le journal d'une fille etranger

Increasingly fed up with New York.

If a fantastic job popped up in Toronto or L.A., I would pack it all up and go there. In a heartbeat. No regrets. I will become someone who has a packed bag ready to go. The relationship is one where the choice has been made - he'll always choose alcohol over me. So I'm going to choose me, and getting the FUCK out of dodge. I will smile and nod, and plan.

I have a list of things I want to do in this life. None of them involve him, really. He's not going to 'make it' as a rock star. My plans involve simplifying my possessions, finding a great job I love and not compromising, and finding stability in a relationship.

I need new blood, new experiences. L.A. is probably a mistake, but I know something in my heart is not happy here. The more I talk about New York, the more I realize it is NOT for me. Why not go somewhere else? Overseas isn't an option, but the myth of California - I can get behind. It recognizes it's a myth. I'm tired of living a lie that I'll 'make it out here'. FUCK THAT SHITE.

Time to actual live - not make lists, not wear masks. I need a chance - NOW.

Priorities are:

- list of things on my life plan - stop planning, just do them
- making links to people here who want to move, or people out there to share with
- stop thinking people I've met here - like one of my classmates, Christopher, the cute gay guy who's been sweet to me - is ever really going to be my friend. He's being polite - that's it. Stop wishing, start living.

The goal will be to find people keeping me focused - so at lunch at work, keep my planning, outreach, goals, achieving them and not getting distracted by other people's absolute shit.

I will be excited by this new life. I will have faith in myself to find a better job, a fantastic sunny environment, a new city to memorize and be mesmerized by.

It will happen. I will make this happen.