The problem that is the city

The last couple of weeks have breezed by without deciding which city to move to after graduation. Between the Bourne Ultimatum (oooh.. Matt Damon! But, my lusting in another post)-Harry Potter and gourmet food, I didn’t get the chance to sit on the potty long enough to think about it. My readership is almost non-existent, but it would have been nice to read opinions on this post.

My choices are Houston, Chicago and New York. Lets begin with Houston. Would I like to be addressed as ‘Howdy, bluebird’ for a long, Long time? Do I want to save the monies by not paying any state tax or city tax or exorbitant-any-tax? Pros: Money, space, cheap housing, proximity to Austin, location on the map making it feasible to travel on work to either coast, friendly people in general and most importantly, half my life. Cons: A vast suburbia, not a pretty city, Texan drawl, questions of ‘can the night-life sustain me for over a year?’ and ‘is there anything to do besides the museums and Astros?’.

Next, Chicago. Five days in the Windy City and it’s my kinda place. Pros: Cool metropolitan, umpteen things to do, places to go, liberal, changing seasons, and good public transport. Cons: Brutal winters, barely five months of summer, and I hardly know anyone to ‘hang out with’… my biggest concern being the winters and not the people or lack of.

New York.

“…These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York…”

Sinatra’s verse is my only explanation for wanting to move to New York. Heh. From what I’ve heard it’s a dirty city, I probably will not have any savings at all, will absolutely miss life back in Houston, live in a matchbox and travel in the subway that will always be overcrowded, and barely be able to indulge in gourmet food that I have not cooked myself. But, it’s New York!

I need to plan a trip to the city before I decide to move in. A friend who did his internship in the city this summer very succinctly disowned New York. He never wants to go back. Ha. I should maybe plan my office visit here… I loved Bangalore, Mumbai, and I suspect I am going to feel like-wise about New York.  But I’ll never know until I move in, will I?

From a world forgotten

He’s perfect. And I’m his inamorata.

And just like that college was over. We’d stepped into the real world. The world of corporate culture and the rat race. Our first job, the ninth semester.
We met. I detested him. He thought I was a Bitch.
I cherish art. He loves it too.
I love music and dance even more. He does too.
We’re the arty types. CKP is our idea of a perfect date.
We’re book worms and party animals all at once.
We don’t drink anymore. We don’t drink any less.
We love our computers.
We had to meet. Sparks had to fly. It had to begin. But ofcourse. It was, so to say, destined. We had to discover each other.

And so we did.

I’m chirpy, rash and crude. He’s sagacious.
I don’t know a whit about 3D-art. He’s a maestro.
My do-re-mes’ complement a broken harp. He can play three instruments… quite well.
I, small and lithe. He’s tall, brawny and bespectacled.
He loves the Back Street Boys. I’m a metal-head.
He’s the diplomat. I’m the virago incognito.
I love speed, adventure sports. He’s prudent.

He asked me if I would like to be more than friends.
We dated. We became caffine addicts. We visited CKP. We made new friends. We went book hunting in back alleys and second hand shops. We tanned. We danced our nights away at discotheques. We argued and debated. We got drunk on Peach Schnapps and Vanilla Vodka and Terry Gilliam. We changed jobs. We bought curios and Mugs. We had some exotic vegetarian food at Little Italy, one that we can idenify only by a number now – b19. We hated it. We had chicken at Imperial and gorged at Indie Joe. We became gourmets. We jived to Manhatten Brothers and The Elite Swingers at Opus. We made our decision and then he left.

I wear his ring now. I’m his gal forever. He asked me to wait for him. Mais si! I’m his gal forever.
He’s perfect. And I’m his inamorata.

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