August 26th, 2006


Unoriginal Opening Title

There's always the temptation in a case like this to title the first post of a new journal with something like: "A New Beginning" or "The Journey Begins" or "I'm a total douchebag who can't think of anything original, so I use words like New and Begin and Era to make myself sound important." But, I'm not gonna do that to you here. You're welcome.

I got here, that's what's important. I couldn't tell you HOW I got here, but I'm here. After a night like last night, it's probably good to be ANYWHERE.

Do you know how much a 5-hour flight sucks? Almost as much as getting to watch the double feature combo of "She's The Man" and "Failure To Launch." If I didn't already feel like throwing up, I'm sure watching the babyfat-filled cheeks of Amanda Bynes dressed as a boy trying to share comedic chops with David Cross (in probably his most ill-advised role ever) would've done the trick had I not been so out of it.

So, I've got a lesson for all you crazy kids who might decide to pull anchor and move across the country: When you're shipping the bulk of your clothes via UPS ground (which takes about 7 days), and like an idiot you only manage to pack 2 pairs of shorts, 2 button down shirts, 2 T-shirts, 1 pair of jeans, 1 pair of boxers, and 1 pair of white socks (inexplicably also packing 1 pair of black dress socks) with you in a checked bag on the plane, make sure the rest of your clothes arrive NOT next fucking Thursday! I'm gonna have to go commando or hump my shit to the laundromat every other day!

And did I mention how shitty the cab ride was? I'm not gonna lie to you, when the driver farts without care multiple times, you're gonna wish you hadn't sat directly behind him like I did. It was only $54, but I had to sit there and read him the directions because he doesn't know Brooklyn at all. AND I had to pay the toll when we drove through the Holland Tunnel into New York. Even at post 9pm, traffic here is a pig-fucker.

But, when I finally got here and saw my roommates (Jenny, Emily, and Liz) sitting around with their friend (and newly acquired by me) Henry drinking wine and eating homemade cheese pizza on whole wheat crust, the calm and the ease came flooding right into my BONES. I'm home. I dropped my shit on the floor, grabbed a chair and a slice and soaked it all in.

Next week I get my own room, which doubles as the walk-thru and the entrance room to the apartment. Second floor overlooking . . . actually I have no clue. Kinda intimidating outside when I got here; AND a little less than an hour ago I heard someone shoot off 6 rounds just down the block. Other than that, though, things are peachy keen.

I'll have more as it develops, but it's been a long fucking day and I'm itching to do some sleeping
  • Current Music
    Gnarls Barkley - Crazy

Terry Mulholland is the Coolest

Yeah, well your face sucks. Are you going to start being a bitch? Oh, I forgot, you already are!

Everyone's a damn critic. CHANGE, OH NO, NOT THAT!

So, anyway, I'm packing some pretty sweet fucking free Internet from some jackass somewhere. I somehow managed to remember the software required to get my D-Link little Internet-attracting thingy up and functional. Then, once online, I changed my official address to my credit cards and such.

Obviously, there are things I've forgotten. First and foremost we're talking about any semblance of a jacket or winter-type-wear. We'll see what else I managed to bungle in my frenzy of a final day.

I took to the streets for the first time today with Emily. She showed me to the nearest train entrance, the laundromat, the Food Bazaar, and this little Mexican hovel that serves a mean pork sandwich with avocado. We're smack dab in the ghetto, my friends. I know what you're thinking, but I come from an area of Tacoma that looks like Stepford compared to this place. Not that I'm judging, I'm loving it here. Apparently, we're on a bit of a party block, where they close off the streets whenever they choose, sit out on their stoops, pull out some plastic chairs and tables and have at the beer and Latino music. Now I'm really wishing the extent of my Spanish Speaking Skills didn't fully derive from what I gleaned from the teachings of Big Bird and Grover.

My posters arrived today. Good thing I have my priorities straight. I'm on Day 2 of these dirty ol' boxers, but I've got shit I can tack on walls. But hey, the Buddha candle made it without a scratch; unfortunately the same can't be said for my little yellow piano-playing frog figurine, who's missing a couple fingers, a toe, and an entire left arm. That piano's gonna sound like shit!

I'm hereby inducing an all-out detox on my body. No alcohol, no cigarettes/cigarillos, no candy or junk food, no caffeine (don't know how long THAT one's gonna last). Just water and the bare essentials. Whatever little I can get by with; not that I've had much of an appetite anyway. It's muggy in this old apartment, but not oppressive; and it's actually rather cool and overcast outside (with snippets of hardcore rain spillage). I think, more than anything, it comes from the fact that I'm living in a place with new people. I remember that happened in the dorms for a solid year there, I'd eat a maximum of two meals a day. Today I had that pork sandwich, nothing with it. Nothing for breakfast. Nothing during the watching of 'Reality Bites'. Let's hope that continues; but I'm sure eventually I'm going to need energy to do more than nap on an uncomfortable couch and mess around with my laptop.

Lay of the land! I almost forgot about that. Well, not including the kitchen and bathroom, there are technically four rooms here of which to speak. You walk in the building, up the stairs and ours is the one on the left. Open the door and you're in some kind of Commons Area, also known as the room I'm going to occupy once Jabrille moves out at the end of the month. There are two directions you can go from here, East and West. East will take you into Jenny's room, also known as the living-type room. It's connected to the kitchen, which in turn leads into the bathroom. We've got a weird little fold-out couch and a tiny little book-shelf and a rug. Our kitchen has a table, some chairs, a fridge, an oven, a fucking TOASTER (Jake and I never had one), but no microwave. That might take some getting used to. That and the whole No TV thing. I'm still trying to come to grips. Actually, it's not that bad. I've belabored this point to death, but there's like two or three shows I watch on a regular basis (not counting HBO), and with Marissa dying on the O.C. I'm not gonna be missing much. 24 doesn't start until January . . . stop hyperventilating . . . everything will be fine . . .

Anyway! Moving on. Go back to My Future Room and take the western route and you're into Liz's room. Walk through there and you've reached the end of the line: Emily's room. Yes, the apartment is one long line of rooms. Apparently, there are six apartments in this building, with a loud and slightly crazed super on the bottom floor. And I hear the basement is scary and smells like rotten wood. We'll just see about that.

Tomorrow, I tackle grocery shopping and laundry washing and maybe, just maybe, start taking advantage of all the dollar stores around here. Man, there's a Grocery on every corner, there's minorities every five feet, AND I got bumped into for the first time. Get this, the guy was actually quick with the apology. How about them apples?
  • Current Music
    Lisa Loab - Stay