Rachel Young

sunday, july 22, 2001

This is my life in a few months from now. I’ll wake up to greet autumn (my favorite season) in the crisp chill air of my apartment in the city. I’ll shower, and afterwards, quickly skim through my closet and pick something presentable to wear to work. I’ll apply the daily touch of makeup, blow dry my hair, and then take my time in the morning to make a cup of tea and have a bowl of cereal or oatmeal while reading the morning paper.

When it’s time to hit the road, I’ll grab my bag and my coat, and out the door I go. There is an overcast and the sky is gray (but this could be smog for all I know), the air is cool to the touch, and everywhere I look, there are unfamiliar faces. I don’t know any of their names, and each day there is a new face. I take a few steps along the sidewalk and vanish into the crowd. I am anonymous here, and it’s exactly what I want at this point in my life.

I head over to the nearest subway station, and while I wait, I glimpse over the headlines of the morning paper or get lost in the novel of choice at the time. And then when I hear the screeching sound along the subway tracks and see the headlights approaching, I take a step closer and await my turn to board. I’ll take whatever seat is available on the crowded subway (stand on some occasions) and lose myself to random thoughts on the entire ride. Maybe one time, I’ll glance over the crowd and notice a young Asian male dressed in business casual who is focused on whatever reading material he has in his hands — be it a court drama, a thriller, Murakami, the Wall Street Journal, or the most recent issue of Playboy. He briefly looks up, notices that I am looking at him, and instead of turning my head away, I smile. He smiles back. After the brief exchange, we both return our eyes to our books. It is the only “moment” we will share. I will most likely never see him again. This is a big city, and we all disappear into the crowd.

Finally, I approach my stop, get off the subway, and walk a couple blocks to the office building. The next nine hours are a blur. My job is my job — a means to fund my living and to pay off my debt. I won’t get involved with coworkers and their idle gossip. It’s not my style. I don’t care to hear the whispers of who’s screwing who or how so-and-so got a promotion by doing such-and-such a thing. None of it is my business, and none of my business is theirs. I’ve never been one to disclose personal information at the workplace. I simply do my job — that’s what I get paid to do. In DC, my career came first, but I won’t allow that to happen here. I know if it does, I’ll get so enwrapped in my job that I slowly begin to transform into a robotic machine and day by day, disintegrate into nothing. Perhaps this is a bit melodramatic, but I know firsthand how it can suck the life out of a person and I don’t want it to happen again. I’m 25 (at least I will be by this time), and I plan on enjoying every day of it.

After I put in my hours at the office, I stop by the local book/record store and take my time perusing through the goods. Some days, I’ll head over to the library and get some quiet reading done there. I know I could spend hours at either place, but the rumbling in my stomach indicates to me it’s time to chow down. Some evenings, I may meet up with Rob for dinner and we’ll spend the entire time discussing our works in progress. He’s working on a few songs in need of vocals, and I’m more than happy to provide them. I need help completing a few lyrics and building up the melody to a chorus, and he helps me. We spend some weeknights, but mostly weekends, getting together at the studio laying down tracks and bit by bit, mere words on paper are converted into beautiful music for the ears and the soul. In a few years from now, Rob and I will fondly look back on this time together and remember how it all started.

When I’m home, I spend my free nights constantly writing and recording. But some nights, I check out whatever local gigs interest me in the area. Wendy Ip is definitely one of them. Emm Gryner is also another favorite, and hopefully Francis Kim will be performing in the area. And I’ll certainly catch Kevin So when he’s in town. Maybe catch a cup of coffee since we didn’t get a chance to do so in Boston. Hopefully, I’ll run into other musicians and continually feed off of their creativity.

I’ll meet some very interesting people and most likely, there will be a couple of individuals I’ll make an effort to keep in touch with. Here, I won’t have a group of friends or close relatives by my side. In this big city, I’m a nobody and I have no commitment to anyone. My lifestyle won’t really allow room for a serious romantic relationship. I’ll date here and there, but I will elude any thoughts of being committed (that's a commitment phobic for you!). I'm just not ready . . . not yet anyway.

But I am dying to work with children again, and so I’ll join a local volunteer group for youth shelters in the inner city. In the past when working with inner city kids in DC, I exhausted myself trying to be there for each child and the counselors as well. I know I have the potential to wear myself out both emotionally and physically again, so I will focus all of my attention on only one or two specific individuals. They’ll be the only ones keeping me from becoming a totally self-involved 20-something-year-old. They’ll keep me grounded.

I won’t be far from the ones I love, but far enough to be my own person. I will disappear into the crowd, and no one will know my name. I will be nothing more than a random face. I will discover things about myself I don’t want to know but things I need to know. Come face to face with issues I’ve avoided in the past, but slowly begin to resolve it in my own head without the distraction of others continually feeding their input and biased opinions. I will be alone but far from being lonely.

And as crazy as it sounds, I’m looking forward to all of this.

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