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Feb. 2nd, 2008
One Long Night
Feb. 2nd, 2008 01:00 pmLast night I had a bit of a hard time. The stress of *everything* that I really have to do rained down upon me, along with the realization that my options for the future, in terms of being able to afford to do anything I want to do, are really limited. While I think I intellectually accepted this awhile ago, the full realization had yet to assert itself before tonight.
And it upsets me. All the exhaustion, all the work...what is it for? THe apparent frivolity of everything became tangible, and I felt like a part of me had been savagely snapped. My eyes stopped working properly, and my head began swimming, and finally my productivity ground to a halt as I lay my head on my keyboard, barely feeling sane.
And then suddenly, it hit me: a huge, burning desire to leave, to go somewhere far away, and to carry my numbness with me. And so I did. At around 6.30, I donned my coat and my shoes, packed my iPod, and left my room, heading for Ruggles station...half-running in my desperation to *escape*, to be anywhere, as long as I was leaving. I know it doesn't make sense, to take a random trip when time is jarringly precious, but my rationalization at the time was that psychologically, I didn't have much of a choice.
And so I embarked on an adventure to anywhere. As the train rattled and pre-dawn Boston chugged steadily by, suddenly my problems and worries and complexes felt so small, so insignificant; I finally started feeling peaceful again. I took that peace with me everywhere I went afterwards.
At Oak Grove, I left the first car where I had been sitting, and moved down the platform to the last one while the conductor gave me odd looks.
At Wellington, I explored down to the concourse, where I bought $5 of stuff from the Walgreens that had just opened. The lady charged me $1 at first, but my semi-lucidity compelled me to be frustratingly honest.
As I was walking back through the desolate parking lot, a huge wind picked up and I exalted in it, stretching my arms wide and spinning in joyous circles, only to notice afterwards that there was a man observing me critically. I grinned goofily at him, meaning to tell him "sorry...I've just gone a bit crazy today," but in the moment was somehow unable to find the words.
As I stood in the lofted entrance to the station, the sun finally made its way over the horizon in forceful golden-salmon streaks, and I positioned myself on the platform above the outbound train. When the train went by directly beneath me, life took on an epic sort of quality and I couldn't help feeling rather like god.
Back in Boston...
On the Charlestown bridge, I stood looking out over the inlet and felt the passing traffic rattle the rusty steel infrastructure.
In the North End, I walked bravely between two large dogs who were warring with their vocal chords.
At Haymarket, I bought a carton of blackberries for $1, and when the man selling it to me asked if I had dropped something from my wallet, I assured him I had not, to which he replied "okay, have a good day, sweetie."
At Coolidge Corner, a man stepped on my foot as he borded the train, and apologized to me in a British accent.
At Fenway station, I looked up at pigeons roosting on the rafters and admired their clean white underbellies while dancing to keep warm.
At Copley, I combed the BPL for sources that might be relevant to my LAfilm essay, but came up with nothing, leaving me still in need of another non-internet source.
At Back Bay, I waved at my reflection on the side of the John Hancock tower.
At Forest Hills I...admittedly didn't do much, though in JP a man boarded the bus with a magenta comb sticking out of his back right pocket, and I found myself thinking of Hugh.
At Longwood, I wandered around aimlessly until I found Missy's Starbucks, where she gave me an application. I find myself with high hopes for employment again, although I realize they are largely unmerited.
Back at Northeastern, I am starting to feel slightly sane again.
So now, it's almost 1 in the afternoon.
I haven't slept, and I've been from one side of the city to the other and then some.
I have smiled at approximately 300 strangers.
I have received approximately 100 smiles back in return.
I have used up $9.75 of the 59 dollars I will have to spend to make my purchase of a link pass worthwhile.
My two legs have been seized by a distressing eagerness to fold from underneath me.
I continue on living with renewed hope for a better, more manageable future.
And it upsets me. All the exhaustion, all the work...what is it for? THe apparent frivolity of everything became tangible, and I felt like a part of me had been savagely snapped. My eyes stopped working properly, and my head began swimming, and finally my productivity ground to a halt as I lay my head on my keyboard, barely feeling sane.
And then suddenly, it hit me: a huge, burning desire to leave, to go somewhere far away, and to carry my numbness with me. And so I did. At around 6.30, I donned my coat and my shoes, packed my iPod, and left my room, heading for Ruggles station...half-running in my desperation to *escape*, to be anywhere, as long as I was leaving. I know it doesn't make sense, to take a random trip when time is jarringly precious, but my rationalization at the time was that psychologically, I didn't have much of a choice.
And so I embarked on an adventure to anywhere. As the train rattled and pre-dawn Boston chugged steadily by, suddenly my problems and worries and complexes felt so small, so insignificant; I finally started feeling peaceful again. I took that peace with me everywhere I went afterwards.
At Oak Grove, I left the first car where I had been sitting, and moved down the platform to the last one while the conductor gave me odd looks.
At Wellington, I explored down to the concourse, where I bought $5 of stuff from the Walgreens that had just opened. The lady charged me $1 at first, but my semi-lucidity compelled me to be frustratingly honest.
As I was walking back through the desolate parking lot, a huge wind picked up and I exalted in it, stretching my arms wide and spinning in joyous circles, only to notice afterwards that there was a man observing me critically. I grinned goofily at him, meaning to tell him "sorry...I've just gone a bit crazy today," but in the moment was somehow unable to find the words.
As I stood in the lofted entrance to the station, the sun finally made its way over the horizon in forceful golden-salmon streaks, and I positioned myself on the platform above the outbound train. When the train went by directly beneath me, life took on an epic sort of quality and I couldn't help feeling rather like god.
Back in Boston...
On the Charlestown bridge, I stood looking out over the inlet and felt the passing traffic rattle the rusty steel infrastructure.
In the North End, I walked bravely between two large dogs who were warring with their vocal chords.
At Haymarket, I bought a carton of blackberries for $1, and when the man selling it to me asked if I had dropped something from my wallet, I assured him I had not, to which he replied "okay, have a good day, sweetie."
At Coolidge Corner, a man stepped on my foot as he borded the train, and apologized to me in a British accent.
At Fenway station, I looked up at pigeons roosting on the rafters and admired their clean white underbellies while dancing to keep warm.
At Copley, I combed the BPL for sources that might be relevant to my LAfilm essay, but came up with nothing, leaving me still in need of another non-internet source.
At Back Bay, I waved at my reflection on the side of the John Hancock tower.
At Forest Hills I...admittedly didn't do much, though in JP a man boarded the bus with a magenta comb sticking out of his back right pocket, and I found myself thinking of Hugh.
At Longwood, I wandered around aimlessly until I found Missy's Starbucks, where she gave me an application. I find myself with high hopes for employment again, although I realize they are largely unmerited.
Back at Northeastern, I am starting to feel slightly sane again.
So now, it's almost 1 in the afternoon.
I haven't slept, and I've been from one side of the city to the other and then some.
I have smiled at approximately 300 strangers.
I have received approximately 100 smiles back in return.
I have used up $9.75 of the 59 dollars I will have to spend to make my purchase of a link pass worthwhile.
My two legs have been seized by a distressing eagerness to fold from underneath me.
I continue on living with renewed hope for a better, more manageable future.
