i wrote this 6 years ago, and just found it now.
i obviously never did end up moving to L.A….
but i remember that time of my life.
and i remember how i felt when i wrote this.
reading the words i layed out 6 years ago…
they still remain true to this day.
i’ve always wondered what it would be like to live the way i always saw myself living.
sex and the city = me.
not necessarily as dramatic, and definitely not my own personal fashion parallel with “carrie”, but just as well, that environment. that life. that everything.
i’m a city girl firsthand, and unfortunately stuck in new jersey, my satan-mobile and i utilize the hour away distance that separates me with my heart as much as possible. this of course being new york. ever since i was old enough to capture locations in my memory like a headcase polaroid, i’ve developed a love affair with the city. actually, the village to be exact. i could never understand how friends of mine would come to visit me from different places, and after 3 days of such an amazing thing before their eyes, they left with an air of “it’s too crazy here for me, i can’t wait to get home”… and i was left with my mouth on the floor.
how is that possible? how could someone choose quiet cornfields over a 24/7 burst of energy? i’ll never understand that. i’ve always said i appreciate things a little bit differently than everyone else. or… maybe in general, i just appreciate different things from anyone i know. phil came to new york 2 years ago when we were together, and stayed for a week… the whole time he was here for me, or rather, us… and some modeling calls.
i can say without hesitation that was the greatest week of my life. i took a vacation from work, and spent the entire time with him. we stayed at the paramount hotel, and to this day, just thinking about it… the lighting… the smell… the music… the people… it gives me chills. that’s a place where i belong. that’s a place that was built for the sole purpose of the two of us to walk around with our noses in the air, and people to be at our beck and call. it was incredible. with it’s ultra-modern chic design, you couldn’t help but get swept up in it’s daily episodes. and an episode it was. it placed you right in the center of ny’s trendiest of people, and you felt like you were co-starring in the latest season of sex and the city.
the fake laughter from the over-dressed and completely sexified middle-aged single women at the end of the lobby bar… fooling themselves with their louie vuitton handbag lives, and sipping on the best martinis known to man… the 4 baroque elevators all seducingly lit with a different colored light that made me feel like i walked into some music video every time we went up to our room. somehow, we always got the green. the constant nightclub atmosphere that went on from sunrise till sunset and back again. the mirror lit up outside your door with a group of dots that formed a cloud, a sun, a cloud AND a sun, or some rain, and so on. the modern way of letting you know what the weather was that day. the way you would walk in and out of the lobby doors every night, knowing that people are looking at you, as a couple… whispering to their friends or spouses about who they “think” you are, since of course the two of you look like “some famous couple” when together. which was true… we did. but i think it was more so him. he just had this “soap opera” look that made everyone stop and stare. he carried himself in such a distinguished and posh manner… the paramount hotel had his name written all over it.
and he knew it.
we knew it.
and we loved it.
this was the greatest week of my life, why? because it was real. it was something you would watch on a movie theatre screen, but it was actually playing out right in front of me. for me. with me. with him. it was pure. it was the first time in my life that i felt like an adult. all week, just the two of us. no parents. no siblings. no annoyances about the latest “houseparty” calling into my cell phone. nothing. it was just us… and new york. the way i always saw myself. the way i always knew it should be for me.
we dabbled in perfect italian cuisine over in little italy one night. sat on a bench in central park and tried to analyze the life of the old man sitting and talking to himself. let me stop for a second to touch on central park… while it’s on my mind. this park, i wonder if anyone can understand… but it takes me to a different world no matter when i am in it. it’s magical to me. ever since i was little, i could not go to this park without feeling a sense of magic rush through my body. there’s something about that park that brings tears to my eyes the second i set foot at any of it’s surrounding entrances. as strange as it sounds, it’s enchanting. it sucks me in everytime i am there, and when i leave, even if to go down the street…. i almost feel a sense of sadness. i miss it. no single PLACE has ever been able to bring out such emotion in me except this one. as big as it is… there’s something very personal and intimate about it to me. i don’t think i’ll ever figure out what exactly that is though.
it’s these things. these moments. the late night walks through little italy. the uptown dark and candlelit bars that come straight out of a movie. the sounds. the incredible sounds of car horns, and taxi cabs, and people yelling.
i love those sounds.
i’m moving to L.A. very soon.
but it’s not me.
it’s not me AT ALL.
ny is. ny is where i have always seen myself living. i’ve always seen myself living the “carrie” life. renting a contemporary loft right in the center of soho. having a waldorf salad at the cafe during a midday brunch with my beautiful female friends. walking into the vintage bookstore and casually running into my next potential 4-month heartache. all because he smiled.
but L.A. is where i have to be.
i’ll be okay out there. i can adapt to anything. but my heart is in new york city.
i know i’ll love L.A.
it saddens me just a tiny bit though, to know that the life i had always envisioned… will be taking off 3,000 miles away. no central park. no village. no little italy. no true artistic nature.
and 50 thousand factory-made celebrities driving around like they are STILL filming a scene in their most recent movie.
my dream is what’s taking me there.
that doesn’t mean i have to like the “there” just yet.