I have NYU kids. Is that a fair thing to say.
God this city must breathe easier when those damn rich kids are all out of here. If one more of them asks me how to get to Canal St. They may die, seriously. I may be jealouse because they're going to my dream school. But I think its becoming my dream Grad. School.
They need to learn how to walk a little faster. I'm a nice guy, really, just dont walk slow in front of me when I'm trying to catch my subway train home. In fact, just stay off my train, how's that?
* Disclaimer: if any NYU kids read my blog, which I doubt they do, I forgive you.
Friday, September 29, 2006
A man to his married lover
When we fight
(which we do with great severity)
you always drop you shoulder
and whats with the 'my two fo your one' deal?
do you think this makes it right?
is this how you hit your wife,
or am I really the love of your life?
(which we do with great severity)
you always drop you shoulder
and whats with the 'my two fo your one' deal?
do you think this makes it right?
is this how you hit your wife,
or am I really the love of your life?
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
My Apartment: Starring Someone Vaguely Resembling Myself
The room is small but he can afford it. The walls are a chalky white and they need another coat of paint. The roaches are nice and he has his own bathroom. Papers litter the floor. This is how he spends his days: reading, writing, sleeping. This is how he had spent his time anyway; before school started, before he had found a job, before his real life had begun.
Upon entering 4m there is the incredibly loud screeching of the door. This used to embarrass him, but the sound his grown on him. He thinks of it now almost as an animal's gleeful bark or meow; a welcome home.
There are two closets directly across from one another, creating a sort of walkway. The closet to the right has coats, shoes, and the tool kit his father had bought him. He has never used it, and probably never will. He is not handy in that way. The closet on the left holds extra towels, a second set of sheets, his dirty laundry, and all of his cleaning supplies. The door dosent clost completely but he has come to love this flaw as well. There is a shelf next to the closet on the left. It is where he puts his change every night; one jar for quarters, one jar for all other coins. They are old salsa jars. It seemed pointless to buy jars specifically for spare change.
Past the "entry way" there is the apartment. The bathroom is on the left. There is a chair in this corner with three weeks of old Sunday Times still folded, waiting to be read with care. The bathroom is simple. There's a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. The toilet has air fresheners and an extra roll of toilet paper on top. There is a shower. The curtain has orange fish on it. He thinks of it as a remaining part of his fading adolescence. There is a small window, with a ledge where he puts his soap and shampoo. The walla re white as well, the tub is white. The floor has ugly floral tiles that continue halfway up the walls. The tub is where he finds most of the roaches, but they are easily wahsed down the drain.
The apartment itself is small. There is a futon. Its black with a black matress. He loves it though its beginning to creek. Between the futon and the window is the nightstand. It has four shelves on it. These are fill with the books; his achievment of the summer: Forster, Thackarrey(sp?), Cunningham, Leavitt, Plath, Kerouac, so on and so forth. The top shelf has his fan, his reading light, and his small alarm clock. The windows are large and have black metal frames. His apartment is on the fire escape.
He has a T.V. but no television. He uses it strictly for listening to music(when he isnt listening to N.P.R.). The only music he really "listens" to is Miles Davis, because on a rainy day "Green in Blue" still makes him weep. Across the floor, past the scattered papers and unpaid bills, is the table. It is maple with four maple chairs. This is where he works, diligently. The table is his desk, his kitchen table, and his place for magazines. His laptop sits waiting for the typing to begin. His coffee mug sits in the same spot, on the left in the middle of a small plate. The printer is directly behind it, extra paper to the right of that. Other coffee cups have been adopted as pencil holders. The rest of if it is covered with old New Yorkers, and books he has doesnt have space to shelve.
The kitchen is only an area: A stove, covered in pots and pans; a sink, filled with dirty dishes he never gets time to clean; his coffee maker that gets him through the tedious hours. This is basically it. The cabinets have some food, mostly pop-tarts and tea. he doesnt like his kitchen. He's waiting for it to grow on him, but fears it may not. The cabinets are too highl; even on a chair he can't reach the top shelf.
The fridge he loves. It was the most significant thing to him when he moved out on his own. It was a the fridge that made him realize he was finally in charge of himself, because he realized he could decorate it however he wished. He did just that, with postcards. His favorite people and photos: Miles Davis, Billy Holiday, Che, Jack Kerouac, There a photo by Dorothy Lang, and another by Bruce Davidson. There's also a picture of his now second youngest niece holding a chicken. The magnets are more hodge-podge. But he liked them because they looked out of place.
