I've been having a lot of very vivid, realistic dreams lately. I won't bore you with the details--really, isn't "I had this really crazy dream last night" the most boredom-inducing phrase in the English language? Second only to "Want to see some pictures of my kids?" But suffice it to say my subconscious is going totally berserk over this whole idea that I've picked up my life and moved it to a new city and nothing's really going to be the same again.
On a conscious level, I'm getting pretty used to the idea. Things are different, but mostly that means "better." Like, it's pretty good seeing Drew all the time now. I keep waiting for one of us to wake up and say, "Oh, you again?" And maybe that will happen eventually, but right now it's still more like, "Oh!! You! Again!" I'm even excited to see him when he comes home on his lunch break and I even sort of arrange my day so I can be around at noon. Like I didn't just see him four hours ago.
I'm also getting used to not working, though I am looking for a job. And what a soul-sucking experience it is. Hey, does anyone know of a good position in NYC for me? Preferably one where I can talk about last night's episode of The Bachelor with my co-workers, make enough money to support my shoe habit, and maybe write something interesting from time to time??
Yes, I'm getting used to not working, though I suspect too much of all this alone time might eventually lead to feelings of utter isolation and depression. Which, fun as it sounds, may not bode well for continued "Oh! You!! Again!!!" reactions from Drew every morning. That said, for the time being, I am quite enjoying a little time off and getting acclimated to my new surroundings. As soon as I purchase a new USB cord to replace the one I left in my dresser drawer now in storage, I will post some pictures. It still boggles my mind when I walk down the street to get a bagel and am smack in the middle of Times Square. The distance it used to take me to get to the video store in my old neighborhood in Chicago now gets me to Central Park. And I'm not yet so used to it all to quit saying to myself each morning on my jog, "Oh! I'm in Central Park! I'm jogging in Central Park! Oh!" I'm sure eventually it will all become as boring and annoying and tiresome as anything else, but for now I'm relishing the newness. Well, except for the smack in the middle of Times Square business. That's kind of for the birds, to tell you the truth.
Also for the birds is sitting in Yankee Stadium for FIVE FUCKING HOURS only to watch the home team lose. It's no secret I'm not exactly a sports fan, but I'm a fan of Drew and I want to support his interests and what not and those interests pretty much include: talking about the Yankees, watching the Yankees, making little model replicas of his favorite Yankees, etc. He loves him some Yankees, so it was with a heavy heart that we left the stadium last night after they lost their run for the World Series. Oh, fine, what really sucked more than that was sitting there for FIVE HOURS. I mean, really. Can't we make these games a little shorter? Like, maybe, an hour and a half? That's how long The Bachelor is and that only comes on once a week, so it seems more than fair to me. Also, I was just kidding about Drew making model replicas of his favorite Yankees. But now that I've given him the idea...
Hey, so guys in NYC are really, really aggressive, huh? I joined a gym yesterday and this guy who gave me the tour of the gym and then signed me up was pulling the whole, "So, are you a model? Or an actress? You definitely look like you're in the industry" bit just like that dude on the corner last week. What is up with that? It's like, "Dude, you and I both know I'm not a model, so can we both quit the fucking bullshit?" I mean, what industry do you think I'm in? The industry of being total loser? (Don't answer that.)
The truth is that 5% of the reason I joined a gym is because Drew's friends' girlfriends are fucking ballerinas and make me feel like a two-ton heffer when I stand, sit, or breathe anywhere next to them, so I guess that makes me a 5% loser. But since I'm unemployed and freeloading off my boyfriend for God knows how long, I guess that sort of bumps that 5% up to something like a 100. So, great. In one blog post, I pretty much went from feeling pretty good and excited about my new life to full-blown isolation, depression and 100% loserdom. Thanks a lot, Internet. (If you send some job leads to me, though, or even some new shoes, or hell, just a USB cord for my camera, I'll totally forgive you).
