I am back on the internets!
Angel and I have survived Frankenstorm / Hurricane Sandy in New York and despite not having power or phone service on the Lower East Side for the last two days and for probably another week, I am peaceful and at ease. It’s a big surprise considering my chronic and idiotic phobia of storms and rain but I’m proud and grateful to announce I took it like a champ, sitting thru the hurricane with grace and composure.
I first found out there was a hurricane coming this way last Thursday from Elaine as we were discussing a weekend day trip to Philadelphia. For the following three days my anticipatory anxiety was in high peak as I obsessively checked the weather reports, listened to the Mayor’s announcements (funnier in spanish), refreshed my twitter and facebook feeds every few minutes to save posts and run on an endless adventure of links and images.
I keep a tally of my anxiety from a scale of 1 to 10 as prescribed by my cognitive-behavioral therapist and on Friday I noted an 8 in the scale of intensity with the thought: “What the fuck is a hurricane doing traveling to NY in October? Please tell Sandy to stay away. Need to tell Angel to run away west TONIGHT.”
The problem with my anxiety and panic disorder is that I don’t fear death itself, I simply irrationally anticipate a panic attack which just makes me FEEL like I’m consciously going insane, duping myself to suffocation and death.
For three whole days I anticipated this panic attack that MIGHT come during the actual storm. My journal is rife with talking myself out of this irrational, illogical, compulsive and pathetic thinking: “I don’t fear death due to natural disasters. I fear death from mental and emotional instability. If my therapist were here what would she say? Is this really a threat? no. Am I going to die of panic? no (this is physically impossible). Can I handle the discomfort? yes. Will I have enough air to breathe no matter how hard the rain and gusty the wind? yes. Can I be more compassionate and accept the fact that even if I panic, it will pass and I’ll be at peace? yes.”
I miraculously talked myself out of full fledged anxiety and panic, which otherwise would have led to dragging Angel out of New York to drive out west as far away from the hurricane as possible. We did this during Irene where at 6am, morning of the hurricane, I made poor Angel tolerate my crazy and drive me to a friend’s house in York, Pennsylvania.
I spent most of Saturday and Sunday at The Bean, which I just discovered to be my new “Coffice”. There’s plenty wifi and plugs, good coffee, and extra perk: they let you not only walk your dog into the cafe but let them stay in the cafe and keep you company. I finished reading Karen Russell’s Swamplandia, whose eerie and mystical narrative set the mood for an apocalyptic episode I was about to encounter.
Having temporarily succeeded in putting aside my irrational thoughts I planned for the storm by coming up with activities that will keep my hands busy. Cooking and baking has been a healing and therapeutic remedy during trying times in the past so I found recipes and went grocery shopping to last two days.
Whole Foods on Sunday was a SHIT SHOW. There were lines looping around the entire floor and employees were completely frazzled. People were buying kale and milk as opposed to bread and canned food. I swear, these spoiled brats in LES didn’t know the first thing about living in a third world country.
On Monday Angel went to work and I hung out at cafes close to home to blog and relentlessly worry. I was watching the clock to hit 6pm which was when the hurricane was expected to hit New Jersey. The wind started to pick up in the afternoon but I maintained my cool. When Angel came home we roasted a whole chicken and honey-glazed sweet potatoes and baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies a la Dorie Greenspan.
At this point I’ve consumed about 1.5 pills of Klonopin to calm my nerves. I was uncharacteristically in a lightened mood considering the circumstances. I mean, we bought cheap ponchos and walked around with Mellow and it was absolutely hysterical. But I knew my composure was a superficial layer and beneath this coolness there was a panic monster ready to attack.
Just as the last tray of cookies were finishing up in the oven, “BOOM” went the subpower station at Con Edison and out went our power. I didn’t freak, I didn’t panic, I stayed calm and composed. My voice was soft, my movement slow, and I was shy like a little girl who just peed her pants. I am STILL very very impressed at how I keep my cool in states of instability. I should join the army.
The candles were lit (the dozen that I bought on Sunday from the 99 cent store), the flashlight was readily accessible, dinner was eaten romantically under candlelight. The chicken was juicy albeit a bit salty and the sweet potatoes were mushy, just the way I like it. I became unsatisfied without internet, social media, and the ubiquitous Bakery Story (I had to reinstall it as my safety blanket). We roamed around outside to find police lights and blacked out streets. It was very comforting to see our super Butch outside, cigarette in one hand, flashlight in the other. Winds were gusty and I had zero interest in wandering the streets. The scene in front of me seemed to be moving quite slowly, as if I were dazed and confused. I was probably just high on Klonopin and slow-induced trauma. I instagramed my last picture, a pitch dark street with no view two blocks ahead of us.
I washed all the dishes and read Tina Fey’s Bossypants, inserted yet another Klonopin, praying the wind and rain wouldn’t wake me up in panic mode and shut down my body to sleep.
Yesterday was our first full day without power, internet, or phone service. It was also the most peaceful day I’ve experienced since discovering social media and blogging. I was completely and utterly at peace, and this is without the help of Klonopin. I reorganized our entire shelving system which houses our clothes, kitchen pantry, and office supplies. Not THAT’S productivity for you. Mother Nature’s big fuck you to the internet and superficial online connectivity had my support.
Feeling my brain slow down and my anxiety disappear into the ether as a result of not being connected was a revelation for me. It’s not news that tablets, phones, websites, apps, startups, and social media platforms are powerless without electricity but it IS a wonderfully refreshing reminder that I as a consumer and individual am not powerless to the weak and flawed god that be the internet. It’s kryptonite is my epiphany, a new found chapter in my life where I’ve learned that I CAN indeed survive a storm and I CAN indeed live without the pitter patter of the virtual world, embracing again an analog lifestyle.
Throughout the day we wandered to nowhere in particular and laughed at people using pay phones. Loitering was a past time activity and not surprisingly all the bars were open with candlelight. Whisky is no dependent of electricity. There was a generator going off on Ave A with a crowd of people with surge protectors and phone chargers, trying to plug in for some power. It was pathetic.
We even saw Meryl Streep with bystanders throwing coins at a window on Ave A. She was either trying to break into her own apartment unsuccessfully, performing an improv act, or just needed some attention from fans.
The apocalypse that is lower Manhattan is friendlier, more compassionate and light-hearted than pre-Frankenstorm. People were pooling cabs, walking aimlessly and smiling with relaxed attitudes. We were home before dark and didn’t do much other than read under candlelight and fall asleep by 9pm. Prehistoric we are!
On Day Two post-Frankenstorm reality hits. People need to go to work, there are no subways and driving to the city is a BITCH. Riding my bike to Veronica’s house in LIC, I was grateful to never have relied on the subway (it’s a claustrophobic death hole) and was curious where all these people on the Williamsburg Bridge were headed. I’m back on the internets as long as I stay away from LES and unfortunately duty calls. I am again overwhelmed and inundated by media. Social media. I am collecting and liking and bookmarking. Tweeting, posting, blogging, and instagramming. Come 5pm I’ll be heading back to powerless LES and will leave behind my online world with hesitance.
I think tomorrow I’ll find ways to put my hands to good use. Maybe help Printed Matter cleaned up their flooded basement. Maybe help Red Hook sweep up. Maybe host a fundraiser dinner for all the closed restaurants without power. It’s been a roller coaster of a ride the last week and I’m grateful to have experienced it.
updownacross 