| Date: | 2006-10-24 00:59 |
| Subject: | 25th Hour... |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  pleased |
It's been over 24 hours since my last cigarette. And Ive been awake for over 20 of these hours. I'm very proud of myself considering I had 2 coffees and ate 3 full meals (I was scared to eat so I postponed it for as long as I could) and hung out with many smokers (90% of my aquaintances). The patch helps because I don't sweat and get headaches from nicotine withdrawal. Instead the right part of my body goes numb from time to time but it's all good.
I think this calls for a cigarette! But seriously, 24 more hours and then my first cigarette will be well worth it. Hopefully my throat will be better by then!
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I've been ill for quite a while. Over a month now. Specifically when I returned from my very unhealthy trip to Vegas. The biggest problem is my throat. It's not quite swollen but I cough like a mother fucker. And it's very annoying - to me and those around me.I was refusing treatment for a while (for many reasons including the fact that I do not have health insurance) but in the end I caved in and went to see a doctor my yiayia goes to.
I walk in with my grandma to see the doctor who is really old, almost as old as the building in which his office is in I would presume. I suddenly start getting faint memories from when my mom used to bring me and my brother there after school way back when we used to live here. When I walked into the examination room I got to see what a back alley abortion clinic must have looked like back in the 50s. Everything was old and rusty and disgusting. The guy has one thermometer in the office a rusty old school that barely works and a bunch of equipment that must have come through Ellis Island with the doctor's parents a century ago.
So after a brief examination the doctor informs me that my lungs are perfectly healthy but my throat is very irritated. So he did what he does best and wrote me a prescription for some general antibiotic and some Over-The-Counter cough medicine. I take and am ready to leave but before I get to do so he asks me if I smoke. I hesitantly reply, yes, prepared to listen to the lecture but surprisingly enough I heard a different version:
"I'm not going to tell you to quit because you're still young and healthy but you should probably try to stop for the next few days till your throat gets better."
He then continues
"Of course you should know that if you still smoke by the time you're 40 you can expect major heart problems, breathing problems and even problems with your legs (not sure where that came from). If you're prepared to deal with this stuff then that's fine."
You'd think that last part would bring me down but on the contrary it made me think "Hmm... so I guess I don't have to quite by the end of next year (as I had planned) but I can go on and smoke into my mid to late 20s... Interesting."
So I took the doctor's advice and decided to stop smoking for a couple of days till my throat starts getting better. The only way I could achieve this though is by putting on a patch to prevent me from smoking (or I'll probably pass out). I still plan on quitting for good by next year, regardless of what the doctor said. And I'm looking forward to going to a cafe and being able to sit inside - where it's warm - for a few days.
I think I'm doing quite well to be honest. It's been 2 hours and no cigarette. Two whole hours without a morning waker uper. Two hours without a drag to accompany my morning coffee. Two whole hours...
Crap.
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I cannot begin to remember the last time I stayed indoors for an entire day. I think it was a Saturda y though and I think it was because I had gone out Tuesday - Friday night that week. On Thursday I thought it would be my first day in a while. No cafe, alcohol, definitely no club. So I'm in my pajamas tucked in bed watching some Office, waiting for CSI to finish recording when I get a call around 11pm from a friend.
"Pame Caprice?" laughs Mano, thinking he's making fun of me for having been going there 2-3 times a week. "Shut up," I reply defensively. "No, I'm serious. George is getting off work at midnight and he wants to do something." So just like that I am, once again, faced with a dilemma of sleep vs. drink. And again drinking wins. To be fair it wasn't that hard to convince me. Staying home all day felt quite strange. So I tell Mano I'll pick him up within the hour and Thursday night ended up as just another night out.
Now it's Saturday morning, and just like every Saturday morning, I'm at work hungover, exhausted and dehydrated. Last night had a small twist in it that I'm not sure I really liked but all in all it was fun as usual. Luckily, we ended up on Broadway which involved me being able to walk home when I was too drunk to continue on sometime around 3:30, leaving the rest behind, still wondering how/where they ended up.
So basically this week was just like any other. Me, still unemployed techinically, but continuing to go out every chance I get (i.e. every day) and recklessly spending money when I am receiving very little income and my debts are piling up. So, I'm thinking maybe it's best if I start staying in more often.
Fuck it, I'm still 22.
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| Date: | 2006-10-11 15:14 |
| Subject: | Wondering |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | pleased |
These past few months it seems as if time has stood still... or maybe even gone back a few years. I've been having a really good time - maybe even too much of a good time - but at the same time I feel like my life should be moving forward at this point - rather than staying still. But I can't seem to find myself worrying. In fact even when things seem to be going down the shithole I refuse to start pouting like a little bitch.