Finally, the other closet is located next to the fridge. His clothing resides here. He has no new clothing only things he brought with him. Various shirts he realized are mostly black, brown, and blue. Shorts and pants go one the top shelves. Underwear, socks, and t-shirts go into the small drawers on the floor.
The laundry is almost always dirty. The floor is always covered in news papers. The sink is always filled with dirty dishes. He always wishes he had more time, because except for sleep he's never here. Working full-time, learning full-time, and sleeping when he can. This isnt the home expected when he dreamed of living in this city. There is now "Miracle on Ocean Avenue". But its a start. Almost all of his friends started here or worse. He's determined to make a life here, because he cant live anywhere else. This is his home, at least for now.
Upon entering 4m there is the incredibly loud screeching of the door. This used to embarrass him, but the sound his grown on him. He thinks of it now almost as an animal's gleeful bark or meow; a welcome home.
There are two closets directly across from one another, creating a sort of walkway. The closet to the right has coats, shoes, and the tool kit his father had bought him. He has never used it, and probably never will. He is not handy in that way. The closet on the left holds extra towels, a second set of sheets, his dirty laundry, and all of his cleaning supplies. The door dosent clost completely but he has come to love this flaw as well. There is a shelf next to the closet on the left. It is where he puts his change every night; one jar for quarters, one jar for all other coins. They are old salsa jars. It seemed pointless to buy jars specifically for spare change.
Past the "entry way" there is the apartment. The bathroom is on the left. There is a chair in this corner with three weeks of old Sunday Times still folded, waiting to be read with care. The bathroom is simple. There's a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. The toilet has air fresheners and an extra roll of toilet paper on top. There is a shower. The curtain has orange fish on it. He thinks of it as a remaining part of his fading adolescence. There is a small window, with a ledge where he puts his soap and shampoo. The walla re white as well, the tub is white. The floor has ugly floral tiles that continue halfway up the walls. The tub is where he finds most of the roaches, but they are easily wahsed down the drain.
The apartment itself is small. There is a futon. Its black with a black matress. He loves it though its beginning to creek. Between the futon and the window is the nightstand. It has four shelves on it. These are fill with the books; his achievment of the summer: Forster, Thackarrey(sp?), Cunningham, Leavitt, Plath, Kerouac, so on and so forth. The top shelf has his fan, his reading light, and his small alarm clock. The windows are large and have black metal frames. His apartment is on the fire escape.
He has a T.V. but no television. He uses it strictly for listening to music(when he isnt listening to N.P.R.). The only music he really "listens" to is Miles Davis, because on a rainy day "Green in Blue" still makes him weep. Across the floor, past the scattered papers and unpaid bills, is the table. It is maple with four maple chairs. This is where he works, diligently. The table is his desk, his kitchen table, and his place for magazines. His laptop sits waiting for the typing to begin. His coffee mug sits in the same spot, on the left in the middle of a small plate. The printer is directly behind it, extra paper to the right of that. Other coffee cups have been adopted as pencil holders. The rest of if it is covered with old New Yorkers, and books he has doesnt have space to shelve.
The kitchen is only an area: A stove, covered in pots and pans; a sink, filled with dirty dishes he never gets time to clean; his coffee maker that gets him through the tedious hours. This is basically it. The cabinets have some food, mostly pop-tarts and tea. he doesnt like his kitchen. He's waiting for it to grow on him, but fears it may not. The cabinets are too highl; even on a chair he can't reach the top shelf.
The fridge he loves. It was the most significant thing to him when he moved out on his own. It was a the fridge that made him realize he was finally in charge of himself, because he realized he could decorate it however he wished. He did just that, with postcards. His favorite people and photos: Miles Davis, Billy Holiday, Che, Jack Kerouac, There a photo by Dorothy Lang, and another by Bruce Davidson. There's also a picture of his now second youngest niece holding a chicken. The magnets are more hodge-podge. But he liked them because they looked out of place.
Finally, the other closet is located next to the fridge. His clothing resides here. He has no new clothing only things he brought with him. Various shirts he realized are mostly black, brown, and blue. Shorts and pants go one the top shelves. Underwear, socks, and t-shirts go into the small drawers on the floor.
