Big Apples: The New Cure For Writer's Block

I’ve always loved spring, but there’s something about it that always throws me into writer’s block. Which is strange, considering that the beautiful weather and the world coming alive around me should be enough inspiration, but for some reason, it never is. The weather gets warmer and I grow colder, so to speak. My inspiration freezes over like a lake in January, and while the blue skies have made me happier on many occasions, I seem to be frozen in a confused, miserable state.

I always feel like no one understands me, but in a way, I don’t even understand myself. I understand what I want to be, but I just don’t want to understand what I am. Obviously, no one else does either. From what I've gathered, I understand that I’ll never be good enough for anyone. Every time I yank out my headphones, I hear people talking about their lives, lives so much more interesting than mine, And it’s so shallow, but it hurts.

My writer’s block just got worse, to the point where I was used to it. Well, until I came across something to write about.

Have you ever been to New York City?

I mean, we all see the city in movies, portrayed as some magical kingdom of urban fairytales. But many people live their whole lives without having the opportunity to drop in for a visit, just to see if it’s just like the movies.

Well, today, I woke up at approximately four-thirty in the morning to spend the day in that kingdom. And let me tell you, to an average person, New York is a dirty, overcrowded, smelly town with a few pretty buildings. But to me, New York really is a kingdom, if you choose to love the things that most people overlook or hate.

I said to a friend of mine once, "I think that if you're a logical person, New York is a crime-infested garbage can of a city. But if you're a dreamer, it's a wonderland."

I love the crowds. I love the abundance of taxis. I love the beautiful buildings, old-fashioned and modern ones alike. I love the way the buildings are so close together. I love the pigeons that hop around and fight over food scraps. I love the inspiring signs that the homeless people hold. I love the street performers. I love the colorful graffiti. It’s all strangely beautiful to me, peaceful in the weirdest way. It’s because it’s all like a big routine. It’s a habit that you get into so quickly, just to let it go almost instantly. Waiting for the sign to change from the orange hand to the white walking person. Moving with and against the flow, always beside someone you’ll never know. The noise becomes a dull roar, the smell becomes familiar, you even stop constantly looking up. City life becomes at least a little bit familiar.

I spent my afternoon with Yuuki and David, roaming Times Square. No supervision, no worries, no annoyances. Just three teenagers roaming around New York, pretending that they weren't wonderstruck.

We stopped at many places, like the huge Toys ‘R Us with the Ferris wheel inside, and the Hard Rock Café, but we didn’t buy much. Just scoffed at high prices and talked about random things all day. We ate in the middle of Times Square, still trying to comprehend the fact that we had spent fifteen dollars each on food that wasn’t even that great.

While in New York, I made the decision that I wanted to go there more often, maybe even go to college there. I wanted to look and be comfortable there. I wanted to sit down at one of the tiny red tables in Times Square and just write, inspired by the peaceful multitude that surrounded me.

Throughout the day, I couldn’t help but think, I wish Floyd were here. I wish I was in this city with him, holding his hand on a crowded street, tossing food at pigeons and laughing.

But there was another thought that seemed to cross my mind, one that I’d rather not think.

I wonder where Jordan is. Where did he go? What is he doing?

Jordan was somewhere in that city with me, with people a lot more interesting than me. But why did I care? Why did I care?
This is the part of the story when all of you will sigh solemnly and think about how stupid I am.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I like Floyd, more than I’d ever admit to anyone. But I like Jordan too, more than I’d ever admit to myself. It seemed so easy to let him go, but as my faith in Floyd fades, I fall back to him. He’s like my safety net. He’s adorable, kind of cute in his dullness and awkwardness. He would be easy to go out with. I wouldn’t be afraid of him leaving me too soon. If I were the perfect girl, his heart would be so easy to capture. But I’m not perfect, so I’ll have to try, and I don’t want to try. He can keep being stupid, and I’ll keep acting like that’s all I think of him.

Jordan has become quite the challenge over the months. It’s almost like he’s afraid of getting close to me, and it confuses me. And it confuses me that I fall back to him so easily, when I let him go so fast. I don’t like challenges.

But there is one challenge that I’m finding hard to resist, and that challenge is Floyd. I’m below the surface, and I don’t want to stop now. But where exactly am I going?

Because it feels like I’m on a one-way trip to nowhere with him.

To Doubt.

Just hold on loosely, but don’t let go. If you cling too tightly, you’re gonna lose control.

