I walked down Wall Street this morning. The cold wind was trying as hard as possible to pick me up and carry me down the hill as I emerged from the subway station. It reached down my throat, grabbed my lungs with its icy fingers, and squeezed. Everyone walking around me hunched down into their coats, trying to shield their necks and faces from the cold. The song’s first verse came to mind
“You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere”
A fast car to somewhere warm might be nice, I thought, wondering if Tracy Chapman lived in a place closer to the equator than New York.
“Why do I do this again?” I asked myself aloud. It was just a couple more blocks to my office. Some guy passing me on the sidewalk snickered, overhearing me. “Because you need money to buy winter clothes,” he said loudly, smiling as he hurried away.
I came to this city to get into writing, the arts, intellectual things, deep discussions, late night cups of coffee with beatniks. I was getting grumpier by the second now. It just wasn’t fair that my artistic talents were going to waste at a job which didn’t pay me well to do something I barely understood. How had I become just another corporate servant working a 9 to 5? What happened to my dreams of traveling the world, living on little but living so well off of a wealth of experiences. This was just sad.
“You’re so depressing, Josh,” a friend had told me last week. She was right. Well, I thought to myself. It’s Monday, I deserve to pout a little. But then it came to me, this was going to happen as long as I let it happen. If I kept complaining about my circumstances, they would continue to be my environment.
That book I’ve been trying to write? It’s going to happen. Those places I’m wanted to go? I’ll go there. Those people I was going to meet? I’ll meet them. It’s 2010, baby. Time to make something happen!