The weather today in New York was finally what you could call warm. Or some version of the word. I still wore a wool top coat but I kept it unbuttoned as I walked down Carroll Street in Brooklyn after work. I wore tights and boots with my dress but I noticed people with sneakers and no socks. I wore sunglasses (as I usually do) but because the sun was shining more brightly than it’s been shining for the past few months. The clincher came, though, at home when I stood on my dresser and my stove to get the large duffel bags of warm-weather clothes down from the only storage I have in my apartment in the space above my hall way.
I’m packing for Costa Rica, mostly, and trading my wool scarves for linen, cotton, and silk ones. I’ve been getting a lot of advice lately. Advice is always hard to take-even when it is solicited. I thank my friends for their advice-especially those who are reading this now because it’s always great to bounce ideas off of people. The thing about advice; whether you’re paying a shrink for it or getting it from good friends over beers is what you do with it. I have never been a believe in just doing what somebody tells you to do no matter who they are. I can’t even begin to remember how many times I was told to go right and instead I went left. I wander around most of the time defiant of the “right” way because I don’t want go the right way-I want to go my way.
I can relate anything that happens in my life to a Dave Matthews Band song. Have I said that here before, admitted my unfaltering and undying love for Dave Matthews Band? It’s a pretty crazy love. It started in the back seat of Lisa Ferguson’s Tahoe my junior year of high school which would’ve been about 1996-1997. We were listening to “Satellite” over and over again on her monster sound system. Ever since that night, the first few cords of the guitar, I was hooked. I’ve been a fan ever since but not in a crazy follow them around the world kind of way. I’ve actually only seen two shows and it’s not for a lack of trying, I just forget. But when I remember I try my best to get tickets and they’re always sold out. C’est la vie.
The song lyrics that are swirling around in my head lately are the following, “I will go in this way, and find my own way out” from “#41”. I’m sort of stuck. In so many ways I find myself wading in knee-deep mud with no direction or no hope of getting out. On one hand I have the advice of my family, my friends and on the other I have my own thoughts, my own ideas of what the right answer is. I’m not sure who is right or who is wrong but the thing about making a decision. To go right rather than left, to go up rather than down is that in chosing one you are neglecting the other. Some decisions aren’t that black and white, I realize, but inevitably when you are chosing one thing you aren’t chosing another.
So what to do, I’m not quite sure. Hence the song lyrics and my eyes on the prize mentality that is going to “Costa Rica and figure my shit out.” It’s my mantra. Costa. Rica. Where some people “OM” I Costa. Rica. Costa. Rica. Costa. Rica. Costa. Rica. Inhale (Costa) Exhale (Rica) It’s my thing. My jam, if you will.