Subways, shoes, and shots from a Nikon

The MTA is a really great way to compare life to something tangible. It is incredibly fast yet INCREDIBLY slow, never actually works the way its expected to but somehow always gets you where you’re supposed to be. Needless to say if I never ever ever needed to rely on the subway again: I wouldn’t. I don’t know where exactly that falls into place with my metaphor for life being like the subway, but I’m sure you get the gist.

I found myself spending tonight in the neighborhood of Union Square Park again, and I have to say its quite charming, in a really expensive douchey way. But I still spent my 2.75 to get there so I guess it isn’t unbearably douchey. Charming and douchey usually go together, especially in men- but that’s another conversation.

I walked the highline in the early evening for a class trip with a bunch of kids who could not care less about it. I laughed at myself silently the whole time thinking about my most recent post, this idea of me being unapologetic. Yet today I found myself back in high school. I was embarrassed that I thought enough to bring my camera and cringed at a classmate’s comment about it being “too intense”. While they all ran through the outdoor art exhibits like a playground, I stopped at every piece of art whether it was intentional or not. I felt my professor watching me, the girl with the Nikon trail behind everyone else (who spent their time laughing and taking funny photos with the art), because she was trying

to get the right shot. I haven’t felt that discomfort in a long time, which is clear since just yesterday I deemed it necessary to write on the internet that people could “suck my dick” if they didn’t like me.

Now I’m on the subway home thinking about how I am very much an outsider and always will be, so I should begin to accept that too. I will never fit perfectly into a box because that requires restraint, a trait of which I have none. It also requires acknowledgement of the walls and space you need to fit between and just how far you can go. And I don’t know what the word “enough” means. So yes, I’ll bring my camera when everyone else has their phones. Because limits are foreign in my mind and the extra mile is not extra.

I know that it sounds like no big deal and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe nobody cared that I spent that extra time to focus the lens and read about the art. Sure, lets just pretend nobody thought it was strange that I cared. Nobody thought it was weird I was the only person who did not walk with a group. Nobody thought it was weird when I wasn’t with them at all. Or that I almost got hit by a car taking a photo of street art. That part isn’t entirely true but lets pretend it was a bigger deal than me standing in the middle of the road with my camera as the crosswalk numbers counted down. And let’s pretend that nobody cared. But I guess we aren’t really pretending anymore right?

There was no reason to care in any of their minds. They all just wanted to take the train home. So yeah they didnt care. And yeah it wasn’t a big deal. That’s correct. So why did I care so much?

Since elementary school my mother has been drilling this Eleanor Roosevelt quote into my head: Nobody can make you feel inferior without your own consent. So if you don’t allow yourself to feel that way, you won’t. Basically the same idea as saying this is me and I don’t care what you think. Basically what I’m saying today is quite the opposite of yesterday. It’s like the fact that im taking the 4 train home and transferring to the 2 because the 5 is getting track work done. It’s like how life is always changing and we are always changing but theres not quite anything we can do about it. It’s like how the subway system that has existed for decades upon decades still somehow needs work done. And the people riding it need even more work done.

So I ended up in Union Square after a brief and incredibly awkward subway ride with my professor, to go shopping and get dinner with my friend Marina. We covered a lot of ground, in steps and in conversation. Most of our thoughts floated around the idea of apartments and the future which inevitably led to Sex and the City. Walking down to the subway we contemplated how Carrie fit her large expanse of clothing into her tiny closet. Then we decided whether or not we would prefer large apartments or expensive clothes assuming the two could not be had together. Naturally we decided on clothes and if you didnt you’re stupid- but the woman walking down the steps of the Union Square subway station in front of us made a very wise comment about needing someplace to put it.

As I head back to my closet sized apartment I can’t help but wonder how satisfied I would feel if the bin of shoes under my bed became Manolo Blahniks. After all Cinderella is my favorite princess for a reason- there’s no such thing as an impractical shoe, and theres always space to be found in the apartment for them.

But if we’re being honest I am wearing $10 childrens shoes from Payless and I will own that. Yet for some reason, I won’t own the camera I lugged around Manhattan with me that captured beautiful moments and art from the old train tracks that ran by the Hudson.

I always comment on how strange people are and one should never forget to include themselves in that assessment.

Because being embarrassing for caring is stupid. And being embarrassing for bringing a camera? Even stupider.