I am sitting on my bed in Carlsbad, California, happy, and I didn’t even think I liked this house. I like the smell, and how Macy slept on my bed all night, and that I can just jump in my car and drive this morning.

The boxes are a bit overwhelming, but I am fully in California and ecstatic. I even already have plans for this week.

I am editing this blog, but I’m not changing the name. I don’t think. At least not yet. In a week, I will be set up in Berkeley and hanging out with Jacie and Ryan and Nicole and Cameron and everyone I miss.

I know it’s a little early, but I’m already happier.

for the ultimate bizz-ounce. Yeah, I learned that from Tracy Jordan and DotCom.

 

I have packed and shipped TWELVE boxes,

lost and finally accepted losing ONE giant suitcase,

quit a total of THREE jobs,

lived with the coolest ONE bestie,

slept overnight in THREE apartments,

and made the BEST decision that puts me back in CALIFORNIA.

 

Watch out Bay Area! Hold up. Do I have to get a new blog now? Let me know what you think.

I used to have this friend last year. We met when I was a freshman in college and became extremely close over time. When I was having a rough time in Santa Cruz last year, he stood by me and kept me sane. He was my best friend. Now he won’t talk to me at all. He won’t return my phone calls or accept my friend requests on Facebook. But he still talks to everyone else and I’m constantly seeing his face. This is the problem with the internet. I wish I could just delete some people from my life as thoroughly as they’ve deleted me. Sadly, I am stuck helpless with the constant reminder of the mistakes I’ve made, as well as the choices I made that weren’t necessarily negative. Now, as emo as I constantly feel here, it doesn’t help to have these reminders. Everyday it’s like my life is actively worse without the friends that abandoned me this year.

What could I possibly have done that make people hate me with the voracity that they do? That I don’t even deserve a simple explanation? Nothing. It was just like one day, they woke up and hated me. Deleted me from Facebook. Erased me from their cell phones. And suddenly I didn’t exist. There are so many different ways to be rejected nowadays.

But these were my friends. People I talked to everyday. People I went to when I was feeling low. People who apparently decided I didn’t deserve the happy life I had. Now I am sad, and I honestly have never felt so alone. And I truly have no one to turn to.

I wish one of them would at least explain to me their reasoning for hurting me the way they are. As far as Patrick goes, I know I hurt him, but I don’t understand why he kept talking to me for months until one day, nothing. Deleted, erased.

And here I am – sad and alone in New York City. With far too much free time to think about the mistakes I’ve made and the people I’ve hurt.

If only I were given the chance to apologize. If only I knew what I’ve done wrong. If only…

 

What I’ve kept with me
and what I’ve thrown away,
Don’t know where the hell I’ve ended up
on this glary, random day…
Were the things I really cared about
just left along the way
for being too pent up and proud?

Woke up way too late
feeling hung over and old
and the sun was shining bright
and I walked barefoot
down the road.
Started thinking about
my old man;
it seems that all men
wanna get into a car and go
anywhere.

Here I stand – sad and free
I can’t cry and I can’t see what I’ve done
Oh, God. . . what have I done?

Don’t you know I’m numb, man?
No, I can’t feel a thing at all
’cause it’s all smiles and business
these days
and I’m indifferent to the loss.
I’ve faith that there’s a soul somewhere
who’s leading me around
I wonder if she knows
which way is down.

I poured my heart out
I poured my heart out
It evaporated. . . See?

Blind man on a canyon’s edge
of a panoramic scene
or maybe I’m a kite
that’s flying high and random
dangling a string,
Or slumped over in a vacant room
head on a stranger’s knee…

I’m sure back home
they think I’ve lost my mind.

How is it November 3rd? WTF?

Check this black mold shit out:

And we’re expected to keep cooking…. The smell has gotten even worse.

Ew.

Ew.

I have decided to move back to California. My life has twisted into a downward spiral of unhappiness and I am thoroughly convinced that I preemptively made my appearance in Brooklyn. I have no reason to be here and I have no reason to pay the money I do on rent and food just to live my life alone watching TV or reading. I could live much more cheaply and be surrounded by friends if I hadn’t come here. So I am leaving.

