I’ve been back from Boston for almost ten days now. The boomerang has come full-circle, and I find the girl catching it a different person than the girl who threw it. The changes are good; in the past I’d have just let it hit me in the face, then staggered around bewildered by the unexpected violence.
Not this time. I’m back in New York, boomerang in-hand, ready to take on the future. Whatever the hell that means.
And in the past week, I’ve done the following things:
1. Signed a lease for a big studio on the Upper East Side with The Boyfriend.
2. Accepted an award for Academic Excellence and Outstanding Achievement in my field. I was called brilliant and curious by my most respected professor, effectively making all the sleepless nights and overwhelming debt worth it. My parents were pleased, too, and all that jazz.
3. Graduated, entirely, Magna Cum Laudi, with a BA in Film and Screen Studies.
4. Drank far too much champagne and, consequently, got to move into New Amazing Apartment completely hungover. (Thank you, Parents and Vinnie, who thought James was a waiter until my delicate, drunken self announced that he was newly a graduate with Latin Honors! And then Vinnie bought us all a shot of Patron silver that came in a tumbler the size of my fist… The rest is nauseated history.)
5. Caught up and reconnected with an old friend who very much shaped the person I’ve grown into.
6. Unpacked every single shoe I own into my new wall of closets.
Needless to say, I’m exhausted. I’m also taking two summer courses at FIT and actively working to reshape my article, so Dr. Zimmer won’t revoke all the lovely things she said about me as I awkwardly shuffled across the stage to get my accolades.
I must look back and see if I’ve explained the whole epic story of the lost-friend-found, and if not I’ll have to relate it. It’s a good story, even if it didn’t necessarily have my favorite version of a happy ending. Real stories with real people often don’t, but they’re still good in the retelling.
Tomorrow is the last day of moving, after a week of trauma and painting and horrible stubborn edging tape and not being able to find anything. And that perfect boyfriend of mine, the one who found me the apartment with a WHOLE WALL OF CLOSETS, has let me cry, hyperventilate and have a small hissy fit over the past almost-ten-days.
I’ll be whipping my dramatic little ass into shape immediately, because Lord knows he’s tolerated enough of my antics. And now he lives with me. And alllllll mmmmyyyy ssshhhoooeeesss.
The moving in marks a new chapter for us, one with ample amounts of bathroom space for a very reasonable price. There are still some things up in the air for us– where I’ll be doing my Masters’, for example– but for the most part I’m largely looking forward to the blissful slide back into my beloved routine.
I’ll be carrying the experience of Boston with me, though, still grateful for every minute I got to spend honing my work in the salty sea air.
I’m thinking of it as framing the boomerang and hanging it in my delightful new kitchen.