I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning (actually 5 am) because I decided it is high time that I get my body into some sort of shape.
So I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on the elliptical machine, that has mostly been used to collect dust or the occasional article of clothing. I must say that while I was on it I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but I stayed on it, pushed myself and every time I was going to give up I would catch my shadow on the blinds next to me, curse under my breath and keep going.
To help me keep my mind off the work out, I watched Sex in the City Season One. If I have something to entertain me, it helps to keep my mind off the fact that my body was protesting every step of the way. But instead of keeping me entertained, what it ended up doing was making me feel a little nostalgic of my life and friends back in NYC.
I started to think of my girlfriends and guy friends that I knew since junior high and the mayhem we caused in the city that never sleeps. Haylie, Frank, Jay, Erica, Jared and yours truly. We met the first year of junior high and we were inseparable till we all walked down our respective aisle to get that piece of paper that costs thousands of dollars. The one that tells the world you know what you are doing in our chosen profession, when in fact we really had no clue. We had people come in and out of our lives but we always stayed together. It was the best and the worst time of my life. I would never trade it for anything in the world.
My friends are now spread out around the world. We keep in touch via email but it is not the same. I miss the days when we would drag ourselves to the coffee house and talk for hours, or hitting the underground clubs where we had no business being there because we were too young at the time, be snobs to everyone and anyone cause we could, take a trip to Central America, travel all the way down to South America and my Mr. Big having to track us down in Argentina because my parents were furious that I spent $20k in a little over two months, or the never ending quest of finding Jared his "Pierre to his Yves" (he was an obsessed Yves Saint Laurent fan). We were ruthless, we loved hard and hated harder. We never did anything half ass. I miss that.
Now I live in Washington, DC and I think about the years that I have lived here and I notice that I have not found that connection here. Is like I am from Mars and everyone else is from Earth. I feel like an alien, an outcast. It is weird. I am by no means having a pity party or asking for one. It is just a reflection of who I was and who I am today. Nothing more.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I am still the snob I was and that in turn keeps people away. Maybe I am too far wrapped in my comfort blanket and not open enough to welcome new people into my bubble. Or I am really an alien and I am just to be watched from afar. I do not know, but one thing I am sure about is I cannot wait to get back to Mars!