Usually on Friday nights, back in my life in the big Apple, I would NEVER stay home. I'd have dinner with Bwoy, change at his place, and go out on the town. Bwoy would usually not come, since he would have studying to do. So I'd call up Social Guy and see what was up.
Social Guy ALWAYS had something planned. With him, we would hit a couple of parties at bars where either my friend's cousin's boyfriend's roommate's sister was having a party or Social Guy's friend's roommate's girlfriend's sister was having a party. Some combination of that. Of course Social Guy would have less degrees of separation than I would-- I mean, duh, I named him Social Guy.
And these weren't just average parties with stuggling artists selling T-shirts and smoking up at some hole in the wall apartment, or dive bars with $2 beer specials. These were at pricey bars where the minimum drink was $15-25, mermaids swam around in giant fishtanks (no... seriously), bottles of champagne and wine were ordered, and women and waitresses walked around half-naked but with designer materials covering up their boobies so that they could be deemed "classy." Of course, to be fair, I knew some of the throwers of the party. But to be more fair, Social Guy knew more.
The funny thing about Social Guy is he wasn't cool in college. Or in high school. Or in middle school. Or in elementary school. Okay, maybe elementary school, what do 5-yr olds know anyway? I mean, I was cool in elementary school because I let pple eat my PBJ sandwiches. (Hmm, if only life were so simple now). Social Guy only became cool after college. That was something that initially went against my reason. I always assumed that after you "entered the real world" (as my parents and professors and college president would menacingly say during graduation), life pretty much went downhill socially. Apparently for grad students it does- and I can say that since I'm now a grad student. But for NON-grad students, it's the best! And there is so much more opportunity to be social. And I can say that since I spent a couple of years being a non-grad student.
So what's the point of this meaningless post? If anyone actually reads this and you are:
a) in college
b) not in college, but at some mind numbing, money sucking graduate school
c) lost in the "real world"
d) obsessed with being cool
don't worry:
a) Life is soooo much nicer once your head is out of the books.
b) It's never too late to be comfortable in your skin.
That's pretty much what happened with Social Guy. He grew into his own skin (a little late, but what the hell).
Friday
=)
Bwoy is coming to visit me this wknd! Bwoy is coming to visit me this wknd!
Lalalala!
*NP does a little dance in her underwear this morning as she brushes her teeth*
Update:
Stupid rain. Bwoy's flight may not come after all.
*NP sheds a few tears. Weekends suck.*
Update 2:
Bwoy is coming! Bwoy is coming! At 2am, but what the hell.
*NP resumes dance in her underwear as she brushes her teeth at night*
Lalalala!
*NP does a little dance in her underwear this morning as she brushes her teeth*
Update:
Stupid rain. Bwoy's flight may not come after all.
*NP sheds a few tears. Weekends suck.*
Update 2:
Bwoy is coming! Bwoy is coming! At 2am, but what the hell.
*NP resumes dance in her underwear as she brushes her teeth at night*
Tuesday
Change of profession
I've been in Chicago for more than a week and made a total of 2 friends. One of whom includes my roommate. Is that normal?
This new place where I work is TINY (but prestigious); I guess that's why I picked it: individual attention, addressing people's needs, etc. It turned out to be quite accurate. Still. There is a thing as too tiny. There are a handful of people my age, most of whom seem very unsocial. I end up talking to this dude who complains about how pple are unsocial; we bitch together, and then I end up wondering how he ever got to work in this place since he is such a party animal. Seriously. I feel bad for him; he ends up talking to the secretaries to find people who actually respond to his attempts at conversation.
For my part, however, this is sort of what I expected. I was never looking forward to it, but surprisingly I've shrugged off my social life in NY more easily than I expected for this more nomadic life. Surprise! If you haven't guessed by now, I'm now a graduate student. Boo. No more of The Office. Now I can bitch about The Lab. And The Institute. *rubbing hands with glee* Oh what good times we'll have=)
This new place where I work is TINY (but prestigious); I guess that's why I picked it: individual attention, addressing people's needs, etc. It turned out to be quite accurate. Still. There is a thing as too tiny. There are a handful of people my age, most of whom seem very unsocial. I end up talking to this dude who complains about how pple are unsocial; we bitch together, and then I end up wondering how he ever got to work in this place since he is such a party animal. Seriously. I feel bad for him; he ends up talking to the secretaries to find people who actually respond to his attempts at conversation.
For my part, however, this is sort of what I expected. I was never looking forward to it, but surprisingly I've shrugged off my social life in NY more easily than I expected for this more nomadic life. Surprise! If you haven't guessed by now, I'm now a graduate student. Boo. No more of The Office. Now I can bitch about The Lab. And The Institute. *rubbing hands with glee* Oh what good times we'll have=)
Saturday
My Big Move, Part I
The day I flew off to Chicago, I kept my eyes closed during the entire flight. I heard the gasps, excited whispers as the plane dipped low enough somewhere in north Illinois and the lovely sheen of Lake Michigan shimmered below the airplane windows. No, I telepathically told my eyes firmly, you will not open. The last vision they had seen was the pulsating lights of New York fading into the distance.
