Ready, set, GO?

I was totally gonna bail on writing tonight, er, this morning, I am sleep deprived, excited, hungover and drunk all at the same time.  This week has been a whirlwind of negotiation, adjustment and learning.  I started my job this week and it is just barely starting to sink in the opportunity I have stumbled upon. Actually, screw that.  I didn't "stumble upon" shit.  I knew what I was supposed to do, I came, its happening and I deserve it.  

My first interview in my second week in New York and I nailed a job at a brand new business in SoHo.  It is called Oxley's British Carvery.  We make and sell meat, and I'm in charge of pretty much everything that doesn't involve cooking.  They hired me, trusted me, and put me in charge.  And, you all know how I feel about responsibility.  I try to avoid it at all costs, and it falls into my lap at a time I can actually handle it and do well.

Jackie of all trades, master of none, has actually come in handy.  I am versatile, but I get bored easily.  If I must have  a job at all I am really glad it is something that challenges me and uses my natural gift.  I can have pride in this new endeavour, and I don't want to spoil things by mentioning it too soon, but this door doesn't just lead to money, but a connection to someone who could change my life....

As exciting as it is to be allowed this opportunity, I'm pretty much shitting myself.  I was supposed to move into my new apartment last week, but due to the sheisty behavior of my new landlord, I've been in limbo, camping out at a friends house 10 blocks from my new apartment.  I love it here, don't get me wrong.  I am staying with the coolest people, I have my own room, the internet, and its comfortable.  But I really need a routine, my own spot.  I moved here with 2 suitcases and a duffel bag, and right now, I am pretty much living just out of the duffel bag.  

Punk rock.  For sure.  Exhausting.  Most definitely. 
 

Finally, after a week long battle for my domestic rights in Sage, Tylers, and my new apartment, exterminators came and eradicated the gangster ass cockroaches inhabiting our new stove, put bars on a fire escape so me and Sage don't have to murder someone for trying to rape us. Then, two weeks to actually receive the right keys for the doors.   The time has finally come to move in, which is why I am awake at a quarter to 5 am to type this.  I may not have internet to post anything for a week, I have been too tired and drunk to write, but I would regret it if I actually COULDN'T write. As you all know, I am much better in a crisis, so I am confident everything is gonna be just fine if not fantastic.  More to follow as soon as I can.

Thank you Val for urging me along. 

Free Booze and a Good Time

Yesterday was the first time I was bored in New York.  Mainly because I was too lazy to drag my ass out of bed to go and do something.  So after sitting in front my computer for 5 hours watching movies, I decided I needed to get my ass in gear and do something awesome.  Thank jeezus for http://www.myopenbar.com.  It gives you a nice long list of all the places with open bars in the city.  The first place I came across happened to be 3 train stops away.

I didn't really know what to expect at all, they had it listed as performance art.  I get to the loft and I stand outside looking at the door, unsure if I was ready to commit to this.  But free beer? Who am I kidding, so in I went.  They suggested a donation, I suggested much less and that was fine.  It was a very open "performance space" and there were a handful of hipsters and artsy types milling around smoking hand rolled cigarettes.  I walk over to the bar and order a drink.  High life out of a keg, could I have asked for more?  

Unsure of what to do with myself I approached a pair of seemingly nice guys who I had actually assumed were gay.  They were very welcoming, and turns out they didn't know anyone there either, so we sat and chatted until the show began.  And oh what a show it was.  Me and the gentleman were trying to guess what was going to happen since there was a display of props in different formations for the different pieces.  But no matter how good a guesser you are, artists will always surprise you.

The first skit started, a woman comes out dressed in full Luchador costume and appears to "struggle with womanhood" by wrestling a sheet (sex), a balance ball (exercise), a baby (self explanatory) and a bunch of junk food (also self explanatory).  I must give the lady props because she really wrestled these inanimate objects as if they were fighting back.  I did some fighting of my own, fighting back the damn laughter because all these people were so serious and in to it.  Give me a break.

