New York, New York (imagine a Broadway show, because that is what this is)

I know, all of my recent blogs have been about Chechens. Well, I'm sorry, now I am back and I have nothing more to say about the refugee center. I'll try to make some Chechen friends here so I have more to write about. Just skip this blog entry and read the ones about the Chechens.

Picture this: Dark stage, stage left lit by a single bare light bulb, revealing a girl (approximately 26, but looks like she could be turning 27 in about 9 days) lying on her stomach on a creaky bed. The room, obviously not hers, is cluttered with shelves and books, and a packed suitcase sits on the floor. The window behind her rattles as you hear the sound of a train passing by. People shouting outside on the street. Girl rummages through her bag and finally finds a leather bound journal and stubby pencil (much more romantic and 1940s than an apple laptop). She gazes wistfully at the ceiling. Cue soft music. Girl begins to sing a song (which will most definately involve twirling around the bedpost and pushing away from the window after hiding for a moment under the curtain. And a few leaps across the stage, along with random neighbors barging in with no questions asked to contribute to the singing and dancing. The words are really cheesy, but catchy, and all about the woe of being homeless and not sure of where financial aid has been sent and unsure about her future in graduate school and imagining a future of failure). Song concludes, random strangers leave, and the girl sinks into bed as the first rays of morning light stream in the window. close scene.

That is a pretty good picture of my life in New York. I'm pretty sure it will look like a Broadway musical.