Time certainly flies here in New York. But at the same time it feels like I've been living here forever. It's a strange world that fits somehow. I catch myself by trying to absorb as much as my eyes, ears and brain can handle, without actually feeling it. It's like I don't have time to. I write, photograph, draw, record all the freakin' time. It's a little bit like living in a constant creative bubble. I wish I could be more human and a little less robotic. It's just that I worry about a million things. Will I gather enough things for my final major project? Will I do a good job at the office? When I get the chance to actually talk to people, is the only time when I can really relax and stop worrying.
Meeting people here is at first a little bit like a competition. The one who says "nice to meet you" or "how are you" or "have a good day" wins. I'm always confused about the "how are you" part. Being Swedish, I've been brought up to answer such a question. Because to me it is a question. And I will probably be honest and say that I have a fucking back-pain and probably stayed up a little too late last night. I know you're not supposed to do that. You're supposed to say "good thanks, how about you" even though you feel like shit. But I don't care, I'm Swedish and act in the polite manner that I've been brought up with. Talking to people is probably the best thing about being here.
This is corny, but New York is not only the bricks and concrete and tourist attractions, it's the people who live here. Each morning, when I'm on the subway train, I wonder what would happen if the train suddenly stopped, got lost in the middle of nowhere, got stuck underground. Would people start to get to know each other? Are there potential best friends riding the same train as me right now? Or will we start eating each other when the food runs out?
I never thought about things like these in Carlisle. Being in Carlisle for 2,5 years is like being braindead. The air and the water sort of soaks your skin and hair with undefined messiness. The sounds from the city are constantly on your nerves just by being there. And the guilt for not doing your school work is the peak of all horrible emotions, that when baked together you have an aweful cake of "I hate myself for letting me be here". I didn't quite understand how stupid that city made me feel until I came to New York. Here I can't switch my brain off.
I'm probably naive and young and full of "I'm gonna save the world"-crap, but I've been an adventurer for quite some time now, and I must say that I've never been so productive as I am now. Being naive or not, New York is like a free night at a 5 star hotel for a hobo, like speed to a sloth, like extra lifeboats on Titanic. It's a huge freakin' bonus every day to actually learn something. To wake up and look for a pen and piece of paper, just to write down some ideas. Even such a thing to want to wake up, that is huge. I wish I could press a record button in my head that could catch my thoughts on tape, edit everything I see into a collage of inspiration, that I could watch when I get back to England. I'm trying my hardest to be close to that, but part of me just wants to have a life, experience this city and love everything about it. Maybe I should put that into my calendar; love New York City today.
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