Diary of a City Slicker*

Sometimes I can't help but wonder, "Why am I here?"

Not in a I-am-not-worthy-of-life-I-was-probably-a-mistake-or-maybe-Fate's-cruel-joke-Oh-God!-*sob* way (haven't reached that level of paranoid depression in a while), but quite literally why am I here as opposed to there.

Like Journey, I haven't stopped believin', and I've held on to that feelin' that there must be other people in the world like me. Don't get me wrong, I have friends ("A lie keeps growing and growing until it's as plain as the nose on your face."), one of whom I have such a soul power! connection to we all but finish each other's sentences. I guess what I'm trying to say is, please tell me I'm not going to have to go through the rest of my life with a desperately limited circle of friends spending my days avoiding contact with my peers so I don't get looked at like I have a wart in the shape of Florida on my forehead and reading British news publications from small country towns or I SWEAR I WILL SHANK YOU -- I WILL MURDER YOU AND THEY WILL FIND YOUR BODY IN A DITCH FIFTY MILES FROM THE NEAREST CITY, SO GIVE ME THE MONEY! I NEED MY FIX, I NEED THE MONEY, JOEY!

Whoa, sorry, that went to a weird place.

I think my problem -- summed up as succinctly as possible -- is that I'm a city girl living in the suburbs. I have this lunatic hummingbird of an idea slamming around in my mind that if I could just burst free of this vapid, careless, overly-tanned bubble of society and into a place that thrums with lust for life and success I'd suddenly be gifted with the drive and initiative to jump headfirst into the world and have one of those "this is the first day of the rest of your life" moments where everything falls into place and I can finally make something of myself and shape myself into my perfect me.

Of course, I know I can just as easily do that with the treadmill in the next room over and God's gift of word processing, but I'd prefer to believe the only reason I haven't gotten there is because I'm here, and as soon as I get there, I will have arrived into the here and now -- humor me, it staves off the guilty self-loathing.

I'm going to make up a famous movie quote that says: "I've acted in a million films, dated a million women, drunk a million martinis, but never felt like a million bucks, because I've never had a million moments with you." That's basically how I'm feeling right now -- minus the overtones of fame and hedonism.

I know I must be drawing you in like crazy, so I feel that now is a good time to say I have no idea where I'm going with this.

*I will so write this book/create this show one day: it's an episodic commentary of an anonymous first-person narrator who lives among New York's haughty and affluent and spends his nights hitting and participating in iconic subsets of NY culture. You may not find it interesting, but I would pay to see the dry humor and sly observations into human nature that this setup is ripe for. It's sort of like the test-tube lovechild of Invisible Man, Gossip Girl, the "Poker Face" music video, and any PSA on violence and drug use in impoverished neighborhoods.