Everyone in New York City is cranky. And not just spilled my coffee on the train cranky. It seems like everyone is having some major crisis at work, home or on the personal front. Everyone is in this constant struggle for something to get better.
Because after all, mo’ money mo’ problems.
I’m not arguing that New Yorkers should be peachy. I love the attitude and roughness that settled New Yorkers have. I love putting on my serious face when walking through midtown. I enjoy constantly striving for more, hell that’s why I live here. But why must we strive with a frown on our face? Why must everyone look and act so miserable while living out (what are supposed to be) their wildest dreams?
At first I believed it, that every New Yorker is truly as miserable as any unfortunate person ever. But I realized that is bullshit, because if I pay attention close enough, I see people creepin’ on my life. When I carry out an outrageously fictitious conversation with a curious kid; when someone catches my reaction to a text; when I’m drunk and telling life stories (loudly) on the train; when someone sees me trip over my own two feet; when someone catches me laughing at the insane height difference of myself and everyone else.
New Yorkers laugh at me. Or as I prefer to see it, laugh with me. If there is one thing living in New York has taught me, it’s that not one fuck shall ever be given on any given day. So instead of cursing myself that I’m late and/or too am too lazy to walk to work, I take the damn bus.
And if its empty, I sit in the handicap/elderly seating area.
And you know what, I don’t think being a normal human being lessens my credibility in this city. I’m pretty sure I’m rather fucking awesome at what I do (Santiago Plays Strauss 2013).
This morning I found myself wondering when I’m going to snap. When I’m going to stop searching for all the happy normal people in this city and stop dreaming of creating our own little block of happiness. And cave. Cave to the frowny face.
Then I thought about how my purpose in life might be to spread happiness and “change the face” of New York and there’d be a happiness movement and concert series and but then I felt like Jesus for a bit and decided I should stop drooling over my weird daydreams. I should also stop admitting this shit to the world.
Sometimes life changes so fast, there’s barely a moment to stop and think. Why do our brains keep growing and adapting and finding new ways to have feelings? Am I the only person who is tired of feeling like their emotions are on the prize wheel from Wheel of Fortune?
HAPPY. SAD. CONTENT. DEPRESSED. OVER AMBITIOUS. OPTIMISTIC. FAILURE. COMA. PEACEFUL. HAPPY. ANGRY.
Its a constant cycle of what extreme emotion is going to dominate my day today. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like a choice. And then I get frustrated and ask the age old question, “WHO AM I?”
Will we ever know? Are we meant to know? This is too deep.