On December 14th, I celebrated the 7th anniversary of the day I decided to keep a daily journal. I still remember the day in 2008 quite clearly. I was on a long winter break due to a snow storm (lol) that suddenly hit the Portland metro area, and I got snowed in. I didn't have any friends in my neighborhood, and we couldn't really go anywhere, so I decided to write about it. And that's how it started. I then thought hm, it would be pretty cool to make it a New Year's Resolution for 2009 and see where it takes me. (How's that for actually committing to a New Year's Resolution?)
Every day since then, I've documented. It's interesting to think of a 13-year-old wanting to take on such a task most adults aren't even willing to do, so I'm trying to think of what made me pursue it for so long and at such a young age. I think from very young I was always rather ambitious and believing myself capable of grandiose things, and after having read about people who kept daily journals for decades and decades, I told myself "Well if they could, then why not me?" It seemed easy enough, I suppose. From near the beginning, I also had the intention for some reason of writing the journals as if one day in the future they're going to be read by someone who isn't me. Reading back on certain entries I'm pretty entertained, as I can see this thought in some of the writing.
I've thought a lot about the fact that I do this. I haven't met anyone else my age who does, which I admit makes me feel a bit special. People are always impressed when I tell them I do it. It's such a simple thing, really, that doesn't take much effort. I don't recall ever having a hard time maintaining it, and it became as habitual as brushing my teeth. Now that I've been doing it long enough, it's been really interesting to see people come into my life and fade out of it, and to read about my first meetings with certain people, hard good-byes, and happy reunions. Since earlier this year, I've also made it a point to include something in French, German, and Spanish in each entry, and it's funny to see how much I've improved in Spanish throughout the year. The fact that I write even dictates the way I live, as I've found myself many times doing something because I think it'd be cool to write about and look back on. Eventually, my motto became "Live a life worth writing about, because in the end, all you've got is your story." I like to think my life embodies that motto.
I could go on, but what's more important is that on the 7th anniversary of my starting this ritual, I made a day trip to New York City. Just to treat myself on this feat, and also to get away from the reading period/finals atmosphere at Harvard because I was starting to get sick of it. (I did something similar last semester and it did me really well.)
As I knew it would be, the trip was extremely fulfilling. I went with my friend Aakriti, and we took the 2 am bus that arrived a bit past 7 am. We parked ourselves in a place called Argo Tea for a couple of hours, where I wrote thank you letters to my TFs, reveling in the typical big band café music playing and the noises of the city outside.
From there, we walked to the Union Square holiday market. We didn't buy anything, but just meandered, looking at some of the shops that had already opened (as the market itself just opened for the day). For lunch, we met up with my friend Isabel, a Cebuano girl who studies in NYU that I met at this year's Harvard-Yale game. We ate at a Ukrainian/Eastern European restaurant, and I delighted in the pierogis that reminded me of Poland. It was nice to catch up with a friend not only outside Harvard, but who grew up in the same city as me. After we finished eating, we walked through St Mark's Place, bade good-bye to Isabel, then got on Greenwich Ave to walk through West Village. We ended up stopping at a place called Bluestone Lane Coffee that ended up being an Australian café, where all the servers were actually Australian girls. I adored hearing the accent, as it reminded me of some Australian friends I miss. Once we had been caffeined up, Aakriti and I continued our walk until we eventually reached the High Line.
Ah, I love the High Line. I love the views that it offers, either of the river or of the labyrinth of gridded streets, with tall buildings lining them seemingly infinitely into the horizon. But mainly, I love looking at the new residential developments right by it and imagining a life in one of those pretty, polished apartments with huge windows and spectacular views. I even looked at their promotional banners and memorized one of the websites showcasing them (http://www.LiveTen23.com in case you're curious) just so to provide substance for my daydreams.
Anyway, after the High Line, we stopped by Manhattan Mall, then walked some more to a hole in the wall restaurant called Grill 21. It was a Filipino restaurant, and after sitting down and being handed a menu, I got really excited. The server was Filipino, and I got to speak to him in Tagalog. I love how he would sing along to the Christmas carols playing on the radio, or just spontaneously burst into some other song (it's not just me!), which reminded me of home. My friend Sam studying dance in Fordham came to join Aakriti and me, and I was glad to have been a part of their first experience of Filipino food.
I left very satisfied, definitely planning on going back. Sam took us to the largest bookstore in the city, The Strand, which reminded me a lot of Powell's bookstore in Portland (personally, I like Powell's more). That signified the end of our day, and we took the subway (the only time that day, and we walked around 11 miles too) to where our bus would leave back for Boston.
I bet 13-year-old me wouldn't have imagined that 7 years after writing the inaugural entry that snowy day, she'd find herself roaming around New York eating and experiencing things that remind her of the incredible life she's lived thus far.
Every time I roam around New York, I'm reminded of my dream of living there, or in a big city in general with so much to do, people to meet, and so many nooks and crannies to explore. A city with a myriad of new, fresh things to offer, but also with little things to evoke a certain nostalgia and pride for the past. My journal entries have seen my previous dreams of living in France and speaking fluent French, and getting into Harvard come true. I'm pretty confident that soon, they'll see this one become a reality as well.
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