Well, I'm just a couple of days away from reaching what will have been an official month in NYC. Things are hard, that is for sure. I'm down to my last vestiges of what I'd like to call funds, and am going to have to call in some favors from the family. I am none too pleased with having this conversation since they made it pretty clear that they did not appreciate nor validate this decision of mine. Sometimes, when I'm up late at night unable to sleep, I wonder if they are right. But, thankfully, those are passing thoughts that never linger for very long. I've learned over the years to just move past my preconceived notions. Things are hard, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy here.
On a positive note, my feet no longer ache or complain from all the walking that I do. I'm thinking of heading into the city tomorrow and just kind of losing myself like when I first came here. Haven't done that in a while, and I just kind of feel the need to just get on the Metro and head to who knows where. It's one of those great places that you can kind of just move about and totally immerse yourself in something new or different. Thinking about Bryant Park perhaps.
Sad to say that I was unable to actually complete anything for this writing competition that someone told me about sadly. It seemed right up my alley, and the sad sad fact was, that I was just unable to actually produce anything that I was personally happy with. I started about six different stories, but nothing felt appropriate for the moment. As strange as that sounds to some. When I write, I get these kind of prescient glances of what the story will be, but sometimes sadly, my mind can't actually reach what my imagination has envisioned. I get frustrated, and I kind of let it sit on the back burner and percolate for god knows how long before I just inevitably forget about it, and much like the coffee I would make as a child, it'd burn.
This is not to say that I don't feel inspired here, but when it comes to contests, I do sadly get very competitive, and will refuse to submit anything that doesn't reach my standards. Which can be overtly high when they don't need to be. Well that's life.
I worry how things are going to turn out. But, really, what's the point of that? I'm not the first to make this venture, I'm not the last. But I can say, just cause I know, don't ask me to say how. I'm meant to be here.