The Powerful Two

Although there are cars everywhere, most are not owned by anyone in particular. Driving is an ancient pastime, an old thought, a fond memory for some, and a hinderance that has been happily avoided for others. Outside of the city would be better for driving-less idiots around. Or is there a certain style of driving only found in the inner-workings of this island metropolis? I think there could be several answers to that question. One ways, interwoven neighborhoods where you may possibly end up in the wrong one with a single turn of the wheel. Maybe it's better that most people don't drive..
Instead of cars, the occupants of this city use legs. The powerful two, always better and more efficient than a skidding four.
More often than not, the city dwellers would love nothing more than to sail away into a tropical paradise, using a powerful one (one boat, that is). The freedom of driving, the peaceful gestures of the ocean, together would make for a wonderful and fantasizing experience. You think back to that piece you read before by Walter Benjamin, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction."A trip would be the work of art in this age of mechanical reproduction, that being your day to day commute-becoming more and more mechanical by the second.
"HONK!" A long-held, obnoxious horn goes off. You are shocked back to reality, and the deep blue sea and salted are are drifting further away- back into the back of your mind. Hopefully, your fate will take you there someday, but for now, there is nothing you can do but continue walking. At least you know it's quicker, more efficient, and significantly easier than driving. For now..

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Accidental Paths: Finding the Right Neighborhood

Walking and walking, twisting and turning. Road signs intertwine so badly, you don't even know which way is which now. You stumble upon some sort of building, a skyscraper made entirely of glass windows, plate to plate, disc to disc. The building looks familiar, yet you're not entirely sure if you've been there before. You walk on.
The next road sign seems to be pointing somewhere between right and left, and you notice that shortly thereafter, the road divulges and turns into a different one. How is anyone supposed to find their way?
You have been in unknown territory for some time now. Downtown, Uptown, Midtown, Upper East Side, Upper West Side, Park Avenue, Soho, Noho, Nolita, Tribeca, Times Square, Brooklyn, the Garment District..many names with many specific meanings, one street with multiple titles. How does it all coincide? One street over puts you in a different neighborhood. Three blocks up can give you a different area code. Wait a second..you have seen that glass building before. You had an interview there a couple months ago. Oh wait, that was on 8th Avenue and you're down on Mulberry Street. Hmmm...
You keep looking onward, waiting for your feelings of doubt to go wayward. So enthralled in thought, so wrapped up in images. Swwwwink! "Hey, watch it. You hit my shoulder," an unknown voice proclaims, belligerently angry. "Relax," you say, "It's not like there's any damage." Well, that's the definition of an unfamiliar encounter.

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Stereotypical Variety & a Model-Esque Sea

Escape from the Suburbs, indeed.

A bantering mob of every possible stereotype, ugly and pretty, stylish and sophisticated, on and under the radar. A true melting pot of personal appearance, variety is the only key term. You certainly have more than five models to choose from.
Fabrics and colors, patterns and palettes, brunette, blonde, and all colors of the rainbow. Anything can be found here, and everything will be found here. How you portray yourself is more than just your appearance, but rather, a work of art, an attempt to be a "Betty" in a sea of "Veronica's." (Yes, the metaphor was meant to be flipped around) Nadja wouldn't have been confused. Her aimless spirit, multiple personalities, advancing appearance, and sensual feeling of mystery puts her at the top of the totem pole. She adds to the complete definition of variety. Brains are notable, and looks are reliable. You think you know just one type of girl? Think again. They come in all shapes and sizes, and I'm not just referring to their stilettos. Give these girls more than a little credit. They establish a sense of creativity in a sea of artists, independence in a sea of businessmen, and happiness in a sea of negativity and selfless doubt. There is nothing quite like a New Yorker, and more particularly, a New York woman.
So hit me with your best shot. I'm sure we'll be able to find exactly what you're looking for.

Photo Credit: ny.racked.com

A Diamond in the Rough

In another place, it seems as though I have transcended time. I look out, and while I have been changed by places before, I have come across another place unlike any other. The variables of emotion, memory, and cognitive process continue to willow up the thoughts in my brain as I approach, what else, but a billowing willow tree. In fact, she quite reminds me of Grandmother Willow.
I have been tired many a days, plowing through the seemingly thin concrete jungle, not quite understanding the metaphor. Doesn't a jungle have plush greenery with overwhelming species of wildlife?                                       
I think back to that week on Lover's Lane, and I    can only describe my feelings as a longing for nature, that miniature feeling of desperado. After being tired for so long in this place, I needed to be awakened again. This time, the street sign read "Central Park West." I looked right, and found myself buried in trees of all kinds and colors, leaves enough to rake larger piles than my old ones at Grandma's in Northern Michigan. Runners clothed in spandex and earmuffs trekked down the cleared paths beneath the foilage, and dogs, large and small, struggle to be retained on their respective leashes. Bridges of antique stone, a random baseball field, some basketball and volleyball courts. Hunter green grass goes on for miles, interspersed with statues, vendors, zoo animals, and trickling fountains. Ponds as crystal clear as looking glass, taking me back to that lake house that I once was so fond of. Those variables previously mentioned are all heightened now, and I feel awake once more. The magic has come to life again.
http://thelakehouseoffloverslane.blogspot.com/

Blog Project #1

You have arrived. People passing, doors swinging open, elbows shoving. The lights are never becoming dim, the background only fades into blurry craziness. One foot in front of the other, the eternal motto of residents and tourists alike. Honks, beeps, screeching, yelling, exhaust pipes fuming, whistles, sirens, high heels clacking the concrete. Sound is overwhelming, overbearing, and overcompensating for any moment of silence that could've been enjoyed. You're never alone, you're always occupied. Take a quick look upwards. Towering skyscrapers are merely part of the essence, an attraction to some and a burden to others. Do you feel trapped in? Where are the trees, the flowers, the grass? Where are the parking spaces, the gas stations, the drive-thrus? Eyes slant from side to side, trying to soak everything in before it passes by. Arms swinging up and down, always in a hurry to get there. Where? The possibilities are endless. A metropolis not made for the lazy, your feet become the main mode of transportation. Everyone owns the sidewalk, and you better watch out for the shoulder shove. No one knows who you are, and most never care to. It's their city, not yours. You're too new, so watch where you walk.
The yellow ones don't stop. 

Photo Credit: Sproch, Emily. Almost Carrie-All Hail. 2011. Photograph. AskaNewYorker.com, New York.