So I've decided so it could at least seem like I'm doing something with my life to start studying for both my engineering license and the GRE and maybe apply to a grad school or two even though I doubt I'd get in to any. Until, then coffee, beer gardens, clubs, bars and hanging out we'll do just fine.
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I used to always make fun of women for buying uncomfortable shoes. Isn't that like paying money for pain, i.e. masochism? Alas, I have found myself in a similar predicament. Seeing as my faithful diesels, having survived hurrican storms, record snowstorms, the streets of New York, the hills of Athens and even the sandy beaches of Normandy, were torn up with multiple holes I decided it was high time I bought a new pair of shoes - a task I always dread.
Buying shoes for me has always been a problem for many reasons, but mostly because it is a piece of garment(is it?) that I wear everyday. I don't have more than one pair of everyday shoes and never had. Therefore it was something that always had to be meticulously selected, something "stylish" that would suit me, not too expensive (but definitely not cheap either) and most importantly: comfortable. My selectivity therefore has had me walking down Broadway from Union Square , through Noho, past Soho down to Tribeca in search for the perfect pair of shoes. Most of the times though, I end up back where I started at Shoemania on Union Square.
This was the case yesterday when I decided it was time my old diesels were put to sleep. As soon as I walk into the shoe store I am immediately overwhelmed by the huge crowd and find myself intimidated at first, but what can you expect on a Saturday evening. My first reaction to a pair I was recommended by my friends was "I hate Lacoste. Always have, always will." I never really liked that preppy crocodile, as a young kid, not sure why.
After looking around and not being able to find anything half decent I give in and take a closer look at a pair of Lacoste which I had insisted was nothing worth an extra look - until I saw the price. At the point something overwhelmed. I feel embarassed to even admit this but yes when I saw the slightly higher than average price of the Lacoste something happened to me. I thought "for this price I might as well try to see what the fuss is all about." And so I put on the pair of black shoes (I haven't worn black every day shoes in over 10 years). My friends convinced me that they looked really nice and that I had the option of dressing them up or down (which for me seemed like a 2-in-1 deal). So I gave in to temptation and abandonned the anti-Lacoste principles my younger self had deceloped and bought the damn shoes.
So after I bought the shoes we all went for a couple of drinks across the square over to Luna Park, to enjoy it one last time before it closes down for the winter. I decided I didn't need to go back home to change to go out because I had my Lacoste shoes which I could just dress up. And so I put them on, tossing my old diesels in a bag and giving them to my cousin to take back to Astoria (I could never just throw them away). And so I put on my Lacoste ready to paint the town red (even though it was still 10 o'clock but that's another story).
So, from Union Square to Tribeca to Astoria, I gave my Lacoste shoes an eventful night out. At first everything was fine, partly because I had fallen asleep at one point in this shady Tribeca "club" but that was because it wasn't even midnight yet and I wasn't sure exactly why I was out? Then on the way to Astoria as the alcohol started to completely wear off I realize the back part of my feet are aching tremendously. I slip down my shoe to see that my heels are scratched and torn. Yes, the back part of the shoes and my heels are just not the best of friends. As a matter of fact I think they hate each other.
I didn't manage to let that ruin my night though. But walking from GPs place to the beer garden and then on the way to Caprice I remembered one thing: "I hate Lacoste. Always have. Always will."
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| Date: | 2006-09-27 15:19 |
| Subject: | Adios |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | chipper |
It's a little past 3pm and I just woke up a few minutes ago. No, not from an early siesta but from a 12 hour sleeping session. I guess there would be nothing wrong with that if I were still a teenager or in college, but somehow I can't help but feel that it's not very normal - especially since it's Wednesday...
The past few weeks have been very busy with the arrival of so many friends from back home. This of course involved numerous things from astoria beer garden to the south street sea port to atlantic city and everywhere in between. The only bad thing is that I wasn't able to make in money in the process which means October will involve lots of staying in.
Yesterday, we figured a "guy's night out" would be appropriate since our last visitor Jacob is leaving on Thursday (shit, that's tomorrow). We ended up going for coffee and - after receiving 10 duty free uber cheap cigarette cartons- we decided to play poker, only instead of money we would use our cigarette cartons for the pot. I named it Prison Bitch Poker, which I think is appropriate. I ended up winning about 2.5 cartons, which have a street of value of up to 100 bucks (and are sold in NY for about 180). But we were unable to determine exactly what was going down and all the cartons got us confused so I just split up half a carton with everyone in the room.
Sadly, when I actually opened up a pack I realized that all I won was an early ticket to lung cancer-ville, even though if I continue smoking those cigarettes I'm convinced I'll have to quit by the time they're done because they are so god awful I've already questioned my nasty filthy, teeth yellowing, mouth wreacking habit.
