Wednesday I forced myself up early to edit my Midterm. Around 11 AM I hit the “I can’t do anything more about it” mindset, printed it out and turned it in. Then I went off to attempt to read for my Thursday class; I didn’t even bother to try and read any of the Foucault for my Interpretive Methods class. (And, because of Feminist Political Thought with Favorite-Professor, I knew enough about Foucault to still speak up in that class today. Thanks Skidmore-Government Department!)

There was a pizza & beer party for our program, but I didn’t stay long. I had some free wine, talked to some poly-sci people within my program, and then went home and returned the phone calls I’d ignored the past few days.

I talked to Jill-IAN tonight, and while we were on the phone she got a call from Drucifer, who she hasn’t seen since recently leaving our Workplace, and it occured to me that it is not so much that I miss him, but I do miss the three of us together. We were a team. When I think about all we did this summer together, I get sad because I have no equivalent here, and I miss them, and I miss New York, and I am thinking of our last night in Brooklyn and how whole I felt. I grant that I’m closer to Jill-IAN than Drew, and she would say the same for me, but we both love him for his no-BS advice, among other things. … What I wouldn’t give right now for a night at 3JP.

At my 2nd good-bye party (yeah, did I ever mention that? I had TWO going away parties because I became such a social-fucking-butterfly in New York…I don’t get it either) I pulled Drew and Jill aside for a second just because I needed a moment to formally recognize the awesomeness of our dynamic and friendship or something. I am lame.

I’m not neccesarily happy, overall, with the way things are going here in Chicago. But I am extraordinarily grateful for the best support system in the world.

Jill-IAN: Neumsy, it’s our one year anniversary! I had my PLI job interview exactly a year ago.
Me: Oh yeah. And I didn’t like you because you were the idiot who forgot your ID
Jill-IAN: And I think I asked you what time it was.
Me: And I was probably bitchy.
Jill-IAN: I think I remember wondering what your problem was.
Me: And then you sat in the breakroom waiting for Dite, and I was like “Why is she still here?” And I was thinking there was no way you would get the job. Because you know, you were the idiot that forgot your ID.
Jill-IAN: And then I became like, the best thing to ever happen to you.
Me: Yes. Yes you did.
Jill-IAN: We should get MySpace pages so we can post “Happy Anniversary messages to each other on them.
Me: …..
Me: No
Me: MySpace ruins lives

When I was counting down the days left at Skidmore, I had plenty of down time to write. Now I have even more to write about and no time to write.

Off the top of my head, without eloquence

My Astorians party on Friday was relatively low-key. We took over Hell Gate’s Social again, brought in lots of food and ordered pizza (I will miss New York pizza.) A lot of people showed up; I felt very popular. Sooz made me an awesome card, the front of which is laminated google-map directions from Hyde Park to Astoria. I got an Astoria Hell Gates shirt — I love that bridge. We took lots of pictures. There was much girl talk among the usual Astoria ladies. I am going to miss this community more than I can put into words. It’s been an amazing experience. Ok Rousseau I GET IT.

Last night was PLI people and random people and O-town people and people I hadn’t seen in a really long time, and at one point Jill-IAN was like “Jesus Neumsy, who ARE all these people?” because I had been fretting about people not showing up and looking like a loser. Everyone was buying me drinks, and I got to talk to everyone and didn’t take enough pictures, and I think I managed to not be too emotional, although I think I hugged everyone about 19 times. I will write about it later.

I have lots of boxes. My head is swimming.

I never, in my whole life, thought I would be the type of person who warranted throwing two separate going away parties. At one point last night I pulled Jill-IAN and Drew aside, and was just like “You guys have been one of the best things about New York and I love you a lot.” 

I cannot put this into words. This is so freaking cliched, but I seriously don’t know how to say all this. I am basically overcome with emotion.

“I heart you for 2-1-5, 3JP, Malibu Bay Breezes, Dawson’s Creek and Degrassi, careening through Brooklyn in the car making up new words to “How’s It Gonna Be” and laughing our asses off, and for nicknames, and Gin Blossoms, and Angela Chase, and ballet, and deep lunchtime conversations, and for misanthropic heroism, mallets, planes, suggestion boxes, and Coney Island and for analysis, and our band names, wanting to punch people, raccoons, and revalations, and being awesome, and for sharing a brain, and for torrid love affairs, alligator farms, and subway boyfriends, and for making fun of everything, Cinco de Mayo, and idiot-lion-cub-boy, and for not getting over ourselves and being the two coolest people on the planet.”

