On occassion, when I feel misunderstood, underestimated or just confused at where life has placed me at the moment, I feel as if the real me, my favorite me, is being supressed. My inner self is being pushed down and smothered deep inside the person walking around getting called by my name. I wonder when this current regime started and why I allow it to continue. I feel powerless to change the status quo. I keep casting about with the hope that I will find the connection that allows my best self to emerge. This isn't just about a boyfriend, it is finding a soul-mate - male or female. It is finding that one friend who inspires laughter without effort, one who draws me out and with whom I can conspire. The type of friend I feel compelled to call for no reason and every reason, and isn't bothered by that. A friend who will offer me enough to tempt me away from my internal refuge. Or does that not happen any more?
Walking home from work earlier this evening the air was crisp as spring temperatures slid back down to the 40s, my mind floated freely and ideas poured in as I kept a brisk pace. Beck's "True Love Will Find You In The End" teased me from my ipod. Yet the optimism of that promise warmed me. I felt part of the City's energy as I swiftly dodged tourists and dashed across busy streets against red lights. I felt contentment with where I am and as my apartment building came into sight when I crested the hill past 10th Avenue I wondered how I could live anywhere but New York City at this point? I felt a swell of pride at what I have accomplished even as I acknowledged the voice in my head questioning how long I have to do it alone. The voice that points out that many of the positives of singleton life have run stale and overlasted their welcome. But what better place to do it than Manhattan?