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| Date: | 2006-09-16 08:25 |
| Subject: | Reunion |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | chipper |
New York has always been the out-of-Greece meeting point for all the alumni from our so-called International School of Greece. Within the past few months however it seems as though its become more than that. Currently within Astoria, the city and Brooklyn there are (at least) 10 out of the 99 people from my graduating class. Nine of us are quite close, which was indicative from our Thursday outing in Astoria.
Jacob arrived on Thursday making a quick pit-stop from Chicago before he heads out to LA to pursue his life long dream of being a movie star (and my current dream of being part of his entourage - or life long dream of getting paid to do nothing). Mano arrived yesterday from London but luckily he will be staying with us for a year - or until we both decide it's time to move to Paris, or at least a developed francophone country (does one even exist?). He arrived dead tired after an adventurous journey from northern England expecting to get a nice long sleep upon his arrival to ny. Yeah right.
Sometime between drunken conversations and ridiculous dance moves at Caprice on Thursday night I discover that George and Jud were planning on moving a couch the following day - without a vehicle. Naturally, this was ridiculous seeing as a)it would be raining and (more importantly) b)it was about a 2km+ distance which would involve crossing over a highway and crossing past the entrance for the Triboro bridge. So I did what I do best: I offered to help move the couch with my dad's pickup. Now after having to furnish an entire apartment in LA for the first time 3 years ago I decided that moving furniture and boxes was my absolute least favorite thing to do. Of course, as things would have it it seems to be a thing I find myself doing all the time. And to be honest, it's totally cool. Luckily, Jacob and Mano were there so it wasn't bad at all.
And now it's time to get back to work, and book a minivan for our Atlantic City road trip tomorrow. Should be fun :-D.
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| Date: | 2006-09-08 20:15 |
| Subject: | Recovery |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  sick |
So apparently my strict diet of cigarettes and screwdrivers (and vodka sobes before my heart had started palpatating) did not do me very well. Every since I've returned from Vegas I've been very ill. How ill? Well ill enough to have smoked one pack of cigs in 4 days. Yeah... that ill.
The worst thing about this is that yesterday I spent most of the day in bed (after working from 7am-11am :( ) when meanwhile outside was what had to have been the most beautiful day the city has seen in weeks! Then today I thought I was feeling better and so I decided to start smoking and go for a drink at around 3pm, somehow erroneously thinking that I was still in Vegas (apparently nobody ever really leaves that place - the sin stays with you forever). And so my road to recovery was intervened by my stupidity. And right now all I wanna do is go out but I can't seem to make myself repeat the same mistake.
On a sidenote, I just placed a bid on ebay for two floor tickets to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert - in Montreal. Yes, even though they have two concerts playing here in NY I decided I needed an excuse to go back to Montreal. The bid was relatively low which means either a)I'm being scammed or b)I will be outbidded quite shortly. It probably might be both. Either way I really hope I end up in Montreal because, God, I'd love to see what that place looks like without snow, ice and without having to wear 6 layers of clothing.
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| Date: | 2006-09-05 14:09 |
| Subject: | Excalibur |
| Security: | Public |
I play around with my empty glass while chewing on some ice cubes in an attempt to suck out whatever hint of low-shelf vodka remains. As I wait for Samuel to finish shuffling the deck I try to determine his ethnicity; I ask him but he ignores pretending the boisterous casino atmosphere prevented him from hearing me. I pull out my phone to check the time. It reads 08:33. Samuel is looking at me waiting for my bet before he can begin dealing. I decide to play two hands this round and so I drop down two green chips on two spots. The bets aren't that big but I realize I've come a long away from those $5 Indian Casino tables we used to visit back in university.
Before I can see what I was dealt the cocktail waitress has arrived with my nth screwdriver of the evening/morning. I give her a single and put down my drink. Samuel is waiting, impatiently. I lift over my two cards with one hand, while trying to wash down the stench of drymouth and cigarettes with the other. I have an 8 and a 6. Samuel has a 10 showing. I know I gotta hit and so I do. Ten; bust. It's cool I got another hand. I slightly take a peak of my two face down cards. I see a 10. And I see a 5. I hit. A 6 gives me a 21 and I gloat. I light up another cigarette before Samuel shows us what he has. He flips over his face down card revealing a face card. I don't care, I got my hand.
Before I get a chance to finish my cigarette I get a call from the girls who sound drunk but are actually just happy. I step away from the table to take the call and I find out after I had left the craps table the drunk Mexican from across the table took over my spot and started shoving bills down their bras and throwing them chips left and right. Nice. I hang up the phone and see families with their children heading to the pool. Fuck that. I turn back but Samuel has decided to start dealing sans moi, so I down my drink and leave.
