Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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We Let Our Hair Grow Long And Forget All We Used To Know, Then Our Skins Get Thicker From Living Out In The Snow

It's my day off. My last Wednesday off, to be exact. Next week I start a Sunday through Thursday shift at *** with a substantial pay increase. I am loving producing the news more than ever, which excites me. A few years ago I was burned out, searching for another creative outlet, desperate to prove myself in some new way. But after living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn for a few years I became exhausted with the frantic efforts of the young and not-so-young trying to prove to the world they should be recognized for their creative talents. Or the very same folks claiming they want to be recognized for their art when deep inside they want, no, need to be famous any way they can - all while telling themselves it's really about the music/writing/art... New York, much like L.A., I imagine, is chock full of this type of individual. Perhaps, at one time I was very much like that but have realized it's a frustrating way to spend one's existence.

This past year I've enjoyed a regular paycheck, health insurance, I just got my teeth cleaned - a luxury never experienced in Brooklyn. I like writing, I like taking photographs but no longer feel a burning need to prove myself in any way. I just like doing what I like to do.

I feel myself withdrawing from all but a few people who've known me for a significant period of time. There was a time when I craved familiarity and someone who knew me from back in the day. Maybe that time will roll around again - in fact, I'm sure it will. Right now I don't want to be reminded of the girl I used to be. I am me now, constantly evolving and the chasm between who I was and who I want to be is fairly wide. Dwelling on the past no longer holds the comfort and charm it once did. I want to be a stranger, don't want to have to explain why I may seem different, or what I'm thinking. Even to Serge.