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I am...a New Yorker
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[Previous entry: "Cold and Alone"]

Thursday, January 9, 2003
Seeing Ghosts
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Seeing...
Piles of Christmas trees everywhere; it's a shame the city stopped curbside recycling.

Realizing...
Maybe Ro is right about being more reserved.

Getting...
Worried, but waiting for the final result to be sure.

Eating...
At home tonight, it was a fish night.

Walking...
Not nearly enough, it's too cold out there! The Californian in me rears it's goose-pimped head.

Realizing...
New York would be the perfect city, if it were moved to San Francisco. The weather there is seasonal, if freaky, but it's never so very cold. Though in my perfect city, there would be a few good snows a year.

I am...oddly delighted at the sight of them holding hands and kissing on the corner of 57th and Ninth. A year ago that was us, after breakfast in that quirky, little dinner. Remember checking out the odd patrons, our eyes still groggy at noon?

I only had eyes for Nerd Boy then. It's so often one for the body and one for the mind.

You are one of the few nerds who I've had the pleasure of, as it were. It was always as comfortable, filthy and fun as I expected -- I don't ask for much. Why is it that you, of all people, spoon perfectly until morning? We even turn and wake up together. Affectionate.

If not for the distance, we'd be on the right track. It's always somethin' huh?

That is the quandry. Why is it that J, for example, can say we're "better off as friends," but complain to me that women don't want him? Or Eric can say I'm too smart for him, when he's one of the few who could keep up with me? Or Rafe that he "felt pressured," when it was him calling and wanting to see me everyday? It's through the looking glass, so much of the time.

Of course, I make this sound as if it's only romantic potentials who are full of excuses, who won't give me everything they think I want, so they decide nothing is the appropriate response. I don't expect everyone to be as wonderful and giving as Dorothy, but she is one of the busiest people I know -- she has a husband, a huge, emotionally troubled dog, a long commute and most of her family nearby. Yet she always makes time, not just for me, but for all of her friends. Even with all of that going on, she still manages to be spunky, funny and often surprising.

In the corporation of Erica, which I've long joked about starting for certain of my projects, Dorothy would be my COO. She is organized and knows how to get things done. I'd be CEO, of course. Fang would be Chief Creative Officer.

I don't know if I've lost that part of my brain that could make good judgements about people, or if it's a New York thing or what. But the not having friends thing has really made me feel alone in the bad way. There are friends I could see if I go to them, or do what they like to do all the time, but I prefer the sort of people who can compromise. I suppose it's not that I'm entirely bereft of friends, but that the ones with whom I do have that sort of cooperative relationship have some other major drain or commitment that keeps them from socializing in general (a sick parent and grandparent, extensive travel, long term unemployment).

Actually, it's like that old saying "if you want something done, give it to a busy person," because those people actually tend to make more time for me than the couch potatoes. And it's all relative, because there are peaks and valleys...my social plans seem to either pile up together or be entirely non-existent.

I think it's not just quantity of friends that I'm missing, but quality. I don't have any sort of primary relationships here. My mother, brother, best friend and my Dorothy are all in California. I guess I knew that when I left, but in theory, I fit better in NY and should be able to make close friends here. Sometimes, when I leave that upteenth voicemail, I want to say, "Pretend I have a penis and return my call."

. . .

In regards to school, I'm still bogged down in red tape, but at least I finally reached a live person at Cal State Foolerton today. The woman who did the transcript requests for my portion of the alphabet retired in December.

I emailed several times to follow up about the transcripts never appearing (after it took weeks to reach the office that had placed a hold on my records to confirm that was taking care of), I never received a response. Turns out that was because they forwarded the retired woman's email to the wrong person. When I called, I was transferred to leave voicemails that were not answered. There was never a supervisor on duty.

I wish they'd been this incompetant when I was admitted, I would have run, screaming, in the other direction. Of course, I did manage to get into housing, but not the university when I applied during high school. Figure that one out. In any case, it's a pain in the ass.

If I did my job that way, I wouldn't have one. Hell, I was perfectly competant in my last two jobs, but was laid off anyway. It just astonishes me that there is no customer service anywhere, anymore.

I finally reached someone at CUNY today and they're not sure how the central processing center routed my application to a community college, instead of a four year school. Of course, they still haven't received the Foolerton transcripts, so the only way I can attend this spring is if Foolerton gets the transcript to me pronto and I walk it to CUNY's offices.

Luckily, that's close to my job, but jeez. I am so sick of doing everyone's job for them. I guess I forgot how irritating that is, since I haven't had to do it on a daily basis at work in a long time. So, there's something to be thankful for.

No, it won't be the end of the world if I don't start school this semester. However, it's really aggravating to have my therapist say that I'm not making any progress in my life and that I give up part way through, when I've found a job and worked steadily on school-relating business for the last 6 or 7 months. Relative to the amount of time I've put in (consider I was unemployed the first 2 months of this process and on the phone and fax machine everday), the payoffs have seemed minor and distant.

In speaking with the woman in my building who has encouraged me to apply to her alma mater, I said that I would find another decade of meaningless work a waste. I can't regret the past 7 years, because I've had the opportunity to live in two fantastic cities and meet kind, interesting, and weird people (and combinations thereof) along the way.

It's as if I've been collecting stories all these years and now it's time to set them free in the world.

[Next entry: "Having a Great Day"]
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