Posted February 8th, 2003 by Michelle

I’ve been urged to write more, but my life is not what it was a year ago. My life was interesting enough to write about every day, and now, unless all I want to be is one of the most successful servers in New York, my life is common. It is exactly what I feared it would be, when I was dragging my heels at coming back and returning to my old job. I’ve voiced my need for adventure to a few friends at work, and they look at me agape: “You’ve been home for four months!” Yes, home, in a apartment that I love but which makes me work extra shifts every week, just to pay for my roof. Last year, this time, I was training to be an EMT, working for the Red Cross, anything but the self-absorbed boob I am right now.

So what can I do about it? Well. First and foremost, I hope to be chosen to volunteer for the Central Park EMS. The EMS in the Park is its own beast, entirely volunteer, and appealing because I would get to help everyone from homeless people to top athletes. There is an orientation meeting later this month, and all I can do is hope that they want a girl with limited experience but endless enthusiasm.

What else can I do? Ride my bike from Chesapeake Bay to Manhattan to raise money for AIDS research and services. I am a former AIDSRider. I rode from New York to Boston last year for the Northeast AIDSRide, but Palotta Teamworks, the sponsor, has since folded. The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Community Center, or The Center, has taken over, putting together their own AIDSRide. They had to, because government funding and private donations do not cover the AIDS services they provide. And, as you can imagine, New York is a hub for this disease and these services are essential. They have also always been free. So even though I have to raise $3500, almost double of what I had to raise last year, I signed up at the very first orientation meeting.

But what do I do today? Yesterday we had a beautiful snowstorm, and the streets and sidewalks are still layered in white. I’m planning on hitting Ozzie’s for a cup of joe, and then walking over to the Farmer’s Market at Grand Army Plaza. And daydreaming about my new bike, the one I can’t quite afford, but the one that will sail me up and down the hundred hills between Chesapeake Bay and home. Last year I rode my old Trek hybrid, which was lovely (and heavy) when my mom helped me buy it in 1995, but which decided to stop changing gears on particularly steep hills on my century ride (100 miles) during the AIDSRide.

I intend for my new bike to have wings.