Philadelphia- A love letter

Dear Philadelphia

When I wake up, roll over and see you every morning, I think, “Wow. I really love you.” A lot of people don't get it, especially those who know I'm coming from New York. You're an example of the old saying, you can't choose who you love. I know you're not good for me; folks from New York have told me I've changed. I'm harder, colder, meaner, an instigator. Not jaded but... you've killed that twinkle in my eye. It's been replaced by a smoldering flame that burns only for you.

This love is something that can't be explained. Can't be measured or quantified. What is it that makes so I keep coming back to your “philth”? Is it your lack of city planning? The people who wear plaid in a non ironic way? The overabundance of pitbulls? The numerous stray cats? The way you've held on to your poor white people? (New York no longer has any of those). The way shit shuts down on Sunday and then discovering those places that ARE open and feeling like you've stumbled upon a fairy circle? The number of true motorcycles that rove the streets (not those ridiculous Honda/Kawasaki/ninja racing bikes)? Maybe it has something to do with your unhealthy, inhuman, beyond reason obsession with Benjamin Franklin. I'm guessing it's a little (or a lot) of all of these things, but I can only guess. It still remains a mystery.

You push my buttons, Philly. If New York had a catch phrase it would be, “Go fuck yourself.” If you had a catch phrase it would be, “What're you gunna do about it?” That's a direct challenge. A confrontational approach to what could have otherwise been a simple exchange. That gets me going. I want a challenge. I want a fight. It's like that song by Metric, “Combat Baby”: none of them fight me like you do, Philly.

I've thought about leaving. Lots of times. I have a job offer from google at the moment that would take me to Michigan. There are some charter schools in Harlem that would hire me in a second. I can't bring myself to go, though. I'm too addicted to you. Besides, all my shit it here.

Yours, until I get my shit together,
You know who.

The January 5th Resolution

Whereas it's taken me five days to get my act together,
Whereas it's never too late to make a change,
Whereas there's always room for self improvement,

Be it resolved that I shall commit, (ooo there's a scary word), to the following 2009 New Year's Resolutions.

First, that I drink one cup of tea each day, though I must take a break every three days from caffeinated elixirs.

Second, that I enter HGTV's Dream Home Giveaway contest every day until February 19th, the contest's end. That sucker's gunna' get sold to pay off my college debt, (that is, assuming the housing market improves...).

Third, that I have at least twenty consecutive minutes of physical activity each day.

Fourth, that I make a concerted effort to write on this blog three times each week. It doesn't have to be long, I just have to do it.

Fifth, that I make a concerted effort to write in my personal journal as often as possible.

Sixth, that I make a concerted effort to show patience toward my parents. They can't help that they're getting old.

Seventh, that I make a concerted effort to stay in contact with people I don't get to see that often, if at all.

Eighth, that in July I will renew these resolutions, take note of my progress and, if possible, make some new resolutions. Who says you have to wait until January 1st to make resolutions. Refer to the second Whereas; it works the other way too, that is, it's never too soon to start making change.

* The above is an oil painting of the sloop, the HMS Resolution, captained by James Cook during his 2nd and 3rd journeys across the Pacific.