As I go to cash in my chips I see I'm up about 30 bucks for the night which was a total waste but at still better then losing. As the cashier gives me my money, I tuck it in my pocket but somehow still don't feel satisfied. The roulette, the blackjacks the pai gows and the three cards. Only craps is fun and that's when you're playing with friends. So I stumble my way to the elevator and head up to the room. I see my friends still up laughing and yelling and showing me their benjamins. As the girls are explaining to me how their earnings came aout, juxtaposed with Simon's story of how he lost every penny he indebted himself to, the alcohol slightly begins to posess me and I start laughing my ass off, unable to stop. It's 9am.
Vegas, baby, Vegas.
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I have officially lived 3 entire seasons in nyc for the first time in 15 years and I've realized yet another thing: while there are quite a few things that make me feel out of place in this town one of them is the weather. Although I can expect freezing temperatures in the winter time, chilly weather in the autumn, precipitation in the spring and hell even humidity in the summer raining and lack of sunshing during the summer months is simply unacceptable.
I'm still pissed off by that ticket those undercover bastards gave me last week and I am reminded of it everytime I pull out my Metrocard (I miss tokens). Last week though went quite well in spite of that. After the ticket Katerina I decided to go out and drown our sorrows. We ended up at Luna Park since it's the only place I know of in the city where you can drink AND smoke without a bouncer/security threatening to kick you out after you've lighten up for the third time. Of course its open doors so it's not an option in this crappy weather.
As far as smokey bars are concerned, I also got to go to Gibney's last week. It's the only Irish pub I care to visit in Astoria and its quite convenient over on B'way and 32nd. Once I walked in and got a wiff of that smoke I couldn't help but feel nostalgic, both for the bars back home and the way bars used to be in this city. I almost forgot how nice it feels to be able to sit on a bar with a drink and smoke your stogie in peace. Even in Paris I couldn't do this because everyone in the crowd was a non smoker so I had to step aside and interact with the locals when smoking a cigarette, which was just wicked awesome (if only I could record myself speaking stumbling drunken French one day).
And I got a free haircut last week when I was passing by in front of Dramatics (the poor man's Vidal Sassoon, which is actually right across the street) on 5th av and 15th street by some woman who was going for her license the following day. Even though I was planning on chopping off my hair, which goes Lion King on my ass in the FUCKING HUMIDITY, I thought I'd play it safe and asked her to cut off 1/2 an inch. I couldn't complain, especially since it just cost me a 5 buck tip.
Tomorrow I head to the airport to pick up Zoe who returns from the motherland but my car broke down so I gotta take it to the mechanic in the morning. Also, I think I've saved up enough quadruple digits for Vegas and also got meself a free room at the Borgata on the 17th when Mano and Jacob come. I can't fucking wait. I need some more Neogrecos in my life, especially since George has been working like a dog - but then again that is the ULTIMATE oxymoron.
Fuck, what has this place done to us?
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I am sorry but if I see cigarette butts ALL OVER the fucking platform and not A SINGLE no smoking sign, then what the fuck?
I am thinking of contesting it thought seeing as they put have me 35 pounds over, and the race is disputable (and why is there even a race on this thing?)
Thank you Mr. Bloomberg. I hope you drown in your pool of money.
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Since Tuesday and Wednesday have become my days off this month I do my best to make the most out of them. Naturally, this involved me sleeping in till noon yesterday at which point I decided it's ok to get out of bed, even though I have nothing that needs to be done (false: there are lots of things I should be doing but whatever). I then spent most of the afternoon doing laundry, while watching my recorded Weeds and Prison Break episodes (I've said before and I'll say it again: television is the best thing these americans have). Later on, after a failed attempt to play a good ole' fashion game of Biriba, I headed over to Katy's place on the UES to hang out. I always enjoying talking with Katy for many reasons, mostly because our conversations always range topics and because Katy always has something interesting to say - regardless of whether I agree with it or not. Naturally, our conversation consisted mostly of Lebanon and Israel, a topic she has become quite passionate about. I really enjoyed it because lately I've found myself to become so apathetic that I almost forgot how passionate I used to be about this topic back in the day: from the numerous protests I attended back home during high school (and even in Santa Monica once) to the (somewhat) helping with the founding of my University's Students for Justice in Palestine organization. I guess with everything that's going on right now in my life it's kind of hard to... well care anymore :-/.
