Where dreams are made

that is what new york claims to be. a place that if one can “make it here, you can make it anywhere.” but what does that even mean?

I’m sitting in my office at work, waiting to see a new patient coming in roughly 30 or so minutes, listening to Andrew Belle and wondering– what does it mean to make it?

There are lots of things I like. I mean, I like my job. But there are so many other things I want to do– cook and bake more, make more music mixes and share them, visit with little old people in nursing homes, travel, read, learn a language, write more letters, make more jewelry. sigh.

And then there are things like new york fashion week and galas and being interviewed by vogue and going to “outstanding in the field” dinners, and going to the cape or the vineyard or nantucket. that i’m looking at from way outside. i guess that is discontent? (ignorance is indeed bliss).

I talked with mary gardiner’s mother last night about how the “other half” lives. and how it must be something.

I was watching an interview with Hannah Bronfman and I was struck by the fact that this beautiful and clearly intelligent socialite woman felt the need to name drop over 7 celebrities in a 5 minute interview. I mean, she has NOTHING to improve. but yet, there it was. I didn’t get it. no one cares about your mom being friends with josephine baker’s daughter or who your dad would have over to the house. You don’t need to qualify anything. you’ve done some really cool things.

oh well. apparently no matter where you are you feel the need to validate it. maybe that is humanity?

this is very stream of consciousness. i’m going to stop now.


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