CK and I have always had fun together, and despite our insistence for many months that we are not friends, we’ve really become close since we bonded at my birthday party. And to be honest, looking back on over a year in the city, and it has always been CK, listening to be talk when I was cry over a boy last August, toasting to the Transit Strike in December, letting me cry over ANOTHER boy in March, bonding with me on my birthday,  and finally this summer, taking me out and toasting. And that is not to mention all the monologues, political babble, and just plain hilarity.

I was exhausted last night from lack of sleep and my ear hurting, but I wanted to rally. I told CK about how I totally got the guy who put the “black hole of despair” thing in the suggestion box, about how I was honest in my interview, and my boss’s reaction to my World’s Worst Receptionist” t-shirt (that I wore all afternoon). “I underestimated you,” CK admitted. “I thought you’d go out with a whimper, but you went out with a bang. I’m really proud of you.” (Bonus for use of TS Eliot)

It’s funny because at work he always tells me to go away, and I always insult him and so for some reason, nice things from him mean more. Also, I like that he now knows me well enough that he can laugh at me and point out that I’m doing “that Rachel thing where you try to impress me.” I mean, he was totally right, but I can call him out on similar things.

At the end of dinner, he raised his vodka and said “To the best drinking buddy I know, the best friend I have in the city, the most brilliant receptionist ever, and if you start crying I will punch you in the face.” So instead I laughed and we clinked glasses and I said “Screw it, I don’t want to go home. Let’s find an Irish pub and get a beer.”

So we went to The Irish Pub across from my office, and it was my turn to tell him how I think he’s way too fucking smart for his job, and he is awesome and he needs to go do something other than giving into this existential bullshit, because it’s true. “I’ll have my MA in a year, and I might be back in the city. If you’re still at the same job I will kick your fucking ass.”

Sometimes, when CK talks, it drives me crazy because I know I’ve heard the same sentence come out of my own mouth. Sure, I’m more emotional and he’s more cynical (because he’s older, hehe) and yeah, he pisses me off when he calls me out of my self-affirmation bullshit, but we are very, very similar. I have never met someone with views (not just political) are so aligned to mine. We have nearly identical outlooks on life. I mentioned this and he smiled “It’s a Jersey thing.”

We talked about rock bottom, and plans, and relationships, and burning bridges. “That’s kind of what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re saying ‘fuck you, I’m going to Chicago.’ He stumbled on to exactly why I’m so sad to leave. Because I have everything here; I have great friends, and acquintences, and social circles, and an apartment, and a life I love, and I have to take the chance that I’m not going to have all those things in Chicago.

I’m going to really miss CK, and he admitted he would miss me too. We had the same conversation we’ve had several times, and the conclusion was the same, and that also sucks. (“You need to find yourself a decent boyfriend,” he told me. I rolled my eyes) We hugged good-bye and promised to keep in touch. And hugged good-bye again (we were both pretty drunk.)

And yeah, we’ll keep in touch. But it’s never going to be the way it is right now.  I know this whole long good-byes thing is bringing out my penchant for drama, but damn….I’m going to miss him.

Another great night. I love my friends. I love the Astorians. (There’s a Ven diagram needed somewhere in here) I am so not getting to bed early. 

This all ends in less than a week. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Blah, blah, blah ‘sometimes you have to take a step before you’re ready. Because if you wait to be ready, you’ll never take that step.” 

The sense of danger must not disappear: 
The way is certainly both short and steep, 
However gradual it looks from here; 
Look if you like, but you will have to leap. -Auden

Jill-IAN: After you leave, I’m just going to call the new girl ‘Rachel’ and I’m going to sit with her at lunch and tell her stories about you.
Me: So you’ll frighten her and she’ll think you’re psychotic.
Jill-IAN: And then she’ll quit and you’ll have to come back from Chicago.
Me: You don’t even call me Rachel. Why would you call her Rachel?
Jill-IAN: Well I’m not going to call her Neumsy! You’re Neumsy.

