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he advised that i don't take anyone's advice and instead make a new way with a kitchen knife or a hacksaw.

i'm okay with that.

but a new recipe for my life gumbo involves going to the roof of your building- and being up there. looking down, what is the gap between your imagined life and the one you live?-- i like to imagine that i have my own life and it's amazing.

when i see james I imagine he is the man who wants to marry me. i imagine a beautiful diamond ring on my finger. i imagine a deck off my room and a bed with curtains surrounding it that has it's own window to the world. i imagine a stately staircase and a couple of crazy people who live where i live, and i imagine having a cool job.

i imagine that i have grown into an interesting 24 year old woman whose skin has managed to stay relatively smooth. she lives near a huge banging clock tower-- she entertains guests from dc and australia and washington state-- she is on a first name basis with mardi gras and jp sartre, and can easily list the best vintage clothing stores within a casual ride on her white cruiser. she pays absolutely no attention to her cat, and has met some of the best alternative artists in the city. her room is a haven loft and she listens to pink floyd. on vinyl.

i eat good food at the best restaurants and have sat for hours, had fine dialogue and read great literature at the coolest coffee houses and cafes in our little version of paris. i can navigate the potholes in uptown new orleans, swerving around corners on the same streets ignatius c reilly knew, and i look into the windows and realize: wholeheartedly: this is the life I hoped I'd have when I grew up.

is this the life? or was it all along?