US, US, baby

“I see great things in baseball. It’s our game — the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us.”
-Walt Whitman

After a stressful, pimple-inducing week, a night watching the Cards play at the “old” Shea Stadium, is pretty much the perfect thing to relieve me from being the “nervous, dyspeptic” person I was becoming. Fourteen innings that stretched into the next day can mean quite a night. But walking away with a Cards win…totally worth it.

Man, I love baseball.

After many earlier complaints about the lack of a permanent bed, I’ve finally been whole-heartedly looking at apartments to rent.

Now on the cusp of actually signing a lease, I’m having a minor panic attack. A lease is a commitment I haven’t made since, oh, about August 2003. Seriously. My LA roomies and I all signed one when we moved into our C by the Sea apartment. After the first year, however, no new lease was needed and everything was month-to-month.

So, the prospect of committing myself to a room for a year or more is a little frightening. My normal commitment phobia (the last time I realized I was in a relationship, I had nightmares for weeks) has only been compounded by the lack of commitments I had to make over the past year. During my travels, everything was wonderfully temporary. My inability to say where I’d be, who I’d be spending time with, or where I’d be earning money from was not only accepted by those I came across, but kind of celebrated. People were actually jealous of my lack of commitments.

But not here.

Everyone wants a commitment from me. They want proof that I’m here to stay.

And here I am debating on how committed I am. Are my travels really over? Am I here in NY for good? Can I live with someone I just met for the next year? I’ve got about 12 hours to really decide.

I think this is the closest I’ve come to a bit of a breakdown since I got back.

OK. So admittedly the NYPL card wasn’t the highlight of my weekend. I know…what could be better?

Well, how about a free Bon Jovi concert in Central Park? Yep…I got to see one of the hair-bangers from my childhood perform on the Great Lawn Saturday night.

Now…I’m a huge Bon Jovi fan. I dished out way more money than nothing to see the guys perform at the Staples Center in LA. Oddly enough, two of my fellow concert companions weren’t quite as big of fans of good 90s bands as I was (one admitted to wikipedia-ing the group before the concert).

Still…we all had our own BJ memories from childhood (and college…and adulthood). I mean, who doesn’t? Even an Eastern European dude I dated a few years ago used to rock out to them.

And who hasn’t windmilled a tennis racket or air guitar to “Blaze of Glory”?

And when one of the group’s ballads pumped across the sea of 60,000 concert-goers, I’m sure many other US-raised peeps my age were smacked with memories similar to mine — at the first middle school dance, doing the stiff two-armed sway as both kids quietly sing the song under their breath because they’re so nervous about being thisclose to someone of the opposite sex.

Yep…pretty crazy how a few songs can take you back so quickly.

But just out of curiosity…

So one of the most exciting things that has happened to me in the past week was my getting a New York Public Library card.

I am a dork. I know this.

But, seriously, since I’ve been back in the States, I’ve spent an obscene amount of time at libraries.

L 7. Right here.

After a year away, it seems like a logical question. Yet, I’ve got no logical answer. Actually, not even really ANY answer.

I mean, it feels like nothing. I haven’t had reverse culture shock. I haven’t had a day or even an hour or even a minute where I’ve sat in the quiet of a room wishing I could just be traveling again. I haven’t had a mental breakdown brought on by my now (relatively) crazy work schedule.

It’s not like I feel as though nothing has changed. A lot has changed. But I guess, I’ve just gotten OK with change and knowing others are having fun or hard times without me.

And in all honesty, I haven’t had time to sit around reflecting on life. Less than 24 hours after I landed I was taking care of a new job and the next day interviewing for an additional one. I worked nearly every single weekday in Missouri. By the time I left there, I just had the weekend to get me to NY for the next job. So, yeah, I’m working two part-time jobs (which basically equals a full-time one) and doing freelance writing. The work amount is by no means unbearable. But I am busy enough…and doing what I wanted to be doing…that to even indulge myself in any post-trip reflection seems a little too silly.

And since I’ve gotten back, I’ve actually kept up a somewhat crazy travel schedule. I mean, in the month of May I was in South Africa, Egypt, New York, Missouri, and California. In June I was in Missouri, Tennessee, and New York. July is actually my month of relaxation away from constant packing and unpacking (as of now). But once August rolls around, it’ll be lots of travel again…going to Colorado and Minnesota for both the national conventions (yes…I’m sure there will be some FABULOUS blog posts to be had from there!). October I’ll be in Georgia. November and December will see trips back to Missouri. Although the passport is getting a temporary rest, I basically still feel like the traveler I’d been for the last year.

I guess that whole without-a-permanent-bed thing also helps keep that feeling going.

And, no, I’m not talking about the Asian fetish sweeping American men. Nor am I talking about this Asian and the insanely hot/humid New York summer days.

I’m talking about the food. A couple of years ago, a friend wrote about the growing trend of frozen yogurt shops in the States. (She’s also the one that convinced me to try Red Mango in it’s South Korean home last year…) Sitting here in 2008 and eating a fro-yo from the East Village I have to say, I think her prediction is coming true.

It’s crazy. Really. Ten storefronts away from Pinkberry (also called Crack Berry because of it’s addictiveness) I found Very Berry. It literally took me 30 seconds to walk from Pinkberry to Very Berry (also Asian-American owned). Both were serving up plenty of Styrofoam cups of fro-yo and fresh fruit. And right across the street from them is Bamn!, a staffed place that serves food through vending machines. Basically about as Asian of an idea as there comes.

And as gentrification makes even deeper roots in the East Village, in just the last few years, there have been a plethora of Asian types of restaurants popping up. Want rice and something else? You name it. They’ve got it.

Yes. We’re taking over the world, people. This is world domination through frozen yogurt and kimchi.

For my first real holiday back in the states, I had a bit of a decision to make. I knew I’d have to be in NYC for the 4th of July, but what to do??? Unlike when my friends and I were younger — and planned out the holiday weeks in advance — this year, come the last week of June, there were still no concrete plans.

Eventually a rooftop party surfaced. Could have been fun. Sure. But in my head, I couldn’t get over the question of why having a party WAY out in Brooklyn made sense…you could do that ANY day of the year. Fireworks only come once.

SO…a smallish group of 13 of us (mostly Peace Corps and grad school friends of another friend) gathered for a picnic at a park and set up shop for a great view of the pyrotechnics to come. Although we had a little rain come down right before the show, it was still a fabulous time watching the bursts of light popping behind the Brooklyn Bridge (the first time I’d seen it!), which had a couple of American flags waving from the top.

Definitely a great way to spend my first holiday back home (And WAY better than the 4th of July last year). It’s good to be back, America…