Definitely one of my favorite topics for analysis is how my move from Texas to New York and the 3 years I have spent here have changed me. Each time I visit my home state and come back I mull it over a little more....and think I might actually be at a point of articulation on the matter.
For all of the chaos and stress it has induced in my life, New York City has somehow ended up being the first place I have ever really felt at home with myself, comfortable in my own skin. Certainly not because it's a tranquil, calm and hospitable place to be. Maybe because it's not any of those things (initially) that I have been forced to reckon with myself and the world in a way I never have before. And because of that I am now grateful for all the shouting and all the people in the Bronx who thought I was a clueless white girl and all the dirty bums on the street corner begging for change and all the druggies in the park cursing the world and the reckless cab drivers and the horns and the boys at the shelter who punched walls and punched each other and hated me just because and all the attractive, charming guys who lacked in character and the moms who shouted "fuck" in front of their infant children and all of my co-workers who never thought I would succeed, much less stick around.....thank you for showing me that life is messy and I am messy and things are not perfect and that's just how it is right now...though one day they will be. Thank you for being all of you, for better or worse, for the world to see....it has helped (and at times forced) me to become all of me.
