There certainly is no disillusionment. Nearly every day, I either say "Today I hate New York," or "Okay, okay. I love New York. I love New York." Sometimes the latter immediately follows the first, which makes both equitable.
The root of the problem is my idle time. I have no funds (maybe barely enough to cover September rent), so I can't go out and dine (though I'd like to!), and I can't shop, and job hunting is so demoralizing, that my suppressed depression has me under house arrest.
It is very defeating to go out to restaurants in an attempt to land a job as a server. I don't want to go into it. I persevere, and do not give up. Instead, when I get back to my apartment, sweaty and tired, my makeup probably half melted on my face, I say, "Today I hate New York."
I half mean it; I'm not yet rooted or settled here--and poverty keeps my body thinner than its been, and my activities to a minimum. There's really no desire to drink; I've lost my appetite for food. Joy and food go hand in hand. I am not joyous here.
But I know this: I felt this way for about two months when I first moved to San Francisco. Maybe I was even worse off. And look how that turned out. So I believe that things will get better. I will keep trying.
I have made vows to not complain, mope, or lament about how much I miss him. But then that leaves me with nothing. I am filled with pitiful sentimentality.
I just need school to start. So I can channel my energy, meet friends, establish my life here. I also know that this might not happen at all. Things do work mysteriously, and I shouldn't get my hopes up.
Yes, demoralizing.
There's not much else to talk about, then. I'm not excited, but now, I'm no longer all that depressed--I've managed to maintain an even keel which means I'm okay. Just okay. I hope that I can feel as strongly about NY as I do about SF one day.
Maybe if I say, "Today I hate New York" enough times over the months, it, combined with the "Today, New York is OK" or "Today I love New York," that the amassed sum of all these statements means that I've lived a life here, and that with all the up/down/mediocre moments, it's been a major part of my life, and I can't help but of course, be attached and love it. Isn't that how it works?
I've never hated a city. Everywhere I've lived--PV, LA, Lund, SF--has both wonderful and terrible things about them, but my experiences are what I make out of them. And the same will go for here.
Hell--I even remembered my first weeks in Lund where all I wanted to do was get on a plane and fly back home.
I hope it gets better. Epically better. I hate worrying about money. It's consumptive. And insignificant.
I'll look up.
