My Last Day

Today was my last day at work. I haven't had work to do since last week, so I spent all this week making personal phone calls, IMing, and reading blogs. I went to lunch with my manager and with another UI designer of my selection. Around 3pm, I sent the goodbye email and after a couple of people came to say goodbye, I felt like I was going to cry, so I left. I had planned to go to Soho, but decided I wanted to be alone in my own mind. So I went to MOMA. I had expected to pay $12 with my student ID (yes, I still use it) and found out that SUNY students are free. I went in for free and saw a Luis Bunuel movie for free as well. It was perfect. There was an exhibit on Soviet architecture, which my new future co-worker told me was the influence for my new apartment. There's nothing I love more than spending a day walking around in a museum. I am so glad, I'm within train distance to San Francisco.

Welcome to Heaven

This weekend while in San Jose, I went to an Oktoberfest in Campbell with my friend. We had a couple of beers. She ran into a friend of a friend who was already drunk. He asked me who I was and I told him I was going to be moving to the SJ area in a few weeks. He said, "You know its like all men here." I said, "I know, I've read that." Being that he was half in the bag, he drunkenly said, "Welcome to heaven." I never pictured heaven to be filled with socially awkward techie nerds, but hey, I'm open-minded.

Anyhow, last night I went out with some peeps to smac. I had a lot of fun. I notice that when I'm out with Fifi, I fondle my breasts in public a lot. She brings that out of me. Its times like last night I see a glimpse of how NYC was supposed to be for me. Cheap fun with good company in a small ass place. Its too bad I didn't meet some of these people early on in my time here, and maybe if I wasn't so depressed, I would have reached out more. Who knows. I don't regret a single second of being here, and if I could go back in time, I probably would do things a little different-moving closer to the city most likely. And after last night, as a group they collectively convinced me to stay for my official last weekend in New York. Why not? I have the rest of my life to be in Cali.

Last Words

So, my mom's boyfriend told his kids that I was leaving the NYC, and the words of his oldest son, "I wouldn't leave NYC". Well honey, its because you've never been here. And, even if you have been here, you've never lived here. Sweetheart, I know you are accustomed to living the high life in San Bernadino, so rest assured that all the comforts and luxuries you are used to would be stripped away from you when and if you decide to live here. But, seeing as how you've never left San Bernadino County, I highly doubt you will ever live anywhere outside of shithole, california. My last words to people like you: you would not last two months in this city. You would be living in the ghetto side of Brooklyn if you are lucky. So, don't talk shit about me and my decisions to leave the city. We can compare lives in a few years, when you are done with your $10/hour job and I'm betting that you will have never left the boundaries of San Bernadino county.

My very own apartment

I got up very early this morning in order to start my search for the perfect apartment. I sort of knew that I wanted an apartment with character, not one that was put up in 2006 and was going to be some plastic crackerjack building that will drain the character out of the area. Many of the places I looked at were victorian mansions that had been converted into apartments. I scoped the neighborhood at night when I flew in to be sure that it was safe. I ran every possible address into crimereports, and compared it to the homicide map. Anyhow, I didn't have any criteria really, but I sort of figured I would know it when I saw it. I saw a slew of studios with weird layouts--because when you convert mansion rooms into studios, you get weird combinations, like abnormally skinny kitchens with connecting doors to bathrooms.

Most of what I saw didn't fit me, I had almost given up hope until I met with the last person for the day. The apartment had a living room and a bedroom, and tons of storage and closet space. I haven't had a closet in three years! Its quite spacious, looks to have been built in the 60's so it has personality and plenty of room for guests. The best part is the rent. $1050. Can you believe it? The rental person said she couldn't rent the place for more because everyone was turned off by the fact that there was no washer or dryer on premises. Suckas! Life without a washer/dryer means dropping off laundry so some undocumented worker can fold it. Which is fine with me. Before my time in NYC, it probably would have bothered me too, but I'm so used to not living with a washer/dryer, that I really don't care. Besides, if I wanted to do my own washing, its literally across the street in another building the owner has. So basically my salary has increased by 15k, and my rent only increased by $350. It gets better, my drive to work is exactly 9 minutes and I'm in a safe neighborhood. Downtown San Jose area is also rent stabilized, so my rent won't be going up anytime soon, and when it does, it can only go up a max of 8% a year. My own apartment. No more roommates. At last. Now it won't be long until I have my own house. I can feel it.

