This is my last night at the 305. 2 weeks ago when everyone else was moving out, it didn't seem real to me that soon, I too would move on. Past the confines of my safe 6'x8' room, which doesn't nearly seem as small as it used to. This will be my 7th move in less than 4 years. Most of the time I am happy to move, I don't like the physical act of packing up my stuff and unloading it all again, but I'm always on to some new exciting adventure. It's always bittersweet, of course. But tonight as I sit in my room for the last night trying desperately to connect to the feeble internet network, NYAP, the bitterness is over powering the sweetness. It reminds me of the first move: the giant leap from my child hood home to my first semester of college, knowing I will forever always be visiting my parents when I stayed there. I felt guilty leaving my mom, though I knew she would be comforted by the fact that I was going away to my dream school (and that it was only 30 minutes away). Tonight, a lump rises in my throat. This move is filled with as much uncertainty. Not the same though, that time it was “How do I do my laundry” or “What happens if I blow a fuse.” Now it's “What if my new landlords are nightmares?” “What if my roommates run up the utilities?” At least here at the 305, I had so much free time to explore and discover and not be burdened with the real world responsibilities. I guess I should be excited about graduating college, and embarking on this journey that I have always dreampt about: living the life of the bohemian artist, burning scripts and posters to stay warm, refusing to pay Rent (oh wait, now I have to worry about my credit score....)
It's not even so much the newness of the move that is forcing me to write this, its leaving the old. As much as we complain about this rickity old building, I've enjoyed my time here. Even though I was annoyed by the late night chat sessions in the kitchen next door, and the insulation sucks (if the heater's on, it's too hot; if the heater's off, it's too cold) and I dare not touch the dish towels for fear of what was growing on them. At least there was always something going on. I was comforted by the fact I was never alone here. Even if I awoke at a random hour in the night, There was always someone up. Either working on their computer or coming home from a late night pub crawl, or getting a glass of water. And you can't beat this location: steps from Penn Station. It was like my little portal to freedom; from Penn, you could go anywhere. Whole Foods and $7 Bikram Yoga are right around the corner along with the best sushi in the City.
Maybe exploring a whole new neighborhood isn't too bad. And the fact that I have never seen this new apartment I am moving into has a lot to do with my resistance to leave the 305. Hopefully I'll walk in and wonder what the hell I was thinking last night when I wrote this.
I guess, I'm just sick of getting comfortable in something just to be uprooted and thrown somewhere else.
Well, I guess I'd better get to sleep. I have a long day of heavy lifting tomorrow. I'll check in and let you know if I feel the same tomorrow night when I'm sitting in my bare, new room surrounded by suitcases and boxes.
No comments:
Post a Comment