that semi-lucid state of being. You get used being alone with your brain at night, noisy as it can be. In fact, sometimes you like that it talks so much, at least that means it’s alive.

Part 2 (Written in November)

Back in May, one of my best friends graduated from law school. Months later, (after she successfully estranged herself from all things social in order to prepare for the bar exam), I indulged her in a day of relaxation to celebrate completing law school (and the bar, and passing the Connecticut bar, but who’s counting?). We sat at the cafe in a Turkish spa in Brooklyn, sipping champagne and fruit juice in the early afternoon, and discussed life. She turned to me and said that she felt like she was entering a new phase in her life. She’d just finished school, began working at a law firm, and was beginning “real life.” She said that everything prior had been “Part 1,” and that this was now “Part 2.” I like that idea. Part 2, a fresh start, a new chapter to the book.
Now I’m not sure that my life is only divided into Parts 1 and 2. Maybe, like certain movies, mine’s a trilogy. Lord knows I’m not done with school yet, and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, so I haven’t worked out that element. Yet, in the past few months, I feel like I’ve started another chapter. It all started with Rosh Hashana. For those of you who know me (and I assume that anyone reading this is someone who knows me), you know that I’m not a religious gal. But for some reason, I’ve always connected with the Jewish New Year. I like the fact that it’s in the fall, around the same time as the start of the school year, at the time when seasons change and the park is an even more unique shade of beautiful. I like the fact that we symbolically start over, having “repented” for our sins (whatever that means). This year, I started to feel that perhaps I’d entered Part 2. Maybe it has something to do with being 25, that whole “quarter century” thing marking off a chunk of time, separating my youth from my adult life. Or maybe it’s because, for the first time in a long time, things are starting to make sense. I may not know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, but I have ideas brewing, plans I’m putting in motion, getting motivated and excited. I’m figuring myself out, and that’s no small feat. There’s potential, and that’s a start. That’s Part 2.