If I Could Wish Upon a Star, I Would Catch A Cable Car…

We’re back in business.

The past several months have held a great deal of change.  I wouldn’t classify myself as someone averse to change, but I can’t say that it didn’t come with its fair share of tears, laughs, meltdowns, and happy dances.

Let’s recap:

About 15 months ago, I visited San Francisco for the very first time. Ever. There are a couple anecdotes that go along with my first time in SF, including learning the hard way that the phrase “it’s just like riding a bike” is a total crock.  That’s beside the point.  The point is that, as I boarded BART to head out to the ‘burbs, I cried.  At the time, I couldn’t tell if it was because I had to leave the guy I met or the city, but I can VERY confidently say now that it was the city and not the guy.

I knew I had to live there, and the seed was planted.

Things started falling into place money-wise, and after visiting again in January, I knew it was a matter of time.  Even then, I tried to get all of my talking points in order.  How was I going to ask at work?  Would they be okay with it?  What would my ‘rebuttal points’ be?  A couple months later, I asked. By mid-April, I knew I was going.  I said that I wanted to wait until the Fall, which was really easy at the time, but as the months went on and as family, friends, and coworkers started finding out my plans, there was this realization of “OMG, I’m really doing this.  Shit.”

I clearly had no idea what I was getting myself into.

San Francisco happens to not only be one of the most expensive cities to live in but also one of the most competitive housing markets – figure that one out. It’s as if people are flocking the city saying “Yes,  I will sell you my soul for that makeshift bedroom-that-was-once-a-living-room, and I’ll name my firstborn after you, too.”  No. Really. I could go into a “never give up” motivational speech here, but the truth was that it totally sucked, and on many occasions, the “wtf am I doing with my life” thought came up.

How I feel every time I write my rent check. (Courtesy: http://whilstinsf.tumblr.com/)

The good news is that people are generally nice (or so I like to think) so friends, coworkers, and even Twitter contacts were setting me up with their friends or acquaintances, and the moral of the story here is not to place all of your eggs in one basket.  Put them in MANY baskets, and at least one of them is bound to hatch. Eventually.

So what happened: well, I found roommates on Roomster of all places after sending out a blast email (which given my aversion to “Reply All,” this was not my favorite route, but hey, it worked).  Any time I explain the living situation to friends or acquaintances, I realize it is a very “San Francisco” living situation, and though I ended up paying a little more than I would have liked, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

There is a reason this is considered the “happiest city in the US” and the “best city to live in.”  There’s something quite addictive about it.  There are no shortage of transplants in the city, & if I have a dime (or let’s be real, a dollar) for every time someone had a story similar to mine, I might be able to pay at least a tenth of my rent this month.  The story goes: “I came to SF.  I fell in love (with the city). I got myself here.”  It may have taken months, years, a couple of failed marriages, or a new job, but people dream of it, and they get here.  And no matter what city it is, it’s all about making it happen.

And since a fair part of this blog is devoted to boy stories, there has to be some of that here: So. I’ve been warned by friends who have lived here for years not to plan on finding a boyfriend in this adult playground.  And that’s ok.  Right now I’m honeymooning with San Francisco, and for now, that’s enough for me.

The Don’ts of Online Dating: Part Deux

I have a love/hate relationship with dating in general…well, it’s more of a like/hate.  I don’t think I’d ever say that I LOVE dating, but it does keep life interesting.  I’m all about trying new places, restaurants, whatever, and meeting new people to do that with (no matter who’s paying) can make for a really good time as long as they’re good conversationalists.

That said, I go through phases with online dating.  Working in a 7-person office with one male means that I’m not going to meet a potential suitor at the office (unless we get a new, cute, young, unmarried FedEx guy), and the bar scene is a little fickle, SO every now and again, I’ll revisit my stint into online dating.  Usually by the third week, I remember why I let my last subscription run out about halfway through, but at the very least, I end up with a remotely decent email exchange with some local men and a handful of dates.  It’s kind of a lot of work – clearly, I’m not as serious about it as others on there.  This may or may not be due to the fact that I’m skipping town, but that’s for another post.

Anywho, in the past two weeks, I’ve developed yet another list of things that really prompt me to say “WTF ARE YOU THINKING” while perusing profiles or reading emails and/or make me give every attempt to hide my “WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU” face if it’s an in-person encounter.

