May 2002

May 5

The intervals between my entries have gotten predictably longer now that Matt is here. Which is a good reason, but it bugs me a little...I don't want the point of doing this in the first place to get lost. I have to work harder, now, to notice the place I'm in...it's easier for it to blur into background, especially as I am playing the blase' old hand to Matt's new arrival. I have to struggle with that, and be aware, as much as I can. Otherwise, what's the point?

It will help that we now have the possibility of having reliable Internet connections. That will allow me to make frequent updates a priority, not a luxury. It's a prospect I relish, even though I know the duty-bound part of it will get old. But I need a little discipline in my writing life. So, in that spirit, a record of today.

Matt and I moved into our new room next door to our old one. Then we went to Brooklyn Heights and walked the promenade until we got hungry. We had some delicious Chinese food down the street, and went back to watch the sun go down and the lights start showing in the city. It was very romantic, actually, and BH is like a cleaned-up movie set version of Manhattan, the part of New York your mother would want you to live in. And therefore completely out of most people's price range.

Matt and my relationship isn't something I discuss in great detail here, because he reads it and also because it would seem an invasion...I don't want to say anything here I should be saying to him in person. That would feel wrong and weird. But our relationship has changed in very subtle ways because of our separation. Or maybe it's just me that changed. Being completely independent, taking risks again...it was something I needed to do. But he and I are kind of reintroducing ourselves at this point.

I look at the person I was when we met, and I was so immature, so unsure of myself. This move, making this leap, has burned away some (undoubtedly not all) of those things, made me a lot more confident. I find that I don't want to lean on him the same way, and that's a change we both have to adjust to. As it turns out, he's delighted, if still getting used to it; it's not a personality transplant, after all. More of a strengthening of myself in relation to him. And he's a good enough friend and partner that he likes to see me more confident, even if it nets him fewer chances to play the hero.

We are together now, in this uncharted territory, and it's incredibly exciting. It might even lead to success for us both, but right now, we're just enjoying our freedom. I think we'll always look back on this as one of the best things we've done together, and it feels so good to think that.

May 23

My friend Tina asked me the other day if I was happy here. And I have to tell her, nonsensical as it sounds to a lot of people, yes.

Now, Matt and I are almost as bad off financially as we've ever been. Our room (not really an apartment) is tiny. Job prospects not doing anything. None of our creative projects have come to fruition. I should in fact be miserable. But I am so freakin' happy to be here. I was so, so miserable in Texas, for so long, and like all depressions, you never fully see it until you get out of it. I think Texas had been a jail to me for a long time. I would look at the window as we drove somewhere (because you're always driving in Texas) and look at the flat landscape and think This has nothing to do with me. A feeling of utter isolation, disconnection from anything or anyone. There was no one in Texas besides my husband who understood who I was or what I wanted.

But no, even that's not it. I have some friendly acquaintances here, but no friends yet. And New York is nothing if not isolating and lonely at times. But there are people like me here...I can sense them, if that makes any sense. I know they exist here, that they're doing something interesting and creative. My people. That's just sounds so incredibly hoky and mystical, it makes me laugh. It's not that I'm naive. I know most people here, like anywhere, are still people who regard an artistic goal as incomprehensible. Or else, they're people pretending to be artistic to avoid working.

But somewhere in there, among the normals and the posers, are people like me. I know because I've read what they write and seen their work in the museums and on the stage. They all came here because it called to them, like it does to me. Even if I never meet any of them in person, knowing that they exist, somewhere close by, gives me this weird sort of energy and joy. Once I admitted to myself I was an artist, it was inevitable that I end up here. In this time and place in history, New York is almost the only place to live and create. And that can't help but give the city a (possibly undeserved) allure and glamour. In fact, the city itself is almost irrelevant. Its geography and architecture are nice, but it's the people that make it alive, and anywhere that they existed would be special.