The laundry is almost always dirty. The floor is always covered in news papers. The sink is always filled with dirty dishes. He always wishes he had more time, because except for sleep he's never here. Working full-time, learning full-time, and sleeping when he can. This isnt the home expected when he dreamed of living in this city. There is now "Miracle on Ocean Avenue". But its a start. Almost all of his friends started here or worse. He's determined to make a life here, because he cant live anywhere else. This is his home, at least for now.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Submissive (a poem very little punctuation)
I want the wind to take me
Grab me round the middle
swing me to and fro (hither/thither)
treat me as a rag doll
Pound me with rain
or hail the size of Hell Cats
It would recieve ardent love for its troubles
for the push and the pull
Haphazard morning, noon, and night(always)
And I'll remain forever faithful
If it keeps me on my toes.
I know this isnt very good, but its still a work in progress.
Much love
Grab me round the middle
swing me to and fro (hither/thither)
treat me as a rag doll
Pound me with rain
or hail the size of Hell Cats
It would recieve ardent love for its troubles
for the push and the pull
Haphazard morning, noon, and night(always)
And I'll remain forever faithful
If it keeps me on my toes.
I know this isnt very good, but its still a work in progress.
Much love
Monday, September 25, 2006
The good things post
So...The stress has left the building. I apologize for the large number of posts that were basically just me bitching about how much time I dont have. I tend to go over-board on things like that. I fish for sympathy, I'll admit it(This is proof).
But now the parents are gone, the hours at work have declined, and I only have one test coming up, next week. So things are good. So here's an update on things in my life, divided up into sections.
The Writing:
I have about 6 first sentences floating around inside my little head, like:
The violin strings had been restrung by Edward at her request. The Preformance was to be at 8, things were going quite well, all things considered.
I dont know exactly what this story will be about, but who knows maybe that will end up being my "Mrs. Dalloway said....." sentence.
The Reading:
I caved. After the parents left I bought two books. Andrew Holleran, and Hollingherst(I think I butchered that one)(I apologize for the bad spelling). I also bought the New York Magazine issue about Jim McGreevey, I read the excerpt. I dont know how I feel about this whole thing. I want to know more, but I dont want to buy the whole fucking book.
The Music:
I bought Radiohead and Etta James yesterday. I've started really getting into Sleater-Kinney, and People In Planes, and I will forever love Broken Social Scene.
The Boys:
No boys, I theres a guy on campus thats interested. He and I have made our fair share of eye contact. Alas, I fear he may be in the closet completely, and I dont want to deal with that again.
The Men:
I have time to hang out with my amigos this week! Today is Michael, tomorrow is Christopher, the day after is Thom. I may even be seeing Bob this week too.
The City:
I love this city even more. After the visit from the parents is was completely reaffirmed that I do in fact LIVE in New York City. I cant believe it sometimes. I know I will travel but this is homebase from now on.
The overall feeling:
I'm good, I'm relaxed. I'm calm. I'm alive. And I read the Sunday Times this morning, with very strong coffee. Like I need anymore hair on my chest.
Story Tomorrow I promise.
But now the parents are gone, the hours at work have declined, and I only have one test coming up, next week. So things are good. So here's an update on things in my life, divided up into sections.
The Writing:
I have about 6 first sentences floating around inside my little head, like:
The violin strings had been restrung by Edward at her request. The Preformance was to be at 8, things were going quite well, all things considered.
I dont know exactly what this story will be about, but who knows maybe that will end up being my "Mrs. Dalloway said....." sentence.
The Reading:
I caved. After the parents left I bought two books. Andrew Holleran, and Hollingherst(I think I butchered that one)(I apologize for the bad spelling). I also bought the New York Magazine issue about Jim McGreevey, I read the excerpt. I dont know how I feel about this whole thing. I want to know more, but I dont want to buy the whole fucking book.
The Music:
I bought Radiohead and Etta James yesterday. I've started really getting into Sleater-Kinney, and People In Planes, and I will forever love Broken Social Scene.
The Boys:
No boys, I theres a guy on campus thats interested. He and I have made our fair share of eye contact. Alas, I fear he may be in the closet completely, and I dont want to deal with that again.
The Men:
I have time to hang out with my amigos this week! Today is Michael, tomorrow is Christopher, the day after is Thom. I may even be seeing Bob this week too.
The City:
I love this city even more. After the visit from the parents is was completely reaffirmed that I do in fact LIVE in New York City. I cant believe it sometimes. I know I will travel but this is homebase from now on.