The woman finishes up and everyone goes back to drinking their beers and discussing the "power of the piece".  There are still 3 more artists to go, so I am just trying to keep an open mind and a straight face.  For the sake of the beer, of course.  Ten minutes or so go by and the hipsters just keep flooding in.  All with such looks of amazement and enlightenment.  As enlightened as you can look wearing fake lenses in a pair of Ray-Bans, I suppose. 

The next guy to come up was actually by far the most straight forward and entertaining.  His piece was a commentary on the diseases and illnesses that the media and pharmaceutical companies try and convince people they are afflicted with.  Although it was still bizarre as hell, it had group participation, which is always fun.  Yelling out random diseases.  Its amazing how many a group full of people can think of.  By the time this guy was done sprinkling turmeric in everyones mouth, we were all pretty drunk and I had made a few more friends.  

I wont even bother wasting my breath on the nonsense that was the final 2 pieces. Completely ridiculous, and whatever the meaning, it was lost on me.  Good thing me and my comrades were properly buzzed making things still fun.  As the show comes to an end, many people had filtered out, it was only 11:30 and that's just warm up party time for New Yorkers.  The owner of the loft who was a lovely man with his lovely wife, declared that the rest of us couldn't leave until the keg was finished as he did not want to lug it down the stairs.  Fine by me! 

I spent the duration of the night sitting at the bar talking with all these fascinating people.  And met a really nice weed dealer who also happened to be the disease performer.  Also met a drummer (of course), who invited me to his show this evening. Describing their music as Tropi-cool.  I even made it on the guest list.  So after helping a blind homeless man to the bus stop, I headed home.  What went from a rather lonely evening ended in plans for the weekend and even more excited outlook on New York.  This is one hell of a town.

Try and keep up.

Thurs. approx. 1 pm.

I wake up, completely comatose from my delightful nights sleep in my 3rd crash house.  I actually have my own room, not in a loft, very nice.  Either way, I stretch and yawn and my phone rings.  It is the lovely British lady Niccola, calling to tell me that I got the job I wanted.  So already, best day ever.  I "knew" that I had gotten it, but actually knowing and "knowing" are two totally different things, so yay me. 

I immediately make the necessary phone calls to share in my joy and reassure concerned family that I will not be hitting the pole or doing something equally shady to pay rent at my beautiful, ramshackle new apartment.  I decide that since things are going so well, I should try to use up this good fortune and get some stuff accomplished.  

It is a beeeautiful day in Brooklyn, 60 degrees and sunny.  Everyone in my new Puerto Rican ghetto is holding it down on their front stoop, hollering at all the "mami's" showing skin in t shirts.   Myself included.  I hoof it down to the local market and pick up some detergent so I can get some laundry crackin.  I could almost skip down the street, if I wasn't carrying 4 loads of laundry on my back.  

The laundromat is one of my favorite places in the world, probably for the same reasons I love the subway.  It is a place where everyone shares a common grumpiness at having to be somewhere necessary yet unpleasant.  Which I suppose, makes it a little bit less unpleasant, misery loves, blah blah blah. 

I'm starving and I need to make change, lucky for me there is a Puerto Rican rotisserie chicken shop right next door.  No one but a New Yorker knows what the hell that is, but its pretty much heaven in the hood.  Quarter seasoned rotisserie chicken with bomb ass beans and rice.  I grab my food, pump the washing machine with enough quarters to make me cringe, sit back and enjoy my food.  Time passes kinda fast watching toddlers frantically chase rubber high bounce balls as they ricochet off the dryers.  

Finished my laundry with time to spare, and then head over to the new apartment to argue with the fix it guy about repairs I was promised by my landlord.  I took a wrong turn to get there and was guided to the apartment by said fix it guy yelling at me from my kitchen window that I look like I don't know where I am going.  Don't know if you have ever seen a street of brownstones, but they all look the fucking same...so I thought, until I realized that ours is by far the shabbiest on the street.  