Scared Shitless

I'm scared shitless. I can't lie. Everyday I'm on Craigslist looking for apartments in areas that won't get me murdered. I've been reading the San Jose Crime Blog and cross referencing addresses of potential apartments to this Homicide Crime Map. So far many of the places I thought would be cool to live are like four blocks away from some deadly murder or multiple stabbings. Holy fuck. Is it weird that I live in Brooklyn and feel unsafe moving to suburbia? You should see me walking up and down this neighborhood with my big titties at 10:00 at night. I've never felt unsafe. On top of that, people keep telling me to live in SF and commute for the 1 hour or more to work. I just don't know if I'm ready for that right now. I may decide to do that once I'm there, but I don't think I'll do that during the first year. I'd love to live in SF, but I will move when I'm ready.

Today I got a text from an H.S. friend, today which said, "I hope u find what ur looking for in CA". Me too. I guess I had never thought of it that way. All I know is that I felt that I will never have the kind of life I want in NYC. I can't have roommates at the age of 35. I don't see any bf in sight to move in with me and share rent, and I've never wanted to live with someone before marriage. Don't ask me why, its not religious really, because I will fuck my boyfriends until they are begging me to stop, all while parked in front of an elementary school. But, I digress...NYC is a great place, but it can never be the place that will bring me to a comfortable existence. If I was happier at my current job, I probably would have stayed for another year or so.

On some level, I knew my stay on the east coast would never be permanent. I'm a west coastie on the inside. I guess what I'm looking for is to find myself in a place of contentment. I'm not sure if just being in Cali will do that. I think its the whole picture. I can live alone, I will be working for a great company with a great reputation and the very real possibility of moving up in my position. Things might suck there too, but I will be closer to home and close to very beautiful places such as Napa, SF, Santa Cruz and Monterey. Yeah I'm very nervous and super scared. In some way NYC has instilled that fear in me. But, I lived through it, and I know tons of people who will never live in NYC. But I did. And I got out alive. A bit scarred, but alive.

Abstinence

It turns out my last weekend in New York isn't really going to be in New York. The new company is going to fly me out next weekend to look for an apartment. They are also sending someone with me to help me, which is so super sweet. Meanwhile, I'm having a bitch of a time selling my shit on craigslist. I need the money so I'm forced to keep slashing my prices which is killing me. Today, I had a mini freakout. I called my friend Kate who relocated to Philly and asked if I was going to make friends. She laughed and promised that I would. I feel so scarred from my experience in New York, that I've almost developed a phobia of new places.

Anyway, I was inspired by an article in Time Out New York to temporarily practice abstinence. It's not even about being jaded its more about just hanging out with me without the complications of another person. My abstinence is more about abstaining from dating in general. I look back at the people I've dated and I see all the mistakes I've made. Its one thing to feel like you respect yourself, but its another to put that into play. Until now I've dated men who clearly didn't respect me, and I see that it was my fault because I didn't feel like I deserved respect. It hurts to have people I love treat me bad. For me love has always hurt. I'm not exactly suffering from domestic abuse or anything, but I have a history of dating men who seemed to enjoy hurting me. I finally see the light. And now I need to change my behavior and that requires some time. alone. which probably won't be a problem because i'll be new in town soon.

Two weeks and counting

It's absolutely final. I handed my two-week notice in today and my last day will be October 25, 2007. I was surprisingly emotional when I was talking to my manager, I think partly because he seemed so shocked. Of course he had nothing but well wishing and I think he understood that I needed to be elsewhere to get my career needs met. Right now I just have to focus on getting my shit sold on Craigslist.

How Sweet it Was

My time in New York has come to an end. I was offered a position by the online auction company based out of Silicon Valley, California. Its a tremendous move for my career and I'll be working on some really exciting projects. I plan to be out of NYC by the end of October. I'm getting (way) more money and the ability to afford to live alone. I'm trading in the urban life for a suburban meets urban hybrid. San Francisco is only 34 miles away, and can be reached by train or by car. I'm turning in Pete's Pizza shop for Pizza Hut and Karim's bodega for a 7-11. And such is the trade off for giving up the unaffordable and inconvenient lifestyle.

I really thought I'd be sad about leaving NYC, but surprisingly I'm not. I've enjoyed my time here as much as one could under the circumstances. I've lived as a Brooklynite for a year and I don't regret my time here at all. I do wish I would have met more people that I could included in my friend pile. If I hadn't come to New York, I would never have had the chance to work on a globally recognizable brand. Because of that, it opened a lot of doors for me. I've also worked with some brilliant and patient managers that taught me everything I know, and to which I will always be grateful.

