I'm sitting at the dining table in my underwear eating a breakfast of orange juice, chocolate truffles, and toast with stale cheddar cheese. I have a callous on my big toe from my Masala Bhangra class and chipping red fingernails, which I had hastily completed during work yesterday, after stuffing three slices of birthday cake in my mouth. If I were living in Williamsburg, the current state of my hair would be exalted, but as I am in New Jersey listening to the orchestration of rush hour emotions, rattling New Jersey transit buses, and stalled emergency vehicles, my hair simply reflects my level of hygiene.
Oh, and I'm 23.
(Seriously.)
It has happened.
(My hip hurts.)
It will stay.
(I am going to an early bird special tonight, if you'd like to join?)
And I'm still alive, still here, and still inebriated with a pure, giddy happiness from last night. I've fallen into a delirium, and instead of seeing this as the end, I realize it's just the beginning of an infinity that is as exciting as it is daunting. There are no more aspirations contingent upon age, no more waiting, no more tapping my fingers as my life seems pending, but it all just is. It is now. It is here. We have arrived. It is 23 and beyond.
I rang in 23 last night at my favorite restaurant in my favorite section of the city with one of my favorite people. I woke up this morning to Veteran's Day greetings from people I care most about, and sang "Happy Birthday" to my sister to irritate her. My parents patiently listened to me rant about couscous like a coke addict. I feel loved just like any other grandma. I'm so happy that I'm afraid, and so instead of seizing the day (or even sleeping in like a normal, slightly hungover, 20-something who has the day off) I am frozen in my chair, unsure of how to claim my title.
Maybe it's just a matter of calling AARP.
Oh, and I'm 23.
(Seriously.)
It has happened.
(My hip hurts.)
It will stay.
(I am going to an early bird special tonight, if you'd like to join?)
And I'm still alive, still here, and still inebriated with a pure, giddy happiness from last night. I've fallen into a delirium, and instead of seeing this as the end, I realize it's just the beginning of an infinity that is as exciting as it is daunting. There are no more aspirations contingent upon age, no more waiting, no more tapping my fingers as my life seems pending, but it all just is. It is now. It is here. We have arrived. It is 23 and beyond.I rang in 23 last night at my favorite restaurant in my favorite section of the city with one of my favorite people. I woke up this morning to Veteran's Day greetings from people I care most about, and sang "Happy Birthday" to my sister to irritate her. My parents patiently listened to me rant about couscous like a coke addict. I feel loved just like any other grandma. I'm so happy that I'm afraid, and so instead of seizing the day (or even sleeping in like a normal, slightly hungover, 20-something who has the day off) I am frozen in my chair, unsure of how to claim my title.
Maybe it's just a matter of calling AARP.
This is going to sound so utterly messed up and completely out of the blue, but my name is Rucha Desai, just like you (and that rhymed in an uncharacteristically cheesy way). What a small world. I stumbled upon this blog by Googling my name and clicking "I'm Feeling Lucky," then being directed to your LinkedIn page. I saw "Fordham University" and did a double-take because I just visited it last weekend and, like you, love New York City.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry. Could I say once again how small this world is? I also blog. Well, I used to blog back when my life was a living hell during Junior year of High School. I live in the 'burbs of NJ and yearn to go to college once and for all. I'm a senior now and I have never met anyone else with my full name before and thought to just..contact you and let you know. This is already beginning to sound insane.
I skimmed through your blog and I promise you, just like your buddy Gary Hope, that I am not a serial killer. More like a teenager filled with angst and a desire to write.
I guess this is one of those moments in life where you tell an absolute stranger your new-found morals and introspective bullshit, so that was mine. I sincerely enjoyed this chance encounter with someone else named Rucha Desai. We might as well be the only two in the world.
hey! Actually, this is only creepy in the most endearing of ways. I'm glad you reached out, and I hope you continue reading my blog-you'll get a taste of New York adventures that'll help you survive the 'burbs.
ReplyDeleteTrust me, I've been there.
I'm glad you're a serial blogger and not a killer. What's your blog?
I used to blog. It is now just a mish-mosh of jumbled emotions and the feelings during that time. Don't take it seriously whatsoever. The first page is my final post on it.
ReplyDeletehttp://crazedfixation.blogspot.com/
Feel free to check it out, it's nothing too special. (: