my manhattan: hell's kitchen, grapefruit, and joy.

life, as of now.

there is this consistent, persistent feeling that i'm being pulled under by the tow. 


not that i'm drowning--i've felt that before and this is certainly not that--but that i'm running out of air. and gasps are getting harder to come by.

it's getting harder to pack my life--lives, really--into two bags each morning. to carry those (three?) lives outside of me--toting them from one location to the next--zigzagging across a city that is unforgiving of such things. tennis shoes, computer and camera, black dress and high heels.

i find myself arriving home late at night. too late. crouching on my knees, spilling the contents of my bags--my lives--onto the floor in search of my keys. my keys, please, just let me find the keys. i empty out everything i own, tossing books and cards and all the receipts that need to be sorted, and there they are--bottom of the bag--fallen into some hole in the lining. and before i can pick up the now scattered content, i desperately thrust that single metal stick into the lock, and it breathes air into me. it is a gasp for air that thrust. just in time. coming home breathes in new air. and i stand there. chest heaving. alight with the panic that comes from feeling like you won't get that next breath in time. and when the lungs are just full enough and the heat of fear lines only my extremities i sink to the floor once more. pick up the contents of my life for the last time that day and cross the threshold. 

and just as this true. so is the feeling that i am buoyant. and good. and so very happy. so very lived in. 

so very in love with waking each morning to begin again. so very in love with my coffee on the windowsill and the way the sun slices through my flat, wood blinds. in love with the new stack of books piled under my makeshift bed-side table. in love with the scent and feel of a spring long-overdue in this cobbled, fragmented city.

it is always an interesting experience to operate on both ends of the spectrum. to hold two opposing ideas next to each other and say, yes, both are true. for me, these two opposing notions are true. right now. at the same time. it is electric. creates more space, actually--you know, for that air to get in.

i don't hate new york. i thought i did. turns out i'm just not entirely keen on the life i've built here. and so slowly, ever-so slowly i'm making changes. 

if there is frustration--and yes, of course there is--it comes from feeling the need to justify those changes. from feeling like i must contain this life that is desperate to barrel forward, tumble out. from having to pause and wait while every inch of me screams to continue on. 

the good news is, before long this shall pass. there may be a few meltdowns along the way. but it shall pass. 

book club. and a wee of a tea at...oh, you know, random house.

somehow, someway i got myself on some list. and this list yielded an invitation to a random house reader's circle tea. 

and because i'm trying to adopt a philosophy of why not? i went.

despite the fact that i didn't know anyone, despite the fact that upon entering the elevator i was asked if i was a blogger and if i was did i have a card (i did not), despite the fact that fear usually wins out...

i went.

and it was swank.

grapefruit mimosas.

a tote to fill with books. (free books!). 

a speech given by lisa see.

swank! i say.

this does remind me, however, i have yet to announce a book club date for bossypants.

june 4 (trying something new with a saturday): 2:30 pm. same location as our last meeting (if you've forgotten or didn't attend the last go round send me an email at wilybrunette@yahoo.com).

as always, we welcome new readers, new attendees, and encourage boyfriends and husbands alike!

dear anonymous,

you raise a very good point.

why would i, who enjoys being single, wear a ring on my left hand-ring finger?


to which i say: i understand your confusion. it does look like my left-hand doesn't it? such is the trick of the mirror. ah, the mirror, you say! you missed that critical point. yup, it's my right hand. don't worry, many before you have been bested by the mirror's flip.

don't worry about it. it happens.

with mutual admiration,

meg

variants and tentacles.

people keep asking the same two questions.

or, variants of the same two questions:

there's the first regarding acting and whether or not i'm auditioning and will i ever give it a go?

the second involves men, always, men.

am i dating? why not? do i want to date? would i like to go out with this person's brother's ex-girlfriend's cousin, twice-removed.

let me address the latter: of course i'm open to dating. but the thing is...i like (love) being single. never have i liked (loved) it more.

so i'm not worried. about acting or men. those two questions remain happily unanswered. because the long and short of it is, i don't know.

what i do know is this:

i love the feel of the heavy camera around my neck. and the scent of the sunscreen i put on my face each morning. i love watching late-spring-storms roll in across the hudson from my window.

i love that life is not easy or predictable and that each day brings new and unexpected strangeness.

this is not to say life is easy or i'm always all-together in love with it.

life has been tricky lately. there is not enough time. not enough courage in my well. i fail with words when words i most need.

but there is a sense that now--this now--is somehow sacred. that everything is on the cusp. i find i'm growing tentacles. moving outwardly with both thought and word and so living my way into innumerable answers.

i suppose what i'm saying is...i'm not worried about those two--those two questions that everyone else wants to answer.

because if i live life fully--if i live it outwardly. if i answer all the other questions, they will come along, no? sort themselves out. reveal their answers in their own time. on their own terms.

and i'll wake one morning and the response will fill me, prompting new questions--demanding new life.