The overall feeling:
I'm good, I'm relaxed. I'm calm. I'm alive. And I read the Sunday Times this morning, with very strong coffee. Like I need anymore hair on my chest.
Story Tomorrow I promise.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
The parents have left
So here I am, sitting at a computer in 12th and University. Its amazing that earlier today my parents and I were having tear filled goodbyes in Bryant Park, I put them into a cab on 41st and 6th and that was that, they left for their motel near Laguardia. Their flight leaves at 6 tomarrow morning so they got a room near the airport.
They stayed with me. They slept in my apartment thats so small I cant stand comfortably by myself in it. They made scenes in public, they embarressed me on the subway. But they bought me wine, good wine too. And they bought me shoes, because the ones I had have depleting soles. Thats not good for business.
I dont really know what to say about it all. The stress is now gone. I need time to reflect on the whole experience, I guess. I need to know why I'm SO highstrung around them, and so calm when they arent around. Even on the phone with them I'm edgy.
But NOW, here and now I'm good. I'm relaxed. I can walk around my tiny apartment in the buff if and when I please(but thats even more uncomfortable(thats a terrible joke)). I have books now, and magazines. and I have a stack of books waiting for me at home.
I also have free time next week so I may post a story or something on here, I will defenitly have time to do some of my own writing, too.
I must not disappear onto the Q-train however. We'll talk soon.
They stayed with me. They slept in my apartment thats so small I cant stand comfortably by myself in it. They made scenes in public, they embarressed me on the subway. But they bought me wine, good wine too. And they bought me shoes, because the ones I had have depleting soles. Thats not good for business.
I dont really know what to say about it all. The stress is now gone. I need time to reflect on the whole experience, I guess. I need to know why I'm SO highstrung around them, and so calm when they arent around. Even on the phone with them I'm edgy.
But NOW, here and now I'm good. I'm relaxed. I can walk around my tiny apartment in the buff if and when I please(but thats even more uncomfortable(thats a terrible joke)). I have books now, and magazines. and I have a stack of books waiting for me at home.
I also have free time next week so I may post a story or something on here, I will defenitly have time to do some of my own writing, too.
I must not disappear onto the Q-train however. We'll talk soon.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
They are here
So they got here yesterday and I only had about 2 hours to hang out with them until I had to go to work.
I took them to lunch at Mayrose: comfortable food, and we had the a very cute waiter that was hitting on me. He looked like Heraldo, but in a good way. The best way to describe him would be if Tom Selleck and Heraldo Rivera had a younger brother who was a 'mo. But this is off topic.
So they hung out in my apartment and went through all my stuff. I showed them around Union Sq a little bit. We argued about my life. Things are normal and comfortable now.....(If you cant tell my sarcasm you havent been reading my blog long enough). I think that tonight I'm going to take them to Republic on Union Sq. west. I'm trying to get them to try sushi but I dont think they're up to it. Oh well, more for me, right?
I took them to lunch at Mayrose: comfortable food, and we had the a very cute waiter that was hitting on me. He looked like Heraldo, but in a good way. The best way to describe him would be if Tom Selleck and Heraldo Rivera had a younger brother who was a 'mo. But this is off topic.
So they hung out in my apartment and went through all my stuff. I showed them around Union Sq a little bit. We argued about my life. Things are normal and comfortable now.....(If you cant tell my sarcasm you havent been reading my blog long enough). I think that tonight I'm going to take them to Republic on Union Sq. west. I'm trying to get them to try sushi but I dont think they're up to it. Oh well, more for me, right?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The stress thing
So last week was the most stressful week I've had in a long time. There was the working full time, the school full time, the sleeping when I had time and the pile of other things I felt I needed to take care of.
The work and school thing was a sort of catalyst to the stress. Near the end of highschool I was working 30 hours and dealing with social dilemas with ease( I was alergic to homework). But I felt almost like I had a deadline. My parents are coming on Tuesday, and dont feel like I have anything to show them. I feel like I should be able to show them that I've done something by now, that they didnt waste all of the money and energy moving me out here. I dont think I have that yet.
Now before I start sounding too self-depricating, I know I have a kickass job, I'm in school, I can pay my rent, and I'm still the only 18 year old I know that buys the Sunday Times and sets aside 30 minutes to read the book review front to back. I've made it this far. I just think that they worry that I'm not making any new friends, and I worry that I lean to heavily on the ones that I have here, mostly Michael. But I've never had a friend that I can check out guys with as openly, and he gets all my vague pop-culture references.
