I Feel You In My Heart, And I Don’t Even Know You, 2019
By: Amanda Green
Tags: 2019, Diary, Journal, Year In Review, Life

“I felt you in my life

before I ever thought to

I need to lay down

beside you and tell you I feel you in my heart

and I don’t even know you

and now we’re saying bye, bye, bye

and now were saying bye, bye, bye.” — Tegan and Sara, “Nineteen”

I read years ago that if you really want to remember something — a movie you saw, a place you visited, a bucket list item experienced— you should do it alone.

Maybe that’s why 2019 is such a blur. A day after Valentine’s Day, I got a new lease on life (and also literally) and officially blended my possessions, daily habits, and life admin with Alan in a new apartment. We hadn’t even been together a year, but the move didn’t feel hasty. Besides finding the right partner, I’d been ready for years to go somewhere new and see who I’d be on a different street and in a bigger, brighter space. And as the months have trickled by, the amnesia (am-me-sia?) has set in.

Wherever you go, there you are. A wonderful partner and the nicest NYC apartment I’ve ever had (a six-floor walk-up, mind you, but with outdoor space and two full bathrooms!) get old, or at least expected and taken for granted, after awhile. Gratitude isn’t natural for me. It’s exercise. As soon as I find one thing I’ve been missing, I cross it off the list and quickly move on to the next.

And so, nearly a year later, at the dawn of 2020, I find myself beginning another beginning. I got laid off a week before Thanksgiving when my middling media company got acquired by another middling media company. Weeks after that, Alan and I dropped Henry “off at college” in Florida, where he’ll live until we can give him the outdoor space he needs and deserves.

I’m starting 2020 feeling blindsided by all the feelings. Hurt and rejected after my layoff, despite the fact that I didn’t enjoy my job and often likened it to a meh boyfriend that I didn’t love, but didn’t want to leave for another meh boyfriend. Lonely without the tortoise who’s been my muse and companion. Unsure what’s next in the world, the United States, and the junk drawer of human needs and personal goals and desires that make up my lowercase and capital-L life.

Actually, 2019 is starting to feel a lot clearer right about now, in comparison. Like when the optometrist flips from one lens to another. “That one or this one?” And it takes a second to see the slight refinement of the fuzzy letter or number you still can’t see, that you haven’t been able to see on your own since you were maybe in fourth grade.

So let me tell you about that one.

In 2019, I…

Watched the ball drop at Natalie’s apartment in Williamsburg. I hadn’t seen her in awhile, as she’d been dealing with a variety of physical and emotional aches and pains after her mom died. She gave me a flattering collage that represented how she sees me and a scrap of paper with choice lyrics from “Thank U, Next.”

Found the new apartment after tipsily checking my daily apartment search emails one night at Alan’s. It seemed to almost have it all: outdoor space, two full bathrooms, an Upper West Side address, and a fireplace. Alas, only one bedroom and no fireplace (the broker had mistakenly copy/pasted the description from another listing). We toured it days later and I had the strong feeling we’d never see anything like it at the same price. I stand by that.

Saw Kacey Musgraves with Jessica and Katherine the same day that Alan and I signed the lease. Within a month, she’d sweep awards season and stop appearing in modest venues like Port Chester’s Capitol Theatre.

Screamed in delight when I saw Robyn roll backward on stage during “Call Your Girlfriend.” She’s officially my role model for getting older and better.

Dreaded telling my parents that Alan and I were moving in together. Did it anyway and let them know I was happy, clearheaded, and not asking for their permission or approval. In a world where immigrant children were being torn from their parents and put into prison, my parents fumed with indignation at my consensual and healthy relationship choices.

Called urgent care and tried not to retch when my Antigravity instructor dislocated her shoulder at the start of class. I still regret that we called an ambulance, instead of putting her in a cab. Insurance companies are evil.

