The movies in my head. And what it was like to be Little Me.

I kind of stumbled into one of those movie sets in your head yesterday. I was taking the subway downtown to meet a friend for dinner, and it was late, I was running about 20 minutes late. I walked into the subway station at Grand Central and it was so cold outside that my face felt crisp and leathery, and once I got inside it was still cold enough to see my breath. I zipped in through the turnstile and then the lighting seemed to subtly change, and there was a man playing a mournful, beautiful, slow latin guitar. I heard him, but didn’t consciously recognize that he was playing until I looked down the stairs and saw the train I had hoped to catch zoom down the tracks and out of the station. There was a tear in my eye from the icy winds, and it started to run down my cold cheek as my train left and the guitar-of-missed-connections played softly in the background.

And then I walked down the stairs to the platform, and started walking along the tracks edge. There’s a game New Yorkers play where they walk really close to the edge of a crowded platform because they’re in a Big Hurry. I played that game as I walked to the back of the subway platform. And as I walked, I passed a different band of musicians. The platform musicians were playing Afro-Caribbean style music, heavy with rhythm and energy. So I walked faster, and as I walked a new train came into the station, one that was very close to the one I had just missed. So life goes on, no? and with heavily rhythmic music to boot!

Once I got on the train I thought whimsically how perfectly the last minute of my life had been choreographed. See, sometimes, in a city as vibrant as New York, you really do feel as though you’re living in a movie.

So, it’s still very cold outside.

Not so cold that I didn’t want to get ice cream for dinner last night, though. I love ice cream. I didn’t, because I have been trying so hard to watch what I eat. You know that 205? Well, I’m down to 200. Not bad for a week and a half, but I’m also thinking it had a lot to do with water retention. Ahem. And also, just to explain to anyone who’s not familiar with me, well, very skinny for me is 175. Because I’m very very tall, and my family puts on muscles like they would a t-shirt in the morning. (Ok, not sure what that means.) So, I’m not horribly obese even though I did a back calculation of my BMI and it says I should weigh between 143 and 179. That crazy BMI, it doesn’t mean anything! What kind of a range is that? A 36 pound range!

This weekend I’m planning on working on so many applications my head may spin. It’s going to be great. I don’t know if I’ll get them done, but I’m planning on using my handspring and my stowaway keyboard to work so hard on them. I sent out my recommendation information earlier in the week, and I do feel bad that now my reviewers only have about a week and a half to get everything done. I’m applying to 4 schools, but one of the schools is a joint program, so there’re two recommendations to do. Luckily, all but one of them are form applications with the same sort of brief essay question, so I do think the information will be one of the done-once, copied-many-times situations.

Been thinking a lot about privacy and what I’m doing with this web page. Mostly, I’ve decided to not think about it for a while. I wonder if I don’t have the ego to write publicly, because I don’t know how to react if people mention the site to me – I mean, I like it, sure, but … well, it’s like when I was little, and people would say I did something well. I craved that validation but I didn’t know how to accept it gracefully. Mostly because I didn’t really feel like I had done anything special, and also, because I was kind of insecure about myself, and any extra attention sort of overwhelmed me. So while I’m getting better at smiling graciously and saying thank you in the face of a compliment, I am also secretly wondering what they REALLY think.

Aah, my youngster insecurities. Still kicking, after all those years!

Happy weekend, y’all –