I always think about my life and where it’s going, what I would like to have done when it’s all over and I realize that the things that I’m proudest of are, to put it mildly, a little modest. I’m not going to go to the grave saying, “It was great when I built that school in Africa” or “I’m proud of the wing of the hospital I donated.” It’ll probably be more like, “I made it to the top three of a New Yorker cartoon caption contest. They didn’t pick mine but top three! Man, what a rush!”
The stakes of my life and the things that I want to do tend to be on a small scale. I’m more of a run your beloved local coffee shop kind of person that a run a fortune 500 company kind of person. At forty-one, I’ve realized it’s just the way I am.
So, here we go. Here are some things that I’m pretty proud of.
Becoming a Runner
I admit that I’m really making a meal of this whole running a sub six minute mile thing but it’s really cool to me (and it gave me the idea for this post). I ran a half marathon in May. I’m running another in October. So, that’s like a full marathon this year. I ran five miles tonight and really enjoyed it.
Running was something that I used to dread. I’ve turned it into something I love. I like that.
Getting Into Cornell
Notice that I didn’t say graduating from Cornell. I was so focused on getting into a college that once I got there, I was like an academic deer in the headlights. Did I just mix a metaphor? I don’t know. I didn’t study English. I studied chemical engineering and do you know what I retained? “Benzene,” “distillation columns,” and “fluid dynamics.” Did you notice I put those things in quotes? That’s because I only retained those literal words. As to the concepts behind them? I’ve got nothing.
But in high school, I was diligent, practically obsessive about my grades, my extracurriculars, my standardized test scores. I had to get in. Had to. It was the only thing to give my life meaning. I’m proud of that work and that effort. I set a goal and achieved it. I feel like I stopped doing that somewhere along the way.
Getting a 5 on my AP English exam
This is technically part of working hard in high school but it deserves its own mention. I had never felt so lost in Mr. Turk’s AP English class senior year (read about that guy, he’s interesting as hell, here’s my post, here’s his book). I hardly knew what he was talking about. It was a first for me not to be a star student. (His two favorite students were Joe Schaeffer and Chris Perri, deservedly so.) After one disastrous paper, I set about learning what the hell this guy was talking about and dissecting the hell out of Light in August. I used that book in most of my essays on the AP test.
Turning that whole situation around was a big deal to me.
Hanging a Shelf in my Apartment All by Myself
Yeah, I just said “all by myself,” like a big boy. I went to the store, bought the shelf, drilled the holes, hung the shelf, put stuff on it, and it didn’t fall down. I’m prouder of that than I am of graduating college. I don’t even know if I’m joking.
Writing
I’m also really making a meal out of getting a lot of views on this blog thing. But in the grand scheme of things, what’s a personal blog? Really it’s that I’ve made writing a daily practice. That’s important. People who want to write always say I should write more I should write more I should write more and we never do. I decided to try to change that this year.
I’m also really proud of my Billfold piece about my parents from a few years ago, What I Learned About Money After My Parents Died.
My Comedy “Career”
I talked about my comedy “career” before. I’m never going to be on SNL or record a seminal comedy album. But I’ve been getting up on stage and doing shows for, well, almost as long as I’ve been in New York. I haven’t quit. That’s not nothing.
Becoming a New Yorker
Growing up upstate, I always felt like “the city” was Toronto. New York City was this dirty hell hole a long way away. I guess that’s when it was the real New York and I’ve only ever lived in Disney New York but to hell with that crap. I’ve been here 19 years now. I don’t drive. I know the subways. I’m jaded. I’m practically a character in a Nora Ephron romantic comedy, albeit a side character who’s kind of safe and quirky.
Being a New Yorker bears mentioning today on September 11th. I wasn’t even thinking about it that much today, which is crazy. That’s not to say I’ve been ignoring it or don’t care but it’s been woven into my experience as a New Yorker. (You can read all of my thoughts about it from two years ago here.)
And I’ll never forget. You don’t have to tell me that.
It looks like I like sticking with things and overcoming challenges. I’m not saying that as a lame summarizing ending to this post, more just a reminder to myself.
