Rain on the way home

reminded me of Midnight in Paris, how Owen Wilson's character likes to walk around the city in the rain and Rachel McAdam's character does not. It made me think of how we can see a circumstance beyond our control as favorable or unfavorable. Just like how right now, I can't control how much ink gets soaked into the screen or how much reading I have to get done for tomorrow. But I can choose to see what I have as a positive- that I'm having this opportunity, even though it's intense and hard and everyday gets closer to the end when I have to turn something in and feel proud of it, as opposed to seeing myself as not being able to do it.

I can see New York as a place where I'm not connected to many people, or I can see it as a good thing- being done with church right after it's over and having more time to wander around on a Sunday afternoon and getting to go and see the inspiration for City Church.

I can see Columbia as a school where I'll never feel confident and I'm self-conscious about everything I turn in or I can see it as a place where I can learn and grow as an educator and a person. I can rely on other people to tell me I'm doing the right thing, or I can believe it for myself.

Screenprinting

May not be my venture back into the art world. I'm learning to accept failure. I've almost cried every time in the studio as I get anxious with an exacto knife trying to get my stencils exactly right. I will get sweaty with anxiety, cover myself with ink, and compare myself to my classmates, before it's all over. Talking with Aldwin today from Paris!, I realized that both of us will always doubt our decisions. I've been doubting being here since I first set foot on Columbia's campus- every day I go through a rise and fall of emotions about whether or not I can actually do this and not fail at it. Or whether I can survive this city in the summer- it's magical, it has every art museum imaginable, you could eat out every night and still not get to all of the restaurants, but it's also humid, grimy, and there's something about it that makes me cough and sneeze constantly.

Sufjan Stevens wasn't in Brooklyn last Saturday, or at least not where Maggie and Moses and I were walking. Nor was he at Vito's church. I think I'm looking for signs that will make this experience seem worthwhile on a daily basis, and I'm not sure I'm going to get any. I might say an intelligent thing in class but then seconds later, dissolve realizing that I haven't gotten through all of the readings for that day. But, like most artists, I'm learning to trust in the process more than anything else- to trust my professors when they say that this will all make sense in a week and I will somehow master screenprinting by "just doing it over and over again."

7 days later

Here I am, officially a New Yorker, or inhabitant of New York during the summer time. I've had moments of thinking, "What am I doing?!?" while trying to navigate registrars, financial aid, and subway stations crowded with people. One thing I've learned is how I have to stick up for myself, but also depend on God. I went through some periods of pretty intense loneliness last week, thinking, "Meg, why would you ever give up what you had in San Francisco for this?" But I've had moments where it's all felt worth it, where crossing Central Park at the end of the day, eating out with an old friend from college and high school, getting a drink with a new roommate at our local bar, exploring a new museum (for free!) and finally figuring out my way amidst the maze of Teacher's College seemed to overshadow all of the hard things about moving to a new place. Day by day, as has been the trend the past few summers, I've had to depend on God more than ever- getting to places, praying that I'm taking the train in the right direction, hoping that someone will help me with all of my luggage, and that I'll feel connected to someone at some point during the long, hot, hazy days.
Classes don't start until tomorrow, and maybe then, I will realize more of my purpose in being here. Or maybe not. Maybe I had it figured out that it would be an idealistic end to an enduringly difficult school year, where all of my problems would melt away and I could rediscover myself in a new city. But, as Maggie says, I'm still me, still Meg, the problems don't leave you wherever you go, and no where is like you actually imagined it will be.
All that to say, I miss you San Francisco, but I'm thankful for Blue Bottle care packages, youth prayer requests from Emily, family a train ride away, and notes from former students and dinner dates with future colleagues that make me think, "I can do this," as though I'm being cheered on from the sidelines from 2,500 miles away.