Tuesday, May 21, 2013

red shoe stories

Life has been so wild lately, you guys. I have so many stories to tell, but for some reason, my mind is a mushy, dull blob lacking any creative juices whatsoever, and words are eluding me like an ex-boyfriend in the grocery store. Being a writer who can't write a dang thing is kind of a sad story, so I've decided to show you what I can't seem to say at the moment.

After years of pining away for the bright lights and energy of New York, a few weeks ago, I hopped off a plane at Laguardia with a backpack and my most comfortable pair of shoes. I came to visit one of my favorite people, a grad student and Columbia. (Although, by the time I post this, she will have her Master's degree! What what!) When I travel to exciting places like New York, I really like to live in luxury, so I requested an air mattress on the floor of her 12-square-foot dorm room. #TreatYoSelf! No, but seriously, I think my first NYC experience was probably a lot closer to the experiences of my fellow twentysomethings in the city. Authenticity is way better than luxury. I'm pretty sure about that.