Disappearing in Colombia, New York, and Other Places

I’ve been away for a bit. For a moment there, I started my master’s at a particular university in the city in January. After graduating in 2007, a year ahead of my class, living in Spain with my then-Spanish lover in Madrid for about a year, coming back to NYC and then going on our verbally-exploited Eurotrip with Elie (there’s not one time we get together and not talk about it or meet someone new and not tell them), waiting for my then-Spanish lover in Paris, although I know he wasn’t going to come, but I still waited because I believe in fairy tales, I came back to New York to face –no, hide –from my existential crisis. I was getting old, I thought. Now that I’m 23 I realize that one can only get older and 22 now seems young. So I started the master’s with money I didn’t have but somehow I always do it. I juggled –and gosh, I certainly do not know how to juggle –three classes, taught at the university three times a week, worked at a certain big magazine in the city another two times, plus, plus, plus. In the meantime, I booked a plane ticket to Bogotá, Colombia for spring break –yes, my mother asked “Why Colombia?” – after getting mad at Elie for deciding against coming with me to Guatemala, then I bought yet another plane ticket to Madrid. Yes, it’s going there. I went to Bogotá, met some people, hung out, had fun, met with a friend from the master’s at her family’s finca, went horseback riding and kind of learned about corn mixed with scramble eggs from the maid, met up with my then-Spanish lover who is my now-Spanish lover, had a blast and came back to New York. Here I was hated by one of my professors, loved by others, I sewed a book medieval-style that I am still baffled by, finished teaching at the university, went to my office at the magazine one day only to find out it had just closed down, where I got a bottle of Vodka and another of champagne –which I gave to my mother because I do not want to be an alcoholic. I’m jobless. I guess all there’s left to do is go away while I’m on vacation. Central America will never know what hit it.

New York City Girl is Unstoppable

This is my year. I know it. For one, there are these really famous twins –I didn’t know they were famous, but they are –who are “psychics” and they said this will be the year of Capricorns. Then I turned to El diaro, the most famous Spanish newspaper in New York (although I hear no one actually buys it or reads it, for that matter) and it said it’s Capricorns’ financial year. And finally, it’s the Year of the Ox, according to the Chinese calendar. And I was born on the Year of the Ox! Of course I started taking Mandarin lessons.

But there are other reasons to think that it’s my year:
I have a new president, who is so smart, and so sweet. And, as an added bonus, he’s also half black.
I got diamonds from Tiffany for Christmas.
My year started off with a love letter.
And I’m only in my 20s.

My friend Carol says that it’s all about how you spend the first 12 days of the year that matters. Well, it’s the 18th. I’ve partied half of the time, and planned parties the other half. Sounds like an awesome year!

Here are my resolutions:
Be more of a two year old –no past, live the present, and, uh, yeah, what’s the future?
Travel, travel, travel
Read 100 more books
Learn Chinese
Remain oh-so-me
Build my empire

As I sipped away a Jack Collins at Bookmarks, the rooftop at the Library Hotel, I couldn’t help being happy with the fact that I had just turned 23. I received my wishes from others. Make first million, publish the novel, take over the world (I overlooked the “good health” one because I have that down packed!)

All I remember is turning 18 and thinking, “Where is my life going?” Now, I think, “I’ll go wherever it takes me.” Cheers to that…