60 seconds

yesterday i went skydiving. i jumped out of a plane. i was strapped to a spunky red-headed man named pancake who's jumped over 8500 times. upon introduction, i trusted him more than any stranger i've ever met. we jumped from 13,500 feet and freefell for 60 seconds at 120 mph until we reached 5,000 feet. those 60 seconds were without a doubt the most amazing 60 seconds of my entire life. i've never felt such adrenaline, such euphoria, such freedom. pancake let me pull the cord at 5,000 feet and we floated over the garden state heading towards our field marked with an X where we landed smoothly on our feet. after landing, my vocabulary was limited to "oh my god", "i just jumped out of a plane", and "fucking amazing". other than that it was a ridiculous smile that would not come off my face. i now know what i believe to be the ultimate natural high.

i immediately told my mom, who had no prior knowledge of the jump, and said "guess what i just did". i've done many things in my life she hasn't exactly been thrilled about, so she quickly squaked out a "WHAT" with motherly fear in her voice. she was shocked, but was actually thanking me for not telling her ahead of time. she called me four times last night as she continued to process what i had done.

i am actually still processing it myself. it's making me think about things. big things. this experience has challenged my perspective. and i want to go again. and again.

cheers to hyde park

she was exactly as i remembered, minus the glitter on her chest. she had a massive purse on one arm, a massive shopping bag on the other. she was color coordinated in her trendiness from head to toe, with drama seeping out of her pores. it felt good to see her when we finally made eye contact on the steps. it's a strange feeling when you see someone you once knew after years of them being a distant memory.

she was "starving" so we defaulted to heartland brewery, which was less than thrilling. she took me through her entire life story from where we last left off. when she was finished, she would pose occasional questions about my life, only to chime in 3 sentences into my reply. i don't care much to talk about myself, but it got more painful as the night went on to listen to pointless details about her roomate or the mice in her apartment. she wouldn't stop talking. and because she wouldn't stop talking, she couldn't finish her beer. and i didn't want to be rude and suggest leaving before she finished her beer. so 3 hours later we're standing on the corner of 14th and union square west, as she's spewing verbage more intensely than she was in the first hour (she claimed to be a lightweight, so the 2 beers probably didn't help). once i finished my cigarette, all i wanted was to get in a cab and go find out who was sent home on american idol. i've never been so exhausted by a conversation in my life. not even by vicki leaverton.

to give her credit, it was really good to see her. but that's about as far as it goes. as for doing it again sometime, as you often say at goodnight, i'm really not interested. now that we are no longer a part of the same small community, what would we talk about? i can only listen to hopeless love stories and details about mice for so long. things do change. and i'm ok with it.

speaking of...

tonight i'm meeting an old friend from high school on the steps of union square. i haven't seen her in 5 years, haven't spoken in four (if you don't count our recent facebook interactions). she moved to new york several months ago, and i've finally given in to seeing her. we once were close. very close. but by the end of high school, that ship was leaving the dock. she's drama, which i tend avoid at all cost. i'm part curious and part scared to see what she's like now. should be interesting.