ALOOOOOOOOHA! Damn, it feels good to be a gangster/back on the blog. Within my first month of living in Chicago I wrote this old thing you'll see here below. Just three months later it still rings true:
"I'm going to go make something of myself. See you guys later." I'm not fantastic at goodbyes. I'm not terrible at them either. I'm more of the do what you have to do type, but I have become very much accustomed to the trivial nature of goodbyes. It's like, chello, you'll see them again. NBDealsies. Time flies, and you'll be back with the ones you love in no time. Hopefully if you're lucky enough, in the space where time is flying you'll have some pretty sick, wicked, mind blowing experiences that will make your loved ones seem like chumps. Kidding...but I'm not.
In April, I called it quits on my three year reign as princess of New York City (the title of queen is still being fought over in the Regina Peruggi room at Fairymount Manhattan College), and the thought of returning to my hometown seemed mighty bleak. I wouldn't say I felt any sense of failure; I graduated college, I booked a few theatre gigs, I held a job. I'm just saying, it was one of those "do what you have to do" situations, and I did, but I felt justified in whining a little bit about it because who moves home after going away to college? NOT I! Alas, I journeyed back to the city of sin, however not before making a pitstop in Indio, CA for some Coachella time with the broski. It definitely lessened the blow of "going home". Have you ever stood second row at a Robyn concert while she croons a mashup of "Show Me Love" and Abba's "Dancing Queen" decked in full body spandex? I did. You should. WAY better than snuffing computer cleaner from a can. I've done that too. I'm kidding again...but I'm not...Okay, you decide for yourself on that one.
Moving on, I didn't know how long my time spent in Vegas would be, and initially I had multiple recurring episodes of swearing on moving back to New York, except you know, "this time I'll move to Brooklyn, and it's awesome there, and I won't be poor because it's awesome there." Post episodic meltdowns I started to simply let things unfold as they may. I started hanging out with old friends and old acquaintances who became better friends who introduced me to their friends. It soon became apparent that I was on the Fun Friend Train, next stop: Partytown. Don't get confused though, when I say Partytown I literally mean Flagstaff, Arizona. In mid July the Fun Friend Train traveled there for one of our dearest old good friend's wedding. This weekend will forever epicly go down in the books as "Wedding Weekend 2011", as we drank that many 2fer1 drinks and did that many inappopriate things with our dearest old good friend's family members. Zoinks. However, amazing things must always come to an end, so the train said sionara to Partytown/Flagstaff and returned slowly (all passengers were mighty hungover) home to Las Vegas. But Molly, what happened after that?! You know, let me just say that I continued to "let the good times roll", and the six months I spent in Las Vegas ended up being the best consecutive six months of my life.
In leaving New York City for Las Vegas I had a goal in mind to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I also wanted to stop eating hot pockets for every meal, but I suppose the first goal held an overall greater presedence. I even went to a career counselor to solve my life plan conundrum, but in actuality it was only when I stopped letting the thoughts about what I was going to do consume me that I was able to see the opportunities that were already there! I stopped feeling sorry for myself and apologizing for the fact that I didn't know what I was going to do. Along with that I opened my eyes to the discovery that a great portion of my friends were aboard the same rickety, shanty, 99% sure this thing's gonna sink boat. I started to live by a few old and new gay musings such as, "Sorry, I'm not sorry," and, "I'm having fun, and I'm not apologizing for it." The anxiety from being a first year out of college adult subsided almost completely.
I would be cheating myself if I were to say definitively what it is that I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't know, but I do know that I have baby goals that I am currently in the process of accomplishing which are ushering me to an almighty answer. It was only when I stopped obsessing about a result that I was able to see more clearly the steps I needed to take to get to somewhere. Today, I'm typing away at the 24 hour Starbucks inside of the Second City building in Chicago. You know, it's very clear to me that thousands upon thousands of people have come and gone through this place of learning, most of those people disappearing into the workforce without a trace, BUT STILL I cannot help but be elated to be a miniscule part of the incredible mix. Each time I enter the building I get all tingly and excited but also sweaty and nervous like I'm going on a first date. I don't think anything or anybody has ever given me that "first date" feeling every time. I've heard this is what destiny feels like.
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