You don’t write songs for DC. I lamented this, even while I searched for a job here.

There are tons of songs about New York, lest I mention the line from a New Jersey born man himself “If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.”

I remember New York in early mornings and late evenings. I remember coffee before work, and then often, beer with co-workers afterwork. I listened to “Leaving New York” too many times to count.

DC is not a place that lends itself to songs. There’s maybe 3. And one of them is a song about visiting DC.

Still, I’m going to give DC another shot. I’m moving to Alexandria, true, but the officially in the city stigma is different here than in NYC, probably because DC is so tiny. I am moving to a place a block from the Metro, so I have no excuse to not get out.

Things I will miss about Glover Park:

1) My super awesome roommate

2) Having a car (maybe?)

3) The black squirrels. I HATE squirrels. There are not enough words to capture my hatred of squirrels. But the black squirrels are awesome

4) Delivery options galore.

5) The flight path. I still don’t know what airport it goes to, but a flight path goes right by my bedroom window.

Things I WILL NOT MISS

1) Being a 20 minute bus ride from a Metro stop

2) The D2 bus

3) Not being within walking distance of anything. My roommate, who’s from the Berkshires said he can walk to a store in freaking Cheshire, MA (the “trashy part” of the Berkshires) quicker than he can here. And I’ve been to his house there, it really feels like the middle of nowhere!

4) Leaking faucets, drains that won’t drain, and lack of lighting in the living room.

5) Navigating the steep hill from my car to front door, with grocery bags.

6) The idiotic apartment management. I highly do NOT recommend Bernstein Management.

7) The creepy trees

The creepy part of Rock Creek Park being right across the street. And the antler-rats who something wander out into the road

My Top 3 Memories of This Place:

1) Singing/dancing to Tom Petty’s “American Girl” our first night here

2) Sitting on the floor of the living room (because we didn’t have furniture yet) eating take out.

3) Making a trip to Target in Falls Church early in the morning, having not slept the night before, and yelling at my GPS on the way back. And then making Keithers unload the car because he hadn’t gone with me and I was cranky as hell.

.

Yes, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” was on as I drove out of the parking lot at work. No, I did not cue it up on my iPod. The universe is just amusing.

Thursday is my last day, and I keep catching myself doing things, with the frame of mind of “this will make my life easier in the future,” and then I realize, “Wait, no, I won’t be here.” Somehow, part of my brain thinks that this temp I’m training is just that; a temp, and that I’m going to have to come back and handle CLE forms and update benefit plan provisions.

I didn’t get to take a carload of stuff to DC this weekend, and this entire move has been riddled with set-backs and roadblocks, and it’s all very frustrating. I think the moving process is my least favorite thing ever. I just want to be settled. I keep thinking that I just have to make it until Saturday, but even then, we won’t have furniture yet. And then, my parents will be visiting the weekend of the 18th, and I would really just like to get through that first visit, because I know exactly how it will go, and I can’t relax until it’s done. Oh yeah, and there’s my first day of work on Tuesday. That should be interesting too.

I know all these thoughts are normal, as are the pangs of nostalgia I feel for everything about my soon-to-be-former job.

I want to speed through the next few days, so I can just get to DC and get settled. But I’m still not ready for this to be over. I guess I would never be ready. That’s where “look if you like, but you will have to leap” comes in. That you have to take a step before you’re ready; because if you wait to be ready, you’ll never take this step.

A common theme in my blogging seems to be “I started a bunch of posts this week and didn’t finish any of them.” The topic and theme has been the same, but emotions have run gamut from angst to anxiety to excitement.

Anyway.

I don’t want to write about the mundane details of moving and preparing to move, and the stress that surrounds it. I already spend enough headspace on it.