Feel free to add…

DON’T:

1. Give consolation for not calling.  As in “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t even call my mom who I talk to every week.”  I don’t need consolation.  I was not waiting by the phone for you to call.  The end.
2. Tell me you want to “reflect” on our date.  While it may be close, it was not a religious experience.
3. Send me a friend request on Facebook before I’ve responded to any initial contact you’ve sent me through the dating website.  This means you’ve actively sought me out on social media outlets and are virtually admitting to it.  No.
4. Ask me why I’m not replying when I don’t reply.  Do you even need to ask?
5. Use a subject line that states, or closely resembles, “I’m not a stalker…”
   1. Especially after your last email opened with “I printed out one of your pics so I can have it posted at the Post office for Most Wanted Hottie!!”  This is not okay.
6. Misspell anything, but especially not words that are used on the website.  If the website tells you that one thing we have in common is that we are both wine connoisseurs, please do not have the subject line of your email read “Wine Condesour.”
7. Shirtless pics.  Again, no.
8. A black box over a girl’s face in your picture.  Tacky.  No.
9. Only group pictures.  You’re making me guess who the common thread is between all of these pictures so I can figure out which one you are.  What if I guess wrong and am completely devastated when we meet for our date, and you’re not your hot friend?  Then what?  Just don’t.
10. 1 headshot + 5 pictures of your dog + 2 pictures of your car + 1 picture of your car’s engine.  No.
11. Begin any “About Me” section with “I’m not very good about writing myself.” First, confidence is a turn-on, self-deprecation is not.  Second, you’re already making excuses for why the rest of whatever I’m about to read may potentially suck.  And finally, if there is anything in the world you should know anything about, don’t you think it’s yourself?  It’s a simple task – you know this better than anyone else.  Geez.
12. And again, include any type of “I never thought I would be on here,” “I never thought I would meet someone on this website,” etc.  Nobody cares whether you thought you’d be on here or not.  You’re on it…now make people actually WANT to talk to you.

At any rate, it does give me some blog content, and I absolutely intend on using this as a way to meet people when I make this cross country move…  For more, this guy seems to know what’s up.

Word to the Wise: Never Come Between A Woman and her Chocolate (Ale)

“It’s not that chocolates are a substitute for love. Love is a substitute for chocolate. Chocolate is, let’s face it, far more reliable than a man.”

– Miranda Ingram

Now, I know about half of my blogs tend to be a rant of some sort, but before I begin, I’d like to point out that it takes a lot to get me riled up and keep me riled up.  In fact, this very story that I’m about to share happened on Monday.  I wanted to blog about it Monday night but thought it may be best to sleep on it…for a few nights.  I’m still riled up so it’s time to share.

It’s safe to say that I had a rather rowdy Cinco de Mayo, and in Kansas City, it was really the perfect storm: Cinco de Mayo, Yankees in town to play the Royals, Kentucky Derby, Sporting KC game.  While I’m notorious for squeezing the most possible events in the least possible amount of time, I didn’t make it to all four…but I’d say three isn’t bad.  So 11:30 started off quite nicely with margs and tequila shots, fast forward to a Derby watch party with a handful (and then some) of mint juleps, and then to the Sporting KC game where Slap the Bag with margaritas seemed like a brilliant idea.  You get the picture.  Anywho, it was at the Derby party that I made a very charitable donation to Habitat for Humanity and dropped $50 on a very beautiful bottle of Boulevard Chocolate Ale.

If you’re not from KC, or if you ARE from KC and have been living under a rock – this was quite the craze back in February.  Several news stories and websites will tell you so.  Did I mention I was on a date throughout all of this?  Well, I was.

Well, on Seis de Mayo (or day of the deadly hangover), I was a little concerned about my Derby party purchase but figured it had ended up in a friend’s car.  I asked said friend about it but then went on a 10-day work/family travel binge and returned to KC with the Chocolate Ale still on my mind.  So I asked about it again.  No luck.  I was not happy.  So I thought just maybe I’ll text my date from Saturday to see if he’s seen it.  I copped a bit of an attitude with my friend when asking about it but figured I should just maybe double check with the date to cover myself…

The next day, I received a response.

Sad day.

