Friendly ghosts?

The shadows of Tampa lurk forever under my puffy, almost bruised eyes in a land where I am unable to get a decent nights sleep. A misplaced sense of comfort means that I feel ever uneasy, shivering in the warm NY summer afternoons, not with cold but with anxiety. Hollow disquiet as I walk through the bustling streets leaves me feeling, at times, like maybe this was the greatest decision I've ever made. I am beginning to find a sense of ravenous desire to feel more and more out of my element. Being overwhelmed is starting to feel less daunting and more like an enthralling, albeit jerky, ride through this endlessly paved, neon world.

I've begun, slowly, to admit to myself that my very deepest desire is to be a writer. My whole life I've been told that I possess an affinity for it. Maybe it's time to chisel the stone and steady my hand to push it into the intimidating and relentlessly rewarding world that I've spent my whole life admiring and taking solace in.

Ventured recently to Greenpoint, which is a nice up and coming neighborhood that, less than fifteen years ago, was close to the equivalent of Bed-stuy, my current place of residence. Bed-stuy will never be my home here. I admire and even enjoy the cultural element that many directors and authors have attenpted to capture (notably Spike Lee in his urban protrayals of this area of Brooklyn) but know that my pale face will always be rejected and unwelcome. Standing in a crowded bodega the other day while purchasing a sandwich the woman standing behind me very pointledly said, "I fucking hate these white people coming into our neighborhood." I looked over my shoulder and saw a look of such derision that I was temporarily stunned. Can I blame such blind hatred on upbringing/environment, or just the fact that there really is deep racial divide that I've been somewhat sheltered from in my bay hometown? Maybe I'll never know. I am definitely getting tired of being called snowflake, that's for right sure.

I adore my new job in the Latino fusion restaurant. I got behind the bar tonight for the first time in almost a year and felt an immediate sense of belonging that surprised even me. I thought going back behind that little sliver of space covered in plastic bar mats would remind me of the painful memory of my abrupt and unwelcome expulsion from the Orpheum, but it didn't. It actually made me realize that if I'd stayed there I never would have left Tampa. The last year of my life was one of the most painful I've ever endured. Intense heartbreak that led to my first novel, couchsurfing for a year that destroyed a friendship, a tireless and frustrating attempt to sell my vehicle resulting in huge monetary loss, and many lonely nights spent longing for a love that is very much refuted has brought me to this city of new beginnings. While I am a decent waitress, I forgot how much I truly enjoy the feel of the cold glass of a liquor bottle and a metal pour spout between my fingers. It may not be what brought me here or what I wish to do but it felt nice to find something that felt comfortable in this continously trepidatious environment. I walked back into my career of the past decade with such an ease even the other bartender was impressed. My personality is able to flourish when I have six feet of wood between me and the customer. It felt like walking back into a family home. Easy, comfortable, familiar. Almost like a friend. Bottle openers, draft beer, iced wells and all. I'd lost all sense of how much I love it.

My neighbors are having loud, passionate sex next to an open window next door due to the beautiful NY weather and a complete lack of central air and I tire of sitting here and jealously coveting the romance and intimacy I have been lacking in my life for the last two years. While I present the hardened face of the skeptic when it comes to dating, telling all who cross my path that I find much comfort in being alone, deep down the sensitive soul that I truly am lurks, waiting to be hurt. I know that my lot in life is to put my heart on my face so that it can continually get ground into a fine dust. I've accepted that. Love is not in the stars for me, so to speak. I am relegated to a life of solitude where I live in too much fear to trust another person. It's a shame. My loyalty is only to be enjoyed by my friends. It is the small things that I miss. A gentle smell that you awaken to that eases you into a busy morning, hand holding and easy smiles through the streets. The feeling that in a city where you are never alone you feel oblivious to all but each other. However, there is nothing one can do except enjoy a beer with kindred souls and push forward through this surreal life while looking for more than yourself. But I do not want the reminder that I am lonely any more this evening so I will leave you with this thought.

"Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire." ~Francois Duc de la Rochefoucauld