The Secret Life of Sarah Jackson

I've been working my face off since I got back, but this week I started a new gig which will require the full-on NYC subway commute. It's a great opportunity, super interesting, and runs for four months so I won't have to hustle for a minute. Buuuuut...

"But what?", my sister said.
"I don't know..I'm going to have to go into the city everyday and ride the subway."
"...F--k you! This is real life!"

I don't know.  Is it really real life?

I get that writing from home can't happen everyday.  And there has been something nice about getting a work station set up away from where I live and watch Game of Thrones on an endless loop. However, I refuse to accept that the subway ride is my real life, because if that were the case I would have ended it years ago. Instead, I've spent my entire professional adult New Yorker life learning how to block out the stressful commute with iPod and Kindle.  Or if I forget to charge any of these distractions, good old fashioned daydreaming Walter Mitty style works just fine.

It's when the daydreams outnumber your favorite playlist that you are probably having a nervous breakdown...or at least super depressed. If I had sold the rights to my regular daydreams before I made my decision to leave NYC, they would have been adapted into a movie called "Anywhere But Here, starring Thandie Newtown". The closer to the nervous breakdown I got, the more vivid my "anywhere, but here" mental pictures became. I didn't know what I wanted anymore, except that it had to be totally opposite.  Looking back on my pictures of the Cook Islands now, I realize that The Anywhere was there.

Now that I've actually been there and heaps of other places- snorkeled in Aitutaki, ate ice cream with local Raro kids, hiked with a Polynesian medicine man, the usual- I don't want to kill myself on the subway.  Don't get me wrong, I am still above my body for every single miserable stop.  But now I can call up real-live memories to get me through. No more vague wishes and prayers to break me out of Manhattan jail. 

When I'm in businesslady mode, I am very particular about what kind of notebook I carry from meeting to edit session.  It needs a hardcover so I don't need a desk, wall, or back to lean on.  It has to be lined because I have the handwriting of a serial killer and my penmanship needs all the help it can get.  And it's just gotta feel..right, man.  I described my needs to the excellent assistant on our project and today he drove by my workspace to bestow upon me the notebook of my dreams.

"Oh my god. Yes!  This is exactly what I needed. Thank you!!"

After he walked a little too far away for me to be talking to him still, again...

"Yes..thank you!  Perfect!!"

Now that I've lived the daydream, it seems I have a better appreciation for the small surprises of my regular life.  Since I can't live in both worlds at the same time, it's always nice to visit. And when I'm missing one of those worlds terribly..

Well, that's what daydreams on the shitty awful subway are for.

Comments

[Camels & Chocolate]

Don't you love steady work/long-term contracts that mean you can take a chill pill for awhile and not hustle for other work? That's kind of how I feel about Semester at Sea--while I'll probably still do a bit of freelancing (and blogging, too, of course), it's essentially a four-month break from freelancing/pitching/networking my brains out, which will be a bit of a welcome relief! Only other self-employed, freelance gals can relate to that =)