January 27, 2009

“Taxi…JFK please”

Two days before takeoff and blue-checkered packing boxes are strewn across my hallway. I’ve been packing for 6 months and my inability to make minor decisions has somehow resulted in an intense internal conflict of whether or not to pack my coffee maker. It’s my 3rd in three years, yet considering the fact that I find myself unemployed along with the entire population of Manhattan, it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. The angst in the New York air is palpable, and we are all in a sense looking for something.


Buying a one-way ticket to Africa was an easier decision for me than picking out which sunglasses I would bring with me over there. Kenya is on the Equator, and even though I’m pretty sure I was African in a past life, my fair skin needs more than the entire suitcase of SPF 65 that I’m bringing. To some, it wasn’t surprising, to others, inspiring, and for a few, a venture with which they couldn’t quite come to terms. I think denial is so blasé, but that’s coming from someone who’s dramatic enough to think her life is being filmed for an HBO special. To me, this is just another challenge I’m daring myself to accomplish, an opportunity to raise the bar in my world. Who am I to think that this is all life is, or that my individual tribulations are so daunting. It has taken determination to get where I am now, but if I’ve accomplished it, that means I can be better. Always wanting more has got me into trouble more than a few times in my 20-something years of existence, but it’s still the reason I’m renting out the best windowless bedroom in the West Village.


All I know is that life is extraordinary, the future--enigmatic, and it’s up to us to get off our ass and create the fate we want. Because after the checkered boxes and possibly a coffee maker are locked into the storage unit, I’m going to close my eyes, make a wish, and hail a taxi on the corner of Horatio and Washington. Maybe this new pursuit will result in a fate that doesn’t include this city or the people in it whom I’ve grown to love. Maybe not…but in true form, I can’t really decide.

4 comments:

Unknown said...

i love u carrie bradshaw...cant wait to STALK ur blogs daily..sooooo proud of u see you tonight!!!

Casa de Mariana said...

omg jet setter kenyan kid elephant head like ben folds five!!!!!

so proud of my jenya.

xoxo,
mar

Kristina said...

I just spent the last hour going through old letters and cards, that I have protested parting with all these years, but the time has come for me to dive into my tubs and get realistic about what to keep hauling with me when I move... then as fate has it, I pause to sign on to your blog and here you are going through a similar set of circumstances (though comparing your coffee maker to our youthful-gossip filled letters seems inappropriate). I love the irony of moments…. I haven’t checked your blog at all, yet here I am on a Tuesday night and reading your multi-colored, perfectly folded and laugh out loud letters, and I knew I had to right now. And it is your first post!

My vote- donate the coffee maker! As much as the admitted coffee addict that I am… my vote is to store as little as possible because you will be bringing SO MUCH MORE back with you after your journey to Africa (and I am not referring to material things) that I can bet you won’t miss it one second. If you do… then I’ll send you money for a new one! Promise. Plus isn’t the one you have now sooooo last season?

Awww my Jenny, my dancing partner, my fruitcake… I can’t wait to hear your stories (especially the exaggerated versions!) Cheers to your adventure…..

Kathy said...

JFer,

Don't forget to write in your journal so you can publish your best seller when you come back and don't forget to spell my name correctly on the dedication page, K4, my 2nd mom in New York. Miss your hugs!

Love u