... and the City

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that despite years of old Hollywood and classic Broadway indoctrination, that in the Big Apple of today, in this golden age of cynicism, there are two things it is absolutely impossible to do:

1. Become a star
2. Fall in love

Which is obviously exactly what I moved here to do. It's at times like these I remember I'm (naturally) blonder than Jessica Simpson.

So here I am, in a picture-perfect pink and white studio, within spitting distance of the undisputed bagel capital of the world and your number one source for all things smoked-fish, looking for a Shakespeare festival in search of a Juliet and a doctor/lawyer/heir to a small European throne/Romeo in search of the same. Like an uptown Carrie Bradshaw, or, if I'm going to be honest, an American Bridget Jones. Perpetually single, and constantly in danger of eating the entire contents of my refrigerator.

But I will wear my badge of singleton-hood proudly (as the only single gal in my charmingly monogamous group of friends) as I focus on the important things in life, like sussing out bars full of Irish rugby players, my quest for the ultimate chocolate chip cookie, and, oh yeah, that whole career thing. Headshot in hand, I will proudly venture forth to the places where dreams go to die - auditions.

Because as long as you're going somewhere in a killer pair of heels, it truly is the journey, not the destination.