Friday was my first day without work. It was partially enjoyable, and partially worrisome.
It began great. I got up around eight, had a leisurely breakfast, checked email and blogs, and packed a little before heading uptown to drop off donations at Housing Works. You couldn’t have asked for better weather. Sunny and cool. In fact I needed a jacket. The bus ride was quick and relaxing compared to crawling through massive traffic during the week (the U.N. was in session, and the President was in town), and then ridding myself of three heavy bags of clothes. Yay!
Next I picked up copies of my patient records from my doc, and then a bagel with lox cream cheese from Pick-A-Bagel and an overpriced mocha from Le Pain Quotidien. I mosied on over to Central Park and had my lunch by the Conservatory Water. Central Park is definitely something I will miss about New York, especially in autumn.
I had planned on going straight home and packing some more, but then I decided I’d visit the Met one last time. I made sure to check out the new American Wing, a light-filled open space with lots of sculptures and statues, as well as the Vermeer exhibit, which was just okay. There were not that many paintings and it was very crowded. Plus I had seen all of that and more at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam years ago.
I also visited a couple of old favorites: the Asian hall with all the Buddhas, and the Greek and Roman hall, what I like to call The Hall of Perseus’ Rock Hard Booty. I tried to be discreet as I stared at that statue from behind (pun intended).
I got home around 3, and after chilling out a bit, that’s when it started: the boredom. I should have known. That listless feeling always starts for me then. At work it’s not bad because I’m surrounded by people, and I can easily go for a quick workout. But on my own, if I don’t remedy it immediately, it gets bad.
I started to think, Is this how it’s going to be in San Francisco? Energized in the morning, and then blah and lonely in the afternoon, EVERY afternoon, not just on Sundays after a weekend with no plans? Was this going to be good for my writing, or detrimental? I remembered, as though it had been weeks since I stopped working, instead of of less than 24 hours, the relief of a peaceful Friday night after a busy week. Some philosopher said pleasure is merely absence from pain – with no pain, would I know pleasure again? Or would the days just blur into each other?
By 5:30 I decided enough is enough, and got out of the house. I didn’t really have any errands to run so I just took a long walk out to Chelsea Market. (I actually wanted to go for a run, but in my packing frenzy, I brought all my workout clothes to SF.) That did the trick. It helped clear my mind and get my confidence back about my writing as I imagined a routine of writing in the morning, then leaving the house by lunchtime and writing in a cafe or something for a couple of hours before going for a run or heading to the gym. I envisioned taking some classes at the gym as well as a writing class, to have some social interaction.
I realized I was putting all this pressure on myself to GET OUT THERE immediately, meaning network and socialize in ways I haven’t really done before, like going to writing events and schmoozing, and that doing something I’ve done before, like simply taking a writing class, was a cop out.
But why? My time off should be fun, as well as productive. It’s as though now that I don’t have the pressure of work (and school), I’m creating this pressure. I’m making up something to worry about.
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Anyway, my weekend in SF has been lovely as usual. My flight was good, aside from my rowmate who was a complete asshole. Since I switched flights at the last minute, I had a window seat instead of an aisle, so I had to unfortunately climb over my row mate for my many trips to the bathroom. The second time I had to wake him up because his legs were positioned in a way that there was no way I could climb over him. After I woke him up, he just stared at me and held out his hands, like what am I supposed to do?
“Can you move your legs a little?” I asked.
He stared at me some more. “I was sleeping,” he said.
Was he really not going to move? “Well, I still need to get out.”
Finally, he was so generous to shift so I could get out.
When I came back, I very politely said, “Would you like the window seat so I don’t disturb you again?” Read: take the goddamned window seat since you’re just going to sleep the whole time and I’m the one who needs to pee every hour. He refused it. Fine, then you’ll have to deal with me.
I actually tried to hold my pee longer than I normally would have, then finally just couldn’t anymore and climbed over him without saying excuse me.
What a fucking dick.
The guy was Indian or middle eastern, and I could picture his mother fawning over him while he was growing up, telling him he was a prince among men, and then his wife doing the same.
Aside from that, I’ve been having fun. Yesterday MB and I walked all over. It was hot! Well into the 80s and very sunny, though in the shade and at night it was much cooler. After dinner we had a quiet night in since I was so tired. I slept like a rock.
Today blogging, unpacking, and running some errands. I’m glad I don’t leave till tomorrow.