Finally mastered the Valdez! Which may have something to do with tearing a muscle in my right wrist and spending months in physical therapy, which became one of my most refreshing weekly rituals. The open studio layout was like a petri dish of compassion that made patients bear witness to each other’s struggles and triumphs. It put my own small injury in perspective, especially when fellow patients struggled to bend their knees after surgery or put weight on an injured foot.

Dabbled in alternative investments with Fundrise and Masterworks. Will owning shares of affordable housing developments and Banksy originals make me rich? Please say it’s so.

Explored an abandoned theater in Midtown that’s hiding in plain sight. I shared the crumbling remains on Instagram Stories and discovered an audience hungry for some NYC history. Who knew?

Vacillated over giving up my rent-stabilized apartment in Harlem. My natural instinct was to hang on and sublet it, just in case things with Alan didn’t work out. My neighbor Linda discouraged the contingency plan and suggested I go Method actor and pretend I was definitely moving out to see how it felt. It felt… lighter, good, refreshing. So I did it. I ended my lease and got my entire security deposit back, despite the fact that Henry had dug a hole in the kitchen wall. Sometimes even slumlord millionaires have a heart.

Took camel toe to a whole new level at my first and last Bungee class. Because I’ll do almost anything in a harness once.

Watched my very first season of The Amazing Race with live, next-to-me-on-the-couch commentary from its finest Emmy-winning cameraman.

Hosted 30+ friends at our first housewarming party. Most friends brought booze, but Al brought a “shell baby for [our] shell baby.” A hermit crab with a thicc shell, missing leg, and a lot of attitude. I named her Kim Klawdashian, and yes, she has an Instagram account and pinched her way into our hearts.

Met Chiara on World Tortoise Day and quickly welcomed her to the entortage. This angel on Earth refused to accept payment for watching Henry and Kim multiple times over the summer, including that one time Kim molted and Chiara thought she’d spontaneously combusted.

Spent the weekend before my birthday in an adorable farmhouse in the Catskills. Tried mushrooms and felt nothing — being out of the city is magical enough. Went rafting for the first time and drunken locals yelled out Deliverance references across the Delaware River.

A disastrous visit from my parents. We went to the 9/11 Museum and Statue of Liberty, where my dad repeated racist, misinformed rhetoric about undocumented immigrants. Alan finally met the folks over mediocre pizza and terrible anytime conversation at the Lombardi’s in Chelsea. Which doesn’t hold a candle to the original Lombardi’s in Soho, by the way. I didn’t decide to stop speaking to my parents after. It just sort of happened. I wasn’t going to apologize for my happy, healthy decision. They weren’t (aren’t?) going to apologize for being judgmental assholes.

Secured Henry’s three biggest gigs yet: sponsored Instagram partnerships with Cadbury, Mazuri, and Universal Pictures for the movie Doolittle. He better WERK!

Saw “Beautiful” on Broadway and “Much Ado About Nothing” at Shakespeare in the Park. I’ve gotta justify paying such a high rent to live here!

Spent the long 4th of July weekend in Western Massachusetts, where we visited the Eric Carle Museum, which had been on my bookish bucket list for years, and the Emily Dickinson Museum. Walked across the charming Flower Bridge. Nearly got heat stroke inside The Book Mill, which has the best slogan ever: Books you don’t need in a place you can’t find. Chased waterfalls at Bash Bish. Watched fearless teenagers fling themselves off the rocks deep deep deep into the cold, dark waters of Becket Quarry. Ate perfect peaches with juice dripping down our mouths. Stopped by the most acclaimed bakery in town to pick up a ginger lemon chess pie to-go.

Swung (swinged, swang?) my heart out to Lizzo and Vampire Weekend’s latest album, Harmony Hall. I’ve been on Team Lizzo since “Let ’Em Say,” so it was nice seeing her finally get her due.

Hiked the thrilling Precipice Trail at Acadia National Park with Alan and Carolyn. Won the lottery and scored six seats to dinner at The Lost Kitchen. Tired of lobster, which I still don’t understand as a delicacy.

