EST

"Twice now I've had a dream where I'm frantically running around an airport looking for my gate. My flight leaves in 5 minutes, but time never decreases. I just keep running around, passing McDonalds, Hudson News', and crappy sports bars looking for the right gate like Mario ascending the stairs to Bowser without having enough stars. Just running and running and running."

That was something I had written weeks ago, saved for a post I was going to write before I left California. I am currently sitting in my friend's apartment in Brooklyn thinking, "oops." Honestly, there was just too much to get done before I left to sit down for an hour (usually what it takes me to write, then edit, then rewrite a post). Truth is, there wasn't much to really say that I hadn't been saying for the past year. Los Angeles still remains what it is, and I still feel the way I had felt before I left. The only difference is that it's now about the reestablishment, rather than the expedition.

I've been here for a 3 weeks now. While there have been many moments of happiness and excitement since July 31st, I have yet to feel relieved to be here. Joblessness is a wicked thing to contend with, and much of my time so far has been spent either in the pursuit of reversing it. When I'm not actively doing that, I'm usually (over)thinking about it. I understand that it's completely unreasonable to expect everything to fall into place after only 3 weeks, but I can't help it. I'm anxious to have something that lets me feel anchored, that gives me a space to occupy, that subtly reminds me I can't just leave because I have work to do and bills to pay. I would like to try and start an adult life, New York. You understand, don't you?

Luckily I don't have to worry about where I'm going to live. It was a mighty struggle finding a place, filled with close to a hundred listings, dozens of phone calls, running all over Brooklyn via foot and subway and bike and cab, many a Hasidic realtor, cockroaches, Ol' Dirty Bastard Murals, black mold, realtor gossip, bribes, intra-office realtor swapping, and losing 3 different apartments, but in the end we made out pretty well. We have a private back yard and roof access with views of Manhattan. Come hang out while the weather's still warm.

Despite feeling anxious, I am happy to be here. Almost overwhelmingly happy at times. Though I'm new to the city (and feel the pangs of looking like a hopeless tourist everyday as I stand at street corners flipping my phone around to try and orient myself in Google maps), there are no feelings of having to restart with the people here. It seems almost absurd to think that I had been gone for almost a year, because it feels like the time was much shorter. It's the best way it could be, and I'm lucky for it.

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Things that have kept me going while I've been couch-surfing and job-hunting:

Maybe It's For The Best mixtape by DJ Terroreid, a guy I worked with back in California
Maybe It's For The Best Mixtape by DjTerroreid

Apartment Therapy, for helping in keeping my hopes up during the arduous apartment search

Convoy, for visually catering to my love for Hemingway

And Brooklyn in general, for letting hear this song being blasted from a car without a hint of irony in who was driving and what was being driven.