"Anyone know who sings that?" my Shop teacher asks. It’s Friday, when he has his guess-the-artist game at the beginning of the period. I’m staring off into space because I’m thinking about when Floyd and I were listening to that same song yesterday, both singing along.

If he were here, he would probably know who sang the song. But as for me, I’m staring off into space and thinking about yesterday.

Our bridge is weak and popsicle sticks snap off as I inspect it. I glue them back on, then put it away. Floyd could deal with it on Monday. Or maybe I could fix it myself.

I go to lunch later and Michelle tells me that she is moving away from our lunch table, because she’s sick of putting up with Floyd. I pretend to be upset, but inside I am glad to be rid of the annoying amount of tension at our table these days.

We sit down to eat. I look at my cup of peaches and say, "I wish Floyd were here so he could give me peaches."

Elaine, who is one of his many ex-girlfriends, looks up at David and I and says, "Oh! He told me he wants to go out with me again." I blink. David starts to ask what she said, but she cuts him off. "I said no. I just…I don’t like him like that."

You see, I don’t care if Elaine likes Floyd. She could be obsessed with him for all I care.

It’s just the fact that he likes her.

In the car on the way home, I blurt it out to my mom, even though I told myself I wouldn’t tell anyone I was upset. Mom ignores me and tells me that she doesn’t want to hear my "whiner stories." I bite down on my lip and hold back tears. She starts a random conversation about how a fellow lunch lady she knew was working at my school, and she asked me if I saw her. She went on to describe her and everything and I seriously don’t know anything about the high school lunch ladies, except that they don’t give us enough food.

"How do you not notice anything? Are you that shallow?" Mom snaps.

"No, it’s just…let me think of a way to put this…" I trail off. "There was a moment when everyone else in the room disappeared," I say, and my voice cracks as I say it, tears threatening to make me sound like a blubbering idiot.

She goes on talking, punctuating my statement with a "Whatever", and I realize she has no idea what I mean and I don’t tell her.

I was so stupid, actually getting my hopes up. I always knew he still liked her, and just because my predictable life likes to torment me, here she is, telling us all about it.

I think about the bridge, and the way it’s falling apart on me now. I think about how that was our bridge, the one we were building to get to the other side holding hands. And now it’s falling apart. How fitting.

I don’t want to give up on him.

My pessimist side tells me I have to. My optimist side tells me to keep holding on. What should I do?

I asked myself a few days ago, "To doubt, or not to doubt?"

I think I will hold on... loosely. But I won't let go. But I won't hold on too tightly, because I will lose control.

I will drive myself crazy. I think I'm going to believe in this, but I will not rely on this.

And...

I will doubt.

To Doubt Or Not To Doubt?

"Did you know that only two percent of the population have green eyes?" Floyd asks.

"Oh. Wow," I say in response, and I look back down at my lunch, catching sight of the two cups of frozen peaches stacked on top of each other. I grin a little and then I realize he’s still looking at me.

"You have green eyes," I say, and it comes out half like a question and half matter-of-factly. I look up and look right into those eyes.

"Yeah," he says and we both don’t look away. "Well, they change color."

"They look kind of…grayish green," I reply. And I look away because if I look for too long, my brain will drain out until it’s empty. But I don’t look away in time because I turn into an idiot in five seconds flat. I mentally kick myself because something stupid fell out of my mouth instead of something clever, but he still laughs anyway.

Random things flash through my memory. (Why must I think so much?) The bridge. The day we talked aimlessly about so many different things. The peaches he just gave me a few minutes before. The exchanged glances. The proud feeling I get when I make him laugh. The way he never lets out his vicious side to attack me. The way I take his side and he takes mine. He is my Superman, and I am the damsel in distress. And here I am, patiently waiting for him to sweep my off of my feet and fly away.

The girl he was dating broke up with him on Saturday. Saturday…when I had that dream…Anyway, he told me this on Monday, and the whole thing didn’t even seem to affect him, which wasn’t surprising. What can I say? He’s Floyd. If his heart were broken, he would have a hard time showing it. I wish I were more like him sometimes.

It’s only Wednesday, but I’m just dying for him to sweep me off my feet already. We could be a silhouette in the sky. The stereotypical-nonstereotypical (if that makes sense?) happy couple, with a red cape trailing behind them as they fly higher and higher, up to where heartbreak and loneliness aren’t even an afterthought.

But for some reason, I doubt that he will.

To doubt or not to doubt?

That is the question...