See You When I See You
It sounds better than goodbye.
I can’t quite cry at the airport. The tears start to well, but then stop short every time.
I’m really leaving now.
My flight to JFK will start boarding soon. My boxes are packed, and I’ve said my “see you later”s. Now there’s this emptiness that comes with not knowing how to feel.
For the past month, I haven’t let myself think about all the people I’m about to leave. I tried to distance myself from the impending reality that I don’t know when I’ll see most of you again or when I’ll be back in this city that I’ve built myself up in the past four years. I’m packing up everything I’ve collected to fly 3000 miles away. I have no job. No apartment. No partner. It’s a clean slate which is as exhilarating as it is daunting. Everything feels so vast, I’m doing my best to not get swallowed up by it.
My friends have made it all bearable. I don’t think friendship gets enough credit in our society,1 but it’s friends that have been my saving grace my entire life. My friends have seen me thrive and crawl under my freshman dorm room desk when I wanted to disappear. They’ve seen me unsuccessfully hop fences, finish labor of love screenplays, run into the ocean, and be terrified of insects. They’re the people who I laugh, cry, party, lament, look foolish, and simply try to survive the day with. With my friends, I’ve sat on bedroom floors, the kitchen floor, a public bathroom floor, the curb down the street from my house, the front stairs, the back porch, etc and had all the heartfelt conversations that keep me going.
I surprised myself today by not being more broken up about saying goodbye. I’ve started looking at a lifetime of friends as a revolving door of party guests. Some stay all night, others do a brief lap. Some leave and come back, but all the conversations are special and bring something to the event. I’m resigned to people coming in and out of my life even though I would truly hate to lose any of the people I’m leaving on the west coast. But there are simply no guarantees when it comes to staying in touch. I can’t see the future of my friendships any more than I can say this move will be worth it in the end. That’s terrifying. It’s kept me up at night. But as I board my flight, what else can I do but keep the faith?
My going away party was one of the best I’ve ever thrown. I gathered a crowd of my closest friends and people I hadn’t seen in ages. Almost everyone I’d hoped would show or worried wouldn’t make it found their way there. We had more than enough drinks. My jello shots were ready in time. The speakers blasted ABBA. I didn’t break any glassware. My disposable is full of photos, and the relatively easy clean-up was the maraschino cherry on top. I knew it’d be easier to say my goodbyes at celebration2 with disco blasting a full week ahead of my flight.
When it got hard when the couch was sold, the fridge was cleaned out, and I had to give the people closest to me a final hug. I was okay saying, “I’ll see you when I see you” to the friends I see maybe once a month, but with the people I see every day it was so much harder:
A friend racing back into our driveway like a Vin Diesel for one last hug. Laughing over dinner with another friend about the horrors of eating Ezekiel bread3 as a kid. Headbanging to Demi Lovato’s “Heart Attack with a friend in the kitchen. Reading a surprise letter from another friend and becoming way too emotional at 2 a.m. as I worked to fill a roommate’s storage pod. Giggling at 3 a.m. with that same roommate who let me sleep on her plastic-covered mattress when mine was already on the truck to New York.4
There are so many people who made my last night in L.A. special. People who made this year special. And the past four years. I was able to build a life in L.A., not because I conquered the bus system, figured out how to network, and started investing in sunscreen. It’s because of all of you.5
And even though I have faith I’ll see you later, it hurts like a bitch to say goodbye.
Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” is nearly impossible to listen to because it is one of the saddest songs of all time.6 If you do work up the courage to play it - or even worse, watch the music video - you’ll experience the kind of pain that reminds you just how deeply you can feel. It’d be easier to listen to the Nine Inch Nails version or not listen at all, but then you’d be denying yourself the experience of an incredible song. At Knott’s Berry Farm,7 my friends and I discussed how in “Hurt” you can hear every regret, apology, and mistake Cash has ever made. It’s the saddest song of all time because it lays bare a whole life that’s nearly over. To me, that song represents how much you can risk, how badly you can fail, and how deeply you can care.
It’s the song of a life fully lived.
I’m no Johnny Cash (I wish I had his gravelly god-like voice), and I haven’t yet lived a full life. But at times like these, I’m thankful for all I’m able to feel and all I have to lose. It hurts to leave because I’ve loved a lot.8 I wouldn’t want it any other way.
This entry is dedicated to every friend I’ve made in L.A. these past four years:
To all of you who I lived with, didn’t see enough of, and especially those who changed my life. I hope you know who you are and that you visit me soon. I don’t have the words to say how grateful I am. Now go out and change the life of someone new.
And finally a special dedication to Clare:
Thank you for giving me the strength to leave.
Outfit of This Era:
There aren’t any photos to choose from!
I wanted to make a woman in black Johnny Cash reference about a little black dress I have, but I don’t have a single picture from my going away party that doesn’t need to be developed.
To hold you over, I offer this photo from the last few weeks that features a classic Sophia Mazzella outfit. It’s also fitting I wore these boots on the plane
Recommendations for This Era:
Johnny Cash’s “Hurt.” You won’t see me recommending country often but Dolly Parton and Johnny Cash have a special hold on my heart and have objectively some of the best music of all time.
For USC People: Bacari. I feel like I took it for granted and now I’m going to miss it.
All That Jazz. If you want to feel deeply and love theater, boy, is this the movie for you! Get ready for a real show.
Writing the important people in your life letters.
“Moving Out” and “You May Be Right” by Billy Joel
Throwing parties!
Cleaning your fridge on a regular basis. Trust me, it gets dark and scary in there if you don’t.
Family and romance seem to get all the credit.
This is how I want my funeral to be - Donna Summer, drinks, and brightly colored outfits - but funerals are for the living so I won’t force my vision on anyone.
Please never feed your child this bread. It tastes like soggy cardboard and no nutrients are worth the pain it causes.
Since this is all public, I’m choosing to be sparse in naming names and mentioning specific people.
If you’re a New Yorker reading this I’ll see you soon!
Yes, this is technically my opinion, but it is also correct.
Why this conversation came up there I couldn’t tell you.
There’s a bad “Love Hurts” joke in here somewhere, but I thought of it too late to workshop it.
this one was beautiful from beginning to see you when i see you, and the section on "hurt" punched me in the gut (in the best way). rage rage against the welling of the eyes