Transitioning

First things first, my annual argument for ending the unnecessary practice known as Daylight Savings Time is summed up quite nicely here.

Transitions have never been easy for me, no matter how many times I find myself in the midst of a major one. These days, I'm struggling with acute MWS (Manhattan Withdrawal Syndrome). While I do not, so far, regret my decision to move, the long-term benefits of life here remain to be seen. The short-term benefits, however, are already in place. For example, more than one friend has told me I seem "calmer" and less stressed since leaving New York. True, there is a certain peace of mind that living close to nature and in quiet surroundings has elicited in me, a sense of peace I'd not felt in my last few years in New York (and, come to think of it, may not have felt in any lasting sense since childhood). Yes, there is a sense of satisfaction at knowing so many locals in such a short time and being greeted by name wherever I go. On the flip side, for someone hailing from a megalopolis, there's something unnerving about fellow small-town resident recognition as well. Still, even as I miss the anonymity of life in Manhattan, I suppose the novelty of kindliness hasn't worn off on me quite yet.

Waiting to hear whether or not I got into graduate school is more punishing than it sounds. I have lists in my head, filed separately under "What to do if I get in to graduate school" and "What to do if I don't get in to graduate school." The first entry on the latter list, added just a few days ago, reads "Move back to New York." Yes, after only two months away I'm already browsing Manhattan apartment listings on Craigslist, considering the trek back across the continental U.S., long-suffering feline in tow, returning to the place I still consider home. Crazy, maybe. But somehow, it haunts me. When speaking to my aunt Miriam earlier today, her remark that she keeps accidentally including me in her count for this week's Passover seder made the already-present lump in my throat threaten to choke me and tears well up in my eyes. I can't remember the last time I did not have Passover seder with my family in New York. Of course I plan to partake in my favorite Jewish holiday with family and friends here, but somehow it's not the same.

Is this simply a manifestation of "Grass is always greener" syndrome? After several years in New York, I felt stifled and craved tranquility. But after only two months of serenity, I long for the clamor of the city streets. I believe, to some extent, this is simply human nature. We have something we're not sure we want, we want what we don't have, then once we have it, we wonder why we didn't want what we used to have and whether we are insane to long for it again. I am sure the drugs will help me sort through this. I think I'll go take some now.

Posted by ayelet at April 4, 2004 06:17 PM