He told me “I drank it with my dad last weekend.”  Pause.  Re-read.  Pause again.  Yell.  Scream.  Drop F-bombs.  YOU WHAT.  At that point, all I could muster was “Oh. Ok,” and my entire drive home was a rant-fest of me (to myself) yelling…ARE YOU #$(&*&#@#$ KIDDING ME!?  Eventually, after I had a bitchfest to myself and everyone I could think of to text about it, I replied again.  He responded that the next time we hang out, we can just grab some Chocolate Ale and enjoy it together.  Two parts of that sentence are clearly inaccurate, but let’s focus on the Chocolate Ale: Um, grab it…from…where?  I then go on to explain the age-old story of how Chocolate Ale is a rarity in KC…  Now I’m a fairly charitable person (especially after 5+ mint juleps), but I’m going to bet that if Chocolate Ale were available at the local liquor store behind my apartment, I probably would not have dropped $50 for it in this silent auction…not to mention, it wouldn’t have been an auction item.

The response?  ”I didn’t know it was rare!  My bad!!”

No.  Not okay.  I have no other words.

I accept apologies (or your sympathy) in the form of Chocolate Ale which can be found here.

Striking the Balance

“I’m on the pursuit of happiness, and I know everything that shines ain’t always going to be gold.”

Work/Life balance.  For some, this is a laughable concept, seeming unattainable and only for people that work very strict 9-5 hours with no option of working remotely.  It is so easy to get into the habit of working so much that you don’t even realize you’re doing it until you come home one evening from work, exercise, cook dinner, watch TV and wake up in the morning a much happier person…telling yourself “Let’s do that again!”

You know you need some balance when:

1)      You start gaining weight as a result of quick, unhealthy meals and lack of exercise

2)      You fall asleep with your laptop and wake up with your laptop

3)      You cancel plans with friends on several occasions

4)      Your weekend errands are piling up because you have either been working all weekend or sleeping due to work

5)      You postpone any necessary appointments (doctor, dentist, car, etc.) indefinitely

6)      You start resenting the job that you know that you truly enjoy…and that’s when you need to STOP.

While dedication at the job it appreciated, I think I’ve come to realize that neglecting to take care of yourself because of work can ironically lead to your demise at your job, not to mention the demise of your physical and mental wellbeing.  And I’m not suggesting that you blow off work on a Wednesday afternoon because things are getting challenging and you want a massage (well, at least not on a weekly basis…), but I am saying:

1)      Make time to cook meals for yourself and your family

2)      Make time to exercise

3)      Leave at a decent time at least twice a week…

4)      Don’t forget to eat

5)      Do something fun on the weekend

6)      If at all possible, at least on some days…avoid email before going into work (whew, talk about a stressor!)

7)      And here’s a thought: When you’re traveling (which I never really view as a stressor until I realized I was stress eating while traveling), make a valiant attempt to leave your hotel.  Get some fresh air!!

Clearly these opinions are solely from my single and childless perspective.  For those of you who are parents…I don’t know how you do this.

We are Tourists

When you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born.  And then it’s time to go.  And you find your destination with so many places to call home.

While perusing the app store while wayfinding in San Francisco, one of the benefits of one particular app highlighted its easy map access on your phone so you “don’t look like a tourist.”  While I can very easily relate to this, I found myself wondering…what’s so bad about being a tourist?

I can relate to walking around in a new city (and sometimes even my own), trying to look like I know what I’m doing…trying to avoid looking like a tourist.  I have friends who live in larger cities and talk about avoiding areas because of the tourists.  Or, cab drivers roll their eyes when they have been asked to drive just a few blocks because an unknowing tourist did not know just how close he was to his destination.

So to those who are annoyed or otherwise assigning a negative connotation to the word “tourist,” hear me out:

1)      You are a tourist when you leave your city (read: treat others how you’d like to be treated).

2)      We (the tourists) are pouring tons of money into your cities and promoting your economy.

3)      We are taking a genuine interest in the place you’ve come to call home in hopes of gaining some appreciation of your city.

So the next time you are about to talk negatively about those pesky tourists, what you should really be saying is “Thank you.”

You’re welcome.

Death Cab for Cutie – “Like a Tourist”

No, I Would Not Like to Check Out Your Heated Backseat

Believe it or not, I have 3 posts written that I’ve just been sitting on.  Selfish, I know.  Stay tuned, these posts will appear sooner than later…but in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I had to share this.

In the past month or so, there have been three separate occurrences that make me ask…guys, WHY?  Let me explain.  There is something about having a great conversation with a guy, a potential suitor, when said conversation gets ruined by “do you want to come in and snuggle” or “why don’t you come watch a movie and stay over tonight?”  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about a good snuggle, but when these lines are dropped a) on the first date, or b) when you haven’t even discussed a date, you might as well say, “Are we going to hook up, or what?”

