It's late, again. Where does all my time go? It's time to sleep.
Tonight was another night of serendipity. My favorite restaurant in this little town is this fancy Spanish place in downtown. I haven't been back since my best friend and I went, and that was when I saw Harrison Ford with his anorexic girlfriend, sitting not too far from me. The Star Wars star was at a shoot for his latest Indiana Jones. They were quiet.
That was nearly three years ago. Since then I never went back. I always took my best friend there. She was the only person I went with.
Tonight one of my closest friends called me up to have Cuban food. That place was packed, and she suggested that we went to this Spanish place. I was so moved I couldn't stop smiling. I totally forgot about this place. Ever since my best friend left, I have buried it under a layer of memories. I never met anyone who expressed interest and desire for Spanish food (that's NOT food from Latin America, as many Americans call Spanish anything, but from Spain). In any case, it was fitting that the last time I go to my favorite restaurant was with someone practically one of my best friends. And to our surprise, it was restaurant week so we didn't have to splurge. It was a very cheap prix fixe. The food was, as always, beyond expectations.
This was just another example of a good piece of memory to leave this town with. Good company, a good place, good food, good piece of the past. Life certainly does not need to be about frustrations, rejections, and drama. Of course, my companion spoke a lot about her drama, and it was nice to see that I am not the only one so full of drama up his nose.
I am baking a quiche. It's late but I wanted to eat up all my food in the freezer and fridge. As soon as that's done, I will go to bed. Another great day at work. The boss actually sat with me and see what I have been up to. I was nervous. Only thing more nerve-wrecking was asking a girl to dance or asking a girl on a date. But it went well, he was encouraging, showed his interest in me being happy at work. I told him I have been genuinely happy, told my friends how happy I was at work. I was, however, surprised at how nervous I was. Being judged. Being measured. All comes back now.
Tomorrow I will have dinner with another member of this little town. It was a colleague from one of the labs I worked at. I bumped into her at the gym. What a coincidence. Another piece of the past came knocking on the door of the present. Why? But I was happy to see her. She was the only one I really felt connected to in that lab, in fact, the only colleague I felt connected to in all my years working here. We even went out once (as friends) to this Indian music event (she is Indian), where I, of course, bumped into that woman with whom I went to India. That mini-drama aside, I felt she was as close to a friend as any colleague could get. Anyway, we decided to meet one more time before my move. So that is what we will do tomorrow. Somehow that makes me happy. Not sure entirely why. But this and other little events are making me feel better and better about leaving. Funny how I haven't felt excited yet about moving to New York, but that's mostly because I don't trust the lease I have and am not getting excited until I actually have the keys to the apartment I saw and start sleeping there. Or perhaps it's just my refusal to think about the immense move. It's huge and scary. It carries a lot of practical challenges but even more burdensome is the psychological ones. Leaving these 8.5 years behind in such ambiguous mood, leaving behind great friends but also carrying so much of the weight of troublesome past. And what do I do with them? My friends. My past. And New York, unlike most places in the world, awaits me with its own set of my past, from childhood, the source of most of my fears and insecurities.
So I am not thinking about that. I am thinking more about leaving here, not starting there.
The quiche is nearly done....
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