I'm going to talk about me. You should listen.

You know, I do try to avoid writing too much personal stuff here and I realize I generally fail, because, well, I'm a bit self-obsessed. But this will be my last [ elaborate ] personal post (I suppose little life anecdotes are now assigned to Twitter), because I have something to say and I want to say it to anyone and everyone...okay.

I'm happy.

Like, for real. And I don't want to sound like I'm gloating and I don't want to shove it into anyone's face, but for me, realizing this today was such an unbelievable and inexpressible (yet I still try...) feeling. Maybe it's just growing up or maybe it's the recession doing some backwards trick on me. Sure as hell I don't know, but the ease I feel is such a relief and so welcomed, because this thing, life...well. I think I'm finally starting to maybe, sort of, get it.

Earlier this week, I found out that my parents cannot afford to send me back to NYU and will soon be leaving rent to me because they have lost just too much in the recession. That sucked. I mean, I had to face it, my upbringing took place in a very white rural-suburb of Connecticut, upper middle class, getting everything I pointed a finger at. So, naturally, I freaked the fuck out.

However, I recognize, though this blows, it is very, very, super far from the end of the world. In that, I changed, something I once thought I was incapable of doing and capable of preventing. Like, hey Ma, look! No dwelling!

High school was miserable, flying right into the first two years of living in the city, which were easily the worst two of my life. My friendships were shaky and merely convenient; relationships were unstable and manipulative. I remember thinking I had it all together, all the time, and then I found out, in fact, I didn't. The dreamy world I had created crashed all around me, my heart was broken and I was just another sad, angry person living in the city.

You get here and, all of the sudden, you're compounded with so much; so much to do, to see and most importantly, to be. There are so many options, so many fucking paths you can take. You move here, and it dawns on you that NYC, why, it can do fine without you, so you become obsessed with exactly who you need to be, here.

...The old you isn't important if you can materialize a new you out of some skinny jeans, plaid flannel and Frye boots, right? That fucks with your head.

Had this week taken place a year ago, it would have been the most pathetic displays of self pity Crown Heights has ever seen. Luckily, I've found out that there's a very good reason the very corny phrase "Life is what you make it" is printed on refrigerator magnets everywhere.

Remember what I said before about life and "getting it"? Well, I mean, I don't. Which, I think, is part of it. No one knows what's coming, whether this economy will pick up or whether Chris Brown and Rihanna are actually going to record that stupid couples-overcoming-obstacles single (ugh, don't even...). All I have control over is myself and what I choose to do. And quite frankly, I'm a lot to handle; as, I'm sure, you are, too.

The upcoming months are going to be unpredictable (speaking of, Gossip Girl?!) and weird. But underneath it all, I am deeply happy and prepared, as much as I can be, with whatever happens. I guess, I'm upset, but I'm perfectly okay with being upset. You can be old and new, laugh and cry; whatever, just keep moving. It's simply a part of what happens. Keep an even keel and make lemonade.

As I was dancing to AC/DC on the subway, I looked around and saw everyone staring straight ahead. They were probably doing okay, but the image stayed in my head. Later in the day, on another subway, I realized that I want everyone else to feel this, too. Whether I'm working on a new project, dancing on the subway or sitting here, smoking a j with the Roommate, there are constant little moments that feel, somehow, like the best in the world. I want everyone else to feel as certain and uncertain, as scared and as okay as I do right now.

Which, I'd like to think, says something in and of itself.


(ugh, finally, this bitch shut up, right?) Psych!

I just happen to be looking at an old journal, where one of the most talented and dearest of my friends wrote, "Laughter and tragedy co-exist, nigga'", summing up about everything I wanted to say (I'm starting to suspect he may also be one of the wisest, without even fully realizing it).

yeah,
onelove