In past years, I’ve responded to this with some coy, flirtacious (but declining) response, but perhaps the naievete has worn off a little bit, and despite my best efforts, I cannot hide the “Are you kidding me?” look that sweeps over my face.  Welcome to my Wednesday.

Wednesday night, I go on a perfectly great first date with a boy.  Cute, good job, college grad, likes decent music, likes to travel.  So far, so good, right?  

Red flag #1: We are discussing getting pulled over for speeding, etc. when I talk about how I “totally blew that stop sign.”  Under his breath, he says, “I wish I were that stop sign.” Okay, that’s funny.  I am not easily offended, but first date material?  I laughed and let it go.

Red flag #2: We are sitting in my driveway, and he plays the song “Ass and Titties.”  Pure romance.

BUT, we did have good conversation so I left the date thinking we’d (hopefully) hang out again.  That is, until Thursday.  I’ll let you be the judge (for privacy sake, I will edit out his username):

Boy: i did not get any sleep last night
Me: well that’s no good
Boy: i was all worked up with too much energy when i got home
thankfully we got a good bottle of wine so i’m not hungover today
Me: too much energy after wine?! i actually was pretty awake when i got home too but caught up on some dvr and went to bed. definitely no hangover…i think the only time i get hangovers from wine is if i have like 4+ glasses. I do like wine though.
Boy: i do as well, i just never drink it
you didn’t help me expend my energy last night

PAUSE.  RED FLAG #3?

Me: i don’t really drink it on the weekend, but if i go to dinner or for drinks during the week then i will. i don’t do beer, and i’ve learned my lesson with hard liquor during the week…kind of.
well, that was your own fault. i offered up going over to riot room to grab some choc ale, and i know they had a dj last night….
Boy: you should have been more convincing
i should have taken a page out of yoru roommates book (NOTE: He meant my neighbor.)
Me: which was?
Boy: haha…nothing
Me: oh, you’ve started it now…do tell.

NOTE: I KNEW EXACTLY WHERE THIS WAS GOING. THE POTENTIAL FOR A SECOND DATE IS OFF.

Boy: well…you should have shown me your room…or maybe i could have shown you the heated back seats

SILENCE.

Boy: silence…i guess that means no objections (DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE ANYTHING WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?)
Me: i’m not quite sure where to start so i’m just not going to.
Boy: hmm….well that doesn’t help

MORE SILENCE ON MY END.

Boy: i know there is a fine line between creeper and lust…i try not to cross it too often

You’re digging yourself a deeper hole here, sweetheart.

Me: let’s just say you’ve crossed it. i could go on, but i think that you’ve wasted enough of our time here.
Boy: seriously?
i really enjoyed our convo last night
Me: yeah, so did i. so you can understand how completely disappointed with all of this “you didn’t help me expend my energy” “you could have shown me your room” crap.
so uncalled for. so not what i’m looking for.
While i’d love to pretend that you were totally smitten with my personality and ability to hold an intelligent conversation over a bottle of wine, it’s clearly not the case, and quite frankly, that sucks.
Boy: i’m not good at pretend
but thanks for the conversation, it was insightful
Me: sure was.
Boy: end of the day..i’m still a guy…not sorry about that
Me: this is going nowhere. i could argue with you, but again, you’ve already wasted enough of our time here. see ya.
/end conversation

Well, I think that speaks for itself.  There is clearly enough wrong with that dialogue that I need not go on…but, seriously?  Fortunately, I know Boy has taken no interest in getting to know me so I can 100% guarantee that he will not see this post.

So kind of crappy, but at least it provides some entertainment value, right?  Oh well, Happy Valentine’s Day!  And as a bonus, check out this sweet infographic from ADT and stay tuned…posting more soon!

Credit: ADT

 

 

 

 

Surfing Couches, Tasting Wine, and Making Friends Around the World

I never cease to be amazed by the people in the world.

It sounds like such a simple statement, yet it is so true.  As probably mentioned in previous blogs, I love to travel.  Traveling can be such a unique experience – you never know who you will meet or the conversations you will have with strangers on the plane.  It can be a chance to get to know co-workers better, it can be a bonding experience with friends, or it can be extremely self-fulfilling.