After the outing to Brooklyn last night and my half a personal day this morning, I feel much better. After work, Jill and I went to Gingers (ie, The Lesbian Bar in Park Slope) for a few beers.

We met up with Deana and her boyfriend and a few other people for what Jill terms The Feast, but is really some week long street fair way the hell out in Brooklyn. (I have no idea where we were, because I wasn’t paying attention.) We played soccer. A guy with a popped collar hit on me and I insulted him. There was good food. Then Jill and I walked back to Ginger’s. I called my supervisor on the way there (and I was a little tipsy) to leave the message that I was taking 1/2 a personal day. Then Jill and I spent four hours talking and bonding and I can’t believe I am leaving this girl, I am going to miss her so, so much.

An eventful Labor Day weekend is in front of me. Damn, I have a lot to write about. I’m also overwhelmed by some of the more bureaucratic things I have to do before I move. 

It’s a whirlwind, but it’s a good whirlwind. A good way for life to be. 

And this is the quote of the month: “You better not fail out of school with all your boy drama! You’re going to be supporting us one day!!!” From, who else, the brilliant Jill-IAN

That’s true friendship people.

We need help, clearly. A quick googling of said song reveals that it is a Michael Bolton song, but I believe it has been covered by several other artists.

It’s like, I moved here in the middle of an overdramatic break up and grad school rejections and this community was so welcoming and immediately made me feel home and like I had a place here. It some how came around that I had just gotten out of a relationship at one of my first Astoria events, and got the typical comments And then at the end of the evening, Lia put her hand on my arm and was like “Your ex boyfriend is an idiot. You’re lovely.”

And she totally didn’t have to say that, and it was so sweet and bonus for the use of lovely.

You are against the odds, you are unexpected, you are a memory of both butterflies in my throat and a punch in the stomach, you are a magnifying glass and a mirror, you are unconditional, you are uncertain.

You are restless, you are ambitious, you are smug. You are exactly and nothing like what I remember. You are the creation of almost three years shrouded in the smoke from the bridges I burned. You distrust, you are suspicious. I am an invasion of sorts; I know all that.

You tell me it is still surreal to hear my voice on the phone, and I have to strain to hear yours and remember how it took a few months to adapt to your low talking. You type ‘talk to you soon’, and say I’m such a dork. When you back away, I raise my defenses. Later,  we rehash, we confess. When your walls are down I want nothing more than to take back every horrible thing I ever did to you. It makes me wish I could give you a clean slate and forgive the laundry list, once and for all.

You were thought of only in passing, and almost always with the disbelief that I had spent 4.5 years of my life with someone I no longer knew anything about. You express about the same about me, but I’m sure you still know how I take my coffee. I think I might know nothing about you, but maybe I do. I can still hear your exact tone of voice when you chide “Shut up.” in a mid day light hearted conversation. I’d forgotten all about the angry ducks and Dracula 2000, I smile at the reminder. But then, you don’t know me, not really. I took my coffee black for awhile, and you don’t know why. I burst out laughing one 1 AM night, and after I hang up the phone, I realize it’s been years since you heard me laugh like that.

I wonder lots of things and with so little information I dissect. I’m sure there are questions I want to ask you, but I don’t even know what they are. You don’t really ask me questions. I want you to know everything. I don’t want to reveal too much too soon – it’s hard not to be at least a little defensive. It’s as if I’m on a perpetual first date, except with it’s with one of my oldest friends.

You are a measure of the passing of time, you are heavy; sometimes even a pleasant burden, and I start to understand there are other kinds of baggage. You are my unconscious stand in, and I am yours.  You are an ex-boyfriend. You are an old friend. You are a first love. You are a standard, good and bad. Through you I learned what it meant to have a broken heart, and later, what it was to have broken a heart. You know how it is.

I wonder what I look like to you I try to see myself as through sneaking up on myself in a mirror. Instead, I see my own startled eyes, nearly three years older, and wondering what the hell we’re doing. But anyway, it’s all okay

You are open. You are guarded. You are as passive aggressive as always. You may be trying to rattle me, I can never tell, especially not now. A few times I catch the acidic tone to your sentence and wonder if this can ever really be natural. You still think I should be punished. I get that.

