NYC. A city where people still squeeze in a happy hour with a back-to-back schedule. And run in an inner circle where you’re actually a schmuck, but you have a nice sweater. A place where your contacts seem to get wealthier every time you hang out.
Where is the line drawn?
I think everyone needs to take one step back. A step back to evaluate what they think they want, what’s feasible, and what is actually worthwhile.
Who am I even?
It’s difficult to put an energy into words though, isn’t it? 25yr old Floridian living & finding herself in Flatiron. Is that my tagline? My bio? Does that catch the appropriate audience’s eye? Am I appealing enough? Did I drink too much last night? Do they respect me? Am I a good person? How are my non-verbals? Am I on the right timeline? Did I really leave a corporate job to hang with two toddlers in a Tribeca loft on date night?
Where’s my secret staircase that leads me to personal and professional happiness and success? I’m taking the right routes and reading the right books. I’ve thrown myself into a self-help or two. Several series, spin offs, and swipes.
I’m just tired.
I’m tired of the involuntary hot body contests at Equinox. Nosebleeds in the winter. Tired of taking my clothes out of the washer in the same dirty condition as when I had put them in.
Mainly, I’m tired of talking about myself - my strengths, my weaknesses. A time where I overcame a challenge or what I like to do for fun. Can I politely decline the, so tell me about yourself question? I work so you can play, in reverse. Not sure they’re going to accept that one.
I will say, that I do enjoy the free time and afternoon art galleries. I’m a recent lost soul praised for a nomadic & sporadic social feed. My account is a mess, but so is my mind.
For me lately, if you remember that when nothing matters, everything is fine.
Written by Rebecca West
Rebecca West, twenty-five year old Floridian turned New Yorker, and now somehow, Texan. Approachable yet frank. Full of Freckles and endless effort. Portfolio