I understand how this may appear to some as a failure, but I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. I have never spent so much time wishing I was somewhere else, until I finally realized that I can be. I don’t have to be here. And although I love this city, I will still love this city when I have the work experience to find a job that doesn’t make me want to shoot myself in the face and the money saved up that my boyfriend and I can choose where to live together.

This is a rough city to be in alone. I had very different expectations for my life here upon arrival, and very few of my expectations have been met. I am making a selfish choice to leave, but one that I feel I must make to prevent a night-after-night occurrence of me crying myself to sleep.

Yesterday was the first day in a month that I didn’t spontaneously burst into tears, and I actually felt great. I have broken off my lease with my landlord (which unfortunately has created a rift between Kimmy and myself, but which I expected), given my two-weeks notice at work, and begun applying to jobs in the Bay Area. By Thanksgiving, I will be back in California, and I never thought I’d be so excited to say that.

Maybe next year.

From here on out, I’m making the choices that I want to make. Not out of convenience, not because someone else wants me to do something. 2009 just didn’t work out for me, and somehow I still have hope for 2010. The last two years have been dreadful and I have very little left of my old life. Thank you family for loving me.

I have been living in Brooklyn for a little more than two months now. My boyfriend came to visit this past weekend and got to see my little life. And how little it feels…

I am in love with New York City. Like Thomas Wolfe said, “One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.” Starting at the tender age of twelve, I decided I wanted to move to New York. I also decided I wanted to get my tongue pierced (although it took me until age 18 to get my ears pierced….) and to become confirmed in the Christian faith… Ha, What a silly tween I was! But my commitment to New York has never shaken. Even living in DC caused me to migrate north for every holiday and gave me hope that when I moved to Brooklyn in the summer of 2009, I would have the New York City life I’ve always wanted.

Wow, could I have been more wrong?

Don’t get me wrong – I fucking love Brooklyn. I think it is the coolest city in the world. I love reading all the blogs and articles written by the best writers in the world about my new home and learning all the minute, unique ways that Brooklyn, and Park Slope in particular, operates. I like the way people speak to each other gruffly but without prejudice and the way everyone sits so silently and alone on the subways, almost pretending we can’t see each other, and definitely can’t hear that crappy new pop song blaring through the headphones of that guy that is pretending to be sleeping. I like how the leaves in Prospect Park are all changing colors and how the whole park looks like some fantastical  meadow that rolls on forever when you enter from Grand Army Plaza. I love, love, love the Brooklyn Central Library. It rivals the U.S. Capitol in my book for favorite buildings. I love the car horns and the old buildings and the streets and streets of brownstones and the clock tower from our window. I love Fifth Avenue and the subway and the Brooklyn flea and all of it.

But I love it all alone. It would be different if my love affair with New York City had coincided with my love for the boy in Berkeley, but instead, I have been misplaced. I am not ready to be here. Not ready to do this alone.

And alone I feel… Constantly.

No one ever mentioned how hard it would be to make friends after college if you up and bounce out of your home state and away from everyone you love. I didn’t really think about it. I figured I’d hang out with Kimmy, we’d make friends together, we’d hang out with Kyle and Ariel, and I’d meet people at work. W-R-O-N-G.

I’m usually alone. I figured it out a few weeks ago when I was feeling really low and I spent about one hour a day with people (Kimmy), sometimes two. Other than that, I’m alone. I mean, yes, people walk into the store that I sit alone in all day, and we speak to each other, but I don’t know their names, and they definitely don’t know mine. Even on my day off, Kimmy is usually at work until 6 or 7 at night, so I’m still alone until then. I depend on her solely for my sanity. And she has her own life…

Hopefully I will find a job soon that makes me feel like I’m not wasting another year of my life. I can’t go to grad school until I have a better job, and until I go to grad school, I can’t really start the career I want.

One thing I know now (two months too late)… I’d rather be in Berkeley with Jason waiting things out than here alone.

