B minor

I feel like I’ve been on a Frank Sinatra career-closing farewell tour for the last two weeks. And it’s been nothing short of fantastic. I’ve just gotten rid of my cable boxes and am now stealing wi-fi from some neighbor who doesn’t understand how to WEP a router…

In 24 hours (barring catastrophe), I will be piloting my penske truck full of my stuff and one of my housemates’ stuff up the interstate to Cambridge, Massachusetts. The looming change can only lead one to reflection… 8 years in New York City has been a wild ride. Coming here at the age of 18, attending film school at one of the best in the world. Flexing my creative muscle in the most creative place in the world. Watching 9/11 happen, literally, in front of my face. Looking for a job. Finding a job. Becoming an adult, over and over. Drinking, sometimes heavily. Making new friends, again and again. Covering Katrina. Visiting the White House. Losing a parent. Playing with Facebook, as part of the job. Traveling – to hurricanes for work, to ski slopes with friends, in a hot air balloon for work, to the Hamptons with friends.

8 years will teach you a lot. Where you come from. Who you are. Who you’d like to be. Who you wouldn’t like to be. But it won’t tell you where you’re going… and I guess that’s part of the excitement.

So, while I’m barreling up 95 tomorrow, I’m sure this will be one of the thought lines running through my head. Along with: is everything still in the truck, is the gas gauge right?, why is gas so expensive?, and are we there yet?

New York, it’s been fun. I’ll miss you. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. There’s always the Acela, right?