I'm stuck in the South. Now I know some of you are from the South and while it is lovely and all that, truth be told this is not home for me. I miss my bed. I miss my too-small room that often reminds me of a guy's room. (It is so bare compared to so many people I know but I have a hard time justifying buying a bunch of stuff and investing in it when I am likely to move in twelve short months anyway.) I miss the rats and the dirt and the loud cabs and the cursing. I almost don't remember what Central Park looks like. I'm being melodramatic.
In all seriousness, I'm just not a Texan at heart. I'm a New Yorker now. I put on my blinders when I walk down the street. I get annoyed by tourists in Times Square. I avoid the place at all costs! I justify paying an insane amount in rent by saying that I don't have a car payment or insurance payments or gas and repair costs. I have three roommates. I live in Grand Central Station. I think the real Grand Central is beautiful. I love seeing random things walking down the street. Homeless people don't scare me. And I do give them money on the subway.... sometimes. I'm a New Yorker, damnit and I wanna go home.
And home I shall go on Saturday. I've been in this great big friendly state for the equivalent of two weeks and though I will miss the "ya'lls" and the space and the delicious Mexican food; the friends, the time, and the suburban bliss, I must click my heels and go back...
for there is no place like home. And Manhattan is where my heart is.