If I were a writer....

So lats night.... I ended up having had twice as many calories as I should a day. I woke up not feeling that awesome about myself.. but after a talk with my grandma over the phone, I realised that I would have to accept days like these. 

I am happy about my plans for today. A day of nothing, you'd say.. however, I have a long list of things I need to be done. A day of chores and cleaning in my room might put some weight and feeling of always having to get things done off my shoulder!

I think I will go out now for a quick walk and clear my head a bit.

Girl got tanned! Sun makes you happy too!

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Sometimes I feel like an old hippie, who just wants around in the city. Alone, spontaneous and hungry for things to happen. I can actually go anywhere I want, literally. This morning I grabbed a cheap bagel in a kiosk across my street. Outside it was very much the usual New York I knew from having walked that road hundreds of times. . But in here it was like one of the stops on family camp in Portugal. Very much so, and so I was here for that time, you see.

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As I walked back from my bagel visit and trip for fresh air, I thought about the way I spend my time.. and further about what I wrote yesterday about being a writer.
It struck me that this small trip, looking at it with my musical performer's eyes - made me feel unsettled and stressed, but pretending for one minute that I was a writer - this made me feel like I had the best morning in the world.

See, this kind of time - when thinking of it as a musical performer - makes me feel guilty about the things I could have done better, by working out looking up open casting from early morning, perhaps go through my audition book - .. in this way there are always thousands of things I could have done to become better.

But as a writer, somehow.. this time was very well spent. Resting, seeing the life outside, embracing foreign smells and tastes.

Frozen, fresh, heaven & healthy yogurt!

It was the same time spent - but looking at it with two different set of eyes was like night and day.

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I would miss performing. I think there would always be a part of me longing.
Perhaps the thoughts that I'm having these days are only healthy in the way that I can tell myself that it doesn't have to be like night and day. I am one person who enjoys a lot of things.. not just a heavy schedule with hundreds of practise hours.. so perhaps this holiday is when I get to tell myself to worry less and not to put so much weight on my shoulders.

I will fall right out of that peace in no time, I'm sure. Because I'd rather put weight on my shoulders myself and feel it unbearable, than feel the weight of my teacher's expectations and fail there.

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I miss some parts of me, you know.

I miss not travelling every holiday.. around the world. That used to be all I spent my money for. Now it goes to schooling. Yet, that is a travel for me in another way, of course.

I miss my social network. It occurred to me not long ago that I used to be the best I knew at keeping contact and having a massive group of good friends all around the world. I still believe I do so, but lately I have become someone who almost only spends time with herself and doesn't value friendships as much - at least doesn't find the time to offer as much of me in friendships.
It takes long for me to trust and want to spend time with a person, and it takes very long for me to open up.
I recall feeling like I wouldn't bother keeping contact with any friends from high after graduation. This meant the world to me before.. and here in NY, I adore a lot of people, but I don't have those couple of really tight inseparable friends, I wouldn't want to loose contact with from school.
I need to change that, immediately.

I miss fighting for a goal. I think even though I miss it, I still do it anyhow.. but I miss feeling like I have a spine of steel who has never-ending energy and optimism to work hard. Growing up more and more, I sometimes give in to reality, and deny the thought of some dreams.
In fact, that reality is a lie. I need to let go of that too - I need to remember that my reality is working for and reaching those dreams. I have earlier proven that dreams are reality, and I intend to do so for the rest of my life.

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It struck me that if I became a writer, I would probably be like a ghost roaming the streets, a random person people would always wonder where came from.. I would be a wonderer of the city.. and most of all die an old widow.

Cozy, sunny and relaxing!

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