Tag Archives: Coffee Shop

New York

Searching for Myself in a Cup of Coffee

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It should come as no secret to the careful reader that I am struggling here in New York. In addition to missing everything about living in Singapore, except for the humidity, I’m finding it very difficult to adjust to being alone, being in a new place, and being back in the US in general.

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View of the West Side from Engineers Gate in Central Park

In an effort to feel more at home in New York, I’ve been spending a lot of time in cafés to read, write, and people watch. Coffee makes everything better, and usually so does being a quiet observer among strangers. Having a legitimate reason to look around makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself, which is an important shift in perspective when I get too stuck in my own head.

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I think I’m mostly doing what that cat is doing. Watching and waiting.

A good deal of my coffee drinking has been at B Cup Café. As I’ve written before, it’s really close to my apartment and plays great music. It also serves good coffee and excellent shakshuka. I’ve been there at least four times, which practically makes me a regular. Based on my own habits, anyway.

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However, I’m bad at sitting at the best of times and caffeine doesn’t help. So I’ve also been wandering around the East Village and taking pictures of everything colorful in an effort to improve my mood and general outlook. That’s a thing, right? Color therapy? I’m not sure if it’s working but I did find some delightful street art:

The East Village is enjoyably quirky in a number of other ways, too. Examples:

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The most exciting part of my wandering today was green space! Neighborhood parks are so important in building community, and seeing them always makes me happy. More than a few parks have started decorating for Halloween, too. I passed by one of those today, as well as a couple parks that aren’t quite on the decorating bandwagon (yet?):

Perhaps unsurprisingly, much of my reading and writing (including this blog post) has taken place at cafés. I’m at Think Coffee at the moment, not because I actually wanted the coffee but because I’m also not good at being home for more than a few hours at any one point during the day. Again, I tend to spend too much time in my own head that way. I do a heck of a lot better at work, which often makes me feel more comfortable than I do during the weekends. (I know. I know, I know. Famous last words.)

I realize I’ve been saying “I’m not good at” fairly often lately. Maybe that’s part of the problem at this point. I don’t know anymore what I am good at. Learning. I guess I’m good at that. At least, I try to be.

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A little light reading, courtesy of the New York Public Library. Croissant sandwich and coffee from Petite Shell on the Upper East Side.

If you’re looking for me, I’m probably in a coffee shop. If not, chances are I will be soon. I always take my coffee black. Thanks for asking!

 

On My Mind

Rainy Sunday

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Today is cold, gray, and wet. I bundled up in my navy raincoat, plaid scarf, and flowered Doc Martens I’ve had since college and I was still cold. The air was full of the dampness that goes straight to the bones. After two years in Southeast Asia, I’m not so good at damp or cold. That’s going to take some practice. Nothing like trial by fire, right? (Except in this case it’s trial by rain.)

Today is also lonely. I woke up knowing I would spend the day by myself, which is fine when that’s what I want to do. When I want to be around people, engage in meaningful conversation, and share myself with others I find it very difficult to be in own company. That’s the kind of feeling I had today when I woke up, which took me by surprise because I spent almost all of yesterday with a friend.

I fought the urge to cuddle back underneath the sheets when my alarm went off just to shorten the amount of time I’d have to spend alone. But I’ve been down this road before so I know better than that. I forced myself out of bed and outside for a quick, cold, wet run. Did yoga to return some heat to my joints. Left the house.

That’s key. Leave the house. It’s easy to get trapped in a cycle of rumination and distasteful self-pity when alone in my apartment. When I’m out, even when I’m out by myself, there are people to watch, conversations to overhear, places to go.

Made my way to the library to pick up George Orwell’s 1984. I’ve never read it and although I’m in the middle of two other books right now (What Kind of Creatures Are We? by Noam Chomsky and How Happy Became Homosexual by Howard Richler) today felt like a “curl up with a novel” sort of day. That’s something I’m always happy to do alone.

And by alone I mean in the company of strangers and a cup of coffee at B Cup Café in the East Village.

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I certainly wasn’t the only one waiting out the rain with a hot beverage!

The music, atmosphere, and food options were good enough for me to order a second coffee and a breakfast wrap for lunch. Breakfast is delicious at all times of day.

That’s when I ran into the problem of what to do next. There’s only so much caffeine one can drink in a day. And I’m bad at sitting.

So I headed home. Stopped at the farmers’ market to pick up some things on the way. Put on Bon Iver’s new album (again). Thought about all the times over the past 12 months that I’d been lonely and told myself all that would end when I moved to New York.

Thought about how wrong I was.

On the bright side, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Time that I desperately needed. I don’t know whether I’m in a better place now than I was in August, but I do know that I’m in a different place. That’s definitely a step in the right direction, though I don’t know what direction that is.

Maybe this time alone will help me figure it out.

New York, On My Mind

Just a Note

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I went to college in Syracuse, NY and I’m back now for my roommate’s wedding. I couldn’t be happier to be here or to celebrate such a genuinely kind person and her equally kind tomorrow-to-be husband. In revisiting some old haunts, I headed to Strong Hearts Café, which I was delighted to see had not changed a bit in five year. It’s vegan, provides free coffee refills, and has a list of milkshakes named after radical, influential, and often forgotten people (my personal favorite names include Tiananmen Square Guy, The Haudenosaunee, The White Rose, Sacco & Vanzetti, Howard Zinn, and Paul Rusesabagina). What’s not to love? Actually I can answer that: the lack of cheese.

A girl in her late teens or early twenties came in with a woman I assume was her mother and sat at the table next to me. The girl remained at their table while the mother went to the counter to order. Alone, the girl started to cry. She regained composure and then broke into new tears several times while they waited for a strawberry waffle.

My heart went out to her while I sat at my table and tried to concentrate on my book. I wanted to reach over and tell her that it would all be okay. I wanted to ask if she needed a hug. I wanted to help her stop hurting.

So I wrote her a note on a napkin.

The girl and her mother asked for a takeaway box and left while I was writing, so I never dropped it on their table. Maybe had I started writing earlier, instead of waiting to see if the waffle would help her feel better, I could have been of comfort in some way. Instead, I’ll leave the note here in case she reads this blog. Stranger things have happened, right?

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I know life can sometimes be very hard. I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through. I’m sorry you’re hurting.

But I also know that this, too, shall pass. Every day will be easier than the last.

You are not alone. The people in your life are here for you. Everyone hurts sometimes – we are all here for you.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

You can do it.

As I’ve been typing this, Jakob Dylan’s “Everybody’s Hurting” is playing in my head. (Let the record show that there are often songs playing in my head.) It’s a little church-y but I really love this line: My sweetheart we’ve got to learn to live with these ghosts/They can’t leave and we can’t go.

This is the message I want to send to everyone who is hurting, for whatever reason. This is for anyone who needs a friendly face or a shoulder to cry on. I am here for you. If we have yet to meet or if I’ve known you for a long time, I am here for you. Whatever your ghosts, I am here for you. We are all humans, and therefore I am here for you. No questions asked.