DAILY REPORT: Still A New Yorker - Monday, July 24

Well it is official. I am no longer a New Yorker. I have been living in Southern California for 5 years now so you would think that this statement is long over do and it probably is. So what is different about today? I got my California Driver's License and they punched a hole through my New York one. This should be totally ridiculous considering I never drove in New York. Why would you? Subways, legs, busses and cabs were my modes of transportation. So it is not like I am even remotely sentimental about the license specifically but it is this very official tie to New York. If you grew up in a place like New York City you would know it is much more like its own country than just a place somewhere in between the borders of America. It is my Home Land basically.

I have also just finished reading a biography, Seemed Like a Good Idea At The Time, by an old college mate, David Goodwillie. We were in the same class at Kenyon College and hung out with the same people basically and were both in NYC during the same time. He is still there. Except for the last chapter the whole book takes place during pre-911. This is the NYC I know as a young adult. I of course know all the New Yorks that came before that as I lived there basically my entire life. That NYC of my 20's no longer exists. So part of me is sad because I am totally homesick but I also realize that what I am homesick for no longer actually exists. And the person I was back then no longer exists either. This is of course all very bittersweet. Every single restaurant, bar and club mentioned in the book, I had been to at least once if not on a regular basis. Vodka at Pravda, Petaluma, Florent after parties, Wax, Bar Pitti in the summer, 6 a.m. at Robots, Moules Frites at Lucky Strike with tons of cigarettes and so on and so on. David actually mentions how these places are sort of like markers in your life. I wish I could find the quote because I had to chuckle as it was just what I had been thinking while reading this book. I only ran into him once at fashion show hosted by GenArt for up and coming designers. He was working for the liquor company that was providing the much needed booze. Then I saw him at a few college parties. I am surprised I did not run into him more often. But with the mention of every place I know so well, I am brought back to all my old memories and they get all stirred up and brought right up front to the top of my thoughts. I read the book in two nights before I fell asleep. Well actually, Sunday I had complete insomnia after reading it; I literally never slept. All those memories swirling around along with reflections about what and where I am now compared to what I was then kept my mind to engaged to sleep. Taking a job to afford going out to all these places a young hip single woman wants to go to, hating that job so completely and getting another job that goes no where but gives me a glimpse of what could be, a new job with a lower salary, debt, way too much partying, working hard and getting 5 promotions in a year, depression, more shoes than I can count, lots of attractive men and quite a few very bad boyfriends. Those might sound like negatives and yes, they were but they were also my life which I actually really really enjoyed with all my friends who were going through the same stuff in our 20's. Read the book.

Then today I ALSO went to see The Devil Wears Prada. I really needed a couple of hours to myself and more than that I needed air-conditioning desperately. For a couple of years in NYC, I worked for a woman who was definitely nicer but almost as demanding as the character based on Anna Wintour's character. So it hits home. But more than the story it was the fact that is showed scenes of the city and many of them just a couple of blocks from where I grew up in SoHo. Of course, as I watch, I know the real scenes behind making the movie. I picture how incredibly annoying those movie trucks are when they descend upon the area to film some blockbuster movie. The day my moving truck was picking up all my 42 boxes and my Grandfather's desk to drive it all out to California, a big movie was being shot, Unfaithful, and my dad had to broker a deal to get them to keep a space on the street so my moving company could load up. All the while, piles and piles of paper and newspaper were strewn across the streets for the scene where she falls down and scrapes her knee and thus starting the whole plot line. But back to Prada, tons and tons of people on the street all rushing around. Subways and taxis flying by in the background, young people communing for drinks after a long hard day and so and so forth. The book reminded me more of the job while the movie reminded me more of the city.

So I basically had a big emphasis on NYC in the past three days and then they put that hole in my license. My husband was so glad I finally did it but I was not. I burst into tears. Homesick. Homesick for NYC and all that brings and Homesick for my family and friends. And it does not help that I am not going back there or to Newport, R.I. either this summer which is a horrid thing.

But I have my life here, a lovely little life with a sweet husband and two precious boys. I am making a home here. That idea always makes me twitch a little. Not the idea of making a home; the idea of making it here. I am a New Yorker even if I have a hole in my license.