Please Give Me a Big City

I want to move to the east coast.  I want to move to a big city on the east coast.  Boston, New York, Philadelphia.  As part of my gradual understanding of parental conditioning, I realized I had bought into the family story about me. This included certain statements that were presumed to be true, but were in fact not.  For instance, for years I was told I was a “country girl.”  I bought into this notion because I loved horses.  Several years ago I realized that I am so far from a country girl it is nearly laughable.  Going to the country for a ride or a run or a boat ride can be fun, but take me back to the city as soon as it is over.  I am not a country girl.

Another of the claims my family has made about me is that I would “hate” living in a big city.  When I moved to the east coast, first to model, later to go to school, that was the statement.  You will hate it there.  There were things I hated, yes, but these things had everything to do with being broke and nothing to do with the cities I lived in.  I loved those cities.  Why did I buy into this thinking?  Maybe because it never occurred to me to question it.

Now I am living in Honolulu and I am bored to tears.  I realize that part of why I wanted out of Portland was because I was so bored there.  I needed a change of scene.  I needed an increase in activity, not a decrease.  I want to go somewhere that never sleeps.  I want to live in that kind of energy.  I have expressed this desire to some of my closest friends.  Their responses have been unanimous that they believe such an environment would be most suitable for me.  Why is it that something so obvious about me to others is so inapparent to myself?  Am I that blind?  I guess so…

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