There are times in life where for whatever reason, we just feel helplessly alone. Not physically, but mentally. Our family seems to reject us, and our friends seem to be busy with their own lives, leaving us to ask, "Does anyone still care?"
In my 27 years of existence, there have been very few times in life when I actually felt like I fit in. I was an only child. I grew up in a retirement neighborhood being one of two kids, and most of the time my elementary school mind was trying to fathom why the other kid's mom wasn't allowing us to play together. I had visible tomboy traits until 9th grade. I participated in too many sports and clubs to actually master any of them, being mediocre at best. And then college. The one place that for awhile, I did feel like I had found a niche. And then, in a little over four years time, we had all graduated and moved to different parts of the U.S. Two years following I re-enrolled in another college in hopes of reigniting that feeling. I was left disappointed. And over $15,000 in debt.
Within the last few moments I have come to the realization that all I want is to fit in somewhere. Or more importantly, to be surrounded by friends that feel the same way, united by the common bond of feeling like outcasts. I think that is the reasoning surrounding my draw to New York City. I yearn to be in the company of artistic and creative-minded individuals that are ostracized by society; they don't seem to exist here in Orlando, Florida, except few and far between.
So now that I have poured my soul into the first part of this blog, let me backtrack.
I am no longer joining the Peace Corps, a decision I made back in December of last year. It was just a way of escape for me, and a way that, although being beneficial to the resume, would not particularly be beneficial to a career. By the time I would come back stateside I would be almost 30, with two degrees, a 2-year PC stint, and no career to show for it.
The plan now is to move to NYC in July. I have less than a week remaining at my current residence, my bed and a few pieces of furniture have been sold, and I'm couch surfing for a month in order to (hopefully) save up some money for the move.
Truth is, intuition keeps nagging at me that it's not gonna happen. And that b***h is usually right.
So needless to say, that has me a little in panic mode. Every time I try to get away from this place, I keep getting pulled back. Well I guess I would have to leave in order to get pulled back, so more like a strong shove back into my chair every time I get up. Although intuition is giving me doubts, in no way is she telling me what's happening instead, and for the first time, I am uncertain about where life is taking me.
Guess I'll just continue to make pictures while everything sorts itself out.
