Nora Ephron’s mother had a saying: “Everything is copy.” And as I enter another period of major change, I’m beginning to take comfort in that adage. In place of viewing all the challenges I’m facing as insurmountable obstacles, I’m viewing them as copy– or material for my blog.
There are the little challenges, like accidentally bordering the subway car with the homeless evangelist preaching his Jesus loving speech from West 4th to Herald Square. And then there are the bigger challenges, like finding a new apartment– roach and rodent free and with space for a full or queen size bed– that doesn’t cost more than my entire month’s salary.
And rather than fixating solely on the challenges, I’m trying to treasure the New York moments. For example, last night a coworker invited me to a concert downtown featuring a hip British band: The 1975. It was in a dingy lounge in a quasi-shady part of town, and it was absolutely perfect.
Though I doubt any of the group members were alive in 1975, I embraced their name and performance. And afterwards, I had the good fortune to meet them. Rather than exemplifying the self-absorbed celebrity stereotype, they were extraordinarily friendly and engaging.
When the night came to its inevitable conclusion, I did not go home and begin editing my screenplay. I did not look up dream apartments far beyond my price range. I didn’t even open up a graduate school admissions booklet. I just sat in front of Hulu and gave my mind a solid night off.
And for a girl who doesn’t have any vacation time in the foreseeable future, one night off felt like a blessing. It may not have given me the world’s best copy, but it gave me something to write about and something to ruminate on. My mother refers to it as a “simple pleasure”– something that is relatively cheap, but entirely necessary in helping a person to recharge and re-engage with the complexities of her life.
So this morning, as I darted for a cab after my train car stalled and the clock continued ticking, I reminded myself that my world would not crumble. I would make it to work eventually, and I would complete all of the tasks on my to-do list. And if I didn’t, there was Friday. T.G.I.F.