It just seemed that everything was going wrong, and there was no way to fix any of it.
But I fell in love with New York again. I love that this happens. I felt comfortable, felt like I was beginning to get the swing of it, that I had intergrated. Then the city sort of threw a bunch of shit at me, and I had to take care of it all. Apparently I passed.
...............................................................................................................................
No new books.
This is a big deal. I have since I was 12 years old, bought at least one book every Sunday. I have no room for them, I have so many. If I get so stressed that I cant sleep again I promise I will give you all a really tedious and unnecessary list of them.
Scout's honor.
...............................................................................................................................
Prof. Schwartz
My Ethics prof. must be the most monotoned, uninteresting professor alive, and he's completely ambivolent about philosophy. But he's really hot.
He's bald, and clean shaven, and has a stereotypical Jewish nose. But it works in his favor. He wears Khakis everyday and by the end of class the pockets have rings of chalk marks on them. He doesnt get nervous, he doesnt stammer. I'm pretty sure he's alergic to clicking his tongue, too.
He wears terrible shirts, the sleeves look to big for his arms. But you can tell that he works out. When he writes on the chalkboard he bends in a way that makes his very cute butt stick out. The tall blond girl, that asks stupid questions and sits next to me always smiles when he does this. So does the guy two seats down from me. :)
He has a platinum ring on the middle finger of his left hand. I dont know, maybe there are smart straight men after all. Or maybe he's got an amazing husband. He almost certainly lives in Park Slope, and was almost certainly raised in Brooklyn, though he doesnt have a Brooklyn accent. He does sound like he can give a mean Jewish Mother Guilt Trip though.
I wouldnt mind if he tought me a lesson. ;P
The work and school thing was a sort of catalyst to the stress. Near the end of highschool I was working 30 hours and dealing with social dilemas with ease( I was alergic to homework). But I felt almost like I had a deadline. My parents are coming on Tuesday, and dont feel like I have anything to show them. I feel like I should be able to show them that I've done something by now, that they didnt waste all of the money and energy moving me out here. I dont think I have that yet.
Now before I start sounding too self-depricating, I know I have a kickass job, I'm in school, I can pay my rent, and I'm still the only 18 year old I know that buys the Sunday Times and sets aside 30 minutes to read the book review front to back. I've made it this far. I just think that they worry that I'm not making any new friends, and I worry that I lean to heavily on the ones that I have here, mostly Michael. But I've never had a friend that I can check out guys with as openly, and he gets all my vague pop-culture references.
It just seemed that everything was going wrong, and there was no way to fix any of it.
But I fell in love with New York again. I love that this happens. I felt comfortable, felt like I was beginning to get the swing of it, that I had intergrated. Then the city sort of threw a bunch of shit at me, and I had to take care of it all. Apparently I passed.
...............................................................................................................................
No new books.
This is a big deal. I have since I was 12 years old, bought at least one book every Sunday. I have no room for them, I have so many. If I get so stressed that I cant sleep again I promise I will give you all a really tedious and unnecessary list of them.
Scout's honor.
...............................................................................................................................
Prof. Schwartz
My Ethics prof. must be the most monotoned, uninteresting professor alive, and he's completely ambivolent about philosophy. But he's really hot.
He's bald, and clean shaven, and has a stereotypical Jewish nose. But it works in his favor. He wears Khakis everyday and by the end of class the pockets have rings of chalk marks on them. He doesnt get nervous, he doesnt stammer. I'm pretty sure he's alergic to clicking his tongue, too.
He wears terrible shirts, the sleeves look to big for his arms. But you can tell that he works out. When he writes on the chalkboard he bends in a way that makes his very cute butt stick out. The tall blond girl, that asks stupid questions and sits next to me always smiles when he does this. So does the guy two seats down from me. :)
He has a platinum ring on the middle finger of his left hand. I dont know, maybe there are smart straight men after all. Or maybe he's got an amazing husband. He almost certainly lives in Park Slope, and was almost certainly raised in Brooklyn, though he doesnt have a Brooklyn accent. He does sound like he can give a mean Jewish Mother Guilt Trip though.
I wouldnt mind if he tought me a lesson. ;P
Monday, September 11, 2006
My Life is Suddenly Too Much
I am so fucking busy!
I needn't say more but I will for good measure.
Okay so heres the deal, I'll just lay it out so that you can all send me sympathy emails....
