Hate-Filled Rage

I've mentioned that it's hot, right? I mean, too hot. Waaay too hot. Like, burnt at the stake hot with tabasco sauce... What? I've already forgotten what my point was. Oh yes, hot. It's to the point where I end up waiting for things to cool down so I can get out of bed, which is silly, because the temperature only rises as the day wanes on. So, 1pm is usually the time when my barely functioning brain finally realizes that things are not going to change unless I literally run cold water through my hair and stand nude on my tile floor directly in front of my fan. That seemed like a lot of effort. Instead, I got up and had a smoothie. Turns out brain-freeze is just as effective at cooling me off as AC. Good. To. Know.

I took it upon myself to look up the weather all across the U. S., just to see if anyone else is as dreadfully scorched as NYC. I am now jealous. Of course, Northern Michigan is at a high of 70º and a low of 58º (ºF people, 'cuz I'm American and change is bad). This is generally the time of year when summer is in full swing and everyone is enjoying Lake Superior... as I wish I was. Right now. Los Angeles will not (and from the looks of it will never) stray from it's customary 72º. Here's where my confusion starts: New Mexico is sitting comfortably at 69º... isn't that supposed to be a desert!? New York is a COASTAL city! Shouldn't the ocean be buffering temperatures and weather, or does "lake effect" only refer to actual lakes (and not just water in general)? Either way, my compulsion to flee the East Coast only grow more severe as the days plod slowly onward.

Of course, none of the necessary packing/cleaning/selling has been taken care of. I did, however, get on the phone with my Dad a few nights ago to search for flights on United. I'm glad he called, otherwise that flight would have been booked last-minute. After doing a quick search for a one-way ticket (which I have never purchased in my life), we found one for $98...

...WHAT? $98!?!? That's only $115 with taxes and fees added on! I have NEVER found a flight that cheap, let alone one to the U. P. I am both baffled and elated by this. I couldn't make the purchase fast enough. I made sure to read everything aloud to my father as I went, just to make sure I had the date/year/airport/whatever-else-could-I-could-get-wrong right. Was it because the flight was one-way? I don't think so, because that price was sandwiched in the list by the usual $200-$300 tickets. I've decided to stop questioning my good fortune and just accept that sometimes things work out. Dad was trying to figure out how to get me up there cheaply, either through miles, coupons, or any other various tricks we've learned through decades of obnoxious air travel. I guess, sometimes, it pays to just cross your fingers and pony up the dough.

Now that I've cooled down, I'm going to take it upon myself to put away the laundry that I miraculously did a few days ago. I'm not supposed to use the washer/dryer in the back of my apartment, at least, that's what my landlord said when I first moved in. It makes no sense to me. Why do I have to drag my junk up the street and around the corner when I could just walk a few feet and get my business taken care of? I'm sure there are legitimate reasons, but during the last month, I ignored the request and did one load of late-night laundry while everyone was asleep. I even covered my tracks by putting everything as it was before I did my load (my one, small load). No problems. However, when I tried again a few days later, I took out all the dry clothing that was just sitting in the washer and put mine in. Luckily, I did not toss in the detergent first, because I put down the top to get it started, only to hear a faint buzzing accompanied by no activity. The machine was either broken or Vera (the lady of the house) had turned off the machine from the inside or something. No matter, I just removed my stuff and replaced everything as I had found it. I took my clothes in their makeshift Samsonite hamper and left them in my kitchen with the doors leading to the laundry room and outside left open behind me for air circulation. The following morning, as I was closing the doors (once I realized the air outside was apocalyptic), I was greeted with a handwritten note taped to the cabinet above the washer. "Please, stop using my washer + dryer."

How did she know? Did she awaken during my last 3am load and hear the dryer going? If that were the case, she probably would have said something the following morning. What made her think I had done my laundry that night (especially when I hadn't)? Did she notice her clothes weren't in the exact same washer configuration in which they had previously been left? Was the machine dial not in it's customary position? The loud, masculine Croatian woman never struck me as anal retentive or OCD. Then I realized my suitcase full of dirty clothes was sitting right next to the door in my kitchen, which I'm sure she saw, because most of my apartment is visible through the kitchen door. If that's the case, then it's awfully presumptuous of her. I might have been cleaning my closet the night before. Frankly, she had no proof. I'm venturing an educated guess that I'm smarter than her (and her husband... and teenage boy... combined... not that I'm a genius, I just give them very little credit), and that, if I had actually finished my load, she would never have known.

