Starting My Harry Potter... Maybe

4 years ago

Today, as the sun was rising on my second day at my new job, I was sitting at the bar's marble countertop drinking a coffee and reading this month's Vogue. The lighting was dim, the atmosphere was serene. Not even the old hardwood floor creaked. I sat indian style, staring out the window, reveling in the sheer stillness of the moment.


See, I do things like that. Romanticize situations. I take a mental snapshot, glamorize the moment, and then narrate it from within. I don't know why I insist on turning ordinary, mundane situations into Moments, but I do. I'm always falling in love with the Moment, with the Idea of something. For example, as if "reading this month's Vogue" is something I do on a regular basis. It's not... I just like the sound of it. I like the sound mostly everything.


Anyway, ahem. This morning as I was reading Vogue per usual, and staring wistfully out the window. I watched the sleepy hipsters walk by with coffee and oversized sunglasses. I spotted a rich lady in a royal purple wrap dress and a stupid hat hail a cab. And then something strange happened. I was struck powerfully, suddenly, and unshakeably by the urge to write. It took me by surprise. This has happened before, where my senses overload and my mind races, and I have to put pen to paper nowrightnow, but not in a long time. But there was that old familiar felt as though my brain was buzzing. "Now now now" it chanted. "Pick up your pen. Start now." So I picked up one of the waiter's little white pads, and I chose not to question or stifle the impulse. I remembered that JK Rowling famously wrote increments of Harry Potter on scraps of paper whenever inspiration struck. On napkins in restaurants, on receipts, on newspapers while riding the train, etc. Whenever and wherever, she stopped what she was doing and just wrote. And since I am just like JK Rowling, why not me, too?


After all, I have several good enough reasons for endeavoring this blog:


The practical. As a tradition that started in college, I would write my family current updates and going ons in my life. It just became easier to mass email them all at once, in favor of fielding a million questions and having repeat myself. This strategy didn't work, obviously, because I come from a family of Italians and Jews. Nobody listens. Occasionally I would send these emails to others under the delusion that anyone at all who is not blood related to me is interested in hearing about my day to day.


The narcissistic. See above.


The creative. I have been experiencing a ton of inspiration as of late.  Something is brewing under the surface, something I can't articulate. I am on a journey to enrich my life, and slowly but surely, I'm coming along. My ideas are changing, and my perspective is sharpening. Sometimes my life appears as a narrative to me. Characters and chapters that I want to explore. And since I am still piecing together what it is exactly that I want to do/be/contribute, perhaps this will give me an outlet.


The nostalgic. This is a unique, wonder-filled, wistful, sexy time in my young 20something life. There are many changes afoot. If this whole blog thing still seems like a good idea in a few days, maybe you'd be interested in hearing about them (...see what I did there?). Only a blank slate lies before me. All this unlimited future is making me feel powerful, inspired, exhilarated. I fall in love with something new every day. So... when I'm bitter/jaded/40, I will want to remember this time. I won't always have what I have now... I mean, ideally I'll have something better, but if possible, I want to hold on to this.


And in the event I lose interest in this tomorrow.... we had a good run. Thank you and goodnight!

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