I've officially hit the point where New York people are getting highly suspicious if I'm ever setting foot there again. I am I say, I am! I have to be there, at the very least, by the end of June for a fantastic celebration of two friends celebrating their ten years in New York. They say it takes seven years to become an official New Yorker so these two now no questions asked New Yorkers. For example, the other day one of them was making a spinach run at three in the morning while the other was either watching Thor or kicking ass at Words with Friends. Possibly both at the same time actually, knowing him.
Years ago, my roommate and I were the first post-grads in New York, and our apartment in Jersey City served as the Ellis Island for our friends and newcomers. I moved out of there after a year and a half while my roommate upgraded into Manhattan and remained for another few years. She's headed to San Francisco now for a bit, after eleven months in New Zealand. Parts of me want to be in the Bay now because when else can we be in the same city again for an extended amount of time? We could relive 2001! Of course back then she just had a boyfriend and now she has a husband, so it probably wouldn't be quite the same.
This weekend at a bar in Santa Monica we toasted to the The Big Aristotle, The Big Cactus, The Big Shamrock, etc. Actually Shaq retired all his nicknames so we just toasted to Shaquille Rashaun O'Neal. The appropriate shot turned out to be something huge with Kalua. I forgot what because everyone drank way too much. Two of my friends tried to get me drunk but I popped two Pepcids and outlasted them both. I drove them back to the apartment and watched as they puked all over the place. It was fantastic.
The next morning, and just a few hours after our extended night, I was awake and running up and down a basketball court. We won about six games in a row. I haven't won that many since, well, I can't even remember. I use "we" very loosely because I scored a grand total of one point. On a layup. It's rare in life that you get to so obviously feel like the weak link. My basketball game can best now be described as "non-intrusive." Or if a scout is being kind, "subtle."
Once I scored like nine of our eleven points during a pickup game in college. I'd never been anywhere near that hot before or since. Over ten years later and I still remember that day clearly. If I could just recreate that fifteen minute stretch every year or so, my life would be complete.
There was a long talk the other day with my mom about my future. It's our favorite shared past time. If "favorite" is defined as "most often done." This time out I tried to explain to her the difference between my early twenties versus my early thirties. She had pointed out that there didn't seem to be much of one. I told her that ten years ago I was still trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. Now I know who I am and mostly what I want; the kicker is that I'm not necessarily a decade into achieving those things. I did tell her that she should shift her mentality that I was still trying to prove myself. To her I'm years behind in my race to the top of some ladder. I tried to tell her that I wasn't that interested in upward mobility.
I can't decide if she's traditional or I'm irrational.
I tried to explain that my current lifestyle probably wasn't just a (long) phase and that I wasn't headed toward staying in one place for any length of time. She's probably right about one thing though: everyone needs a home base, and it can't be her home. Or other people's homes. Not having a permanent address would be unwieldy I guess. I wonder if it's possible to live in a storage facility.
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