Since I decided October was going to be my month to figure out budgeting, I thought I’d check in and see how I was doing halfway through.

Turns out — I FAIL.

Even with an enumeration of my excuses, there is no other conclusion than failure. And it’s only going to get worse. My boyfriend has decided to fly out from California next week (which I am very excited for), but it won’t make for the most frugal visit. Also, my roommate and I are going to Boston for Halloween, so I’ll definitely end my month with a big, fat failed bang.

Also, something I did not really take into account when I planned out this whole excursion — I have only received one paycheck since I moved to Brooklyn and it was for a single week of work (read: tiny), so my projections of income required for two paychecks of two full weeks of work each. Neither of which I have received yet. I still owe my loving roommate $200, which is a number that I’m sure will only continue to increase. At the moment I have under $100 in my account, which is money that I saved before moving here anyway.

SEMI-NEW PLAN: I’m going to be EXTRA frugal starting today. HA!

No, but for real, I pretty much ignored the standards I set for myself (including the fact that I just had to have internet installed, but that’s completely legit) and kept shopping and buying books. I have the new Jonathan Lethem book, tons of warm clothes, and a library card. NO SHOPPING UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

Basically, my next paycheck is going to have to cover rent, which kinda leaves me depleted otherwise.

I would say I’d try again next month, but the thing about it is that I don’t really have a choice. I am on the edge of broke, and unless I start paying rent with a credit card (eeek) to sustain my shopping habits, I must create or discover some untapped self-control.

#5. Junk — 197 N. 9th St., Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY

This little store appeared on the corner of Driggs and N. 9th St unexpectedly. I walked down the staircase and into the well-lit underground basement-type to find a treasure chest of home decor and furniture. There were tons of couches, dining room tables, coffee tables, overstuffed chairs, wooden chairs, bookshelves, end tables, side tables, and love seats all situated in the mini-room style, like IKEA – only much cooler. The sunlight shone through the windows in a very inviting manner that made me want to curl up on one particular couch ($200) and fall asleep. The prices were pretty fantastic at this store for the products they were offering. Unfortunately I didn’t have the energy or manpower to get the couch back to Park Slope, but I did find a few funky hats and records in the back.  Junk was not a store that I would recommend as far as for clothes shopping, but definitely check it out if you’re redecorating or new to the area.

Also, just as an additional tidbit, a girl came in while I was there looking for little animal figurine-style toys and surprisingly found a wide array. I was impressed by the peculiarity of needs that this store could suffice.

#4. The Thing — 1001 Manhattan Ave, Greenpoint, Brooklyn, NY

I visited The Thing first on my original thrift store outing about three weeks ago. Walking down Manhattan Ave provided an intriguing sight of The Thing as it seemed to spill out both its windows and door into the sidewalk in front. There were hanging jackets and clothes on a rolling rack and an entire set of dining room chairs; there were televisions facing the street out the window and festive lights dangled above the sidewalk chaos. I was obviously the first arrival of the day, but the lone employee was friendly and made small talk with me before turning on the Ramones to dance around to while he worked. I found his happiness infectious, especially as I managed my way through piles of filled heavy-duty black plastic trash bags and into The Thing. There were two racks of clothes – a side for men’s and one for women’s – in the middle of the store, and bookshelves lining every wall. However, The Thing’s most impressive collection was of records, of which there was an entire back room full. Such a random store – I walked away with ten paperback books, a skirt, a blouse, and my new favorite scarf, all for $15!  Check it out if you’re looking for records, books, TVs, lamps, or ANYTHING for that matter.