While traveling for pleasure, I typically travel with others, or I at least know someone who lives in my destination.  Whether you know someone in your destination or not, I cannot imagine traveling without being open to meeting new people or making new friends.  In talking about some acquaintances the other day, I stepped back and realized that I became friends with them through a friend of a friend who worked the pub crawl that was run by a Bulgarian man that I dated while studying abroad in Rome.  And really, it is that pub crawl that has connected me to people that have eventually showed me around Australia, housed me in NYC, and went to the Mets game on a whim when I knew no one else in NYC to go.  Who knew?

Earlier this year, I went on my first trip alone – I knew not a single person in the area.  While nervous, there was no way that I was passing up the opportunity to go to Vancouver a few days before I needed to be there for work.  Being a fairly social person, I did worry about who I would talk to or what I would do in the evenings.  And then I went on CouchSurfing.

CouchSurfing, if you have not heard of it, is a website in which travelers young and old offer up their couches/air mattresses/extra rooms or just their time to hang out for coffee or a drink.  If I were a parent, this thing would seem to be a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.  But it’s not.  While possibly sappy to say, the concept of it is truly inspiring – there’s this “we’re-all-in-it-together” attitude that permeates the site via the CouchSurfers’ profiles.

So on my trip to Vancouver, while I already had a bed to sleep in, I was in search of a friend.  I contacted a few CouchSurfers in the Vancouver area asking if they were available to hang out or if they had recommendations on what to do/see.  Several of them were traveling in some corner of the globe but still took the time to write me a well-thought-out email apologizing that they could not show me around but went on to recommend places for me to see.  A handful, however, happily obliged – we exchanged phone numbers, became friends on Facebook, and started arranging when and where we could meet.

From a walk in Vancouver...before meeting up with a fellow CouchSurfer

And in the course of two days, I had hung out with 5 different CouchSurfers.  What an incredible experience filled with great conversations.  Never once did I feel like I was a burden – even when the friends invited me to their apartment before going to the bars and offered up their couch after the bars so I did not have to venture back to my hotel alone late at night.  Not only were these people excellent to hang out with, but as travelers, they had amazing stories to share.  They had all been to places that I have never been to before; they have stayed on the couches of fellow CSers and they have hosted.

With the crazy world that we live in, this basic connection with others around the world really can create a deeper respect for humanity as a whole, and it is inspiring.

And with that…well, I recently returned from a trip to San Francisco where I had, yet again, another excellent CouchSurfing experience.  Next time, I think I will go for the full CouchSurfer/host experience.

Wine Tasting with a CSer in San Francisco

I’m Shipping Up to Boston

I think I’ll go to Boston.  I think I’ll start a new life.

Where no one knows my name.

Insert Foot In Mouth, er, on Keyboard?

“Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn’t one occasion where people celebrate you … Hallmark doesn’t make a “congratulations, you didn’t marry the wrong guy” card. And where’s the flatware for going on vacation alone?” - Sex & the City

Last year, I tried my hand at online dating.  If you’ve read a handful of online dating profiles, I’m sure you’ve seen the “I never thought I’d try this…,” or something to that effect.  I’m not one of those people.  Truth be told, I really never did think I would try it, but I wasn’t ashamed at all for my curiosity.  I thought that MAYBE I could meet someone with a little more depth than the conversations had at a bar, and I got that…sometimes.

Attempt #1 lasted for about 4 months on plentyoffish.com.  At one point, I was going on dates on an almost daily basis for every meal except for breakfast– buh-bye, grocery shopping.  It was quite a deal.  Then I became a little more “serious” and decided that maybe people who paid for a dating website would yield better results so I tried match.com for 3 months. 

After that 6+ month run on dating websites, I quickly developed my own little list of grievances- violations of grammar or socially acceptable words/phrases that came up in these initial email exchanges and even in-person.  Feel free to disagree with what I’m about to share with you.

