The State That I Am In
Everyone keeps asking me how I’m doing, and how my new life is, and the best answer I can come up with is: it’s really surreal. I’m having fun, and I’m getting to do cool new things and go cool new places and hang out with very cool new people, but it’s surreal. It’s surreal to live somewhere new when I’ve lived in one city my entire life, because even though I’m having fun and feeling adventurous, I can’t shake the fact that some hidden part of my brain is always thinking, “so, when do we go home?” It’s surreal to be away from my friends at home, especially when one of us needs comforting. It’s surreal to go from my big apartment all by myself to a small room with a leaking inflatable bed, and the majority of my belongings in storage until I get a job. I hate to sound like a stereotypical materialistic American, but I really miss my stuff. I miss my books, I miss my music, I miss my sofa, and I miss my bed. God, do I miss my bed. Some mornings I wake up on a flat plastic mattress and think, My God, what have I done?, all David Byrne-style. Except by “mornings,” I mean afternoons. It’s not really as dour as that all sounds, but I think a job and the set routine it would inevitably bring will really help. I’m supposed to hear back about one tomorrow, so feel free to cross your fingers for me, if you’re into finger crossing.
Anyway, I’m excited about Halloween weekend, which promises to be full of costume parties and birthday parties and my roommate’s band’s show, and pretty much just a big fat excuse to get out of my apartment and drink and have fun. Earlier tonight I gave my costume a test run, and spent the rest of the evening scrubbing off silver face paint, along with at least five layers of skin. I better end up making out with a really hot Abe L. is all I’m saying.
In other news, Happy Second Birthday, Que Sera Sera, which is just a silly little blog that I started on a whim late one night, but, strangely enough, has actually remained one of the few constants in my life over the past two years, outlasting many personal relationships and connecting me with many new opportunities that I otherwise never would have known. That probably says something significant about my life, but it’s too late at night for me to start thinking about shit like that. I mean, what the hell do I know? I sleep on an inflatable bed in a 10 x 10 room in one of the largest cities on the planet, and no one in the world is in love with me. 10 I should get out more. 20 GOTO 10.