For months I’ve been thinking that when I got to this place, I’d have so much to say. To the point where I even planned out what I was going to say. I had my Facebook status, annoucing this moment, picked out ages ago. There are songs I’ve been listening to for months, just waiting for them to be relevant. (Among them: Already Gone (Kelly Clarkson), Time of My Life (David Cook), I’m Movin’ On (Rascal Flatts), Better Things (Dar Williams). I am a planner, in perhaps the worst sense of the word.

And now, I have very little to say. I’m winding things down at work, and I have a proper amount of sadness about leaving, and I have thank you notes to write once I’m done for good. I’m trying not to confuse nostalgia with doubt.  My new job promises to be a step in the right direction, but I’m not particularly excited about it. It will be a job, and while I hate this phrase “it is what it is.” I can’t wait to move in with Keithers and decorate our apartment, but I hate the moving process possibly more than anything in the world.

What I keep repeating to myself is that this will all be okay in a month. If I can just make it through the next month without a breakdown, IT WILL BE OK. Of course, this “month” keeps getting extended, and by now, I should really say “If I can just make it through these next two weeks,” but I’ll split the difference and call it three. In three weeks, I will be in DC, will have been at my new job a week, and will, logistics willing, at least have a mattress.

Until then, I try to organize my desk, get instructions ready for whatever poor temp fills my place, and try not to have too many maudlin moments about how this job saved my life, and how I will miss the gratitude I associate with it.

Well.

This is all going to happen very fast. I’m moving out of my apartment. Diana is moving into my apartment. My head is spinning with the logistical things that need to happen.

Sigh.

I’m happy for Diana and her job offer, and I’m happy that this agreement fell into our laps — it benefits both of us if she takes my place.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nag, just a little, that I’m moving out of that place, and feeling like I’m taking a giant step backwards, even though I know it’s the right thing to do.

There’s this Dar Williams song “Iowa” in which the chorus is “Iowa” all the syllables dragged out” and the way in which the syllables are emphasized means “Astoria” could easily be subsituted. Given that I spent most of my 8th grade year writing parodies/other versions of songs, I could probably come up with something for Astoria

So my new apartment may not be in the Ditmars area of Astoria (one of my favorite place in the world, possibly…) but it’s on a good block just off of 30th Avenue, where laundry is less than a block away and the supermarket it a 3 minute walk, and the apartment is amazing. Hello, BOOK ROOM. Although, not all my books will be there immediately. I have over 2000 books. Moving books is a pain. But I am so happy to be back in Astoria.

On Thursday, I went to the monthly Astorians gathering, and saw some old faces and also got introduced to a bunch of new people, since the Astorians board has exploded in popularity since I left. What was awesome was getting several “oh, you’re back from Chicago?!?. Welcome back!” It’s such a neighborhood here. I love that I have a community to come back to.

When I was looking for apartments the first time, I didn’t have a neighborhood in mind; I simply replied to every Craigslist ad in my price range. That was when I learned that finding an apartment through the room/share section meant going on “roommate interviews” which are way worse than job interviews. It was terrible. When I had to start doing it again this time, I wanted to shoot myself. When I was 22 I could sort of tolerate it, even though almost everyone was older than me, I was used to being around college students and their drama. At 24, having worked a year in NYC, and survived my year at Chicago, I could not do it. I could not suck up to people in hopes of finding a room.

So I posted this ad in the “Housing Wanted” section of Craigslist for a roommate to apartment hunt with, basically saying “I am sick of roommate interview drama. We’ll probably annoy each other sometimes, but lets just be civil adults and find a place.”

And so I met current-roommate, who instinct says I can live with. Seriously, we sat down together, hashed things out, and we’re cool on multiple things. We found an amazing apartment together. Seriously! The place is 10 million times better than my run down apartment on the other end of Astoria. I am going to miss living in the Ditmars area, but I think this neighborhood can feel like home too.

Tonight, I am once again at my parent’s house in Jersey, unearthing my possessions from storage, because I have found permanance. I’m going to be at this apartment for quite awhile. So I can finally pull my books out of my old bookcase, bring my photo albums from under my old bed, take my old nightstand, because it won’t be needed here. I like the fact that this place has long term potential.

