ISOLATION 

A walk home through Jersey City yesterday accompanied by 'Ne Me Quitte Pas' by Nina Simone in my ears was gorgeous, with pigeons lifting into flight and the breeze blowing early fallen leaves across my path. The air was balmy and the street quiet. Its a rare occasion where you understand that you are the only one experiencing a moment, you have it all to yourself and it will never happen again exactly that way, for you or anyone else, ever. 

That is beautiful. 

But alas, my constant avoidance of human contact in this way-the covering up of my eyes and ears, headphones and sunglasses, averted eye contact and "oh I didn't hear that" is neither helping me feel at home here, or alive. Just kind of in limbo, inside of a plot-less film with a good soundtrack. Girl rides train. Girl walks through crowd. Girl looks up at tall buildings. 

I want to fully experience this city. The best way to do that of course, is with friends. And I do a have a few here, who I'm sure could introduce me to their friends, and it could grow exponentially. But for some reason, the thought of meeting new people that have already been briefed on my person and situation makes me nervous. 

Not that it should be difficult to live up to who I am. That should be the easiest thing in the world, despite the fact that even though I've been in this body for almost 26 years, I feel like a different person ever 15 minutes... But starting anew 3000 miles away from home should grant an opportunity to drop old habits, to grow, to be who I am RIGHT NOW, not who I was last week. Or half an hour ago. Right?

I'm trying to get comfortable. In Sacramento I had no problem going out alone, though of course here I can't just hop on my bike and be home in 15 minutes.  It requires a good half hour, at least one train and usually a train-cab combo to get back behind my barred windows. 

Sacramento of course is not the sugar coated candy land I have dreamed it is the last two weeks. If I had been truly happy there, I wouldn't have left. I had been depressed and lost for a long time, and it wasn't changing. It's very easy to stagnate in a town where you know everyone, where your rent is next to nothing and even if you pay it late, nobody seems to notice.  But its a strange trade-off. 

Give up all your closest friends, your whole family, everything you know, and in exchange you'll get the chance to work your ass off. And maybe just MAYBE, you'll be able to stay in the big city for a while and not come running home with your tail between your legs. If you can accomplish that, there is a tiny tiny miniscule chance that you might be able to make a living doing what you love. But its tiny. And by the way, completely selfish. 

Does that qualify as a deal with the devil? 

It reminds me of Morgan and Yew a little, which kind of makes me want to cry. 

I've only been in New York (or surrounding areas) for two weeks. Things are still new, I'm still finding my way. But of course I feel lost. I'm in the busiest and most crowded city in the country and I'm usually alone. 

It makes me start to wonder if no matter where I go, I'll feel lost in one way or another. Either isolated or aimless. Which is the lesser evil? I suppose right now I'm deep in the former, so I may as well make the most of it, use it to my advantage while I can, since in my experience, the presence of many friends in the past has greatly contributed to the latter. Which of course is no one's fault but mine.

I guess my question is this: "When and where will I finally be content?"

And my answer is pretty much the same thing I always remind myself: "Give it time, and stop being a pussy."