After over four years away, I finally move back to New York City on Monday. There are a lot of different factors and reasons for the move, but to go into them would be too long and worth nobody's time. But when I left the city, I had taken it for granted, and I wanted to be handed a life, rather than work for it. I spent the next four years working at summer camps, the last two in a very remote area of the Catskills, and I missed the city everyday I was gone. I'm still learning and figuring out what I want to do with my life, although I do know that it involves the arts, and being part of an artisic community that I just can't get anywhere but New York. And to be moving down there without a job (but with enough savings to get by for a while) is a big leap, my thoughts alternating between "oh shit, what did I do?" and "what do I do now?" this past week (my last at my current job). Then I remember that it's time for me to move back and that I'm ready to work, to live in the real world, for the self-imposed exile to end and my real life to begin.