i want to blog, but i don't know what to write about. i'm interested in saying something, but what the hell do i say? life seemed more interesting months ago when i was living in a box in new york, walking about the city and witnessing countless acts of "what the fuck?" people shouting on corners about the end of the earth, immigrants selling "authentic" wares from their home countries, movie productions in the middle of the park, and mariachi bands singing off key for spare change in the subways. now, most of the sights i see on my miami commutes are accidents, brokendown vehicles, roadkill, and trucks pulled over by the d.o.t. jealous aren't you?
i know i need to move on and accept the fact that i do not live in ny anymore and that no matter how much i try to coax my husband, i'm not moving back. but damn there are days when a girl misses the off-beat characters who call the city streets home, the smelly cab drivers who fight with you over your fare, and the inocuous mix of urine, smoke, sweat, and falafel.
it's a slow process, but every day i try to adjust to my new old surroundings. i just never dreamed it would be this challenging to return to my roots.
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