this past week, two figures of renown passed away: amy winehouse and john stott. one was talented, tormented and died way too young; the other older, wiser, and a steward of a faithful life. i've been considering their lives, the sharp contrasts in which they lived and died, and in light of that, considering my own life.
moving to nyc has been an easy transition in some ways and challenging in others. the acclimation from one major city to another has been with relative ease, thankfully: learning to navigate new streets, maneuver a different subway system, explore new restaurants, bars and other venues. it's funny the things i've found actually difficult to adjust to: remembering to recycle, making small talk with strangers, finding correct change from the mess of coins (once familiar but now so, so foreign) in my purse.
a friend asked me the other day what is perhaps most daunting about living in nyc. i have to say it's this general pressure to be someone, to make a name for yourself. everything here moves at this frantic pace towards something, towards this faceless intangible called 'success.' i don't want to get caught up in it, but i can see how tempting it can be when the current is so strong and so wide.
on a pride level, i do miss my life in shanghai in this respect. working at the gallery and being part of the smaller social circles in shanghai, it was flattering to attend preview openings, restaurant openings, gala events, VIP dinners....it made me feel like "somebody." even though i know my identity is rooted elsewhere, the trappings were nice.
perhaps it's a good thing to be a "nobody" again. :) it's definitely humbling after becoming accustomed to a certain way of life. and a good reminder of where my true identity and home lie.
cups of coffee: 1 + 1 iced chai
mood: sweatin'
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