While the idea of living in a big house with a group of thirteen strangers conjured up images The Real World, the reality was, no one ever stopped being polite. There were no episodes of binge drinking or drunken brawls, roommate roulette or random hook-ups, cat fights or salacious scandals. Well, at least not that I was aware of.
Solitude feels like an uninvited guest. She's this big ol' annoying pest that's hard to shake as she stomps through my head with her loud-ass megaphone blasting my each and every thought with a deafening echo as a constant reminder of my mindset. "I'm bored". "I'm lonely". "I'd rather be in NYC".
This perfect paradise is now my home. Every day I try to let that soak in even though it seems to defy all sorts of logic. I'm a city girl, after all. A jaded New Yorker. Ok, I'm originally from a small college-town in Massachusetts but had an instant love affair with the Big Apple starting at age thirteen when I started spending summers training at the Dance Theater of Harlem and Alvin Ailey School of Dance.
