Token Emo Post for the Week

Roommate and I went out for drinks last night and she was making fun of Emo people. She knows I'm Emo, so it was all very lighthearted, but she was telling this story about how she was dating this Emo Dude who used his blog to communicate with her. He'd be like "Dude, check out this new photo on my blog" and then she'd go to it and there'd be no photo and instead an entry about what he wants in a relationship (when he was in a pseudo-relationship with her).

It didn't seem all that bizarre to me because I use my blog for similar emotional dispensing.

Hence, my emotional dispensation for the week.

After hitting Duane Reade after work yesterday and then eating a burrito on Bleeker Street that was FAR INFERIOR to the worst burrito I ever had at Anna's, I went home. Roommate was also home. We've been so lethargic and useless. Transition really beats you down.

We're sitting there, watching fuzzy CBS, when my phone rang. It was a call from a happy hour from my old place of employment. All my friends, all together, drinking free drinks, having fun. They meant well. They miss me.

I should have been happy to hear from them, but instead it was extremely depressing. It was actually one of the most depressing moments of my life, to tell you the truth. The first emotion I've felt in NY: sad. Totally, completely, 100% sad.

They were all having so much fun together. I couldn't figure out what I was feeling - like did I miss them? Was I confused as to how things are going on in my absence? I kept thinking "If I was there, I would not be having fun, because I'd be bored with the sameness of it all."

Then it occurred to me that it made me sad because I wasn't having fun. At all. Like I'm here and struggling just to exist. I haven't had time to do anything fun, and that just ain't right. So Roommate and I went out for a drink. At a bar that's three steps from our apartment, because we live in NY and everything is right there. And I had a $6 cosmo with fresh lime juice and got happy and told her Emo things about myself, such as just how sad a phone call can make you.

But yeah. I think talking to them made me feel really pathetic, and all of a sudden it hit me that I don't know anyone. Nobody. There are no social options at all. Which for me is basically the most scathing form of torture.

Right... the point of this post... holy digression....

Roommate gave me a fabulous pep talk during which she explained that it will take time, we'll find our group, and that it will be easy because everyone in NY is a transplant. Everyone here, for whatever reason, uprooted their entire life and is trying to rebuild it here. Everyone here understands what its like to be alone, and everyone will talk to you about it. I just have to be more outgoing. Right. Just talk to strangers. Ignore every introverted Bostonian instinct I have and talk to strangers.

And also get out there. I will go out 3/5 nights next week. Karaoke, live music, and a movie. Those are my tasks. Find three places. Be less Emo. Awesome.