^my actual apartment, the evening before I left it
Dispatching from my apartment. Like, MY apartment. The one without central AC. The one that isn’t in New York. I’m starting with this piece of information because I think it’s ironic (which is an automatic yes for anything) and also because I think it speaks to a larger phenomenon that I seem to be plagued with generally, but am experiencing more seismically at the present. I’ll do my very best to explain.
Last summer, I spent two weeks worth of shifts at the comic book store reading the absolute tome that is Stephen King’s It. If you’ve never seen a copy of this book, it’s a brick. There’s a lot in there. (It’s also a pretty entertaining read, so if you’ve got the time, I’d recommend.) And obviously if I stuck it out, I enjoyed the plot. I liked the pacing, the excitement, the suspense, the characters. Sure. That all was fine. What I really liked about It, though, was the characterization, and development of one key player in the book— the setting.
Derry, Indiana is written as though it lives and breathes along with the human characters. This is a big, well-known part of the genius of the plot. Just as the dormant fear lurked within the kids as they grew into adults, It lurks beneath Derry as a constant threat. This was the first time I’d been able to read this sort of crossover, and in my mind it just made so much perfect sense.
I have a joke with several of my friends that when I graduate and move back to New York for good, I’m going to buy the Maryland flag and hang it prominently in my new place. This is partially because the Maryland flag is just so obnoxious (I can say it but if you’re not from Maryland you can hold your tongue, thank you very much) but partially, in a more legitimate way, it’s symbolic. I’d never hang the Maryland flag here, even though it objectively makes more sense. I tend to look at the places I’ve lived as their own animate chapters. My growth is the place’s growth; my ultimate growth tends to be leaving. I don’t know if that's a cycle I’ll continue forever, but I do know that it’s especially prevalent when I feel stuck. The Maryland flag will be more of a pride that I’ve come from there— that being, that I’ve exited.
I guess I’m probably someone who romanticizes place. I never think of myself that way because I don’t go into anywhere with expectations. I’ve never suffered from Paris syndrome. I just like the places I can have adventures in and don’t like the places where I feel stuck. Either way, this is all just my own feelings. I’m probably being dramatic— I’m only here thirty more hours, and I’m happy to see my family and friends.
I say I’m a better person in New York. I think I mean it in a few ways, but it’s not exactly the idea of “better” that normally gets brought up about people. It’s more of like a conditional better. I’m happier in New York. I’m less anxious in New York. I’m braver in New York. I can do things; I’m better there. Last week I was going alone to the ballet and signing up for open mics, this week I’m hiding out in my apartment because the thought of people from school looking at me makes my stomach turn.
My friend picked me up from the train station today and on the ride back, I tried to explain pretty much this whole thing. I don’t know if I did it coherently— I can’t even really tell if this explanation is in any way adequate— but she said she agreed with the idea that where you are directly impacts not only the obvious factors (like socioeconomic ones) but also how you look at your own life in an introspective way. I love waking up in New York and opening my window to see the skyline. I think that happiness impacts my whole day— I like my internship and feel competent, even when it’s just copying and pasting things into spreadsheets, even on the longest days. I mostly survive off dollar mangoes from the fruit stand and dry ramen (I can’t afford a water boiler. Or like, dishes.) and I have never been poorer in my life, but I’ve never been richer in so many other ways. I felt anxious the minute I pulled into DC. My stomach has not untangled itself.
I don’t know why I’m saying this. I mean, obviously this is my New York diary, but I’m not in New York. That’s kind of it though, you know— just like my whole Maryland flag thing, like Derry, it’s more of an enigma at this point. It’s something magical. I wonder if it’s all in my head. I wonder if it’s really doing any good. I wonder if there’s a way to stop— and I wonder, given that option, if I’d choose to.
I told you all you’d get a free diary entry in July (this is not my normal free essay post, so you’re getting that too!) That’s mostly marketing. If you like my New York diary or even if you just want more of my typical content, go paid. Or don’t. I hate commodifying myself, I’m just telling you it’s there.
(You were supposed to read that in an Aubrey plaza voice but I’m not sure whether it translated.)
Cya soon-
R
as someone who's also from a place that people don't often mythologize in writing, i loved this one :) captures how i feel when i spend extended amounts of time in a big/ger city