Thinking of home and other stuff.
I went to Jersey City last night to visit a friend. She has a real apartment, complete with a living room and a bedroom big enough for a bed larger than a twin-size. I'm intensely jealous of her. I've been fighting persistent claustrophobia in Manhattan. Jersey City's a pretty urban place, but the building's are shorter, the streets are wider, and I appreciated the short time I spent there. I'm ready to go home for a while.
There's a good article about George McGovern in the Washington Post. He and his wife still spend about half of each year in South Dakota and my favorite part of the article was his brief explanation:
I've actually had a few conversations recently about the hold that South Dakota has on many politically-minded people my age who either grew up there or worked there on campaigns. I've heard from many people my parents age that the 1972 election was a galvanizing experience in what became lives dedicated public service. I expect that for those of us who love South Dakota, 2004 did the same thing. But, that's neither here nor there. The McGoverns' relationship with the state is far more complex than my own and there's something kind of hopeful about the fact that they've chosen to stay.
I can also tell that it's time for me to get out of New York because I no longer have the patience necessary to deal with Manhattan's crowds or with people doing anything I think of as inconsiderate. I walked to K-Mart this evening to buy a new lamp and felt a kind of rage I've only felt during rush hour traffic jams in DC.
I went to see Million Dollar Baby this evening hoping that it would help me forget for a little while how much I don't want to be here right now. It did; it wasn't what I expected, but it was really, really good.
Walking back from theater I realized that New York right now is as like South Dakota as it's going to get; there's a cold wind, it's lightly snowing, and the streets are pretty quiet. It's nice, but it's not enough.
There's a good article about George McGovern in the Washington Post. He and his wife still spend about half of each year in South Dakota and my favorite part of the article was his brief explanation:
"It's a good life," McGovern says. "I met my wife in South Dakota. I discovered my love of politics and public service here. It all started here. You get reminded how far you've journeyed from your beginnings. There's some satisfaction in that, even with the disappointments."
I've actually had a few conversations recently about the hold that South Dakota has on many politically-minded people my age who either grew up there or worked there on campaigns. I've heard from many people my parents age that the 1972 election was a galvanizing experience in what became lives dedicated public service. I expect that for those of us who love South Dakota, 2004 did the same thing. But, that's neither here nor there. The McGoverns' relationship with the state is far more complex than my own and there's something kind of hopeful about the fact that they've chosen to stay.
I can also tell that it's time for me to get out of New York because I no longer have the patience necessary to deal with Manhattan's crowds or with people doing anything I think of as inconsiderate. I walked to K-Mart this evening to buy a new lamp and felt a kind of rage I've only felt during rush hour traffic jams in DC.
I went to see Million Dollar Baby this evening hoping that it would help me forget for a little while how much I don't want to be here right now. It did; it wasn't what I expected, but it was really, really good.
Walking back from theater I realized that New York right now is as like South Dakota as it's going to get; there's a cold wind, it's lightly snowing, and the streets are pretty quiet. It's nice, but it's not enough.
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