So tomorrow! Driving out to Astoria with my dad, with bookcases, and buying him lunch. My dad is awesome and his attitude makes me be unstressed about moving, generally. Then 3 day week (again) due to Jew holidays at work. Then getting furniture delivered, and bringing the rest of the stuff to the apartment next Thursday/Friday.

When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

Damn, I’ve written a lot lately. Chalk it up to procrastination. Packing in my overheated apartment is absolutely no fun. It’s far better to sit in front of the fan, or sit in my air-conditioned office. The problem with not being busy is nothing gets done. When I have a million things to get done, I’m like a machine. When I have nothing to do but pack and enjoy my last few days here, I am a useless waste of space.

I have also acquired way too many books between thesis stuff and class materials, which I am hoping I can fit in the car. There is an odd balance of stuff that I took out here that’s not going back, because its going to my brother’s apartment, and stuff I’ve acquired here.

Also, I normally save EVERYTHING. Class notes, print outs of readings, etc. I have an entire filing box full of stuff from my undergrad; all my OCD notes, etc. But I am showing no mercy. I have probably gotten rid of several trees worth of print-outs. It’s kind of freeing. Like it took me about 18 months of thinking about it to even sort through all my undergrad garbage and file it. Now this stuff is gone and I never have to worry about it again. Which makes me think I should throw away all the boxes of stuff that are in my parent’s attic.

Plans for the rest of the week include going to the aquarium, because its free this week and they have penguins, meeting up with Adrienne for lunch, seeing some people on last time, and wishing good riddance to Hyde Park and U Chicago. This is new and different, as the end of anything usually brings on a giant bout of nostalgia, but I’m so done here. I can’t wait to drive away.

I’m sitting in my old bedroom at my parent’s house. I leave for Chicago in less than 12 hours. I’ve been writing about this for so long that it’s difficult to believe it’s finally here. I thought I’d be a bundle of nerves but I’m actually quite calm.

I also thought I’d have a lot to say, but I suppose I’ve said it all so many times that I’m now at a loss for words. So I say again; if quoting a Kelly Clarkson song is wrong, than I don’t want to be right.

I have a million last minute things to do before I leave in a few hours.

I just wanted to record one more moment from the futon in my living room, looking out over 21st Avenue.

I know this is the right decision. A scholarship to University of Chicago. So many opportunities will come from this.

But sometimes, doing the right thing feels really awful.

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

“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place . . . Like you’ll not only miss the people you love, but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”

To say I’m overwhelmed would be an understatment

I gave my two week’s notice this morning. 

When we were outside for lunch, Jill was like “God Neumsy, you’re leaving.”And it hit me again, and oh my god I’m leaving.So while I can’t stop smiling,I’m also a total wreck. It’s going to be an emotional two weeks.

I got my housing application approved! I have a small studio about a 10 minute walk from campus. The rent is a little more than I was anticipating, but I think I can manage it, because my loans got approved too!

The majority of the time schedules for Fall 2006 are online, so I am making masochistic fantasy course schedules and dreaming about my thesis. I can’t believe that by this time next year I’ll have a Masters degree. Six more weeks till I move to Chicago, so nice to know that I have some place to live.

And that means my two bedroom in Astoria is up for grabs. Anyone need a really cheap apartment in the best neighborhood in NYC?

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

My city shines at dusk. Leaving a bar, hugs exchanged with acquaintances-that-are-becoming-friends, phone calls promised, and then I turn and stride off in the air that’s cooled just enough to not be uncomfortable. Walking to the subway after an evening out carries a sort of exhilaration. I am alone in my thoughts and more at ease without having to be aware of my destination. These are some of my favorite New York City moments; my walks homeward are when I savor my independence, my competence, and my daily triumphs in the most mundane of places. I smile at my surroundings, thankful for all the things this city shows me.