From there, I hoofed it back to my crash pad to shower and hop on way to many trains to travel probably less than 10 miles.  Either way, showed up at Smiths Tavern to watch my roomie Tyler croon away with his guitar and drink very reasonably priced beer.  Paid for 2 Stellas and got a Bud Light for free. Once again, yay me.  

After 3 or so more musical acts, me, Sage and Tyler were so hungry, we almost considered eating at a place advertising Pitza.  Pitas? Pizza? Who can tell, it was next door to a place selling Chinese Food and Tex- Mex.  Ha. Some combination places here give Louisiana Fried Chicken Chinese Food & Donuts a run for its money.  Instead we decided on a lovely little diner where I ordered my diner specialty.  If you know me well enough you'll know that would be steak and eggs.  Second delicious meal of the day.

Due to increasing hostility at the commune, we though it would be best if S & T went back with the other non-asshole members of the house (who also performed at the bar).  Being The Jackie that I am, I said "I can take the train, I'm fine."  Uh. Right.  I head down to the G train station where I meet an adorable little Indian who politely walks up to me inquiring if I have a boyfriend.  Usually, this is where I roll my eyes 360 degrees, hide behind my hair and smirk.   But he was so damn polite so I told him that boyfriends are for suckers.  He looked so disappointed and replied that it was a shame because he was pretty sure he could fall in love with me, but he would settle for being my friend.   He was so sincere I allowed him to sit with me on the train.  

Turns out at night time, you have to transfer off the G and wait for another G train that arrives 10 minutes later.  The subway station was on and poppin.  A drunk black man was singing the best rendition of "You Give Love A Bad Name" that I have ever heard, and seeing as how its a karaoke favorite, that's saying a lot.  I guess this is where things started going down hill.  As I watched 2 young hipsters suck each others faces off, and this little teenage Indian stare at me with starry eyes, I got very very tired.  The train arrives and the Indian wishes me a goodnight, as he was already at his stop and just wanted to ensure my safety. Who says chivalry is dead?

I sit on the train about to pop in my headphones when the most odd assortment of black guys and one pasty pale hipster start howling out acapella songs.  Of course, they had to get into "OMG" by Usher which completely distracts the hell out of me because it is both strange and entertaining.  Then half way into Hakunamatata, I realize I had missed my train stop, which at 3 am is one of the worst things you can possibly do.  I have to get off and trudge to the other side of the tracks to begin the very long wait for the next train. 

I was so defeated and tired, not to mention my buzz had completely vanished, I sat my ass down on the filthy wooden benches and waited patiently, for the first ten minutes.  With thoughts of in love hipsters, wasted time and the throbbing heartbreak I am still in total denial about, I almost breakdown into tears.  Thank god for the wiley little subway rat that almost ran right over my damn foot.  No time for tears when rats might eat your toes. That, and how could I feel sorry for myself when a fifty year old woman with a limp is changing out the filthy trashcans in the subway station at damn near 4 am.  

I buck up and the train arrives shortly after.  I take it back 2 stops and trek the stairs up and down to my next point of departure.  As I pass the turnstile entrance,  a young gentleman who is clearly coked out is frantically waving 3 dollar bills at everyone that passes asking that someone please scan their metro card so he can board the train.  The toll booth is clear on the other side of the station, and the train is about to pull in.  The street side of my brain said "Fuck em", but after enduring the misery of waiting forever to see the lights in that tunnel, I caved and swiped him in.  I could only hope for someone to return that karma at 4 am on a really bad day.  

So a million hours later, I am home safe in my nice borrowed bed. Covered in New York grit, ready for sleep. And that my friends, is a day in the life of The Jackie in the (other) Big City.

Making it happen since 1984

Well, my friends, once again, crisis averted.  I guess I can be a little dramatic, but who would want to read this if I wasn't?  Got the apartment we were hoping for today.  Not our ideal dream, but cheap, close to the train and we will make it work.  I have faith in our little Bohemian family.

