If A Tree Looks Cute in the Forest ....

My face, basically

Warning: This post is not about cheese or goats. It is about FEELINGS.

There are a jillion reasons that it felt like now was the right time for me to gtfo of New York. I mean, if the fucking shuttering of Yaffa Cafe, the place where I spent innumerable nights of underage-drinking bad red wine and eating hippie hummus, isn't reason enough, I don't know what is. 

Obvi, reason numero uno was that I wanted to put my fantasy life to the test and exploit this opportunity to learn to make cheese from one my my effing heroes of life. But I wagered that moving to this very isolated place, logging crazy hours doing something entirely new and generally working harder than I ever had in my life would also teach me shit-tons about myself. Character building typed things, you know? 

Well Lesson One is I'm a vain motherfucker. And it suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.

It probably shouldn't come as a shock that much of my identity up to this point has been shaped by my life in the city where I lived for twelve years. I measured my moods and my growth against the immovable things that were part of my routine. And a lot of my sense of self was directly related to my appearance. How good or bad, confident or insecure, powerful or powerless did I feel walking through Union Square or down the subway platform beneath my apartment? What was the quality of my small-talk with the barista at my coffee shop? How many cat-calls did I receive walking to or from work? How many subtly flirtatious interactions did I have that assured me that I was OK? 

Lest this post becomes too personal essay navel-gazey, let me cut to the chase. Pretty much as soon as I moved to the middle of no where, I became very confused about my own attractiveness, by and large because even though I feel sure that I'm a more self-assured and solid person than I was at 18 ore 25 or even like three years ago, I still rely so heavily on the messages I get telegraphed back to me from the people around me. So what is a person to do when all of a sudden there is no one the fuck around? It really is like that saying about a tree falling in the forest and no one being there to hear it. Only in this instance, the tree is my face. THE TREE IS MY FACE!

I interact with so few people on a daily basis that things like a trip to the gas station, let alone an opportunity to socialize with other people of the opposite sex, become fraught endeavors. On the one hand, I remember intimating as recently as a few weeks ago how indignant I sometimes felt when people would comment positively on my appearance, feeling that despite their good intentions it was presumptuous of them to think it was their right to do so. And yet here I am now, peering confusedly into the mirror and totally unsure what to make of the face staring back at me. And after a few seconds of trying to evaluate my eyes or nose or cheeks I start to get REALLY GODDAMNED FED UP WITH MYSELF and have to take a time out to go get nearly murdered by goats or whatever.

I guess this is a lesson everyone has to learn at some point through the sheer passing of time. Inscribing value in the non-physical aspects of ones being and whatever. Being ok with and by oneself. Generally not being a dickhead. 

All of which is to say that if you happen to see me in the near future, please comment first and foremost on how NOT DEAD I am. And maybe, depending on the vibe, whether or not my hair looks alright.