And like a clam, I did not open for the first few days. Instead, I moped in my new apartment, downloading old pictures from my camera to my computer, reliving those magical days in a place I thought was home. My Friday nights were spent in my room alone, and my memory would drift out east to each and every Friday I was out drinking, dancing, or snuggling with my boyfriend in New York City.
That’s what pained me the most. His absence. After the chaotic last weeks spent packing, feeling important as friends and family clamored and clattered around my leaving, quiet had descended. There is nothing like the aftermath of a crash, the calm breeze streaming into a previously violent scene that pinpoints a question. Where is the noise? Where is the energy? Where is that one voice you want to fill the silence with? It turns out that voice was his. The only voice I would rather hear.
But moving to a new city is exciting, all my friends exclaimed. Older people would nod and sagely tell me that this is the time to explore my life. Eventually, I incorporated these words. Before stepping onto the plane to Chicago, I would tell my lamenting friends that I was excited to start my new life. I would comfort my tearful parents, patting them like little dogs and explaining patiently that I was young, and now is the best time to try a new city. Like trying a new flavor of ice cream. Easy, quick, and wouldn’t it be so sweet? All I needed to do was pack my six suitcases, and fly off into the distance. New flavor, new city, new life.
All this excitement evaporated when I realized there was nowhere to put it. I was in the middle of a strange place in Chicago. No car, no bike, no internet, no TV. Just me, my suitcases, and a small wooden room. I unpacked quickly, filling my room with items I brought from New York. There-- my tie-dyed bedspread, my wooden vases from India, my little trinkets and ornaments I hung around the room. It helped, a little. The first night, after sweating through a couple of intense hours of unpacking, I sat down to survey the results. Quiet descended again. But I was too tired to listen for anything. Maybe that is the best way to fight this, I thought drowsily, falling into my pink and green bedspread. Keep myself insanely busy.
And like a clam, I did not open for the first few days. Instead, I moped in my new apartment, downloading old pictures from my camera to my computer, reliving those magical days in a place I thought was home. My Friday nights were spent in my room alone, and my memory would drift out east to each and every Friday I was out drinking, dancing, or snuggling with my boyfriend in New York City.
That’s what pained me the most. His absence. After the chaotic last weeks spent packing, feeling important as friends and family clamored and clattered around my leaving, quiet had descended. There is nothing like the aftermath of a crash, the calm breeze streaming into a previously violent scene that pinpoints a question. Where is the noise? Where is the energy? Where is that one voice you want to fill the silence with? It turns out that voice was his. The only voice I would rather hear.
But moving to a new city is exciting, all my friends exclaimed. Older people would nod and sagely tell me that this is the time to explore my life. Eventually, I incorporated these words. Before stepping onto the plane to Chicago, I would tell my lamenting friends that I was excited to start my new life. I would comfort my tearful parents, patting them like little dogs and explaining patiently that I was young, and now is the best time to try a new city. Like trying a new flavor of ice cream. Easy, quick, and wouldn’t it be so sweet? All I needed to do was pack my six suitcases, and fly off into the distance. New flavor, new city, new life.
All this excitement evaporated when I realized there was nowhere to put it. I was in the middle of a strange place in Chicago. No car, no bike, no internet, no TV. Just me, my suitcases, and a small wooden room. I unpacked quickly, filling my room with items I brought from New York. There-- my tie-dyed bedspread, my wooden vases from India, my little trinkets and ornaments I hung around the room. It helped, a little. The first night, after sweating through a couple of intense hours of unpacking, I sat down to survey the results. Quiet descended again. But I was too tired to listen for anything. Maybe that is the best way to fight this, I thought drowsily, falling into my pink and green bedspread. Keep myself insanely busy.
Sunday
Moving to a new city
I moved! Away from my family, friends, and Bwoy. I miss everyone. I am lonely. I am lost, and confused about pretty much everything. I even cried today after I was done unpacking. Mostly because I am back to walking everywhere, nervous about starting classes (after being in the luxurious corporate world for a while), and being totally confused about what I did with my internet.
And did I mention I have no car in an otherwise suburban area? Things are so far away, I'll be spending at least an hour a day simply walking. Maybe it's time to get one of those "listen to a book" options. Or at least start listening to music again. I guess things will be alright. I think I'll walk about 10 minutes to the nearest Whole Foods for now and buy some food. That always makes me feel better.
And did I mention I have no car in an otherwise suburban area? Things are so far away, I'll be spending at least an hour a day simply walking. Maybe it's time to get one of those "listen to a book" options. Or at least start listening to music again. I guess things will be alright. I think I'll walk about 10 minutes to the nearest Whole Foods for now and buy some food. That always makes me feel better.
Tuesday
Vegetarianism
Today is a sad day for me. I have to give up meat. Well, except fish. And sometimes chicken. But it still counts, right? The reason is because I have high cholesterol. Why? Why? I run, I am pretty thin, I generally steer clear of overstuffing myself with fried food. And I LOVE food. Absolutely adore eating it, cooking it, smelling it, looking at it, reading about it, watching other people make it on the Food Network. Did I mention I adore eating it?
*grumble*
*grumble*
Stupid genes.
(bobrost.com/soupmines)
Update:
I couldn't do it. I'm back to eating meat. =P
(bobrost.com/soupmines)Update:
I couldn't do it. I'm back to eating meat. =P
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