Cast Away

According to my implant-friends (others who, like me, have moved to the East Coast from the West), my current feelings are typical of someone who has placed themselves in a new environment far from everything they know. Basically I spaz out every so often. Not as much anymore, but spazation none the less.



Right now I'm feeling pretty lonely. As if Brooklyn were a deserted island far away in some uncharted part of the ocean. I send emails to people to say "Hi", but honestly most people have actually stressful jobs where they don't have time to eat lunch let alone catch up with me online. So I keep it brief and just say hello, without expecting a response. This makes me feel even more alone. I guess it feels worse than it really is simply because I haven't started anything yet. I found out a few weeks ago that I can't start school this summer because of the waiting period for non-resident students. So basically I have this job everyday which takes up my time TECHNICALLY, even though it's really just an hour and a half of making copies, creating reports, filing and answering phones; spread out into 8 hours. After work I usually just go home, or maybe I'll take a little walk before I get on the train. I'm usually home by 6, at which point I come home change into whatever I pull out of my overstuffed drawers and rummage through the fridge for something to eat. A lot of times I just grab whatever is easiest, which explains why my pants won't stay up anymore. Then I chat with my room mate(s) for a little bit and catch up on our days and many accomplishments (term used loosely).



Weekends are much better of course. Especially when I have money to really do something. I'll hit up BB (aka Buttermilk Brown, aka Craig) and find out where the best place to party is. Meet at his place, take some shots with everyone, head out and return at the wee hours of the next morning shit-faced and sleepy.



It's all a blur.



So aside from the sporadically placed weekend party, I feel like an old ass lady. This is usually the time I start searching for a boyfriend, or at least a good booty-buddy, but unfortunately my vagina is now connected to my heart (comes with adulthood), and my heart is in Houston, somewhere in one of D's unpacked boxes. On the upside, I've written some additional pages to the great American novel I came out here to write. I've ripped through a few new books and best of all managed to get to know myself and even mature a little bit. Just imagine literally staring at a pot of water, waiting for it to boil and suddenly you see those tiny bubbles gather at the bottom. I know it's coming....I just feel so damn compelled to walk away and find something else to do while I wait.