You tease me a little, you drunk dial me, you make me remember things I thought I’d forgotten. Through you, I can see how much more comfortable I’ve become in my own skin. I should be wringing my hands, but all I really want is a good chai and umpteen hours to get to know the people we’ve become. You are four years of my life, and a lifetime ago.

You make me think, you make me regress, you make me write nonsense, you make me want to live a better life.  You make me remember that I once wanted lots and lots of things, and that I mostly got them.

“So what happens now?” you ask, late Sunday night that’s become a bizarre routine.

I still don’t know, but I never did.

Another day, another pile of data, and I am completely incapable of staying focused. I’ve gotten next to nothing done today, and have basically given up in favor of writing this entry. Because my slacking-on-the-job segues nicely into writing all about DC  

Sometimes I hate that this is my job. I hate telling people for the entirely shallow reason that I feel as if I should be doing something more with my life. It was always the plan that I was going to go to graduate school in Fall 2006, so when I stumbled upon my original job here, I was thrilled that I’d found something that would actually give me some credentials. I would’ve been happy to get any job, and was expecting to just get some disposable receptionist position or something anyway. And then I got promoted and it was awesome. And then their were layoffs and department eliminations and essentially a demotion.

That sucked a lot. But since I had rent to pay I was grateful to land in this position. There’s been “drama” at work that I’ve already written about a million times, but overall, there are far worse things.

But sometimes, the insecurity  creeps in. When I was in DC, I felt like I should have been doing more with my life this year. Fan is in the Peace Corps and spent a year in Africa. Jamie was in the right place at the right time and has a great job that he loves at a Jewish not-for-profit that does all this great work. Blah, blah, blah, comparing myself to other people. This struck me when we went to pick up Michael’s stuff from a friend’s apartment. There were six or seven of us sitting around, talking about grad school and what we had done in the interim and I felt like everyone else had done something “real” and I’d just been a bum, or something.

So I voiced this to Michael, and his response, beyond being exactly what I needed to hear, was true. “Rachel, remember what you said your goal was when you moved to New York? That you wanted to be more social and more comfortable with people?”

“Oh yeah, I guess,” I said, already feeling better.

“You couldn’t have sat in that room like that a year ago”

And it hit me that he was right, and the rest of the weekend was one big example of how I achieved exactly what I set out to do.

I got to DC on time. Michael met me at the train station, along with Jamie (who I had met once, and liked. He deduced that I was from Bergen County strictly from the information that I was a Jew and a conservative) and Fan (who I met a few times freshman year.) She was a little cold to me all weekend, but it turned out okay based on the fact that I can stand up for myself, apparently, and that I took care of her when she got way too drunk.

Lunch was had (Tryst, in Adams-Morgan), we checked into our hotel, which was AMAZING. Jamie had found this great deal online, and all weekend we were like “Four Star Hotel on a not-for-profit salary, we rule)

We chilled in the room for a while, then went back out to get Michael’s stuff from his friends place. (That’s where aforementioned discussion occurred.)

Saturday night we went out to Georgetown, and met up with Dafna, another Hampshire person. Fan’s boyfriend also joined us, so I wasn’t the only “outsider.” We did lots of browsing/shopping and went to this Mexican place for dinner where we got to sit outside on an upstairs patio. We decided we’d all squeeze into Dafna’s car, so we walked there through streets lined with awesome old houses, telling ghost-story-ish things (the combination of the weather and the settling made it deliciously creepy), saw the Exorcist stairs, drove to a “haunted house” where we touched the door.

Sunday morning, Michael wasn’t feeling well so I went out with Jamie and Fan. I hung out with them all morning and did not feel out of place or self-conscious once. So I can do this sober! We walked past the White House, got hot dogs, went to the American Museum of Natural History, rode the Carousel and played in the fountains at the Smithsonian castle. Michael met up with us to wander across the mall, meander around the Capitol and get lunch. Speculations on the future were made, “how-I-lost-my-virginity” stories were shared, and “what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life” was discussed. I felt like I’d known these people for years. (Well, Michael I have known since we met on the third day at Hampshire and solved the problem of race over lunch.) Then we napped in our blissfully comfortable hotel room. BLISSFULLY.

