Summer is very official in New York City at the moment. Yesterday was the 4th of July and I sat on the roof with three boys and watched the Macy’s Fireworks action for the first time ever.
Now I get what the big deal is. This was my second 4th of July in ten years. I got pretty used to Australia Day.
For my man’s birthday, we cruised around Manhattan on a yacht. Today we’re whisking to the Catskills, camping has become a much required weekend escape. I’m just about to pack up the puppies and be out.
Earlier today I was discussing how I had a nervous breakdown last year, and how it sucked.
Recording life in Internet land for nearly four years is some shiz. There’s no way of trying to block out things that actually happened, it just takes a few clicks to go exactly back to any particular day. It’s different from flipping through my notebooks. I’m just very grateful to feel better and normal, opposed to jaded and depressed. In the end, I wrote my way through it. And I wound up with a sick Writer job plopped in a luxury high-rise building in the guts of Manhattan.
These things all contributed to my happy 4th of July. I never lose sight of how lucky I am to live where I live and be able to do what I do, this large world of ours is a mad place. I’m grateful for the pocket of it where I’ve somehow built this life.
I turn 35 in two months. I high-fived my partner over this drinking coffee this morning. Bar one treacherous relationship that nearly killed me… so far so good.