Essay: Yesterdays and tomorrows

As promised, another reflection on my trip to New York last weekend, which you may or may not care about. (As usual.) I set out to write about seeing old friends for the first time in months, but instead I ended up writing about my own ennui for most of it, just getting to my original idea at the end. But I think it turned out fairly well.

This might be an upbeat essay. Or maybe it’s a downer and I complain too much. (That last part is most certainly true, but complaining — especially in print — helps you work out problems, no?) Whatever your feeling on it, feedback, thoughts, typo corrections are obviously all appreciated. It’s dmac@philadelphiawilldo.com. Essay after the jump.

I have never left Philadelphia for more than about a week at a time. I’ve gone on vacations down the shore, trips to Vegas and Florida, camps upstate. But I’ve always sprung back to Philly, like a yo-yo or a dog tied to a tree, never venturing too far outside of the yard before going back in.

Earlier in my life, it was simply safe. My family wasn’t much for trips other than to Wildwood, and I liked that. I didn’t have to worry about passports or unfamiliar food or losing my luggage. I don’t even think I went to New York until a high school trip to the Cloisters my freshman year.

I went to high school about a mile outside the city, went to college about a half hour from where I grew up and now live downtown.

After college, most of my friends moved to New York. They’re paying more in rent and have to spend $8 for a beer. I’m still Philadelphia, living in a gorgeous apartment, and, you know, blogging for a living. Things are great.

Then again, I’m still stuck in Philadelphia, a town I spent most of 2005 desperately trying to get out of, living in a big, hollow, empty apartment, and, you know, blogging for a living.

Oh, yes, there is an inferiority complex. Philadelphia is great. But it’s also home of Philadelphia. But I don’t think it’s really the inferiority thing that gets me. I just feel like a failure sometimes. There are a billion jobs in New York, and I couldn’t even get one as a paper hanger. (Okay, I’m probably unqualified for that job. But, come on, I couldn’t even fetch someone’s coffee?)

I should probably stop comparing myself to others. But the people who I constantly compare myself to were my peers in college. One of my friends told me last winter that “everyone’s a bit lonelier than they were this time last year.” Which is true, of course. But I wonder if it’s taking me longer to get over it.

I was thinking of all this as I rode up to New York City last weekend. It was the first time I had gone up for a weekend to visit old friends. I had just said hello to people when I went up for job interviews, or caught them when they came down to Philly. I was worried (as usual) that my whole trip might be a blast, but then I’d be too depressed when I came back.

I felt this when a group of us went to Las Vegas last year, too, and it ended up not happening, so I was probably over-thinking as usual. And the weekend came and went, but something weird happened: Yes, I had a good time. No, I didn’t get too depressed on the ride home or anything like that. But usually, at gatherings like this, with old friends, we always just end up recounting old stories and telling worn-out jokes. Okay, we did tell overdone jokes last weekend, but I don’t think we talked much about the old times at all.

It was just constant conversation, catching up and lots of laughter. I was too happy to worry about what “better” jobs my friends had and whether they’d forget about me after I left. (I talk to them online all the time, but people are weird. okay?) I came to a realization: Maybe it’s good to have friends in all different places. There’s something special about being taken around the city by people who are incredibly happy to see you, sleeping on a borrowed air mattress and hearing laughter you haven’t heard in months.

And when I make the inevitable move to New York — uhh, I’m in the media, after all — I’ll already have a group of people up there who I love. And a new group in Philly I’ll be sad to leave behind. Life is wonderful. For now. I think.