<tangent> Before I get to the main topic, I've realized taht I've definitely slacked off on writing here. I can easily say that the reason is that there's not much going on and so I have less to write about. However, I'm also self-aware enough to understand that, at some level, that's just a rationalization for not writing. I need to try and remind myself of why I'm putting this together. So, for your benefit, dear reader, as well as for mine, I'm going to try and restate my purpose. Maybe it'll help me find my muse again, even if I have to hunt it down with dogs and psychics and drag it back in chains. [And if that's not a lovely visual, I don't know what is.]
I started writing this because I'm finding myself drifting on the edge between normalcy (normality) and, for want of a better word, "otherness". On the one hand, I'm a computer nerd, a geek, one of "those" people - the ones who would happily eat, sleep, and drink neat computer technology. I have limited social skills and my personality is such that, unless I'm important (within the context of whatever the current social interaction is) I'm not interested in even being social. I don't like "small talk", which is OK because I am not especially skilled at it.
On the other hand, though, I've definitely made enormous strides towards being mainstream normal. I'm married (3.5 years and still going strong), own a lovely townhouse and we're thinking about having kids. I've started to be a bit more social (mostly driven by my wife, but I've been initiating some things on my own) and don't always wind up wanting to chew my own arm off at events involving other people.
While I definitely still tend towards the nerd side, there's enough shifting going on that I'm not nearly as much of a computer nerd as I used to be. I'm also still trying to reconcile myself to not being the "kid" any more. Granted, it's been a lot of years since I was, but I still think of myself as the 18-year old in a world of adults, knowing more than they do and being able to think orders of magnitude faster and trying to hold my own. It's extraordinarily hard (harder even than I imagined) to adjust to being an "adult" all on my own. </tangent>
So, on Saturday, Anna woke up, rolled over and said, "Let's go into New York." After a very short, half-hearted and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to dissuade her, we were on our way. However, we both realized that we didn't want to just aimlessly wander around the city. We've done that too many times and wound up just plain bored and tired. So, we wanted to have some destinations in mind.
We started out by deciding that we wanted to go to the theater. After mulling a bit, we agreed on "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change". [It's a fun play / musical - if you get a chance, go see it.] So, after detraining from the PATH at 33rd Street, we hoofed over to get tickets. While we were waiting for the box office to open at noon (yeah, we got into New York early), we found a Caribbean restaurant that we figured we'd go to for dinner. Finally, got tickets and we were set for the evening.
That just left the day. On the train over, we'd also decided on going to the Guggenheim museum. I've been there before, although it was a long time ago and Anna had never been. We didn't want to go to the Met museum since we've been there before and this had enough potential that we would be excited to go.
The Guggenheim is at 89th Street on the east side of Central Park (5th Avenue). The theater is on 43rd Street, just off of 9th Avenue.
We walked...
Both ways...
I'm tempted to say "uphill, with no shoes, in the snow", but I think what I've got there is bad enough. Suffice it to say that, by the time we were done, our feet hurt, Anna couldn't feel her toes and my right knee was unable to support my weight. Along the way, we ate a pretzel, spent a bunch of time at the FAO Schwartz main store, and then, on the way back, window-shopped along Madison Avenue.
The most amazing part, of course, and what gave rise to the title for today, was the extent to which my knee hurt. And, with it hurting, the ridiculous lengths I went to and, get this, kept walking. Granted, I've done this before. I've walked around German cities (when I was there on vacation) in shoes that made my feet bleed and then walked some more until I found a hotel or a shoe store that I liked. I've walked with a headache that would probably have had me screaming and crying if I'd stopped to think about it, not that I could think because the pounding in my head was so bad. I've walked for hours, practically starving, because I couldn't decide where I wanted to have dinner and wasn't happy with the restaurants I kept walking past (and would then proceed to keep wandering in the same area because I didn't want to "go too far").
In retrospect, I think I need to get my head examined. Either that, or I need to get my instinct for self-preservation in for an overhaul. I'm not quite sure why I'm so willing to persist in the face of pain, discomfort, etc. It's probably just downright stubborn-ness (not that anyone would ever accuse me of being stubborn, nope, nope, nope). But, the long and short of it is, ultimately, that, given the chance, I will happily walk miles in agony just for the hope of something "better", whether I know exactly what it is (like the theater which is only 30 blocks away) or not ("there's just got to be a restaurant that will dazzle me with its menu around here somewhere").
I think there's a fragment of good news hiding in here, although you have to squint and tilt your head (my head?) exactly right to see it. I'm perfectly willing to do whatever suffering is needed (without being a martyr) in order to make things better. All of the wounds from past excursions have healed and my knee is already starting to feel better. So, I guess as long as I can keep saying that, I'm probably in good shape.
Author: ben@tmk.com