The landlord is a trip, besides the fact he is a Hasid.  A lot more humorous than the bitter ones I was used to at Trader Joes.  But from the way he was trying to hustle us, I'd say he probably has bank.  There are alot of things that need to be fixed, lets just hope he sticks to the things I made him change in our lease.  "As is" apartment? Have you ever heard of such a ludicrous thing?  Just because I'm an unmarried heathen, doesn't mean I cant read a damn contract. It should be all good though.

It feels so fantastic to know that in a week I will have a place to come home to, a place that is ours, where hipocritical cokehead vegan narcissistic pricks can't bother anyone.  Oh yes, you read that right. That was the caliber of asshole that booted me on the street. 

In a way I should be thankful, because even though the couch I am sleeping on is the WORST thing I have ever slept on, I made 3 new friends, and they are awesome.  I am almost sad to leave them tomorrow, but I am headed for a new temporary couch, who knows what kinds of people I will come across there.  Sometimes adventure, no matter how inconvenient, is the best thing.  Getting back to my punk rock roots.  

I am sorry that my writing is not at its peak today, but I just wanted to assure everyone that my situation was in tip top shape. There is still much to do.  Tomorrow morning, gotta hit up the laundromat to wash an outfit for my...wait for it...first job interview in NYC!! I love how my life goes from tragedy to success in a matter of hours.  What can I say, thats the life of The Jackie.  Love it or hate it, its all that I got.  But I really do love it.  I will try to be more cohesive tomorrow and once I get settled in, we will get back to good stuff, like the heroin addicts on the subway who nod off while standing up, but don't ever fall....

Yes, I have a problem...

So I've really done it this time.  Got into a drunken, verbal altercation with the owner of the bullshit "commune" I was staying at.  Tensions had been building with this guy and the other residents for quite sometime.  Enter, Jackie the Catalyst.  Opening my big ass mouth where it wasn't welcome or necessary.

This craziness concluded with me being kicked out of the "commune" and put on the street at 4 am this morning.  I have a friendly, yet very very temporary couch to sleep on, and an apartment already payed for.  Either way, I feel monumentally retarded and depressed.  I know I have a problem with the alcohol, it usually just takes a little bit of time for me to get into this much trouble.

Now everything is rushed, what should have been 2 weeks of job hunting and planning, is now 2 days to get into this apartment or else.  And its not just like it is only affecting me, Sage and Tyler now how to rush out of there own house.  I don't know if it is gonna happen the way we need it to, and it is really hard to stay optimistic and motivated with this dark cloud of failure.  Less than a fucking week. I suprise myself sometimes with my stupidity.

With a deposit, first months rent and possible prorate for moving in early, thats pretty much all my money.  If I don't get a job this second.  I am royally screwed.  Well, I guess this is actually typical Jackie.  Everything rushed, and unplanned.  I usually pull it off, lets just hope for the sake of my life, this is one of those times.  Cross your fingers friends and hope for the best.  For the first time since I got here, I am sick for my home.  Maybe I would have been better off just being a bum at my grandparents house.  Who do I think I am anyways?

 

Dollar dumplings and shitty electronics...

Today was pretty awesome. Headed out into Manhattan starting with Chinatown.  Lots of dead animals, hagglers and tiny streets.  My camera lost its will to live a block from the subway station, so I was kinda bummed.  Especially since I had to haggle for some batteries from some tiny little Chinese man. 

While pouting my way through my first stop in the city, Tyler (Sage's man), directed us to a "blink and you miss it" 5' by 5' gem called Prosperity Dumplings. Once I elbowed my way past the very loud, fat Asian children who refuse to get out of my way, the man behind the counter yells at me because I cant figure out what I want.  I don't know what a pork bun is, but after viewing the beautiful pigs head a few blocks earlier, I am oddly intrigued.  Well, no pork buns.  Fifteen minute wait.  5 for a dollar dumplings it is, and let me tell you, best damn dollar I ever spent. Deeelicous.

After getting our dumpling on, we head over to the East River and Chelsea.  Also known as the "Meatpacking District".  Where hip thinks its born, but really goes to die.  Art galleries, broads in skirts and heels in 22 degree cold, and swishy gay men. It was really neat, but not for me.  Although I did learn after the fact that every Thursday is the "real" ArtWalk... open galleries with free booze.  Needless to say, you will know where to find me next Thursday.

