Sabotage

So what happens next? I just declined a job offer in NYC, something I never could have imagined I would do. There were so many conflicting voices fighting to be heard. The voice that told me that I deserved to be making a normal middle class salary working for a very profitable firm. The voice that told me that I should be earning more to live in NYC than I earn to live in Rhode Island where I live paycheck to paycheck. How could I possibly have made that work?

And then there was the voice that told me that I am an artist and I am supposed to be poor and I should try to find a shared living situation in a completely non-gentrified part of Brooklyn or Queens or NJ. Why am I so bourgeois? That’s not who I am supposed to be. What am I doing? Denying myself the life I was born to live. Who do I think I am?

That’s the big question. That’s the one question I can’t answer.

Now that I’ve made the decision, 2 decisions in fact because I also had to decide today whether or not I would be renewing my lease in Providence, it’s been a night of regret. I don’t even like Providence. What the fuck am I doing? Declining a life in a place where I could truly connect for a place where I have no connection at all.

I think I am now beginning to understand who I am. I am the great saboteur of my own happiness. And this saboteur infuriates me. Almost as bad as Trump.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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