Goodbye, New York
November 22, 2001 | 12:00am
Breaking up is hard to do. What do you when the end has come and you stare at the steely conclusion of a chapter in your life? Do you internalize the poignant moments? Do you attempt to gather all the things that have happened and introspect? Do you have a mêlée with your demons and find a certain point wherein you could fittingly nestle in regret? See what else you could have done? Or not have done at all?
In my case I was breaking up with the city that I had fallen in love with. Just like in any breakup, it can happen in two ways: 1. It becomes a long hard painful goodbye 2. An abrupt separation that leaves you shell-shocked and numb. My breakup with NYC was more of that of the latter.
I was given a little over a week to get packed, leave the Big Apple and move back home. The rather brief notice caused me to not thoroughly process the move, leaving me free from the mind-mushing practice of deliberating the "should I or should I not?" It’s like catching your boyfriend being unfaithful. You just leave, the pain and questions follow later. I was saved from such conflicting emotions for the time being, and I was more occupied with the contemplation of what should I take with me. On when I should schedule my haircut. Stuff to get in the drugstore. Figuring out a way to successfully starve so that I will be able to
go to the beach with dignity despite the coup d’ etat threats and the evaporation of the peso. Sometimes, my shallowness and lack of conviction scare me, but honestly those were really the thoughts that were coming through my head. I was rather proactive about what others would have deemed an ordeal. It gave me a chance to edit my wardrobe (revealing my errors in judgment as confirmed by my J.Lo-like outfits and neon mesh skirts). It also gave my muscles some exercise as I heaved my beloved TV and CD players into a box so that they may enjoy a winter cruise care of Johnny Air.
Of course, when all was packed and all affairs were settled, the weight of my exodus from Gotham forced me to feel. I felt the immense sadness of leaving a city where Harry and Sally fell in love, where Deborah Kerr was mauled by a cab, where Jerry Seinfeld whined about nothing and where, sigh, 70 percent of all flagship stores reside. Just like in any express breakup, first I was shocked, a shell of disbelief forming in my brain and heart. I became mechanical in my actions. I was still dazed with the terseness of the course of events that I apathetically performed my regular activities numbly . However, the crust of stoism only
lasted for so long. It flaked bit by bit and suddenly I found myself drowning in a flood of emotions. The thing with emotions is that they’re meant not to make any sense. Thus, we as human beings will be forever living in a soap opera because of the eternal conflict between logic and emotions. We are resigned to that fate.
I miss New York. New York with my 800 channels of premium TV. New York with studmuffins weaving all over the place. New York with all its theaters, movies, museums. New York with all the chatty cab drivers. New York with the urine-scented subway cars. New York with my crew. New York with all the stores and all the temptations (tsk-tsk).
However, it’s all peripheral. Being home is still the best. The comfort and warmth of old friends and family is incomparable. Much more the cheap food and cheap clothes make every day an orgasmic day! I love Pinoy magazines and the Pinoy stars are sooo much nicer. They talk to you! So in the end, just like in any breakup when all the tears have been dried, you know that it was for the best.
In my case I was breaking up with the city that I had fallen in love with. Just like in any breakup, it can happen in two ways: 1. It becomes a long hard painful goodbye 2. An abrupt separation that leaves you shell-shocked and numb. My breakup with NYC was more of that of the latter.
I was given a little over a week to get packed, leave the Big Apple and move back home. The rather brief notice caused me to not thoroughly process the move, leaving me free from the mind-mushing practice of deliberating the "should I or should I not?" It’s like catching your boyfriend being unfaithful. You just leave, the pain and questions follow later. I was saved from such conflicting emotions for the time being, and I was more occupied with the contemplation of what should I take with me. On when I should schedule my haircut. Stuff to get in the drugstore. Figuring out a way to successfully starve so that I will be able to
go to the beach with dignity despite the coup d’ etat threats and the evaporation of the peso. Sometimes, my shallowness and lack of conviction scare me, but honestly those were really the thoughts that were coming through my head. I was rather proactive about what others would have deemed an ordeal. It gave me a chance to edit my wardrobe (revealing my errors in judgment as confirmed by my J.Lo-like outfits and neon mesh skirts). It also gave my muscles some exercise as I heaved my beloved TV and CD players into a box so that they may enjoy a winter cruise care of Johnny Air.
Of course, when all was packed and all affairs were settled, the weight of my exodus from Gotham forced me to feel. I felt the immense sadness of leaving a city where Harry and Sally fell in love, where Deborah Kerr was mauled by a cab, where Jerry Seinfeld whined about nothing and where, sigh, 70 percent of all flagship stores reside. Just like in any express breakup, first I was shocked, a shell of disbelief forming in my brain and heart. I became mechanical in my actions. I was still dazed with the terseness of the course of events that I apathetically performed my regular activities numbly . However, the crust of stoism only
lasted for so long. It flaked bit by bit and suddenly I found myself drowning in a flood of emotions. The thing with emotions is that they’re meant not to make any sense. Thus, we as human beings will be forever living in a soap opera because of the eternal conflict between logic and emotions. We are resigned to that fate.
I miss New York. New York with my 800 channels of premium TV. New York with studmuffins weaving all over the place. New York with all its theaters, movies, museums. New York with all the chatty cab drivers. New York with the urine-scented subway cars. New York with my crew. New York with all the stores and all the temptations (tsk-tsk).
However, it’s all peripheral. Being home is still the best. The comfort and warmth of old friends and family is incomparable. Much more the cheap food and cheap clothes make every day an orgasmic day! I love Pinoy magazines and the Pinoy stars are sooo much nicer. They talk to you! So in the end, just like in any breakup when all the tears have been dried, you know that it was for the best.
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