contemplations in rain
Wednesday,April 2, 2008 at 2:15 am (Barnard Year 2 Semester 1)
april first. the beginning of spring greets us with moisture and humidity this year. A year ago the first day of spring was brisk and sunny, the scents of blooming almost stinging our eyes. A year ago I was confused but happy, unsure but eager, and pensive. Now I am emerging from another dark time, not nearly as dark, not nearly as complicated, but the rain is fall and my spirits are lifting. As they often do with spring rain.
Nearing the end of this semester, with thirty days left as a real college student, the horizons carry the burdensome yet exciting label of “adult”. Tired of the wearisome class schedule, eager for something new and different, I’ve forsaken all advice, and am plunging headfirst.
Darkness envelops this spot, though the ceaseless illuminations of the city remind me that here, i am never. ever. ever. alone. And for that I am appreciative. Though I seek spaces where nobody has wandered, I too am comforted by the density of this island. There is serenity in this chaos, somehow.
Over apple pie this evening, I envisioned the next ten years with faltering clarity. No goals define the coming decade, and for this i feel most anxious. I don’t know what i’ll be doing or how I’ll be doing it, and I am more than comfortable, excited in fact, about that. But that I don’t knnow what I want for my future, that weighs heavy.
Coarsing rainfall blankets the street, and the tiny people that can be seen evading the rain ten stories below, can’t see me from where I sit. They have lives, more complicated and story-worthy than I will ever know, and yet I want to know them. I want to write their stories, my stories, make them one big story, and follow it through. I want to compose music in words, words in music, color in written lines, written lines in painted color. I want to be an artist, and I want to fucking matter. How did I not know until now? Its taken twenty years, i know the truth, and it doesn’t feel real.
Closing the chapter of this New York book is going to be strange and wonderful, but I somehow don’t think its my last one.
