So I took the job, signed the lease and now on the train home to wait for the fun to begin. Hello Livejournal, I’m moving to NY.
It’s been a while but I’ve been busy in that time. I was busy looking for work after graduation, then I was busy making sure I’d graduate, then I was busy graduating and finally I was busy finding a place to live. That’s all done now though. I took a job at a private school in NY. Very bourgeois, very foreign, but the people are nice and there are some perks. Graduation was incredible, tear-worthy, Apartment hunting sucked, given my budget I ended up renting a room in Harlem instead of living on my own. I just signed my sublease today. I move in on the 1st and start work in the 5th. I apologize for not being particularly inspired to write. I haven’t been in a while and it shows. Perhaps we’ll see what happens in time, maybe my new adventures will yield something, maybe not. Only time will tell Until then…
There are many things going on around me that I really don't notice. Last semester two of those things were written on my door, friendly encouraging notes. The one that sticks out the most is "you have a gift for composition." I thought nothing of it then until last week, the day after valentine's day, I recieved an annonomyus card in the mail wishing me well and letting me know that I was a "very good friend." My first thought of course was, who am I a good friend to? I was in one of those moods. This of course was about two days after I let a certain unnamed friend know that I felt I had failed to be a friend to and equally unnamed person. Before comming to any conclusions I had to remember that this was not unnamed person #1's style. I eventually decided that it wasn't worth it to think about this too much.
But I did think. Because my mood improved, I couldn't help but think of the notes on my door and wonder cocking my head slightly to the side and looking up through the corner of my eye: Do I have a fairy godmother?
I'm back in email avoidance mode. One paper, too many problem sets and a future that hangs in the balance I... don't blame youuu, I sing along with my stereo. I've been listening to the same Cat Power album constantly for the last three months and I show no signs of stopping. Slow, soothing songs have been easing me though my recent state of being a near hermit, eating alone or with semi-strangers, only being animated by my Ed reading and prowling the web for information on the JET program.
I had my interview for said program last Tuesday. Eleven hours passed between the time I left my dorm to the time I returned. One and a half hours were spent on the train. Thirty minutes were spent on regional ail to reach it, another hour spent waiting for it when it was late. About twenty minutes were spent on different subways, checking out underground New York and hoping the massive group of British High schoolers wasn't going to be on my train.
I then spent twenty minutes waiting in the lobby because I was an hour early and another waiting with other interviewees and a former JET, there to keep us from pissing ourselves or just answer questions. I only spent 30 actual minutes in the interview. I knew this at the time and had spent a good deal or time tying to prepare. Of course when the door opened, that all disappeared. A very hansom black male opened the door, not as tall as I, hair cut short, in a suit. He shook my hand and introduced himself as he led me in the room where the other interviewers were waiting on one side of a non descript table. I shook everyone's hands awkwardly not knowing if I should tell them my name since they knew it and trying to keep smiling.
The barrage of uncomfortableness began almost immediately. The handshakes were the first thing though maybe that was just me being nervous. The chair was the second. My chair was positioned very close to the table where my interviews sat. So close in fact that I couldn't keep all three entirely in my field of view at once. In order to look at any of them I needed to turn my head. Caught entirely by surprise, I ended up looking straight ahead at the woman in front of me (friendly, she could let the process do the intimidating for her) for most of the interview.
Despite my intense nervousness I think i still managed to do well on the interview. I spoke from my heart and I think they liked that despite the fact that there were other better and more endearing responses that I could have given to their questions that would have been just as sincere. Thirty minutes was enough time though.
I then spent two hours killing time before my bus was to take me back to philly, then another killing time when it was a half hour late. For two and a half more hours I was somewhere between awake and asleep on the Chinatown bus, my soundtrack, the guy in front of me talking about his IT job with the other passengers. The next half hour was spent downtown, then another 15 minutes was spent getting a drink before spending about an hour-hour and a half on the EL then trolly to campus. This was possibly my most exciting activity over the past two months.
I say this because it was future defining. I won't know the outcome though till April. That, of course, makes it no less of a definitive event.
FRIDAY! FRIDAY!1 FRIDAY!!! at 7pm in the Kitao gallery....
It's My Show
yes, I'm having a little art show in the student gallery on campus. I'm pretty excited to say the least. It has been on my mind since I found out they were giving it to me. This is just a silly student show that was handed to me on a very non-competetive basis but I might just be more excited about it than I am about graduation.
and like all things important and potentially good in my life, it scares me shitless. I've been freaking out slightly all month, especially over the last three days. I worry that I won't impress anyone or that I'm making a big deal out of nothing.
The most recent flash-point, the night before I hang my prints has been over mounting. I don't have enough mount board for my black and white prints. Even if I did, I don't have enough time to cut the mounts. I did however buy about 30 pre-cut mounts for my 5x7(oh no too small) color prints but I don't know if I should use them if I can't mount everything. If I don't mount my prints will I look amateurish? Will the fiber paper curl on the wall? Will people walk in and think "Oh my, he's SO not together here, how did he get his own show?"
It's enough to make you scream or do I eventually did and say "fuck it."
So, fuck it! I'll put my stuff up and they'll like it! And if they don't, they can go fuck themselves!
It's five in the morning and I'm only beginning to want to yawn.
I finished my finals this morning and had every reason to pick up my stuff and head home but I didn't. I told myself it was so I could make prints for my show.. MY SHOW *arms held to my chest as if i were thinking of a dream lover*. What I really did was spend the evening and night watching the first season of Veronica Mars. It's a great show. I know half the people reading this just lost whatever respect they had for me but the heart wants what it wants. What my heart truly wanted aside from the cutie pie sidekick and adorable cop love interest was to be lazy and guilt free.
I got a taste of that at the beginning of this week. I was watching good old Veronica Mars plus every episode that I haven't seen of the HBO series Entourage. Veronica Mars was nice but Entourage gave me the true out of body experience that I wanted. When I watched it I felt like a straight boy... very surreal yet nice, like talking a ride. While I was doing this the rest of the campus was busy studying or panicking their brains out. It was nice.
So when I did start studying and did start panicking, I naturally missed this experience and wanted to take advantage of it while I could. It's important to note that this is the first semester where I haven't been clawing at the walls to get away from here. I think that's major!!
I've recently found myself enamored with the sound of typing. I like the rythem of the pressing of the keys. It's like the sound itself is it's own language, with a constant interesing intonation, espeicially when i don't make errors. In fact, I think I'm only talking about fast typing. The sound of the clicks coming one after another so quickly and purposfully implies a certan level of style in what you're saying even it it's shit.
I notice this mostly when I typing AIM messages. Everything I say is increadibly banal but when I type it my keys sing. Especially stuff like "yeah" or "and ?."
This means nothing but I thought it was fun to think about. It reminds me of being four years old and sitting next to my grandmother at her typewriter, listening to her pound the keys and making thumping noises on the wood of the desk to immitate her. She'd always tell me to stop but I'd never understand why. I guess I couldn't grasp the concept that I could be annoying.