Banana on Fire

You know what drives me crazy? Ambiguous life statements and updates like "Wow, Can't believe I made it through that!" or "Best day of my life" or even "What should I do, I can't stand it any longer". What do these dramatically vague statements even mean!! I know we all read these on facebook and twitter and buzz and gchat.... good grief that's a lot of social networking status updating. Anyways. In fear of Tuesdays post reading as one of those irking and unclear updates, I want to elaborate on why it's hard to come home to New York sometimes.

I had just come back from a great weekend with my family. We laughed and ate and laughed some more. We had a ball! Until I got the flu at Tech's baseball game and decided to fall apart while Ben was pitching. Oh, and my whole extended family and good friend Stacy were at the game. How's that for timing. My sweet family jumped into action. Before I knew it, Gracie had rescheduled my flight and was heading back to Dallas with my Dad, while my mom and I hunkered down for the night in Houston. We made it through the night and I finally felt well enough to travel. After a teary goodbye with my mom (I've jumped off an emotional cliff these days) I was ready to ease back into my New York life.

However, it's impossible to ease back into New York. To me, the city is like a giant wet dog knocking you down in excitement as if to say "You're baaaaack!". You understand that the dog means well, and is excited to see you. But the dog is huge, and wet, and a little smelly and leaves you sprawled out on the floor.

This is the greeting I get from New York. Everything is loud and involved. I feel like cattle being corralled onto the subway. The homeless man speaking spanish, to know one in particular, is going to town. Things feel dingy. There is trash glittered all over the pavement. My walk to work feels extra long and colorful. I see a banana that has been lit on fire and middle school kids acting rowdy. It's all a little much.

But, to know Manhattan is to love Manhattan. And I do.

Most of the time.