So after Katy's I went and picked up Katerina from work around 10ish thinking perhaps a nice refreshing bière blanche would cap off my evening. However when Katerina informed me of her interesting night out, the previous evening, I thought I had to up the ante: so I proposed Atlantic City. Of course with Katerina it's not about proposing places but rather informing her where we're going since she's up for anything - and I mean anything. I became somewhat hesitant after spitting out the words Atlantic City from my mouth, especially since we wouldn't be getting there before 1 am and I had plans to go to the beach the next day. But, I realized there was no turning back.
Usually, I pay attention to certain signs telling me that perhaps I shouldn't be doing something I've randomly decided to. In this case they included: no ipod in the car, which is an absolute necessity on a 2+ hour trip especially when my radio stations die out in the south jersey boonies; my excessive yawning and sleepy eyes before even leaving astoria; the cop that pulled me over before getting into the midtown tunnel because my passenger headlight was not working (i figured this could be a problem while driving for over an hour and a half on the lightpost-less garden state parkway); and of course my empty pocket. But to hell with it. We drove down there and after a little over 2 hours we arrived to The Borgata and headed straight to the poker room.
The interesting thing about this is that I taught Katerina how to play a poker about 10 days ago, and all the other information she learned was from poker shows on TV. I guess they did her good though because she ended up leaving with as much money as I lost (luckily, not much - around 60 bucks). By 3am I couldn't keep my eyes open so I decided not to fold every crappy hand and try my luck with some BS cards. Naturally, this didn't work out but perhaps I learned a lesson before I head to Vegas in 10 days. The best thing was though that I resisted temptation while passsing all the table games (even though I couldn't help myself from feeding a 20 into those damned "Wheel of Fortune" slots.)
The drive back from AC was - as can only be expected - quite painful. I knew I needed a dose of my guilty pleasure - an iced americanno from starbucks, in order to survive the trip back home. Alas, no starbucks was open but, of course, they existed even in Middle of Nowhere, NJ. So around 5 am we stopped at burger king where I had the nastiest food accompanied by nastiest coffee. To be frank though, the caffeine did help me speed my way up the garden state; that was until we hit morning rush hour while approaching north Jersey.
I looked at the time and it was about 6 a.m. when we entered onto the NJ turnpike. Seeing all those cars, all those people, having to wake up this time, every day, to get to work kind of got to me. I coldn't help but feel bad for them. And then I thought that there's no need to pitty these people. After all, who am I to do so?
As we crossed into the city and saw all those trucks driving around preparing Manhattan Island for another weekday morning, knowing that there have been many a times that I was part of this process. And then I realized, it wasn't those thousands of commuters who wake up at 5am to get to work that I was pittying, but myself.
And as I arrived my parents house to see my dad leaving the house circa 7am, thinking he got to sleep in today, I went to bed certain, once again, of one and only one thing: this is not the life that I want to live.
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One of the many interesting things of my moblie phone having a 213 area code is the numerous mistaken calls I get from hispanic people. This usually involves me using the only spanish I pretty much know [Maria/Margarita/Monica etc. no esta aqui]. And then I realize that this implies the person called the correct number but it just so happened that they're wife/girlfriend/sister/mother's phone was answered by a strange man. So I quickly return to English mode: "Sorry, wrong number." And hang up.
The past few days have kind of been an emotional roller coaster. A number of things I found out have lead me to question my place in this world at this point in time, and actually started wondering what my plans for the future are. I understand that 22 is still young, but at the same time I won't be 22 forever and, whether I like it or not, I have to start making some plans. So the moment I realized that these plans might involve me staying in this city, this country, this continent for longer than I had hoped for, my whole world just fell apart. I literally couldn't think; I couldn't breathe; hell I couldn't even eat!
Although this oppurtunity could potentially involve me making quite a good living here, I'm not sure if it's what I want for a number of reasons. One of which (but of the least most importance) is the fact that my degree would serve no other purpose than for customized toilet paper. That's when I started liking the sound of my supposed job with the city as an environmental engineer only to later find out that the city has no fucking idea what the hell is going on. Yeah, seriously. It's that bad.
So all I can do right now is think happy thoughts. That and start sending out resumes again - only this time to happier places.
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| Date: | 2006-08-16 21:01 |
| Subject: | Rescue Me |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | impressed |
Rescue Me is my favorite television show of all time. I have decided, while it is not as funny as Arrested Development, it's the most amazing and brilliant television show out there right now. The actors are amazing, the writing is fanatastic and the stories are just simply hilarious. The idea of the dramedy genre always seemed quite icky to me, but the reason why it works with Rescue Me is simple: it is not a dramedy. The reason why it ends up falling into that category is because it cannot simply be considered a drama (because it's too funny) and it can't be a comedy for the obvious reason (it's a show about NYC firefighters in the post Sept. 11 world). I remember when I was watching the show back in LA it always got me nostalgic about the city, and now watching it here just makes me feel so much more alive.
