Change for a dollar?

I should have seen it coming, and I guess I was mislead by coming back here in the summer and everything seemingly the same in New York.

It seems, though, that nothing escapes it – change for a dollar. Or, change for The Dollar.

Maybe it’s them that are different: working hard, working too hard to enjoy themselves. Live to work, work to make money to move up and work some more. All that hippie crap you hear about it and sneer.

I am not necessarily a hippie though.

Maybe I’m different. I moved away, after all. Maybe I revolutionized or maybe I was never really here, waiting to change for a dollar. Is it weird, then, that I won’t pay my vacation days for more work to get ahead? Is it odd that I’m just so relaxed about my financial state and state of mind in general, actually? Am I the freak that knows how to chill out (relatively speaking)?

What came first – my attitude or my move? It’s both, probably like the chicken/egg story. They needed each other to grow even more confident in their positions, that I need to be in Israel because of – and for – my attitude.

Maybe the people I’ve known so long haven’t changed for a dollar. Maybe I’ve just changed away from it.






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