A Play Date with Neurosis

Since revisiting a previous post on superstition and control, I've been more aware of the subtle quirks with which I trot along the New York City sidewalks. Still utterly in limbo, I am doing everything I can to remain sane and in the City as I transition from student to self-supporter. But, before I do anything these days, I reflect on what it may mean to my health and my happiness. Quite literally, I wonder how what I do today will affect where I am tomorrow.

The much-appreciated autumn chill has compelled me to jog in Riverside Park. I want to be outside, speeding down the west side of the Island, admiring New Jersey the only way it can be appreciated: at a distance. In spite of this inner drive, I have parked my ass inside, afraid that once I begin again to enjoy the City and find myself in even better shape, that'll be it; I'll have to move away at my happiest forever doomed to nostalgia and occasional visits. I know; I know. It sounds crazy, paranoid even.

In spite of this irrational fear, Daniel, some girlfriends, a visiting friend of Daniel's from college, and I went out to what was, surprisingly, a new part of Manhattan for me: the West Village. I was a bit hesitant, not wanting to enjoy it too much lest I be transported to Texas upon elation.

Whatever. This wasn't really my first time in the WV. I remember the gay bars; they're inexplicable. What bother me about them is that they're comparably as foundational to the culture of sexy, lower Manhattan night life as megachurches are central to life in suburban Middle America. I suppose that it's all a matter of taste. I say the cheaper the drinks and the kitschier the music, the better! So what if you can host a basketball game on the dance floor? If I'm not feeling it, I'll go broke elsewhere. And, I usually do so in the East Village.

Instead of grooving wif the gays, I noshed wif my vegetarian brethren at Red Bamboo, a vegan-friendly restaurant. Most of the patrons got cozy as they were willing to wait with me and my friends for almost two hours before we were seated. While I will admit that such a wait allows for almost anything to taste good, the flavor of the food spoke for itself. The diversity of the dishes ranged from classic Asian to Southern soul cuisine, plentiful in every type offered.

So, I have found a place that I love more than any other restaurant so far. Again, I have this issue that keeps me wary about getting too comfortable. Just when I find the food that dreams are made of, I'll have to leave. How crazy is that rationale? For better of for worse, my guard is up. I've built a wall of the if-I-fall-in-love,-I'll-get-hurt variety.

Afraid of having too much fun, I went home after dinner, wondering if I could avoid paying on the karmic taxes that would be required of me after a nice night out. There was, however, no avoiding the second wave of friends who were in town the same night as dinner visiting from Texas for a Shabbaton in Crown Heights. In had to go out again, not having seen Ben since May. Sara and I never really talked at Ravit's wedding even though we had not seen each other in exactly a year.

Still in Hell's Kitchen at three-thirty in the morning, I got a second wind. For a second, it felt like old times again. I guess I realized that, wherever I was, I could never stop enjoying myself. I would always have people around, old or new. Exhausted from playing hide-and-seek with fate, I stopped and smiled in the chilly night. If having fun, jogging far, and eating well would somehow jinx me, well then, jinxed I should be.