In an attempt to escape the everday insanity that has become my life recently - mostly because of work, rather than the city - I did what most New Yorkers do during the summer: head out to the island. Of course I live on this island (you wouldn't know it) but we reserve the name of the island (Long Island - how original) for the boonies out East.
So East we went and after about an hour and a half we ended up on the southern fork in Southampton. After driving through the most picturesque town we continued down the main road (or - what else - Main Street) and you could just feel the ocean in the air. It was like you were in a completely different place. The city, the cabs, the noise, people rushing about, those were all part of a completely different world. The beach was gorgeous, albeit cold but it is an ocean after all (nothing can compare to our beautiful Mediterranean, I know). And everyone there was so nice and polite, which wasn't surprising seeing as where they lived (although I'm sure it gets really depressing there in the winter). The outsiders were spotted from a mile away - us and some old couple who was walking down the street and when we asked them where we could park, told us we had to go back into town and walk. And then threw out "You're better off taking the train, like us" Ha! You spend two+ hours on the LIRR old man. Although I gotta admit, the place is quite expensive (30 fucking dollars for parking). But when looking at those houses (wow), it comes as no surprise.
All in all it was a well deserved, well spent getaway. And now it's time to dive back into everyday life.
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Whenever I'm bored at work I always log on to google Earth just browsing the globe looking at places I hope one day to visit, yet am almost certain I probably won't. Whenever I leave the computer though and I come back my google Earth browser is staring at me from - where else - southern Europe. I wonder if this is just a coincidence or if I subconciously just always end up there...
After enjoying a small poker game over at George and Jud's place last night I ended up back home at around 3am. On my day off the next day I had to wake up at 8 am to pick up the cleaning lady and take her to my parents' house. Of course this involved a half hour of snoozing, until I realized that it was street cleaning outside. I look at my phone and it's 8:33. I'm positive those sanitation mother fuckers already managed to put one of those orange slips tucked neatly under the windwiper but I still run outside w/ my shorts and t-shirt inside out and realize I got lucky. As I get into the car, realizing it would take at least 5 minutes for my eyes to fully open, some guy passes by and tells me alternate parking is suspended. It takes a while to register but I decide to call 311 before I end up driving my car into a pole to prevent an $80.00 ticket. But he was right; parking was suspended. But why? And then it hit me. Hmmm... its 15 August aka Assumption Day. I figured if schools are off for Jewish holidays, there's no reason why alternate parking shouldn't be suspended today.
After that I spent all day feeling like I was back home on this day, preparing for a big feast (aunt's house), trying to find an open store (all the diners were packed) and getting ready for the beach (Hamptons tomorrow). But I come to understand that, while these things are happening, in their own kind of way, they are happening on the wrong side of the Earth. And while this at first seems to put me down, I realize it's not as bad as it seems. As a matter of fact it almost seems comforting.
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Saturday, 12 Aug
20:00
Arrive home from the shop after 12+ hours. I am drained, as usual, get a quick bite and decide to delay my return to the gym till Monday.
22:15
I realize I have rented "V for Vendetta" so lay down to watch it, while falling asleep. I choose French subtitles just for the hell of it.
22:20
After getting to "Rapelles-toi, Rapelles-toi..." my phone rings. I reluctantly get off my ass and see its my cousin.
"We're going out, you coming?"
I look at my bed, which is calling me, but can't resist and ask
"Where are you going?"
"Central," she replies. Seeing as I had to be at work by 9:30 am the next day and had woken up at 6:30 am that day, I knew going out was not the best option.
"Who else is going?" I ask. As she tells me I look at the time; it's almost 10:30. Although I was ready to sleep it's still quite early so I figure we can go for a few hours.
"Ok, I'll be at your place in about an hour."
Sunday, 13 Aug
00:00
I get to my cousins place. The girls are still getting ready (as expected) so I sit on the couch zapping through some crappy tv. Withing minutes my eyelids give in and shut. I quickly get up to prevent myself from sleeping and remember to put my alarm clock for 8:30am.
00:15
We decide to stop by a lounge before going to the club to meet up with some friends. I realize it's going to be a late night so I push up my phone's alarm to 8:45am.
01:30
At this point I'm the only one who is sober because the drinks at this place were disgusting. But I am looking forward to some old fashion drunk clubbing so we all get up to leave
01:38
We get to Central which is too packed. We squirm our way to get to the open area in the back, doing my best to avoid burning anyone with my cigarette. We head straight to the bar and figured its time to catch up. Before I finish up my first drink I tell myself there's no traffic on a Sunday morning so I've convinced myself to set my alarm one last time for 9:15.
