I quit law school and haven't yet found a job to replace that void. I spend most of my days applying for jobs, feeling sorry for myself, grooving to my life's soundtrack, or doing some combination of the aforementioned. I've seen better days, friend, but I suppose my life really could be a lot worse. What stinks: if I don't find something here that I can suffer, I'll be leaving NYC. However, if I do leave and never come back permanently, I'll always be able to say I spent a substantial amount of time here and shall have lots of stories to tell. That's comforting.
While on one hand it's pretty upsetting to make my departure this way, going back home is a good thing. I miss being home, and I miss certain people (yourself included, dear reader). I'm not sure if I've told you before, but I really enjoy you and have missed your company. Living in Manhattan is living in a constant state of stimulus-overload. I spend almost all my time either stimulating myself (and, therefore, unintentionally ignoring you) or shutting down and retreating to the constant party in my head (which clearly does not involve conversation with you). Once I leave the city, I'll get back to getting to know you.
In other news, despite not having communicated with you in quite some time and not having gotten the P. Diddy gig (my running ended when I and only 39 other people were still up for consideration by the producers) and in spite of my personal setbacks, I'm certain that I remain the most ballin' person you know.
*I promise this post isn't about Michael Jackson. There are enough of those floating around the internet, and I don't feel particularly compelled to jump on that bandwagon.
** You know that I don't really cry anyway.