There’s so much to do, just so much to do. Holiday season is so stressful, especially if you’re moving across the country during it. Especially if you have to rely on a ton of other people for it. Two-body problems are terrible. And here’s when I’m glad I don’t have a spouse or kids. I’m dreading checking my email, because it’ll be yet another person asking about the stuff I’m having on sale, or someone asking for my inputs in coordinating my move or finding me a place to live. Or my family messaging me at odd hours thanks to timezones telling me they need to know when I’m coming so that they can plan.
Life was much simpler when all my worldly possessions could fly for free on Southwest and I didn’t care if I lived in a dingy room in Harlem with an insomniac, and I didn’t have a bunch of people waiting for me on the other end, and I was the only one I could rely on. Of course, having worldly possessions grounds you, gives you purpose, and serves as surety that you aren’t going to disappear without a trace, that if something happened to you, your upstairs neighbor would notice because she hasn’t seen you take out the trash in forever or because she hasn’t heard the noisy stumbling around the stairs late in the night in a while. Or your landlord would surely have to contact your friends because there’s this question of what to do with all your stuff. Yeah, these paranoid thoughts become ‘practical’ ones each time you have to really think about whose name to put down as an ’emergency contact’.
It’s fine, I guess. My mother says no good thing ever happens without last minute tensions, yelling and wanting to hide under your desk and hope that they think you went thataway. I want to believe her. But there’s always this nagging concern that I could have planned stuff better. It’s easy to fall into the trap of Priya sucks at planning, Priya has no foresight, Priya can’t handle stress, Priya can’t make split-second decisions. But then, Priya’s managed fine so far, so Priya’s got to be doing something right.
In the middle of all that, there’s so much to outrage about. Section 377 for starters. Then there’s this Maid in Manhattan shit going on at the Indian consulate. And also people forming governments in Delhi. Oh and Sherlock minisode. I can’t see the hype. Also the Modi wave. And Rahul is a doofus. And some weird Indian men who will only shower an Indian woman with insubordination. I also have to kiss every landmark in New York goodbye. Thankfully, I didn’t have to do that with 5pointz, they painted over it over a week when I wasn’t taking the 7 train to Manhattan, and now I don’t think I can enter it. But the question still remains. When will I have the last cheesecake from Eileen’s?
Another new city to call home. And hope I belong. And hope those stories about Northwesterners making plans with you and then not showing aren’t true. And hope the city doesn’t shut too early. And hope you find a place where they deliver Mapo Tofu at 11pm.
I know I’m never going to find a place to live in that’s solidly middleclass and happening like Astoria, and that saddens me… what has America done with its cities? A healthy twentysomething without special requirements can do well in any city in the US, but add in any other issues, and it’s hard to imagine the lengths you have to go to make sure to do well.
Moving’s an adventure. Done it several times now. Never this way, though. Never with a houseful of furniture, never with my mother in tow, never on such a tight schedule. I know it’ll be fine. But until then, I still want to claw someone’s eyes out.
More on the whys and wherefores of the move and stuff later when I’m done packing my stuff, clearing my fridge, MagicErasering my walls, transferred knowledge, answered all my emails and found a place to live on the other side.