04:15
At this time, I would say everyone is having a good time. I got to see lots of people I hadn't seen in a while, which was cool. The music though at the club was not that great. We entered during house, then it switched to hip hop, on to greek (!), then to trance, old school hip hop and back to lame greek. I mean, if they had used just one of the above, maybe two, it would have been much nicer, but the whole night consisted of us having to act like idiots to be able to "enjoy" the "DJs" program. But I guess if you're in good company than it's all good.
5:00
Afer stuffing our faces we headed back to my cousins house, where Kyriako had to be at work by 6am which can be no fun. I pass out on the bed, on what had to be the most amazing new york night all summer long. The breeze was amazing and not only did I keep the windows open but I had to use a comforter. Incroyable!
09:48
I'm already over 15 minutes late when I wake up to my alarm ringing, my head spinning and with the nastiest case of drymouth. I jet to the bathroom, where I spent about 15 minutes splashing water on my face to wake up, without any results. I then move on to the kitchen and quickly gulp down as much water as I could before getting to the car.
10:14
My calculations were correct! I made it to union square in under 15 minutes even though i must have cought every fucking late from astoria to long island city to the tunnel. I then proceeded with the usual sunday routine of sitting on my ass and chain smoking like some kind of 1950s journalist, with the addes bonus of having the hugest hangover, counting the hours to get some rest.
Looks like my drunken escapdes have been reduced to just another night out...and a nasty hangover the next day :-/
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Today I did something for the very first time: I turned down a job offer. And just like every first time action, I was overwhelmed with a number of emotions. I was given till today to respond to the offer I received yesterday, so before I made my decision I tried contacting the city to get information on my initial job offer. HA!
After making about a gazillion calls and being sent from one number to another I FINALLY got through to a person that could help me who had the audacity to tell me to hurry up because she had six people waiting in her office. I found out that basic health insurance would be included and I could add on whatever package I wanted, but as far as being up for review and a potential raise, or whether I would be able to retire early as a city employee, she was unable to answer. And then she informs me I would find out after my paperwork was approved. Only later did it cross my mind that maybe my paperwork would not be approved (for whatever reason) and then I would remain jobless; of course I realized this after I turned down the other job, which paid slightly less (they both pay UBER crap by the way).
So after being frustrated with that I wrote a letter email (do people even write letters anymore?) to one of my interviewrs explaining why I could not accept the job, after I had already turned the offer down over the phone to their HR department, only because he seemed like such a nice guy. Then I call my aunt (who "hooked me up" w/ the interview) and I found out that they offered me the position even though they weren't actually looking to hire anyone?! So I don't think she took it quite well, seeing as she works there, but she didn't seem to have a problem.
And to top it off I'm at my dad's shop all day (ie 7am - 8pm) , where the relocation/ new construction has taken a toll on everyone there, including myself, but especially my father, who I can't deal with when he is stressed out. So after all this I decided fuck this and just walked out at 6pm not telling anyone where I was going and went for coffee in Astoria to relax a bit, which did the trick a little bit, but all that espresson has gotten me a bit strung out. I think I am currently going through a pretty heavey caffeine crash.
I miss writing about drunken escapades. Have I outgrown my clubbing and drinking stages? Is this the next step in life? Or am I just going through a transition? In past summers, when I'd work all day, I didn't mind because I was saving up money for better times. But now it feels like no matter how much I save it won't be enough: Vegas, moving out, buying a car (I realized I can't afford both right now), buying some new fucking clothes and Aruba - why the fuck not?
I really hope this is just a transition - to something more exciting, of course.
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Today was quite eventful, hence a reason to post on this old thing. In the morning I had to go to a job interview that my aunt had schedule for me through this company she works with. Even though I was about 10 min away from this place I had to wake up mad early because my suit was all wrinkled and I thought I'd have time to iron it (note to self: next time take suit straight to cleaners after wearing it). Of course that didn't work out quite well, but I still managed to get a compliment from one of the interviewers on my appearance.
So I think the only reason why I ended up going to this interview is because I felt quite obliged. I must remember to avoid getting the family involved in personal situations. The thing is I've already received a job offer from the city but the truth it pays quite shitty. However, I would get full benefits and it doesn't start till October, which would allow me to get to Aruba before that :). On my way to the place all I could think is why did I get myself into this? And then I remembered: because I'm Greek.