*disclaimer*: really do want sympathy emails
So this is what my plate looks like these days:
45% is school. I have 12 credit hours and alot of papers to write
60% is work. I'm working full time and want to die because my feet hurt all night. Plus cutie-putootie(I did take that from Rosie) Justin Timberlake is coming centrally-located-pain-in-my-ass-megastore on Tuesday and people are already camped out. Guess who's floor he's going to be on? And his new stuff sucks.
15% is riding the subway. I do enjoy this because it gives me time to read.
10% is going through old stories.
5% is writing new stories
and the rest is sleeping.
This equals roughly 135%
Yeah that sounds about right.
And today is not only the shittiest day of the week, its also the shittiest day of the year. And while I sit at this computer and bitch, the rest of the country(especially NYC country) is in mourning.
I have class though, with a cute Jewish prof. But more on the later.
Enjoy your free time everyone else.
I needn't say more but I will for good measure.
Okay so heres the deal, I'll just lay it out so that you can all send me sympathy emails....
*disclaimer*: really do want sympathy emails
So this is what my plate looks like these days:
45% is school. I have 12 credit hours and alot of papers to write
60% is work. I'm working full time and want to die because my feet hurt all night. Plus cutie-putootie(I did take that from Rosie) Justin Timberlake is coming centrally-located-pain-in-my-ass-megastore on Tuesday and people are already camped out. Guess who's floor he's going to be on? And his new stuff sucks.
15% is riding the subway. I do enjoy this because it gives me time to read.
10% is going through old stories.
5% is writing new stories
and the rest is sleeping.
This equals roughly 135%
Yeah that sounds about right.
And today is not only the shittiest day of the week, its also the shittiest day of the year. And while I sit at this computer and bitch, the rest of the country(especially NYC country) is in mourning.
I have class though, with a cute Jewish prof. But more on the later.
Enjoy your free time everyone else.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Sorry I'm falling behind
hey you 8 great wonderful readers! I'm sorry that the entries seem to be farther and farther apart. I just have no time to fix my computer apparently(sp?). I have great classes, great friends, and I'm determined to meet a boy if it kills me.
This unfortunatly must be brief or I will be late for work at centraly-located-unnecessarily touristy-megastore.
But someone must remind me to tell about my Labor day weekend. I went to the Metropolitan with Michael on Saturday, then spent the whole day with him again on Monday. It was great, but I must run. I apologize from the deepest depths of my digital heart(and my real one)
Have a good day, and you New Yorkers enjoy the rain.
This unfortunatly must be brief or I will be late for work at centraly-located-unnecessarily touristy-megastore.
But someone must remind me to tell about my Labor day weekend. I went to the Metropolitan with Michael on Saturday, then spent the whole day with him again on Monday. It was great, but I must run. I apologize from the deepest depths of my digital heart(and my real one)
Have a good day, and you New Yorkers enjoy the rain.
Friday, September 01, 2006
A new beginning
It seems I have fallen into some resemblence to a life here. I have friends(4 kick ass guys(including Bob)) I have a great job, I have school, I have bills. I have a schedual and everything. Its was a good vacation, minus the whole emotional breakdown or 2, but when you fall down you grow to get back up, right?
I was starting to lose my patients with the city, starting to wonder if this really is the best place for me. Of course I knew it would be hard. No one ever said that uprooting your entire life for a place you hardly know was going to be easy. But I am growing. I love new york for alot of reasons, most of the aesthetics, but its a sort of molding process I'm going through. I know, without a doubt, that I am not the same person that I was on graduation day. I dont know if I liked that person, dont know if thats the me I wanted to be anyway. I'm glad for the change, glad for the "improvement". I'm building my legs on which I'm going to be standing.
The world seems good now, seems comfortable. and I've stopped fearing Flatbush. LOl.
I was starting to lose my patients with the city, starting to wonder if this really is the best place for me. Of course I knew it would be hard. No one ever said that uprooting your entire life for a place you hardly know was going to be easy. But I am growing. I love new york for alot of reasons, most of the aesthetics, but its a sort of molding process I'm going through. I know, without a doubt, that I am not the same person that I was on graduation day. I dont know if I liked that person, dont know if thats the me I wanted to be anyway. I'm glad for the change, glad for the "improvement". I'm building my legs on which I'm going to be standing.
The world seems good now, seems comfortable. and I've stopped fearing Flatbush. LOl.
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