New York

New York. A dream. Literally. I never knew the cost of living in heaven. Apparently it's $600,000 for a studio. I was face-to-face with reality when my rice and beans were affiliated with a $300 dinner bill! Sex and the City never compromised Manolo for Manhattan. How can a freelancer survive? No roommate, no love interest, and no compromise in wardrobe? I just don't understand. My life has been a lie...

So, why not lie to myself a little more? I plan on hitting snooze, and dreaming just a little longer. It's the best lucidity I've ever felt.

"Carrie Bradshaw's" Apartment

New York possesses everything I want. I want an apartment with no yard... just yards away from my office. I want a view that lets skyscrapers act as the stars in my sky. I want to humble myself just by stepping outside. If only the pavement could talk...

If only I didn't have to wake up. But here I am. Awake. Working to pay off an education that seems impossible to complete. There are no Manolos in Ellensburg, Wa. Welcome home. Welcome to reality...