The city has been on a winning streak lately. These past couple of days haven’t been the easiest. The Carrie Bradshaw fantasy I envisioned got a little real.
No, the wind didn’t blow through my hair as I stepped out of Manolo Blahnik with my latest splurge. I don’t even have hair and my idea of splurging is wine over $15.
I also had a couple of unsuccessful auditions lately. Ok, well I moved here last year so I guess all of them have been a bit unsuccessful.
Here I go, guess I should go to the gym. Oh how great, the subway is filled to the brim. Wow, could it be any fucking colder? Great, now I’ve sweat so much under these 9 layers I could water the Sahara.
Why did I do this to myself?
Love.
Bitch, what you say?
Love. I had to remind myself of the reason of taking this chance. Also, I had to remind myself how much I love this city.
Remind myself of sneaking my parents security code on the remote just to watch Sex and the City on the steps while everyone was asleep. Remind myself of stepping off a bus in Times Square at 16 and declaring that New York was “MY CITY!”. Remind myself of my favorite TV heroine, Ugly Betty, and how she stood up for her dreams here in Manhattan.
I thought.
I thought about my week without the non stop rejection from my proposed career. Wednesday night I went to a concert on the Lower East Side. With some drinks, (and a little help from my electronic ‘cigarette’ a la miss Mary Jane), my roommate and I met a bunch of our friends to see Donna Missal. An up and coming artist who is about to take over the mainstream.
I left the concert on a great ‘high’, hopped in an uptown cab, and met my friends in Hell’s Kitchen. We went took shots of Fireball and went to a drag show at midnight. It was literally snowing outside, but there was a good group out to see these queens. I looked around and realized one small, yet unequivocally important thing.
This could only happen in New York.