Discovered we’d moved in right across the street from Henry’s second walker Teela, so she and I got closer and hung out in the months before she moved to D.C. for law school. The world needs her.

Went on Hawaii’s best hike, according to Outside, while on vacation with Alan and his parents in Kauai. Snorkeled with sea turtles, colorful fish with multisyllabic names, and a moray eel who opened his mouth in what looked like surprise or defense, but was apparently just breathing. Vomited off the side of the boat on a lovely cruise. Watched the sun set while eating the locals’ favorite poke, fresh from the grocery store. Tubed down the irrigation tunnels of a former sugar plantation. Named all of the island’s feral roosters Chauncey, but did not succeed at winning any of them over.

Spent a weekend in D.C. among obituary writers and enthusiasts at ObitCon. But wait, I’m burying the lede: it was for my first short documentary project with Alan and Christoph! Research was done, a hoarder’s apartment was frantically tidied, interviews were transcribed, fun was had. I’ll never watch a documentary the same way again.

Made a new friend through Henry and got to spend a day on the set of a new Netflix show after I got laid off.

Ah, yes, the layoff. The mediocre women’s lifestyle company I worked for got acquired, the founders gloated and told everyone “business as usual,” and then one day, the guillotine fell. I was surprised I was let go, because I helped win one of the company’s biggest accounts just days earlier and had been flown to Chicago and Detroit last-minute for various meetings. I was valuable, but apparently not valued.

I got an interview somewhere else the next day, progressed to the final presentation and interview, and then found out the role’s on hold until Q2. SIGH.

Served Thanksgiving dinner at Holy Apostles with Alan and then hosted our own the next day. The turkey tasted great, until we realized — the day after our meal — that Alan had accidentally left in a plastic bag of gizzards while it was cooking. So much for leftovers.

Took my first lyra class and felt like I may have discovered a new aerial hobby. Took my second and knew I hadn’t. Does anything make you feel older than dreading the insurance bills you’ll have to pay if something goes wrong?

Attended my first Eater Book Club with Anjali and loved every bit of conversation, morsel of food, and vibration of energy. I can’t wait to go back in 2020.

Had a going away party for Henry, and Haya came all the way from Toronto. It was so good spending a few days in NYC with her. All three of us Galapagals reunited to plan our Easter Island trip, too. I love them.

Met Tim and Tara through some good people on Instagram and found a temporary home for Henry in Florida. It wasn’t an easy decision to make on my own or to share on Instagram, but it was the right one for now. Alan was the hero of the trip, from planning our stops to driving all those miles from NYC to Fort Myers. Henry was great on the road and couldn’t have behaved better. Even his diapers worked, sorta. I miss him so much, but know that he’s in capable and caring hands.

Read 54 books. These stayed with me: On The Come Up, The New Jim Crow, The Dictionary Of Body Language, Trick Mirror, Three Women, Make It Scream, Make It Burn, The Witches Are Coming, and Talking To Strangers.

Saw 65 movies. These stayed with me: Eighth Grade, Honeyland, Midnight Family, There’s Something Wrong With Aunt Diane, Coco, The Silence Of Others, Paris Is Burning, The Pieces I Am, Us, Midnight Traveler, and Booksmart. Many, many documentaries. At certain times of the year, Alan and I were seeing a movie every week at Film Forum, and I felt so lucky to have found a person and place for doing that.

Spent the holidays in California with Alan’s family. Opened presents, completed a puzzle, explored a carnivorous nursery, and had a lot of wine in Sonoma County. Discovered the bounty of dried fruit at Casa de Fruta, where I must return. Drove down to LA, where we stayed in a loft, walked the dog, and woke up at the crack of dawn on New Year’s Day to attend the Rose Parade.

Wow. Looking back and now, forward, I had a pretty epic year.

It was ’19. Call me.