The company seemed quite interesting. It's very small with only about 4-5 engineers and I was specifically told that the chemical part of my degree (chemical engineering) would not be as important as the engineering aspect in general, as I would be involved in a number of areas. I think this is a good thing, but still not sure. After the 90min interview I was asked to fill out an application. At first I left the salary request blank but then the guy told me I had to fill it out, but it was ok, because it's confidential. So I did fill it in, just a tad bit higher than the city job but, moments later, on my way out the interviewer went ahead and showed this confidential paper to another guy and they both had the same expression on their face, which I've been unable to decode. I was informed they'd get back to me to reschedule another interview for hours/salary. When checking my messages later in the afternoon I found out they had already gotten back to me... I'm still not sure though if I want to be working before October. I guess if they pay more (and it is in a more convenient location over in Hunter's Point/LIC/projects) I don't see why I wouldn't.
After this ordeal my dad called me to go in to work since my brother is in Cancun. Due to their moving of stores a few blocks away I spent most of the day walking back in forth from Un. Square to Chelsea in the scorching heat. I didn't last till past 5pm so I started leaving, when my dad told me I had to go pick up his pick up truck from the auto shop by 6pm, which meant I had to leave the car for him and take the subway...
Which brings me to the next interesting event of the day: I took the subway. Driving has always been the most convenient method of transportation for me because taxis are too expensive for my broke ass and the subway, well it smells, its dirty and its just disgusting down there - especially in the summer. Of course, there's no denying it is quite convenient, and will probably have to get used to it once working, since it is (a little) more reliable during rush hour. The one thing that surprised me the most is how many white people get on the N train. Astoria (and all of Queens of course) has always been home to all us immigrants, with the closest thing to white people being the Italians and the Greeks, but all of a sudden there's been this huge insurge of white people, which is really cool as it even further diversifies this little town of ours.
So after picking up my dad's pick up I went and ate at my aunt's house some good home cooking and then just couldnt get off the couch. I don't know if it was the heat or whatnot but I just felt like not doing absolutely anything. So I got me ass home when I got the chance and I am ready for another pre-11pm bedtime.
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| Date: | 2006-08-07 13:11 |
| Subject: | Θαύμα! |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  worried |
The only miracle here is that I'm making a second post in one day, something that hasn't happened in over four years - even though technically my last post is to be considered as last night.
It took my previous livejournal post to make me realize that it is actually August - holy shit! Every other summer August meant going away to an island ,i.e. spending every waking our at the beach in the day time and at a club at night/morning. Instead its been working all day and trying to find the time to drink back a few pints at the beer garden at night.
Today I awoke to a call by the student loan bastards, informing me I was late on my first payment. I had to ask them to defer my payment till the last day before late fees were incurred. You know, working all day, not being able to enjoy life and still being broke at the end of the day has already made me feel like an american. Looks like I've adapted quite well to this lifestyle. Oy...
But in all fairness I have had enough good times here to keep me occupied. The astoria beer garden has been a haven for dull evenings, and I even managed to get down to Atlantic City on Friday for a friend's birthday. Of course driving a distance of 125 miles at 2:30 in the morning is not fun - especially when having woken up at 6 am that day. I am proud to say though that I managed it quite well.
For now though I gotta make sure I'm saving up enough money for the labor day Vegas trip and maybe Aruba (?) so this week must involve nothing but working and staying home at night :-/. Luckily, I've got my faithful companion - cable TV.
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| Date: | 2006-08-07 01:06 |
| Subject: | What if? |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  hopeful |
I'm really glad that livejournal has every single "emotion" you could possible feel although I tend to use the more simple ones. I feel like I should start writing again on this, but at the same time I feel like there is not that much to write.
As a matter of fact though that lots of crap has been going on. . After interviewing with a French company for about two months, which ended with the final interview being in France (all expenses paid), and in the end not getting the position I feel like I should be somewhat sad. The truth is though that I didn't expect this position from the very start. But after having have gotten that far I couldn't help but imagine how wonderful things would have been living in France for four years. At one point I even felt like I was part of something so great and that my life finally had a meaning to it; all the pieces were slowly being put together. And then, all of a sudden, I realize there are too many pieces missing to ever be able to complete this puzzle.
So the moment I got to Charles de Gaulles to get back here, I knew that would have been my last time there, at least for a while. I remember crying at the aiport a la my last day in Greece four years earlier (four years to the date this Thursday). Of course this probably had to do with the fact that I had gotten wasted with my fellow co-interviewees the night before somewhere along blvd St-Germain (where I got to use my "mots essentiels")and I was severely hung over.
I feel like if I do continue updating this thing a little more frequently then this whole France thing might be mentioned a little more than it should. And while just having experienced the whole thing has been absolutely amazing, I can't help but feel that I will always wonder, for the rest of my life, how different my life would have been had I lived in France for four years.
Qui sait?
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magikthrill's journal
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