#3. Re/Dress NYC — 109 Boerum Place, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY

Dude, check it. This place is advertised for size 14+, but I found over $100 worth of clothes that definitely fit me, and I’m more like a size 8. Entering Re/Dress, I walked into a huge room filled with tons of colors and options and styles. The two sales girls were incredibly friendly and helpful, and did not seem dismayed or uncomfortable with me ransacking through the vintage racks. Apparently I visited Re/Dress just after their fall sale, so most of the items I found were either just $10 or 50% off! As a consignment store, Re/Dress had a wide variety of style options – be it vintage clothing, Mod-styles, fur coats, tons of holiday sweaters, and a multitude of skirts ranging from size 6 to size 16. I was hoping for a better selection of shoes, but Re/Dress still had plenty (just none that I wanted…) lining the back wall of the store and atop almost every clothing rack. I found clutches, purses, tote bags, and bags with every possible color of sequin; there was also a variety of jewelry and other accessories to comb through. Also impressive: the fitting rooms! Like giant zebra print tents, I felt like I was backstage at Fashion Week getting ready to strut my shit down the catwalk. The mirror was huge and made me look damn good in all my selections. I ended up choosing a single dress for $20 that I’ve already worn out and gotten compliments for. The prices are great at Re/Dress NYC and now that they’re open seven days a week, what are you waiting for?

#2. Atlantis Attic — 771 Metropolitan Ave, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY

It was difficult to decide which store deserved second place as opposed to first, so the fact that Atlantis Attic is number two should not deter you in any way, shape, or form from making it a top priority. I literally shop here every Tuesday and Thursday. Receiving three new shipments a week, Atlantis Attic is a warehouse of incredibly cheap vintage and used clothing that never fails to impress. Atlantis Attic is not considered a vintage or consignment store, but definitely emits the vintagey, hipstery vibe. Instead, it’s a thrift store, with prices that even the most broke Brooklynite (cough cough, me) can afford. This place is so big that there are TWO shoe sections (one of which provided me with FIVE new pairs of shoes on my first trip – J. Crew and Doc Martens included) and every style of clothing you could imagine. I have found vintage dresses and sweaters and skirts, high-waisted pants, fur coats and winter jackets, men’s pants and work shirts, sports jerseys, work boots, stylish heels, loafers, and almost every outfit imaginable! On my first trip, I left with five pairs of shoes, three skirts, two sweaters, two dresses, and a velvet purse, all for $90. Despite its place at number one, the next store still doesn’t make me want to go to Williamsburg to go shopping this bad.

#1. Monk Vintage Thrift Shop — 579 5th Ave, Park Slope, Brooklyn, NY [also at 496 Driggs Ave, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY]

I first visited the Williamsburg shop on my first day of vintage/thrift exploring. I had rounded the corner with Junk and then Buffalo Exchange, and was feeling rather downtrodden about my findings. It was with reluctance that I even entered Monk, but was truly ecstatic with my experience there. Unlike its neighbor Buffalo Exchange, which was swarming with your typical Williamsburg hipsters, Monk was completely empty with the exception of its employees, two girls dressed more goth than I’ve seen yet or since in New York City. The store was filled to the brim with every possible vintage style for which one could be searching. I ended up filling a rolling rack just to take into the tiny fitting room with me and still milling around for an hour afterward editing my choices and adding more to the pile. Despite the quality in clothes, books, belts, shoes, and accessories, I bought everything I wanted and didn’t even break the bank. I ended up with two belts, four vintage dresses, a sweater, and a skirt. *Pictures coming*

The 5th Ave store was a completely different experience, albeit, still totally pleasurable. Outside the 5th Ave store were piles of books and maybe a few chairs, and an Indian man greeted me as I entered. Much smaller than the Williamsburg store, I didn’t realize they were at all associated except by name. Boots and shoes lined every inch of the shelves on the wall with sizes written largely on the toes so it was easy to discern possible purchases, although the shoes were all far too small to fit my size 9 feet – so beware large-footed shoppers. There were racks packed with vintage skirts, blouses and sweaters for women, and an equally large selection of clothes for men. I found quite a few ties that I liked (although they were all over $10, and I’m just not that kind of shopper) but no pants for me or for my boyfriend. In the back of the store were a few dining room hutches with VCRs, DVD players, purses, wine glasses, dining sets, and silverware displayed. I ended up with a new J. Crew sweater for $6 and a brown overcoat for $20. Had the shoes been bigger, you can bet I would have walked out with a few pairs of those as well.