I Will Be Cinematic, Just Don't Cast Me as Zooey Deschanel

I figure approximately one year from now I will no longer be a suburban brat, but rather a city-bound brat. Off to (hopefully) Chicagoland and living a fabulous lifestyle of art and... noisy Red/Purple/Brown Line trains. In the heart of the South Loop, where all of the artsy fartsy stuff goes down and art supply stores are a dime a dozen and galleries decorate every couple of blocks, I shall make a name for myself, or something like that.

I wonder what exactly makes people think that the world is really as picturesque as cinema makes it seem. I mean, we don't have the witty lines and the overall attractiveness level commonly associated characters on the big screens, so why should we ever be able to achieve lives like theirs? And either way I'd much rather have the great one-liners than the boyfriends in the rain.

But this, this will be different. This will be frighteningly cinematic, perhaps so much so that they will make a movie about my life. But, scratch that, I'm scared they might cast me as Zooey Deschanel in which case I will die. Or something. If we're going for unique, quirky, indie girl, can't I at least have Ellen Page? I mean, granted, I'm not too unique or quirky or anything but I'm certainly not "regular" and would probably need to be portrayed as an indie girl for there to be an audience for the film. (The audience here would be 14-26 year old hip kids or whatever.)

I will stroll down streets named after Presidents and simply know that I kick total ass. (Not that I don't now, I do.) I will enter every gallery and touch each paintbrush to my face. I will master the art of art and sociability. Yes, yes, yes. To all of the above. How do I know this? I already did it, well for a few weeks. I strolled down these streets and it was awesome. I breathed in the air of the smokers that dotted the sidewalks and listened to the nails-on-chalkboard sound of the Red line overhead. And I was new. Now I guess since I'm "old" again I will consider myself in hibernation until college days are within the range of counting on my hands. Until then, here are the annoyed, angry, depressing, and possibly humorous thoughts of a lower-middle class suburban rat.