Stuck in NYC
There are worse places to be, surely, although it's somewhat torturous to be in a city as fabulous as this one and have there be absolutely nothing to do. And I really do mean nothing. Everything is closed, all transportation at a standstill. I walked down Fifth Avenue today, and it was so bizarre to see all the stores closed. Especially since I had remarked to my aunt J when I saw that my trip was coinciding with this storm, "At least Tiffany is open rain or shine." Au contraire.
I'm in town for a week-long class, although not surprisingly, my class has been cancelled. I did get a few days of NYC fun in before Sandy hit, but now that the city is all but shut down, my options are somewhat limited (read: there are none). But true to writer-form, I've been reflecting on how grateful I am. Not only because a tree didn't fall on my rented apartment last night, but also because I now have a few days to get some writing done. What's more, I'm grateful that I have hobbies; grateful to have things I enjoy doing that can occupy my time and satisfy my need to create, to learn, and to pursue my goals.
Another thing that becomes apparent to me when I'm in NYC (or when I'm on any kind of trip, really) is how much my writer-mind is different from most people's. I tend to focus on details and find myself wanting to know more about things that don't really matter. Am I overly curious? I guess I just wonder about things, about people, and I'm always thinking of how something could be written up and used as a metaphor for life, as a killer story, or simply as a fond memory of something I once experienced. Case in point: While lying in bed last night looking out at the storm, it wasn't the wind that had me captivated. Rather it was the windows of the towering apartment buildings across the street. There were trees blocking my view, but as wind blew the branches around I would get glimpses of the few windows that were lit up, and I found myself wondering who lived there and how they came to be living in New York. Probably not a normal thought process during a hurricane, but if a description of a high-rise window shows up in one of my books someday, you'll know where I got it.
Photo Credit: NEW YORK TIMES; Mark Lennihan/Associate Press