I've already drafted my 2-week notice, but will hand it over formally on Friday. I'm commemorating my last weekend in NYC at SMAC and going to a sexy wine bar. And now I turn a new page in my life...and with that will probably be some aptly named blog that I will try to link to this one...we'll see.

House Cleaning

You'd be surprised what you will find at the bottom of your drawers, during a house cleaning. I'll tell you what I found: old pictures of me smiling happily in the arms of my ex-boyfriend (Peter), old postcards which proclaimed confessions of love and personal jokes, and hand drawn pictures of me and other objects (Chris). The postcard I found from Peter was dated September 2004. Its been 3 years since he last loved me. When I came across these artifacts I thought about throwing them away. It felt good to be at that place, because part of the reason these objects were hidden, was because I couldn't bear to see me so happy with someone who told me to my face that he didn't love me. Correction: Peter's mom decided he didn't love me, and that I will believe until the day I die.

My have I grown. And though, it hasn't even been two months since the Chris debacle, I was ready to toss out his drawings as well. The situation was painful at first, but once you realize someone was so full of shit, its really hard to maintain any sentimentality toward any of the things he said or did for me. I'm not going to lie, its been slightly difficult for me to deal with the dissolution of our friendship/whatever the fuck it was. There are times when I really miss talking to him, and felt that we were perfect for each other. But, that has all been shaded by the inferior piece of single mom white trash he decided was worth more than me. No matter what, I'm always going to see it that way. He traded me for her, and thought it was worth the risk of losing my friendship and place in his life. And to me, he will remain the biggest idiot I've ever been dated/or whatever the fuck(ed).

Edge: A Review

I went to see "Edge" a one-woman play about the life of Sylvia Plath starring Angelica Torn. It was a very intimate setting, a black box, I believe they call it. The story is told on the last day of Sylvia's life, the day she commited suicide. Her life story is reenacted for key milestones in her life, such as her near fatal suicide attempt while at Smith College. From all I've read about Sylvia Plath, she appeared to be Bipolar, and Ms. Torn did an exceptional job at conveying that. She would speak in a very matter-of-fact voice and suddenly burst into an angry rage. I found myself tense hanging on every moment almost afraid of another outburst, and somewhat expecting one at any given time. Her tears were just as intense, and at times I found myself so taken with her performance, and so engaged, I thought I was going to cry. Ms. Torn portrayed how I've always envisioned Sylvia Plath to be like, down to the tongue in cheek humor. I found myself wondering what it would have been like to be married to a Bipolar. Like so many brilliant artists, she was an afflicted soul. If she had been alive today, she would have been prescribed Lithium and an arsenal of anti-depressants, which undoubtedly would have inhibited her creativity. Much like the movie Sylvia, the play villianized her husband, Ted Hughes. I've often wondered what his side of the story is. Hers has been told repeatedly and I wonder if its been told fairly. No doubt he was a self-absorbed asshole, but I would still like to hear his side of it.

Mysteries of Friendship

Let's talk about friends shall we? While I was in the bay area, I met with a friend of mine whose wedding I was in last year. We had a bit of a fallout having to do with my stupid behavior. Nothing huge, but it caused a bit of drama between us. As a result, we haven't really talked since then. Until recently. I wanted to meet with her while I was up in San Jose, because she lives there. We made a plan, and had drinks. It was slightly awkward. We had some things to talk about because it had been a while. I spoke about my interviews and career. She spoke about getting knocked up in a year and wanting to be a mother. Let's put it this way, if this had been a first date, I wouldn't have called back for a second.

Which brings me to another point. I have a friend who has been knocked up twice, is married, and lives in the heart of the South. Yet, I repeatedly call her back for more dates. I can't get enough of her. If we were dating, I'd be jocking her big time. So, I can't really attribute my bad friend-date to "drifting apart". So, I'm left wondering what makes some people friends for the long haul and others not? My friend in the South never calls me. But, I don't mind at all. I have people who call me a friend and never pick up the phone, which is total bullshit. I have friends I rarely call, but when I talk to them its like no time has passed at all. I think it would be fair to say that most of friends are not at all in the same place in their lives as I am, and yet we are still close.

I make very clearly definitions between friendship and acquaintances and I am a believer that one cannot ever truly be friends with their ex. Last night, after going to a gallery opening, I launched into a conversation about my greedy vagina who loves big dicks. Could I really say this to an ex? No. But then again, they already know what my vagina loves...