Last night I walked down by Astoria Park and sat on one of the benches along the East River. There are no words for how much I love Astoria. I love Hell Gate’s Bridge, love seeing it when I walk up Ditmars Blvd towards my apartment. And at night, when the Triborough is lit up, I can see it from my living room window. Technically my Jersey City view of the Empire State Building would be more sought after, but that didn’t feel like home and this does.

Everyone keeps telling me that I can always come back, that my program in Chicago is only for a year, but I don’t know. New York City schools don’t have what I’m looking for except for location, and if I decide to get my PhD, that isn’t enough. This has been an all-too-brief love affair; I can’t believe I’m leaving in less than three months.

This has never happened to me; I’ve never loved a place I’ve been (physically and mentally and metaphorically) so much, yet been able to be so excited about where I’m going. There are still moments where I’m just involved in something else entirely and then it’s like “I’m going to U Chicago!!!” and I’m all giddy about it. Because it’s U Chicago!

And as good as these past two months have been, I have to remind myself why getting into U Chicago, and visiting there, and knowing it was right was such a relief: I needed to get out of New York. I needed a way out. I can’t quite explain it; I guess it was situational. But I knew I had to get away, and there have still been quite a few moments where it’s like “Thank god I have a way out.” And I think life is pretty good when my “escape” is the third best school in the country for political theory. (Yeah, I’m totally bragging about that little statistic.) So maybe the reason I’ve been able to relax so much is because I know I’m leaving. I know that no matter what happens, good or bad, I’m going to U Chicago.

I don’t know. Everything happens for a reason and I feel like I’ve been drawn to U Chicago by, as silly as it sounds, fate. And it was also way too much of a coincidence that the week I got my letter The Economist has a special feature article on “Chicago.” (Last year’s was on New York. Maybe I should choose my next city by the Economist report.)

So while I’m still not sure how I’m going to choose what books to bring, I’m definitely getting excited about Chicago.

I vow that I will not read applying to grad school, who-got-in, or check my status pages. 

So the move in has gone well though I am nowhere near unpacked and the place is not very set up. I’m waiting for Dan to get back from Europe before I do anything with the living room.

I got an early start on Sunday, planning to just wander Manhattan. I hit Fifth Avenue (tax free shopping!) because I desperately needed a belt. I also acquired a dark green shirt, because according to everyone in my office, it’s a good color for me. I haven’t heard that since 7^th grade, but apparently Neil knew what he was talking about.

I walked through Central Park to get to the Museum of Natural History – Thirty blocks is really the perfect walk – and met up with Rome. Admission to the museum + Darwin exhibit = way too expensive, but we justified it as we were doing a good deed and contributing to the advancement of science, or something. I need to dig up my Skidmore ID so I can get student discounts.

The Darwin exhibit was very detailed and quite good. The two large turtles were awake, and fighting each other! Seriously, one somehow picked the other up and slammed him into a rock. They were very cool. The live iguana was merrily asleep, but we did get to see pretty frogs. Also saw the dinosaur floor (dinosaurs are overrated!), the African mammals, and the People of Asia – I was thrilled to see many things Russian. We missed out on the Rocks & Gems (my favorite part of the museum), because it was late and neither of us had eaten.

After the museum, we went downtown to Art Bar for carbs and a few drinks. Back in Astoria, I found a café near my apartment with free wireless and the best espresso I have ever tasted. It was a productive day.

I was awoken at 1 AM, because it appears the radiator in the other bedroom hisses obnoxiously when the heat is on. The whole place reminds me of my grandmother’s house in Fair Lawn, right down to the 1970s tile pattern in the bathroom. The apartment and the neighborhood are very different from my area of Jersey City and that is a good thing.

And the commute this morning was far more pleasant that the PATH. Thirty minutes, door-to-door and I get a seat.