Around 9:30 we went downstairs to the tiny little courtyard at our hotel and had champagne.

(Oh & sidenote, because this is where I stand up for myself: Before we went out, Fan and I switched purses, due to outfit matching, she said, in the bitchiest voice “not to be rude, but this was $40 and I got it in Paris, so I’m attached to it.” I paused for a second before saying, politely; “Well mine was $60 (lie!) and I got it in Florence, so be equally careful.” She was taken aback. Jamie and Mike were laughing and Jamie was like “I am so glad you sassed back.” So it’s a dumb, lame little thing, but if I hadn’t said anything I would have been annoyed about it all evening. And Jamie, by the way is awesome. He went out of his way to make sure I was included and having a good time, which I appreciated since he and Fan are extremely close.)

Anyway, so champagne. We all made toasts. Mine was “To not taking any shit from anybody.” None of us had eaten, so we were giddy as we proceeded to get sushi. After sushi, Mike went off with Dafna, Jamie, Fan and I checked out the gay scene at Dupont Circle. At the first place, drinks were only $2 and Fan I were the only women in the place, and we sang along to the music, and again, I was impressed with how relaxed I felt (no it wasn’t the liquor!)

Jamie was unimpressed with the eye candy, so we went downstairs and chatted with people at another bar. Fan (who is this cute, tiny Asian girl) was the center of attention. I stuck to chatting to a recently dumped guy about how men suck. You know the drill – broken hearts in a bar love company.

Jamie found a cute boy he liked, so we walked over to another club. My $10 cover charge gave me the privilege of pulling Fan through crowds of sweater, muscular gay men and getting her to the bathroom, because she was violently sick.

Jamie gave me cab money, and I took her back, where the front desk guy helped me walk her upstairs. I know she felt guilt, but I’ve been there done that, so it was fine. And it kind of broke the ice between us.

I spent all day Monday with just Michael, having a relaxing lunch, chilling and talking. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year, which is way too long. Though in some ways, it doesn’t feel like that long, because we stay in such close touch.

So it was in no way the most fun weekend ever or anything,. There were definitely moments during Fan’s L-O-N-G shopping excursions when I was bored out of my mind and my feet hurt and wine. But overall it was exactly the weekend that I needed, and I came home and just felt so good about everything.

And so that was two weeks ago, and that overall feeling of goodness has mostly prevailed. I don’t know. Michael says I sound different on the phone.

And things ARE good. At the beer garden a few weeks ago, CK and I had the type of conversation the two of us always have when we’re drunk. I was drifting towards melancholy a bit, because of everything with the boy drama, because I still have my moments of feeling hurt and sad over that. And he interrupted me and was just like “Fuck that. Rachel. You are going to U Chicago. You have a way out. None of this is going to matter.”

Affirmation from my friends is always amazing, from CK it’s practically priceless. We are very, very similar creatures, possibly more so than anyone I’ve ever met. We spend our time at work either discussing politics, or engaged in our repertoire in which we insult and deride each other. And then we get drunk together and all the walls come down, and seriously, he’s become one of my good friends. Where’d I meet him? At work. Where’d I meet Jill-IAN, who is like, my long lost twin who I :: heart :: to death? At work. Where’d I need Drew? At work (And Drew and I are ADORABLE together.) Where’d I meet the majority of my friends? At work.

When I moved to the city, I didn’t know anyone, really. I was still walking around seeing ghosts and still not over HeWhoShallNotBeNamed. I met all these awesome people through my job, and hanging out with them was always great, and it sounds clichéd, but I guess that’s what gave me the confidence to go out and meet people through other networks. I can’t say I’ve made close friends that way, but I’ve made a lot of acquaintances, and hung out with a lot of people, and now if I WANT to go out and do something, I can. And when I want to go home and watch Law & Order SVU, I can.

And so I may not have a glamorous job, and I may not make a lot of money. But when I go off to school, I’ll have survived a year in New York City, with stories to tell and friends to keep in touch with.

And I think that’s pretty damn good.