It’s my life to wreck my own way

I read this piece by Elizabeth Wurtzel in this week’s issue of New York Magazine:

It was difficult to read because I fear that I’ll find myself in the same situation except without having accomplished anything. I have a job, but it’s not my dream job and I don’t know if it’s a career job or where it’s leading me. I know not to blow all my money on frivolous things and I do finally have the ability to start saving and paying off debt, but I’m afraid of always struggling in some way, never hitting it big, and always living in obscurity enduring some sort of extended adolescence.

I wrote in my previous entry about not wanting to marry or be tied down and mentioned the flip side of not wanting to end up old and alone either. I feel like there’s no way to be completely satisfied. Perhaps fame is the answer? Beloved by an adoring audience, but not stuck with a house and a husband. That’s an unrealistic goal though. As much as I believe that hard work and persistence play a part in finding success at that level, being at the right place at the right time and simply being extremely lucky also play a huge part.

This stuck out to me while reading the article:

I got out of college and came here hoping I might make a reasonable living writing for magazines. It seemed like a crazy dream when I was in high school, something so glamorous and grand that you had to be very special to do. But then this happened and that happened, and it began to seem less ridiculous. I wrote a music column for New York after I graduated, then I did the same thing for The New Yorker, then I wrote books. I never wanted to be a millionaire or a billionaire or anything at all like that, because the happiest thing would be doing what I love. Which is how it turned out, and so it goes with talented and thoughtful people who move to places like New York and L.A. and Chicago and Austin and wherever else you take your wits these days. It isn’t just creative types, also public­-interest lawyers and public-­intellectual academics and political thinkers—collectively, the professional class. In a city, these are the people who make the place vital and fun. They work hard but still have time to try a no-­reservations restaurant on the Lower East Side or to check out the small boutiques in Nolita and help interesting young designers get off to a start. Mostly, they make six-figure incomes and somehow manage. And they are happy for the privilege.

But these are people who soon won’t exist anymore. Soon New York will be nothing but a metropolis of the very rich and those who serve them—and the lucky and desperate still hanging on. All of the fun jobs are disappearing.

She’s absolutely right. All the fun jobs are disappearing as are all the thoughtful, talented people which made New York such a vibrant city at one point. It still is vibrant, but in a different way. All anyone focuses on is money, power, success and whatever dreary, soul sucking office job they have to put up with in order to get there. I don’t want to do any of that. I want to be fun and be creative, but of course I don’t know the right people. I’m working on developing my writing and reaching out to people, but most of the time I feel very discouraged and like the girl least likely to. I suppose time will tell.

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