Star Crafty

Today I went to a wedding at the Mandalay Bay Hotel. My old SCAD friend Noreen flew into town for her friend Diana's wedding to Nathan (we all were film kids). Diana looked so cute and tiny it was too adorable. It was nice seeing old friends. Noreen and I shared a Rogue Chocolate Stout at the Burger Bar while we chatted about the energy of New York City, the arts and men who take heartbreak a little too seriously. Old dorm friend Chrysta was also there, fantastic blonde hair and all. So cute. Noreen leaves tomorrow, sadly we couldn't hang out for too long.

When I first met Noreen in the Fall of 2002 at Weston House, I thought she was a gypsy. She had big dark glasses, a very colorful shirt, and a certain off-world vibe about her. I thought she was cool. She is. I'll miss ya Noreeners!

I often think of her and all the friends I have in New York City. My cousin Agmar the Actress, who is my most favoritest person in the whole planet, lives there, in trendy Williamsburg. I imagine us meeting over coffee (or frapuccino, or some sort of soft drink, I avoid coffee unless I REALLY need it) at a cafe close to New School on her break from classes and my break from work. We'd catch up on the day, she'd tell me how her theater thesis is going and hopefully there is some ghetto family gossip that we can discuss to the fullest extent. We pay the bill and head on back to our respective destinations. Hopefully for me that would lead me to the Fashion District and maybe, maybe, I would have to take a turn on Sixth and 28th by the Flower District, across from FIT, smelling all the distinct scents of countries far away, countries that traveled in the form of lilies, and roses and mums, all exotic all so beautiful (pay no mind that the Fashion District is quite a long walk away from the Union Square area of New School, but sshhh).

I often think of all these imaginary walks and trips to galleries and museums and limited visits to bars (money's scarce and NY bars are freakin expensive) and I realize my heart is beating, beating, beating too strongly, probably because it thinks we're actually right there in
the Big Apple, racing through the hellish morning commute, battling cold winds in the winter and stressing over money. But it beats like a drum because it imagines it would be so happy surrounded by this vibrant life and art. Oh the art. In a few moments I have to calm it down. Sing a little lullaby (Frank's New York, New York) and pay attention to the highway that circles the giant suburb that is Las Vegas. 'Cause that's what Vegas is, one giant homogeneous suburb split by a single vein of neon and fleeting cultures.

But more fleeting is the confidence that lies in me, it wavers and wavers, never settles. I overcome the insecurities at times, but not always. My treasured insecurities drag the time on my days off to the point I doubt my productivity (or lack thereof). April 9 will mark the 10th month of my relocation to Vegas and I feel like I've accomplished nothing. I've only now just started promoting my photography...but I'm still dragging. I've considered engaging in a life coaching session with this lady, to help me rid of this negativity and find my purpose, but sadly I can't afford that right now because I'm saving to move out to an apartment of my own (I live with my brother in his huge house).

I tire of my complaints, I really do. And when I do, I take harsh decisions, like, say, move across country to Vegas, a place that I sorta picked out because I wanted the restless, wanderlust voices in my head to just shut up. So I said, Fine, I'll move out even though I friggin' love Savannah, but I'll move out, just shut up. And that's how I ended up here. Now I don't want to be here.

Dear blog readers, I apologize profoundly for this post. For my endless whining. I needed to vent. Somehow maybe I should take up on Miss Karen's offer for the life coaching. Maybe I should just take the money I'll save in the next 2-3 months and pack up to NYC.

Mostly, though, I should STFU and ride this wave out for a little while.

*le sigh*

Yes I'm turning 26 in just 2-3 weeks. It's ripping me apart.