It's quiet here in this neighborhood...there are also a lot more trees here than my previous location which is nice. There are less bums but more trannies...more hipsters than hippies...more boutiques than liquor stores and yet I am finding it more and more difficult to find anything interesting here. Maybe I find some sort of comfort in the comforts of castaways, those that are down on their luck, or just regular guys as the man in front of me at the market put it as he mumbled to himself. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't dream to live on the 24th floor of the penthouse I can see from my window down Post Street. It just seems so far away.
I heard a man yelling at no one in particular today. He was screaming to someone and demanding that whomever was listening, "live each day to the fullest." I know that this is cliche and trust me...I am getting pretty tired of hearing self-help motivational, pseudo spiritual speak. Especially when I have been struggling so much to stay afloat these last few months. I don't mean to be snarky or ungrateful with this sentiment...I guess that I am just tired and things aren't moving as quickly as I had hoped that they would for my writing career. But as cliche and tiresome this man was who was yelling on the streets, it was enough to remind me that I am still on the right path and that I can do more and still do better.
{Pep Talk to Myself}
Do more...do better...wake up at a reasonable hour...go to a coffee shop that you have never visited before...talk to strangers...eat more vegetables...Make more time for reading for pleasure...go to strange parts of the city just to observe...stop sleeping so much when you don't need to...visit those art galleries with the crazy sculptures that you have admired through the window...think about what adventures lie ahead of you and be excited for them...dream...and don't worry so much about being cliche...you're money...you're so money and you don't even know it...
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