A chai latte and a meet and greet with Sagey's little sis later, off to the middle of it all. Columbus Circle and the beginning of Central Park, where we did NOT go because no one was in the mood to be raped this evening.  Instead, we hoofed it to Hell's Kitchen.  I did not see that annoying angry chef, but there was a lot of fucking restaurants.  All kinds, you name it, they got it, and it will cost you your kidney to pay for it.  AND there are 3 Chipotle's down there, so all you Chipotle haters can suck it.

Next, we visited Sage's grandmother where she fed us homemade chicken and rice soup.  A true New York apartment, tiny as hell and blocks from the action.  We had to drag ourselves out of there because no one ever wants to leave a "Grandma House".  Then, onward to home. I wish I had a pedometer so I would know just how far we walked.  I know we took at least half a dozen trains.  My thighs ache, and I'm pretty sure I am coming down with a cold, but I am happy as a clam. 

 This weekend I'm on my own. So lets just hope I can spend it exploring my lovely little neighborhood and not coughing up a lung in my lovely little loft. Which I will try and tell you a little more about tomorrow.  Stay tuned kids.

The Bar didnt make me leave...I left because I felt like it...

Today was my first real evening in the "big city".  I went to the shittiest Target ever and trudged home with the best $10 clearance heater ever. No matter what you do, the bathroom here is colder than the beer.  

The people are just as bitter as they are everywhere else, which makes me seriously question the bitterness in LA, since everyone here is pissed on the subway because its cold, what the hell is everyone in LA so mad about???  Either way, there are assholes everywhere and there are cool people everywhere.

I am lucky to be surrounded by people that are confident in their lives and encourage those around them to be better as well...I mean my friends, and me.  I miss that which makes me feel safe, but I am overwhelmed with anticipation for that which makes me push myself further.  This decision is the best I ever made, and I am glad you all have followed me through it.  

Tomorrow, me and Sage hit the city for job interest and tourist fun.  This adventure has more in store than I originally anticipated, and this only means entertainment for us all.  Good Night to the West, good morning to the East. The Jackie is committed.  

So This Is It....

Here I am, last night in my room, in the house that I grew up in... I have been so busy for the past 2 months, even though half of it was drinking and goodbyes, I never really let it set in. I am leaving.  For real.  Tomorrow morning.  
I am getting more excited by the minute, but I am having trouble leaving my grandparents.  No matter how I try to go about it, how carefree I try and keep it, I'm having separation anxiety.  The girl that was affectionately known as the "Little Orphan" is so surrounded by familiar love, I could just die.  
I don't have much more to say, I am very overwhelmed, and I refuse to cry.  I will say though, it was much easier to leave my city, family and friends, as a bitter, hateful, drug addled teenager.  Not as the true prodigal child.  Only way to move now is forward.  I love you Los Angeles, I ran from you for years, but this time I leave with hope, not despair.  Thank you everyone in my life for everything.  See ya on the other side.

A Mouthful of Minor Setback

I really wanted to write something monumental today, not because I had anything monumental to say, I just thought I should.  But with a mouth full of throbbing and a stomach full of pain pills, all I got is this.  I first read it on the wall of my alcohol councilors office, at the time, it was exactly what I needed to hear.  Now months later, while I'm laid up in bed with more pain inside my heart than in the center of my hollow tooth, I heard it again.  Albeit on a really, really bad, guilty pleasure, teen drama I secretly indulge in, it was a relief to be reminded of it.  Its an old Cherokee folk story, hope you get what I got out of it.

Two Wolves: A Cherokee Teaching

An elderly Cherokee Native American was teaching his grandchildren about life… He said to them, “A fight is going on inside me, it is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf is evil — he is fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, competition, superiority, and ego. The other is good—he is joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too.”

They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”
The old Cherokee simply replied: “The one you feed”.