Wherever you go, there you are.
I had hoped that New York would make me different, and at first it seemed to. But it turns out that Manhattan Rachel (TM) was really just me in holiday mode.
Don’t get me wrong, I still love the city. And I still find the people warm and open and inviting; the possibilities for fun and connections and success almost endless. I still feel like if I stayed here long enough – and it wouldn’t even have to be that long – I would feel like I belonged here.
But it turns out that when the party is over, I am still a girl (woman, really, but “girl” reads better) who longs to be around people, but who nonetheless prioritises her work – or the spectre of it, at any rate – over the company of others.*
I am still a girl who can only spin so many plates at the one time, and who will eventually retreat to the mindless procrastination of the internet or reality TV when it all becomes too much. And who when she does, will quickly grow bored, will fill up her calendar with deadlines and social outings all over again, until she grows exhausted and begins the cycle all over again.
I wish I could be Manhattan Rachel (TM) all the time, and do everything always and all at once.
* Which, realistically, probably makes me like pretty much every New Yorker I have ever known.
