When I moved to New York I was thinking. I was aware and in the moment. I was READING. I was improving myself, and it was working. Life was new and I was new and there was nothing that I couldn't do. The world was beautiful.
My old existential habits (meaning habits relating to my existence, rather than habits relating to the existentialist philosophy) have caught up with me. I've gotten repetitive and frightened and small. This is inkeeping with the pattern of my previous life. I move to a new place, I AM new, some time goes by, conflicts arise and I am used up. In my formative years this happened every year or so.
I am now well into my second year in New York. I have lost my momentum, as predicted, but I am determined to get it back. I am too interesting, this city is too interesting, for me to simply stop. I hate this pattern and I WILL break out of it.
That's all for now.