DON’T…

1. Be a creep.  Should be easy, right?
2. Have a shirtless profile pic- It’s nice that you’re proud of your less-than-washboard abs, but please leave something to the imagination.  Better yet, show your face.  Please.
3. Start your initial message with any variation of  “Why are you single?”- No matter what compliment you precede it with, it’s not flattering and depending on who you’re talking to, you may not get an answer.  Don’t be surprised.
4. Send any message, especially the initial one with “Hey sexy,” “Hey sexi,” or any variation and/or term of endearment or pet name that you can come up with.  No.thank.you.
5. Have a screen name with some sort of sexual innuendo.  Go to Craigslist, call a 900#, or find a chat room.  Period.
6. Have a productive email conversation and then show up to the date with the flattest personality.  Ever.
7. Say you want to go out again when you have no intention whatsoever (I will oblige and do the same).
8. Send a stream of emails before giving me a chance to answer.  It looks desperate, it creeps me out, and it gives me no time to miss you.
9. Use the IM function on match.com…Ever.  That’s the equivalent of cornering someone in a bar.  The beauty of dating websites was supposed to be that you could choose who you talk to.  The IM function makes that a little less likely.
10. Send an initial email with no other words than “Hey what’s up.”  You may be the most interesting person in the world, but you are giving no reason to pick yours out of the pile of emails to respond to.  You can do better.
11. Chase what’s not there.  We had a great email convo, we meet in person, zero chemistry, nothing in common.  Several unanswered phone calls and text messages…stop there.  Your time can be better spent.  Keep at it, sport.
12. Have multiple accounts on a single dating website so when I block you, you can figure it out and harass me with your other persona.  That.is.creepy.

For any other dealbreakers, see the Douchebag Decoder.

At the end of the day, my match.com membership ran out, I did not renew and after a nice little trip to the Northwest (where the mentality is quite different from the get-married-the-minute-you-graduate mentality of the good ol’ Midwest), I decided that my lifestyle was a-ok for now and if a fabulous gentleman finds me in the meantime, then that is a-ok, too.

“But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that’s just fabulous.” -Sex & the City

There’s a ton of twist, but we’re fresh out of shout.

“New York, I love you, but you’re bringing me down.”

Courtesy rollingstone.com

What a weekend.  I remember the first time I went to New York City.  It was a 10-day family vacation trip.  I remember the pride I felt when I “mastered” the subway system and the energy I felt just walking through the streets.

I think I’ve been 6 or 7 times since then…even more so in the past year since I’ve been up to the Northeast quite a bit and found good reasons to take a quick train to NYC for a visit.

This weekend was no exception.  I came to NYC to see the “final” LCD Soundsystem show at Madison Square Garden.  Admittedly, I’m not a die-hard fan of the band, but when it was announced that the final show was going to be at Madison Square Garden, I knew I was going. 

New York City.  I’m pretty sure everyone that I’ve met there so far is not from there.  I think the closest was Jersey, but that was it.  This weekend was an Australian, some Colorado University alums, and a kid from Springfield, MO, to name a few.  There is some comfort in that, though.  It’s kind of this “we’re-all-in-this-together” vibe that’s a little hippie and not at all the stereotypical “Whaddya wannnnt??” loud, Northeastern, stuffy persona that people are sometimes tagged with.

I still do get people asking me how Kansas is, and I quickly remind them that I live in KCMO, not Kansas.  Yes, there is a difference.

And maybe it’s the people that I’ve been with up there the past few times.  I became fast friends with a girl who attends the New School for Jazz.  A ridiculously talented, multi-lingual, guitarist, saxophonist, pianist, vocalist who’s lived in Manchester, Capetown, Sydney, and Rome, we couldn’t be any more different in terms of our upbringings, educations, and skill sets, though we bonded over our liberating experiences in Rome, knowing exactly what it is like to feel “Romesick” (a homesickness for Rome) and of course, our love to party and boys.

She now lives in this apartment…7 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, guys, girls, musicians, artists.  It’s really amazing when you step back and realize the amount of talent that is in this one household.  And I’m sure that’s not the only apartment like that in NYC.  And through all of these people and their friends and their friends, there have been crossing paths with all sorts of professions: videographers, photojournalists, photographers, world travelers, more musicians, cartoonists, people studying acupuncture/herbal medicine, fertility clinicians, art gallery workers, lawyers, freelance researchers, graphic designers, producers. 

Everything is amplified in NYC.  Music. Sex. Drugs. Ambition. Worldliness. Self-Awareness (to an extent). 

I shared a cab to the train station today with one of the roommates who was on her way to Boston to play a gig and sang and played her guitar in the cab, improvising a song about missing her bus, meeting a guy in Lawrence, KS, and then sang “You Are My Sunshine.” 

So maybe all of this is why I get this tiny wave of depression every time I catch a cab to the airport or board a train and leave the beautiful skyline behind me.  It’s like coming down off of this high that comes from the energy of the people and the city itself and always that back-of-mind lingering question of “Is this where I belong?”

Oh.  And the LCD Soundsystem concert?  It was unreal.

New York, you’re perfect.  Don’t please don’t change a thing.