Bi-polar in the city

A typical day:

I wake up in my apartment with no a/c (until recently) and to the sound of sirens and garbage trucks. My alarm hasn't gone off yet, but it's too loud and too hot to sleep anymore anyway. I think, "God, I hate this."

I sit in my dining room and eat a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast while reading (or re-reading) the weekend edition of the NY Times. I read 'Modern Love' and the style section entirely. I think, "God, I love this."

I leave my apartment and walk down to the train and wait for the express to 34th street. I see rats and homeless people and garbage. It smells and I sweat. I think, "God, I hate this."

I walk into work and say hello to other teachers and my students. They are happy to see me! They ask me about my weekend or my night and make inside jokes about crossword puzzles and cats. I think, "God, I love this."

I stand in front of a class for 6 hours teaching adverb clauses of time and cause and effect. My students ask me questions that I don't understand, and I raise my eyebrows and tell them apologetically that I don't understand either. I think, "God, I hate this."

The 5:00 bell rings and I punch out. I walk out onto 34th street and decide what I want to do, where I want to go. I can take a train to the village and go to my favorite bookstore. I can meet EH somewhere in Brooklyn for happy hour. I can buy groceries, go home and cook and watch Roseanne. It's up to me. I think, "God, I love this."

The people I love who live in SD, MN, NE call and tell me about what they have been up to, who they have seen. They are grilling with friends or going on a road trip or sitting in air conditioning. They are with their husbands or their girlfriends or their families. I sit alone in my room. I think, "God, I hate this."

I lay in bed thinking about the day, the past, the future. I'm happy/sad, lonely/content, restless/peaceful.

I stop thinking. I thank God.