Fall Back

Maybe I should start writing in here more often. I think that because today was a hard day. I cried! I cried for the second time this year, which is indicative that I have totally lost my soul. Those two things were:
1. the doctor who told me ACK you might maybe have cancer, go to these 8 million doctors!
2. Chapter 4 in my Theatre Management book.

Grad school is not supposed to make you want to quit your chosen profession. Today at 1:30pm I did. I just read those sentences about how hard it is and cried. Then I wiped my tears, opened the book, read another sentence and cried again. This went on for some time.

After that subsided I got that atrocious sinking feeling that comes in the fall that makes me want to move home, work in some small non-profit and have a healthy, steady boyfriend.

I get homesick for weird things: colored leaves, lazy Sundays with coffee and omelets and the NFL, Saturday nights with wine and lots of sex, blankets, books, my dog.

OK, not like that ever happened to me while I was living in DC, but it's that reflective thing, that reflective time of year when I just want my life to be a little easy and really comfy.

Right now life is really hard and it's wearing stilettos.

Coming and Going

Last week I found out that one of my best friends from college is moving to the city in two weeks. This occurred in true Alli friend fashion, via voice mail message about two weeks ago. "Alli, I'm in the City. Just looked at a place. I might move in three weeks."

Done.

I love my nutcase friends.

We're already doing some networking for her.

Tonight I found out that one of my "friends" (a make-out buddy from a while back) is moving OUT of the City, which reminds me of a Sex and the City episode when Samantha says something along the lines of (or verbatim), "I always wonder why people leave New York. I mean, where do they go?!"

In this instance the "friend" is moving to Los Angeles. LOS ANGELES. After I fell out of my chair and wiped a tear I made a bar suggestion. And a restaurant suggestion. And then I felt another soul die.

I spent Sunday night with another friend of mine who is in town. "Move here," I said. "No job. Otherwise I would," he replied.

Now, I realize I am an insane person who tends to move thousands of miles at the drop of a hat with no guarantee of income, and I guess only a sane person would move to New York with a promise of a job and income. Rationally, I try to think.

But it happened to be one of those glorious New York nights where you meet at some bar, have a drink too many too early, stumble into a sex shop, read the Times on a street corner, then find $2 dumplings and eat them in a random park with newfound friends on a 70 something degree night before going to a bar where you play skee-ball, take a cab home, pass out and wake up the next morning, brew a pot of coffee, sit on your stoop and read the New Yorker.

Hello, perfection, my name is Alli.

I've tried to be a good girl lately and step back and not demand that people articulate exactly what they want. Sometimes it takes a while to figure that out. But when you live the circumstances listed above HOW CAN YOU SAY NO?!

This is the greatest city in the world. Hands. Down.

This is the place where people move in no time. Or perhaps they leave in no time. But the latter, those people are the real insane ones.