As June barrels on faster than I would like, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about this blog post that I wrote the last time I was living in New York City, just before I moved to Poland. In it, I explored an idea I gleaned from Michael Chabon’s The Mysteries of Pittsburgh that summer is naturally structured like a story: June, July, August; Beginning, Middle, and End. I wrote down everything I wanted to do before I left New York, and managed to do some, if not all, of those things.
Reading this post again, it reminded me why I love blogging – for the cathartic act of writing down things, for the record it leaves behind, even if I’m the only one who reads it. It’s surprising to look back at the list I made of things to do in New York that summer and realize that, in the short time I’ve been back in New York, I’ve already done a few of the things I left undone (see a Broadway play, go to a gallery opening, see a performance at Lincoln Center.) Even more surprising is realizing the things I’ve still yet to do (I’ve still never been on a water taxi, and I’ve never walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.)
This summer, my life is bisected between New York and Philadelphia, and I’ll be back in Boston several times. This summer already feels a bit scattered. But the oddest part about it is knowing that, for the first time in my life, the summer has no definitive end. I’m not moving to a new city or starting a new graduate program. Summer will merely, gradually, turn into fall.
With all of that in mind, I’ve tried to think about how I want to spend this time. What do I want to do, see, accomplish? I have a few ideas, but I’m sure this list will evolve.