Movement

Dear Jack,

Goodness, it's been awhile. For that, I am sorry. Life has been ridiculously crazy here lately. I can't decide what time zone I'm meant to be in. In the past few months I have visited every single one in the contiguous United States. I confess I did not enjoy California as much as I would have hoped. I'll leave that to you and Josh. ;) The six hours I spent in Denver was enough for me, simply because I was ready to move on and be elsewhere. My time in Texas was well spent, but only now that I'm curled up in my apartment in New York do I truly find a sense of belonging.

There's something about this place that makes me feel right at home. Even though I don't know my neighborhood well, or any human beings other than my roommate (who I was fortunate enough to meet through the program in San Francisco which started this whole kerfuffle), I'm still happy to be here. Everyday I get up, walk outside and breathe the slightly smogified air, and think this is what I've been missing out on.

As you may remember from our time spent in classes, my favorite form of NY travel is the subway. I try to ride it everyday, and as I'm living in Queens for the next year and my job[s] are/will more than likely be located in Manhattan, that goal is met more often than not. The rides are never without their share of drama. This afternoon for instance, I stepped off of the R and directly into a fight between two high-school aged girls. It took me a moment to realize what was going on, simply because I have become one of those people who likes to travel with ipod buds in their ears listening to the soundtrack of their lives that hopefully match what they see in the world around them. The fight did not exactly compliment the Coldplay ballad I had ringing in my ears at the moment.

After a few harrowing moments, in which I scampered to the other side of the track as quickly as I could, it became obvious that the fight would have no clear winner. Because they were school kids, surrounded by their friends, many of the by-standers refused to get involved. Not that I blame them. I had been shoved and jostled enough. You weren't going to see me get involved. I exchanged looks with a few people and I saw the same things in their eyes that I'm sure was reflected in my own-- an odd mixture of fear, annoyance, and pity. In our shared experiences, we also shared smiles.

The movement the train cars make while riding through the tunnels are unpredictable at best. I can stand in a subway car without hanging onto a rail if I must, but I prefer to curl up in a corner seat and glide through the darkness wrapped up in nothing but my own thoughts. It's easy to think that you're all alone on a subway. Most often you stare out the window into nothingness. The darkness intermittently broken by flashes of light and the occasional station.

Sometimes though, you pass another train. For a moment you're taken by surprise, your island disappears and you are reminded that the whole of humanity is closer than you let yourself think for a moment. The trains hurtle through the tunnels, both vying for the lead in this imaginary race to nowhere. For a moment, all you can see is the outline of the opposing train, but then, as the lights begin to flash with more and more regularity, you realize that you can now see into the other train, into the lives of the other people traveling. You stare for a moment, wondering, hoping if anyone has realized what you have just discovered. A covert glance to your left and right confirms that everyone on your train is wrapped up in their own thoughts, ipods, and books, so your attention wanders to the other train.

You stare through the windows and wonder if you can see straight to their souls. What are they thinking? Does she think her book is good, or a waste of time? What song is next on his playlist? Most importantly, you wonder where they are going...

The trains start to separate, pulling away from each other slowly but steadily. You keep staring out the window hoping that someone else will notice what is going on, when suddenly, through the windows of both trains, someone catches your eye. You see the slight shock followed quickly by a smile. A shared experience once more.

The darkness consumes you as the tunnel closes the connection, but the smile on your face stays.

Always,
John