Here's the thing: I discovered that note only moments after blithely walking upstairs and giving them my cheerful, Midwestern official months notice that I was moving out for a "job" in L.A. She had looked at me, then muttered "I wish you the best of luck" as she walked back into to her house. No eye contact. Bitch. I refuse to give any indication that I know the note is for me, or that I've even seen it. It's still taped to the cabinet. That's what happens when you don't give your awesome tenant (who always pays rent on time and is very pleasant... to your face) usage of your laundry, heating, or even the ability to install AC (because you've barred the only window). He leaves you.

Perhaps I'm taking my heat-grouch out on them. Whatever, I'm sure they don't lose any sleep over it. I'm guessing from the Air Conditioning drip that hits me every time I leave my apartment, they're sleeping like rocks. Wish I could say the same.

Starting Over

I have recently made the decision to, once again, uproot my life and change my world around. After using New York City as a base for approximately 3 years and 8 months, I am making what feels to be a poorly thought-out and highly illogical move to Los Angeles.

Why?

...enh, because.

The decision came to me in late June. I was sitting with my friend Michael, discussing the hellishly early call time I had for work the following morning and whether or not I should attend the 20th Anniversary of Broadway Bares. Amidst our conversation, my friend, Tarah responded to a text message I had sent 2 hours prior. It had merely read, "September."

"Ur Coming! !!!!!!! :-) (x9)" she digitally exclaimed in a shorthand that, I assure you, is indicative of her entire persona.

"... moving ;)" I replied

*SEND* spasm

"Did you just get electrocuted?" Michael queried, with cautious befuddlement.

"No... I'm moving to L. A."

"What? When were you going to tell me? When!?"

"I just did. September... I'm going to Bares with you guys tonight."

It was a very specific decision. Of course there was, currently is, and will probably continue to be doubt, fear, and an ever-looming sense of, "really?" orbiting it. However, all of that only serves to further solidify my resolve. I have mentally prepared myself, discussed with all parties concerned, made farewell visits, and have even perused various craigslist notices for housing and cars. That's all well and good, but the fact remains my room still appears (according to my ex) to be inhabited by a meth addict. For the uninformed/inexperienced, that means it's messy. Absurdly so. I always chuckle to myself when people apologize for the state their living quarters.

It's not as if I'm a "hoarder" (or whatever they're called on that show my friends always reference). On the contrary, I have actually kept my possessions to an impressive minimum. The issue is the age-old problem of not having put things away once I've finished with them. I always know where everything is, in at least a general sense. Every once in a while, I even "catch the spirit" and go on a cleaning bender that lasts for days. Not because I have so much to go through, I just do it in minute detail. I keep every pay stub and receipt and if they do not have a specific place to go, then they slowly begin migrating from the desktop, to the floors, the kitchen counters... I think I even have a few on top of my fridge. One can imagine where my clothes end up.

I feel like Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout. Again, it's not because of quantity, but more of a ticking time-bomb situation. If I don't get my rear in gear soon, I'm going to be hurting when it comes time to move and my landlords are wondering how they are going to sell prospective tenants a war-zone.

Naturally, with all of this self-imposed responsibility over my head, I felt this would be a most appropriate time to begin a new blog. I'm tired of facebook, the video games on my phone make my arms stiff, and I've watched all of the current episodes of my favorite TV shows. I suppose I could also go to bed, but I'm not tired, and it's hot.

When I say hot, I mean hhhhhhhot. New England temperatures have hit record highs and the rising moisture only seems to fall back to the earth every half-day in 10-minute, drenching intervals. The worst part is that I have no air-conditioning. I find this sort of climate paralyzing. The same with New England winters. There have been minimal days of happy medium. I even tried to purchase an AC unit yesterday, only to find that my basement dwelling is not conducive to any sort of ventilation. The window is my only source of daylight and has bars installed. Instead, I purchased one of those fancy "blade-less" fans instead... Expensive.

If I start cleaning now, I'll probably find that receipt just in time to catch my flight... In August.

-G