Excuse Me Stranger on the Street, But Did I Mention I Might be Moving to New York?

I just love the way that sounds. I like the way it rolls off my tounge, the nonchalance with which I say it, as though I might move to New York or I might go backpacking through the Himalayas, it just depends on which way the bohemian wind blows. Most of all I love the way people get that excited look in their eyes, like "man, I wish I could do that." I find myself bringing it up for no particular reason, sharing it with perfect strangers, finding any reason to fit it, however awkwardly, into conversation. I actually got dressed up to go to a play not because I wanted to see the play, but because I had gone to college with half of the cast and just wanted to casually mention to them that I, say it with me, "might be moving to New York."

What's with that? Am I so insecure I have to use geography to justify my existence? Is the possibility of living in the Big Apple supposed to be my entre into another, more exciting. and glamorous life in the eyes of my peers? Or is it just the exilaration I feel being able to finally admit to myself and those around me that yes, I do want to leave the comfort of my midwestern onclave and try my luck in the biggest city of them all? I tried for so long to deny that I wanted to live in a place like New York, tried to pretend that it wasn't important to me whether or not I ever made it in one of the toughest cities in America or was able to tell my children that once upon a time I hung my hat in the city that never sleeps. But once the seed of the idea was planted, once a series of events came into being that made it seem not only possible but probable I realized it was just fear all along. After I hung up with Melissa and was laying in bed, there was an absolute moment of clarity that came over me in which I realized that this whole time, at least since middle school, I really had wanted to live in New York, and that at some point I had tamped that desire down, trying to starve it to death. I hadn't wanted to go because I was afraid I would fail, that I couldn't hack it, that ultimately I was more wheat fields than skyscrapers. What brought on this fear? At what point did the little girl who was taught she could do anything start to believe there was an addendum to that statement, that I could do anything but x,y, or z? And what else is on that list? What else have I been suppressing deep down, telling myself I don't really want because admitting that I do want it might open up a potentially painful can of worms? That's a scary question, but one that I think is important to ask. What have I not given myself permission to want because the wanting is too hard?

I think part of it comes from growing up in Kansas. Despite the healthy ribbing and outright contempt I often express towards the 'Ta, I'm proud of my Midwestern and even my Southern roots. But with that environment comes a certain stoicism and pragmatism, and to an extent I think that living in the Midwest breeds a self-affacing quality into people, as though we must be humble, must not attempt to aspire too far or get "too big for our britches". I don't know if that comes from the cold, or the solitude, or the Teutonic/Scandinavian sense of character-building deprivation, but it's there. Ultimately it's as much our own doing as it is the doing of the coasts, we let them make generalized assumptions about those of us occupying flyover country. We play into their hands by voting Republican so fucking much and trying to put "Intelligent Design" into the state curriculum (Kansas, I'm looking at you).

I'm shaking off the fear and embracing uncertainty. Convention and routine haven't been working out for me too well lately, and to continue pursuing that direction would seem to be madness. I'm sick of feeling afraid all the time, of worrying that my life is passing me by while I try to make up my mind about who I want to be when I grow up. At this rate by the time I figure that one out it will be too late, so I might as well just do what makes me happy from moment to moment. I believe that the Universe (God, Fate, what have you) has a path for me, and as long as I continue to listen to that still, small voice I'll be able to find it. Where did Mary Tyler Moore go after leaving Minneapolis?