Three Weeks Has Gotten Me

Here. With a tooth that needs to be extracted because it is so bad I run serious risk of getting permanent brain damage if I don't. Here. Putting my plastic bags of belongings into someone else's room in preparation for the party that's happening here tonight with a keg and drunk people dancing on the couch I am supposed to sleep on. Here. Where all my phone conversations have to take place on the roof or in the stairwell, both of which are cold. Here. Eating cheap Chinese food two days in a row with chicken that tastes like it's not actually chicken. Here. Waiting to find out whether or not I am accepted into an apartment, and if not, starting over again. Here. Looking for jobs and being offered ones that scare the shit out of me, like teaching English at night to a room full of Polish Immigrants by myself. Here. Drinking 32's of Tecate and listening to Man Man every night. Here. Trying to figure out what exactly is going on and wondering, if I don't have complete control of my life, who does. Here. Wishing I had more winter gloves when I go outside. Here. Realizing that about 80% of the female population ages 16-35 are doing that whole tight-jeans-tucked-into-boots-thing. Here. Wishing I had the ability to teleport, and a larger collection of knock-knock jokes.

Slowly Catching On

After several occasions recently of touring through the blogs of people I presumably know and trying to decode who they are, I have started to realize some things about "real-er" blogs.

You never mention your real name.
You do not mention the names of friends and associates.
You do not put pictures up of your face.
You talk about funny or interesting things 80% of the time, and the other 20% is spent making the more serious things sound funny and interesting.

Oh. I get it now. Why did no one tell me these things before I started reffering to myself and all my close friends by name as I re-count the sometimes sad, sometimes sentimental and often mundane events of our lives while displaying a picture of my lesbian-hair-cut-head prominently in the corner?

It's like the kid standing in the hot food line for square pizza, staring at all the other kids with Squeeze-its and Lunchables.

...oh, and that picture? Makes me sad.

Big City Big Ideas

Probably the greatest thing about aimlessly wandering the internet and finally settling on reading your own blog, is that you discover things you never remember writing. Well, initially you don't, and then you vividly remember writing it, but it was so bad that you had tried to block it out. I speak mostly about that terribly embarassing little entry I made a few days ago when Steve and Karen were over, and everyone was having a good time, and the night was filled with that kind of energy they have in John Hughes films, you know, the "we're going to be friends forever" vibes. Awful. We all know that I can get extrememly sentimental and shmaltzy, but this was even too much for me. I sounded like a cancer patient who'd just gotten a second chance at life. I actually said something about learning that with friendship, compassion, gratitude, and hope all things are possible. Yeah. I did. So...dashboard control-manage entries-select-delete. For anyone that didn't already read it, just picture: me, in a John Hughes movie, in a room full of my companions, having just leaned that my cancer is in remission and I have a second chance at life, reciting a reflective, optimism-filled monologue over the top of a Paula Cole song. It was a lot like that. Oh, and there are other posts that I am embarrassed to have written, but luckily for me, those are stored in the archives somewhere and I don't have to look at them. Or at least I haven't gotten bored enough to dig through them and laugh/weep at my plucky and cheesy ponderings on life. Ugh.

Anyway,
I'm in New York now.
I oscillate between optimistic and hopeless pretty much daily.
I miss my mom and my boyfriend.
There is a lot of dance party-ing and game playing to make things awesome.
I'm looking for a job.
I'm looking for a living space.
I think I found a living space, but A. I haven't seen it yet, and B. The people that live there don't know that I have already decided to move in wether or not they'd like it. I don't care that it has cement floors and no closet. I mean, these people are on a competetive skeeball team. Oh, and C. Not sure I can afford it.
I am affraid to "take a break" from smoking.
"Half-Nelson" is a really good movie, and so is "The 40 Year Old Virgin". Who knew...

What a Way to Go

Listening to "Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen" again. Somebody intervene. Please. I know how many times I can listen to this song. It's a lot like Agustus Gloop and chocolate. Eventually he just drowns in that goddamned scary river.

I'm moving on Saturday. Baz Lurhman has many things to say about this.

Mamma's Got a Squeeze Box...

I finally caved and uploaded the new version of itunes, 7.whatever. I now have no idea what my computer is doing but it is continually scrolling through my library, allegedly 'determining" things over and over again. I knew I should have stayed antiquated.

But, I did this because, I got an ipod. Yes, I. Got. An. Ipod. Everyone else in the world has one. I finally joined the grown up masses. I suppose now my Hello Kitty discman will have to be bumped to Back-Up status. Probably no one is surprised by this, except me. For all these years I have been relying on my CD player and the mp3-thingie Kat gave me last year, which, of course, I broke. I have no idea how to use this thing. I am a little afraid of it. When it comes to expensive electronics I am a lot like Chris Farley in "Tommy Boy" where he loves his little pet so much that he squeezes it until its head pops off. Also, It's a lot like me with a baby: I'm afraid if I touch it, I will ruin it. But being 23 and marching around the city with a pink Hello Kitty CD player has started to attract unwarranted attention, and I can also never seem to find batteries. So, here we are, my ipod and me. Getting to know each other. So many scrolly buttons. So much "updating". Why is it constasntly updating? I sewed it a little case for it in the hopes that I can actually preserve some of its nice-ness for more than a couple of months. My sister got one today, too. She, as well, sewed a little sock for it. But, of course, hers has a clever button closure because she is both extremely crafty and also very kind to her electronics.

We'll see how this goes, my being integrated into the modern music listening masses. At least I will have 30,000 songs to listen to instead of 16. It might come in useful if I am ever stranded in Canarsie again and need to feel really tough.

Anyway, New York here I come...for good. Me and my black ipod. I'm almost like a grown up now.

Thee New Year

Let it be noted: I woke up at 6:30 this morning on my own accord. And I did not go back to sleep.

I started an exersize plan yesterday. I think we're doing really good...

I have plans to dance around to Prince and do immitations of Transvestite Chickens for Kat and Nathan tonight, because what else do I do when I hang out with my couples-friends but act like a 12 year old? Oh the memories we make...