Transitions

Day 1: How to describe the trip out of Rochester.......HELL. I was totally late and unprepared, and slightly if ever so slightly hung over. Which made the trip that much harder I suppose. I desperately tried to keep myself together, but I've found that, try as I might, things usually just end up either A, working them out themselves, or B, just getting INFINATELY WORSE. So after what felt like almost 11 hours in the car, it turned into 40 once we hit the highways here in the city :-). But after selling the air, listening to the sounds, I realized. I'm home.

Day 2: So one of the contingencies to coming to NYC was that I was unfortunately expected to participate in this rather ridiculous scavenger hunt for a new social networking site called. FABULIS. We had to run around Manhattan for 6 hours. Needs to say, I killed a pair of shoes that day. Everything ended with us having spent only 24$ and a champagne toast. Yes, we def partook in that. That night we went out to a club and danced the night away. I went to the couch that I was bumming at the time, and PASSED OUT.

Day 3: So day 3, and I was still in the same outfit I had been wearing since the night before my last in Rochester. Filled with some rather good and bad memories, I opted to go shopping and buy a whole new outfit to counter the fact that I knew I smelled and felt beyond grody. After all that, I decided it was time head home, and after a long long LONG day of shopping and frolicking around town, we went home and slept. LOL.

Day 4: AH MONDAY! HATE HATE HATE. BUT WAIT. I had an interview, at the Chelsea YMCA, did I get it? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, considering they did a background and drug test. I'd like to point out right now, that the YMCA doesn't pay for stuff that they aren't going to use either, so essentially if you pass the drug test, it's an automatic WELCOME ABOARD. So after that, and having sat in the drug testing site for 2 HOURS of hell, I oggled and was oggled back by a rather nice young man named Alec who said we should do lunch, but neither of us exchanged numbers, so I don't know. After that I went out for a martini and some time to just relax. Where a nice French man by the name of Franc decided that he liked my writing enough that he was going to buy me SEVERAL drinks. It was rather nice actually.

Day 5: Well Day 5, 5 whole days of living in the city. And what do I have to show for it? Couch fibers locked into my neck permanently, several blisters and bruises, an empty wallet, and of course a bloody heal from my shoes cutting into it REALLY REALLY BADLY. According to my phone I've already walked like 36 miles in total, and you know what? I LOVE IT. This is the life for me. My 89 on a month pass for the metro, BEST investment ever. Totally beats having a car. Life here is not going to be easy, but that's part of the challenge that I love. This is my time, to shine, burn, cry, love, what have you. All I know is, that when everything is said and done, this is my time to be me.

Understudy to My Own Life

Tonight is my last night in my current location. And while I should be so excited about my new venture. Tonight all I can seem to do is look back and wonder. Who the hell am I doing this for? On the walk home tonight, I began to wonder who, the fuck is actually in control of my life? Since recently I've been wondering if I'm actually doing this for myself.

A good friend of mine makes me believe it is, but am i really? Granted all night I'm pushing for someone to go for him that has no chance cause he has no interest, but that's not important, cause when I look back, all I can think of is, what the hell am I doing??? Sure I want to do this, but really am I doing it cause I want to?

Then it dawns on me. What the fuck? Does it matter? Sure, I've been through hell and back. I've been through a life of what most would call pain and suffering mixed with a vodka tonic and espresso, but who the hell gives a flying fuck. Right now I've known for a long while that I can't just sit back and let the world be on it's own, I actually have to take the chance and take the plunge.

Tonight what I saw in myself was someone concerned that a friend had a chance at something special. Granted he didn't think so, but who the fuck cares, he had something even if only for a moment. Then it dawned on me. I'm kind of just a passing thought. Yes I'm witty and clever, but when it comes right down to things, the one thing that I've noticed over the years is that people seem to easily pass over, and forget me. I'm not what one would call memorable, because I'm not sure I actually want to be. As a result, my life seems to play out with me, as more of a backup dancer, rather than an actual participant. So why then am I still leaving, even though, honestly this really isn't my idea?

Cause, fuck whoever thinks I can't succeed, or that I can't progress. Regardless of what I seem to see or do, I'm going to be a great writer, a great person. Yes, I might be crass, yes I might be a jerk, and yes, I might say things, that make people feel inferior. But honestly, do I give a fuck? NO! I'm me, because I grew up with such a mental image that people need to shut the fuck up and deal. Yeah, I'm a jackass, you don't like it? Then fuck off and move on.

Two roads diverged

I've never considered life to be this predestined fabrication that we have no control over. Yet, with the way things seem to be leading me towards possibly the greatest adventure of my life. I wonder, what does Fate have in store for me? These recent days have been ones with the following endeavors, staying up late at night looking at job websites, and apartment hunting. I've got just a little over two weeks to solidify a journey. And I'm not even sure I can. Doing so would probably entail that I finally go someplace, where ideally I'll finally feel at home. And that thought alone is something so desirable, that I almost forget how close the sword of Damocles swings over my head.

A good friend of mine posted on a social networking site that I would be leaving with him on his own adventure. As a result the first thing I thought about doing was wringing his neck, till I realized how right it feels to say that I'm leaving. I'm leaving, and I really want to.

My current song of choice is Put Your Recrods On by Corinne Bailey Rae. The lyrics and subtle jazz really bring about that sense of change. Especially the last two lines "you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow." Talk about striking a chord in my sense of self. My main reservations for wanting to leave are simple. Here, I have a job, I have an apartment. I have stability in my rather unstable life. For the first time, I've actually felt like I'm Home. This city has it's quirks, and it's not somewhere where I want to be forever, but right now, it's served the purpose of allowing me to develop further as a person and a writer. Yet, recently, everything I write is stagnant. I've become too comfortable here, that I'm unable to push past this.

Until further notice, if anyone asks, I'm leaving. That's the end of that.