Big Moments

I sometimes wake up at night. I sit up in bed, my heart racing, my body covered in cold sweat. I look around my apartment for some sign of disturbance, the falled broom, my cell phone beeping from a missed call. A mouse. I dont see anything, I dont hear anything, not even my upstairs neighbor who seems to walk around in ski boots all day long and watch Oprah at a ludicrous decible. I put my hand to my chest, then to my cheek, and forehead. "Holy shit," I think suddenly, "this is my life now."

In the past couple of weeks I've been up and down New York on a rampage. Nobu, Gramercy Tavern, Century 21, Coffee Shop, H & M, Du Mont Burger... and there's more. My personal life has lead me into some tricky territory. The man is still in the picture. But old problems still persist. And though I would love to share them with you and hear feedback on them, it would be unfair to hear about it from my side, seeing as he doesnt know about the blog.

I went to a reading at KGB Bar on Saturday. My friend Martin read from his upcoming novel which I cant remember the name of right now.

I've listened to some really great music lately. Tokyo Police Club, Peter, Bjorn, and John, the new Bright Eyes album, Sondre Lerche...Just to name a few.

But even though my life seems to be slipping into the Sex and the City univers that I didnt ever believe exsisted, I find myself wishing sometimes that I was somewhere else. Which is hard for my to admit, seeing as I wished for almost 20 years that I could live here. Waking up at night thinking "One day that will be my life".

But I feel, sometimes, like I need to get out. Not out the city, not out of the tri-state area...out. Middle of nowhere South Africa, Peru, Malaysia, India. I dont feel motivated to do school work, because more than anything I cant see how sitting in a classroom will make me a better person compared to praying in Bhutan, or walking through Machu Piccu. I mean I'll have a degree, and it will help me get a job this is true, But from what I can see hardly anyone I know likes their job, especially not to the point of WANTING to go to work everyday.

Then big moments happen. Big moments are like little moments. But little moments are the moments you have with someone you really love, and they're brief. His hand clasping yours during the climax of makeing love, a kiss in the kitchen while your making a special dinner. The look he makes when you give him the perfect gift. His real laugh.

Little moments are the moments that, upon relfection, make your chest feel tight. Almost as though your lungs may burst. Your entire chest cavity feels like its expanding and collapsing at the same time.

A big moment is different. A big moment can be any length of time, a second, an hour, a year. It suprises you, and you come to settle into it. It runs at you full force and then as tunnel vision starts to set in and you instinctually lean backwards, it stops. And explodes in your face, like a brilliant parade of stars. And theres so much creativity coursing through your veins that you feel like at any moment you could cry, or laugh, or explode. The world seems beautiful, because its perfectly flawed.

I had a moment like this today, walking across the Williamsburg bridge into Manhattan. As I walked the shuffel on my ipod seemed to realize that I needed the kind of music that would make me feel like my heart could crack. This is the sea, by the Waterboys came on. Then more and more songs, about moving forward, and respecting the past started to play. I tried calling my friends, but none of them would answer. I sent 2 text messages to the man, who didnt reply. But I was glad for it in the end, it wouldnt have been my moment if I'd have had to describe it to someone else.

But here I am, sitting in my apartment. Listening to the upstairs neighbor who seems to work drug dealers hours, typing away about a life I'm not quite sure I'm ready to have yet. I think about my life compared to that of my friends from MI, and the youth of my friends here. My life is so different. I'm an adult at 19, and all it took was almost a year in New York City to do it. I'm happy here, but there are still times when I sit and think, "This may not be the place for me." and "I was TOO ready to live here". Its kind of comforting knowing that I'm becoming a someone in a city filled with someones. But its unnerving at the same time. Will I be one of those extra characters in one of my friends biographys? "The gay boy who moved to New York and found himself in the center of an Algonquin-esque circle." "Jesse, the Boy who never bought his own meal."

I worry that when I have kids, and they say "dont you remember when you were young?" I'll honestly look at them and say "no".

