Scared Stiff
I am on 3 hours of sleep—crap sleep, if you want to know the truth. I arrived in New York at nearly 9pm and thought I was being oh so smart by not checking bags and just racing to the subway. I hadn’t counted on waiting for one train a half hour and the second train 15-20 minutes. All in all, it took me almost TWO HOURS to get home.
With Graham still in California for 6 days, this is the first time EVER that I have been alone in New York. I have to tell you, I am a little scared stiff. Here I am a woman of 33, with all the independence and experience in the world, and yet somehow the 10 year old self asserts herself and I feel scared and alone in such a BIG CITY. As a result, and added to the fact that I am on West Coast time, I couldn’t sleep a wink. When I did sleep, I had dreams about temping for Fran Dreischer, on the show the Nanny. It was TERRIFYING. At least, I didn’t dream of brutal murders, which is what I was afraid would happen. On the plane I read almost all of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, and it is CHILLING and HAUNTING. Certainly, it is the best read I’ve had in awhile. I had brought with me Joan Didion’s journalistic memoir on California, Where I was From. I know I am going to prove to many people that I am very dumb indeed by saying this, but I didn’t like it. It was too dry. I wanted less history facts and more of Didion. Of course, I’ve never read her before, so maybe my expectations got in the way. In Cold Blood is everything I wanted Where I was From to be—riveting, drenched in gorgeous descriptions, and hard to put down. Though, I am not sure a story of a terrifying break-in & murder is the best thing for me at this point, being that I am a tad bit PARANOID. Yet, what am I to do? I can’t stop now—not when the murderers have been caught and the trail is set. It’s just TOO GOOD to miss.
Well, I’m off to that other terrifying feat of just plain living. I must admit, as sad as I was to leave, and as anxious as I feel to be on my own, it felt good to be home again. So strange how your own bed greets you so gladly, and how no matter ho much you fought it, it felt good to give in and be among your own sheets, blankets, and pillows.
With Graham still in California for 6 days, this is the first time EVER that I have been alone in New York. I have to tell you, I am a little scared stiff. Here I am a woman of 33, with all the independence and experience in the world, and yet somehow the 10 year old self asserts herself and I feel scared and alone in such a BIG CITY. As a result, and added to the fact that I am on West Coast time, I couldn’t sleep a wink. When I did sleep, I had dreams about temping for Fran Dreischer, on the show the Nanny. It was TERRIFYING. At least, I didn’t dream of brutal murders, which is what I was afraid would happen. On the plane I read almost all of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, and it is CHILLING and HAUNTING. Certainly, it is the best read I’ve had in awhile. I had brought with me Joan Didion’s journalistic memoir on California, Where I was From. I know I am going to prove to many people that I am very dumb indeed by saying this, but I didn’t like it. It was too dry. I wanted less history facts and more of Didion. Of course, I’ve never read her before, so maybe my expectations got in the way. In Cold Blood is everything I wanted Where I was From to be—riveting, drenched in gorgeous descriptions, and hard to put down. Though, I am not sure a story of a terrifying break-in & murder is the best thing for me at this point, being that I am a tad bit PARANOID. Yet, what am I to do? I can’t stop now—not when the murderers have been caught and the trail is set. It’s just TOO GOOD to miss.
Well, I’m off to that other terrifying feat of just plain living. I must admit, as sad as I was to leave, and as anxious as I feel to be on my own, it felt good to be home again. So strange how your own bed greets you so gladly, and how no matter ho much you fought it, it felt good to give in and be among your own sheets, blankets, and pillows.
posted by Summer Pierre at
10:41 AM
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