Yesterday, I walked out the back door of my new apartment building and into a parade. My building is smack dab in the middle of gay heaven. When I say that, I mean that it's in the center of a slew of gay bars, gay sandwich shops, and gays. My roommate and I were trying to get our internet set up at our house, and instead, we decided to get some greasy fast food a block away. Instead, we found thousands of people walking down the road, complete with signs and golden retrievers:
This is where I live now!
It's pretty exciting that I moved out of my parents' house for the second time and into a major city. I live about six blocks from the state capitol, and it hit me the other day that I've never really lived in a big city. I find this strange, since I really love cities, and since I've visited quite a few. But to live in the heart of the city is really different than living in a suburb... Toto can attest to this, since he's still not really sure what to do when he hears cars rushing past my window or when he has to pee on the sidewalk.
It's not quite Oz, but I do live across the street from a 7-Eleven and Kitty's Adult Books. My rent is cheaper than yours because I share a 1-bedroom apartment run by a drunk Mexican guy who said he "had a good feeling" about my roommate and I despite the fact that neither one of us have a job (still). The most shocking thing about my move has really been my homesickness. Don't tell my mom, but I sorta miss living with her. It's not because she cooked my dinner and cleaned my house and paid for everything... although I definitely miss all of those things... I guess it's because I realized that I'll never live with her again. And thinking about my parents can make me pretty emotional lately. Moving out the second time around is a lot harder than moving out and going to college. When you're going to college, it's like you're on your own but everything is practically still provided for you. You still have the structure of school to keep you motivated, plus you're still at the point in your youth where you can pound back Key Lite by the liter and feel great the next morning. That's not really the case anymore, as my roommate and I have both discovered a few times since we've moved in together. And while you're dealing with your day-long hangover, you're also dealing with your life hangover, because you realize that you have to pay for things eventually and you might not even be able to buy pot this week. How will you survive?!?!
Hopefully, you have enough encounters with parades and things like this to keep you going:
Who you gonna call?
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