TwentyEleven

The night seemed so endless; we couldn't make it to midnight but collapsed in a cocktail of jetlag and exertion hours before the bubbly was to be drunk. I awoke at the cusp of dawn, the sky a fiery red over restless waters and thought Happy New Year, then. The days all seem the same, after all.

My skin changes color, my hair. My back straightens in the fresh air and my mind unwinds. I forget what time it is and don't bother to find out. I exhaust myself in the tides, circle the computer but calmly. The sights, the scents, the sounds, permeate my being until I dissolve into them and they flow unhindered through me.

Perhaps, perhaps I will pack my things together and come here. How many years have I already dreamed it? How real the possibility seems when my feet are already planted on this earth. A new year begins, a socially constructed clean slate, to match the blank page of this journey. I think It is possible and consider my options, while my sister pleads with me to not run to the ends of the earth. I suspect this place has been calling me forever.

New Year. New You. New experiences on the horizon. New opportunities to do that which you did not before. We are not too old. We are not too late.

Now is the time for revelling in the life you've let yourself build.

Now is the time, to live.

New York, New York.

When you read this, on your 27th birthday, I hope: that you are living in New York, even if you work as a parking lot attendant to pay the bills. That you spend few of your days alone, and instead are constantly meeting new, Mad people and staying open to the possibilities knowing them presents... That you get your shit together and Write. I'm not saying time is running out, I'm saying it's time to have something to prove. That you surround yourself with Madness and giggles, that you are tickled pink at the mere prospect of Life, that you are up for any adventure because you remember how good you feel when you're on them. I hope you laugh a lot. I hope your darkest despair fuels your Word, so it is good for something. But I guess, in the end, what I really hope is that the Dream of New York still burns in your heart, and takes you there. Happy Birthday./Cajsa
August 27, 2008. Sweden.

There are things to be said, and the time to say them is now. At the risk of creating a Bridget Jones moment, I have decided on this, my 27th birthday, to start a blog. Because it is a good life, and it would be a shame to forget it. You find me in the middle of my love affair with the City. Sometimes things turn out just how you dreamed they would. Welcome. Take your shoes off. Stay a while. /c