Another catch-up post, only because I now finally have internet! The airport express kept blinking yellow, but after trying over and over, it finally turned green, and my network is now 'souvlaki'
Plus, I'm making souvlaki tonight, my first meal cooked here.
In other souvlaki news, I created a Google Voice number, and it's a NY number (347 area code), so call me: 34-SOUVLAKI.
I think it's pretty funny.
It was crazy hiring/meeting a mover and going all over Manhattan to buy each Craigslist piece of furniture and then unloading in my forth floor walk-up apartment. I'm strong now.
Then several days later, FedEx came, and threw my 14 boxes in the hallway, and I had to slowly lug the 50 lb. + pieces of shit up the stairs by myself. Sometimes, I when I want to cry/die, I instead think about how great my apartment will be once it's all set up and how I'll never remember this painful ordeal of moving in(to a fucking walk-up!). I made it.
I unpacked all day, and forgot to eat, so emerged to forage before 10 PM, and was scared by all the tourists and DBs in the area. I DO live in Midtown. I'm not complaining. At least it's safe. DBs are safe, right?
I've decorated, taken the water taxi to IKEA and lugged curtains, bins, miscellaneous IKEA shit across downtown to my apartment. I'm too poor to afford a cab, and I'm alone, so I do this alone! I'm really proud. I feel . . . independent and accomplished. Except I don't have a job (nor do I want one, but I will have to find one next week.)
Jorge is in town, so he's been immensely helpful with setting up my curtains, and helping me attempt to find that nursery between NYU and Union Square, which I can never find . . . I met his family! I love his nephew Lucas, who looks like a 3 y/o version of Jorge. We played bball, and I got eaten alive by mosquitoes in Queens.
Yesterday, I met up with Jorge's family in Coney Island and watched fireworks! It was so amazing. I take videos on my iPhone of everything that I do and send them to e, because it's the closest thing I can get to his being here with me.
I'll post pictures and a video of my souvlaki house after Mindy's all moved in. I have 2 videos of the apartment in-progress, but it's more fun to see a before/after. I pretend I'm my own Apartment Therapy or Design*Sponge, etc.
When I'm not out in a burrough doing things with Jorge or Jason, I'm at home, building my nest. It is the nicest place I've ever lived in, and it's very much my (and soon, Mindy's), home. I've never got to have one. I feel like an adult. With puppets, color, and a zebra in my house. Oh, and turnips in the window.
Mostly, I want school to start, because I want to be busy and intimidated and nervous and a powerhouse machine with academic stuff. I'm tired of being a machine with domestic stuff. It makes me feel like Sandra Lee, except without all the cocktails. I haven't been in eating/drinking moods. Blaspheme, yes, but it's true: I've misplaced my appetite. Hopefully it'll come back. I trust it. Stray! But come back! Roomba to its dock.
I've been biking places with Jason--today (and for the next two Saturdays) they('re) clos(ed/ing) Park Ave. all the way past the park, so we biked across the Williamsburg bridge from BK into the city, then somehow biked with the 16Pc Essential Crate and Barrel dish set through taxi traffic in Midtown by the 5th Avenue Apple Store to my house.
I feel like I'm living someone else's life, but this is entirely mine. As it should be? I miss him, and share in my mind, every moment with him.
Come visit! My Molton Brown bathroom soap is divine.
I want to be in love in the city. I've already been in love with the city. Let this happen for me. You must know by now, since I've told you, that I feel my clock ticking. Weird, I know, since I'm young yet, but I feel this urgency.
It is bittersweet. And perhaps, not meant for me.
