Written by Alexandria O'Connor
Have you ever said to yourself something along the lines of “My life is like a movie?” Have you ever whole-heartedly meant it? I mean like every ounce of you is filled to the brim with stories that no one would believe even though they’re absolutely true— like you’re Carrie Bradshaw in the newest episode of Sex and The City?
How insane is it to compare myself to the Carrie Bradshaw? And yet, as I spend my 4 AM hour writing with bated breath that potentially thousands of people will read, I say I am the newest cast member of Sex and the City. Of course, it’s a little different. Not by much though, I still have my two ride-or-die best friends, and we still deal with all the same issues. And as always, I am still waiting for my Mr. Big.
What is it that makes us feel like fictional characters? Is it the tendency to get pulled in too far to a book, or a tv show, or a movie even? Is the want to feel them; to feel their emotions as if what was happening to them actually happened to me? I don’t really know.
I don’t know what made me move to the city—obviously, I ended up in Providence, RI because of school, but something pulled me there. Was it waking up to brisk, windy days in the early mornings of September? Was it the warmth I felt when I crawled back into bed in the winter? Was it the long nights spent with strangers? Or was it how my professor knew I drank too much the night before? I don’t know, but something pulled me in deep. Something connected me to the people in cities. Something connected me to the concrete sidewalks and tall glass buildings. Something…something somewhere pulled me in.
Since then, I’ve been traveling to cities. I travel to different cities, to new cities, and on the highways in between. I drink. I dance. I write. I work. I mess up. But something has been the same with every city I visit—no matter where I go and no matter what I do, it’s the people that keep me there.
I’m sure this has something to do with an outgoing personality. “She must be an extravert.” Funny enough, when I took the Myers-Briggs test, I was an INFP. “I” stands for introvert, if you didn’t know. (And yes, it was hard to believe myself). But it’s something about people that drags me in. There’s something about a facial expression that makes me want to know more. There’s something about a smile that is so friendly, a scowl that is so mean, and there is something about these people that makes me who I am.
Everyone calls my cities concrete jungles, but no one understands how much I love the spontaneity, I love the rush to work, I love how not one person will be around too long. The people here are filled with stories and secrets, and that is a love that I could never give up. At least, not until my next city calls. So, let’s roll set and action!