But I wasnt meant for that. I was meant for other things. More big moments, Bhutan, Florence, Tokyo. I just hope that between the big moments and the little moments that my heart doenst actually crack. Sometimes I honestly fear it might.

Too Gay?

A recent phone coversation with my best friend to breathe oxygen startled me and has been on my mind ever since.
I was talking with my friend Ms. B and she said something along the lines of: since you moved to NYC you've acted noticeably gayer. She said that she was glad that I felt more comfortable in my own skin, but I got the feeling that my acting made she and her housemates (who also noticed the shift) more uncomfortable. I wasnt at all sure how to respond to this. Do I act gayer? and what does that mean? The stereotypical gay, the madonna loving meth head with a waxed chest and pink t-shirt. That, any of my friends will tell you, I am not. I love my chest hair, I dont like madonna, and I got that pink shirt for free. I'll admit, when I'm in a room full of gay men, listening to Rufus Wainwright and talking about Pop culture I can certainly flip my wrist like the best of them. But thats usually about 3 glasses of wine into the conversation.

I think the thing that bothers alot of people that I know from MI is that I quickly grew very confident about my sexuality. That is one of the MANY reasons I moved to New York. I hated that I could be gay as a gazelle in private company but as soon as I went somewhere fairly public instant paranoia set in. I'm so far past that now, remembering how afraid I was makes me almost ashamed. But when I go back to MI there are no gay friends to joke about 8th avenue with. Its all my straight friends (whom I love to the ends of the earth) from High school.

It's difficult letting my hair down with them still. I love them and I know they accept me for who I am and hopefully always will, considering they've seen the very worst and the very best of me. I do worry though at times, that maybe my sexuality will push them away. And whose fault would that be in the end? In NYC everyone I know would say them, for not accepting the person I've become. In MI however I dont think that it works that way.

My parents are different people

Theres a really great line from Felicity that reminds me of the way I'm feeling right now. Felicity's parents are visiting and she's having a really hard time dealing with them and they changes in their lives. She's talking to her roommate when she says something along the lines of: "Have you ever had the moment when you look at your parents and realize that they're just...just people, like everyone else?" Thats how I feel right now. My parents, I look at them and they're just like everyone else. Except they seem more fucked up because they're my parents. I'm having a really hard time with them.

My mother acts like she's 8 years old, My father acts like he's 4. My brother is basically just like them, and I act like I'm 38. I hate that I'm always taking care of them. Making sure the house is clean, the bills are paid, the overall well being of all involved is good.

I went to my friend Mrs. B's house yesterday, hoping to hang out with her and catch up. We had plans of drive around and I thought we were going to dinner. But when I got there, there was a sizable crowd and everyone was drinking. Mrs. B was trying to finish an art project for a class, and I ended up sitting on the couch by myself, while their neighbor fell over drunk with a face that looked similar to a ripe apple. Needless to say, I left.

I no longer understand the reasons behind just getting drunk. If I wanted to get shit faced, just to get shit faced, I would do it by drinking bud light.

I cleaned my house. I bought my family food to eat. I paid my family's bills online. Now I'm tired, and I dont ever want to come back. I'm too old for all of this.

The Big Update

I have returned, I'm glad to say.

I have officially survived my first New York winter. I hit a couple of rough patches, but I think I survived with minimal scaring. Here is a giant update on me.

I am completely happy. My life, though still confusing and stressful is looking better.
I'm not moving out of New York City. I decided to stay and fight.
My father finished cancer treatments. He'll be fine, and out-live everyone.
I'm reading Bleak House.
I discovered how beautiful Brooklyn Heights is.
The man and I decided we should slow things down a little bit. I think I'm okay with that.
A lot of my friends from MI arent doing so well. I worry about them a lot these days.
Summer is right around the corner. I will be staying in New York, but going home 2 seperate weeks.
I'm outlining a novella to work on during the summer.
I want to get back into photography.
I'm listening to Etta James right now.
This is the sea by The Waterboys is still my favorite song.
I still walk on Sundays.
I'm still in love with New York City. That is completely certain.