I can always count on Lauren's Facebook status updates to make me rethink some existential decision I may have made at some point in my life. So considering I have been boldly announcing a major move to Boston (think $300/month room in my BFF's house), imagine my dismay when I logged onto my account yesterday and found myself assaulted with this:
"...If I left, it would be because I was enticed by an outside force or because I wanted to explore a part of my life that would be better explored elsewhere. But not because I would be done with New York. When New Yorkers leave the city, it’s probably the first time in their lives they say 'it’s not you, it’s me' and truly mean it."
A little too ironic considering just days earlier, I had wasted an entire New York day justifying my migration decision to my very opinionated, if embittered ex-boyfriend. But was I in actuality just wasting a day with cheap attempts to justify Boston to myself? From that convo, I remember a hangover-induced rant against New York-centrics and the pressing need for New Yorkers to realize that other cities are just as special. This happened to occur in the second floor "dining room" of a very depressing Herald Square Dunkin Donuts Xpress, and I am prone to environment-induced fluctuations in core beliefs.
Although my present situation (see homeless, unemployed) seems to bear zero options, "where there's a will there's a way" is a cliche for a reason. It must work. Hmm. Sometimes I think I'm too passive-aggressive to ever really make a bold move of epic grandeur in order to cement myself in New York.
I'm starting to get a clearer picture of what I want out of life. Real friends, a cozy apartment, a safari-trip would be nice. What would be most awesome though, is freedom. That is, time and space to live, think, imagine and create (stuff). I am about to have my first piece published which I thought would make me a nervous wreck until I realized this piece really isn't about me at all. I mean I wrote it, but I was deliberately marinating tone and thought to accommodate someone/something else's form. Hobby becomes job.
I want to continue writing, brainstorming and maybe shoot the film I have been agonizing over for a year, but will an office job and its accompanying hours/brain destabilization destroy any impetus to create? I need to pay bill$ like whoa but I also don't want to get too comfy making money in a lame fashion. I tend to sleep really comfy in stupid positions.
As Lily Tomlin once said, "The only problem with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat." Maybe a break will be good or maybe I need to stick it out. Dunno.
THIS on the other hand.