The humidity that lingered in my hair, revealing its natural curly texture has now vanished. The sweat that once laid on my forehead like an annoying neighbor is now being cooled off by the icy chill of the wind that flies around the streets of Manhattan, like a dog barking when an intruder has invaded its territory. This can only mean one thing; fall is slowly creeping in, like a thief in the night.
Experiencing my first fall in New York is something that I have dreamed about since I purchased my first scarf eight years ago at the Gap in the Galleria Mall, in Riverside. Now I have a reason to wear them and no one looks at me with bewildered glances and confused stares, when I walk around in a cashmere scarf, like they did when I lived in Vegas or California.
As the weather changes, I find myself gravitating into the person that I'm going to become. Several months ago, I thought I knew who I was, I thought I had all the answers, but spending the last four months in New York has truly opened my eyes to a reality I only saw on the big screen. New York has kicked my ass, which is molding me into a strong individual. I've learned that if you're not always on your toes this city will eat you up, like a hungry pit bull devouring its dinner.
I'm currently in-between jobs; the theatre job that I had started and finished in the blink of an eye. I'll be starting two new jobs in several weeks, giving me plenty of free time to write at different Starbucks all over Manhattan, and this thrills me. This is what I always wanted to do and I'm living my dream. (Although my dream didn't consist of living pay-check-to-pay-check, but struggling is part of life. Or at least I tell myself that every day).
I'm surprising myself constantly; I read now. Who knew! The fact that I actually love it is something that perplexes me. I yearn for those moments when I can ride the subway and continue reading my Christopher Rice novel. He's got to be one of the most talented writers out there; I totally have a crush on Christopher. (I know that my former roommate would be really happy to know that I have become a bookworm).
As I write this blog, on the Starbucks on 49th street between 8th and 9th avenues, there is this gay mature couple sitting to my right. I believe they're on their first date because of their body language and the questions I can hear being asked through my iPOD. I can't help to wonder how they met, what it's like to date at their age, and what they're going to do after they leave Starbucks. The first stages of a relationship are always the most exciting part of dating. Whoever this couple is, I wish them the best.
I'm such a romantic, which is a double edge sword in my community. But I'm still looking, which might not be the best idea for me right now, since I'm still figuring myself out. I guess, what I really want is to go on a date with a guy who has the same interest in me as I do in him and who isn't going to play games. My roommate asked me what I want out of a relationship and I went blank, which is a clear sign that I need to figure things out. But what I do know is that I don't want to spend my time in New York alone. I read somewhere that life is too much fun to spend alone, and I agree.
The other night while talking to my friend Emmett, he said something that left me breathless, as if I was getting tackled after catching a football pass, that I wasn't suppose to intercept, "How am I suppose to to date my ideal dream man," he noted, "if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be? I'm not in a place in my life right now that I thought I'd be."
His words still haunt me. They haunt me as I write this, "How am I suppose to date my ideal man, if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be?" And he's right. For me, I know that I'm not the ideal man that I wan to be be. At least not yet, I am far from it.
As I begin to work on the ideal man that I will become, I will eventually attract that ideal man that will occupy a place next to my bed and will be on the Christmas cards we send out, every year. "He's out there, you probably already exchanged glances on the subway and you just don't know he's the one," this is something that I constantly tell myself every time I go to bed. (Isn't it interesting how I always seem to bring it back to dating and love in these blogs? It might mean something. I will ask my therapist what it means, when I can afford a therapist).
The season is changing in New York, and so am I. I have a feeling I will constantly be changing, molding myself into the person that I'm destined to be.
Stay tuned loyal readers . . .
(Times Square, October 08)
