Enjoying Long Island
Hello, my friends. Thanks for coming back for entry number two.
So one of the unintended advantages to this whole Japan trip has been that I've gotten to spend a few weeks on Long Island with family and friends before I head out. In fact, this is the first time I've been on "Strong Island" for more than 10 consecutive days since just before I graduated high school when I left for The Cadets!
The prospect of being at home for four weeks was a scary thing to think about. I had been independent of my family for six years. I was frequently talking to them on the phone, but that's about it. Now all of a sudden I'd be back under my parents' roof, in my old room. (Note: Much to my chagrin it was no longer my "old room"...my sister, Jenna, had painted it pink and claimed it as her own). Scratch that...I'd be living in my sisters' old room which is now some sort of twisted culinary library/guest room/game room/storage area. Too put it plainly, I was feeling like a free-loading loser.
But then...something magical happened.
I woke up that first morning to the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. My mom squawked (by 'beautiful sound' I didn't really mean the voice itself... but more like the words she was about to 'squawk'), "Get up!! Do you want pancakes or an omelette." OH MY GOD, MY MOM IS MAKING ME BREAKFAST...I'M SUCH A LOSER!!!
"Pancakes, please."
Of course she did. Ok...1 for 1...clearly I'm a loser, but at least I'm getting pancakes (chocolate chip pancakes, to be exact, for those of you keeping score at home).
So I go to work at Pottery Barn for Kids (that's a story for another time)...say hello to Grandma...teach some marching band...I come home and it's like 11:30 at night. Once again I hear that charming, guttural yell. "MATTTTTTTHEWWWWW!! Dinner's in the microwave. I made chicken cutlet parmesan."
Shit...
My life rules.
I walk into my room...and the dirty clothes I left in random filthy heaps around my room...well, they weren't dirty anymore...OR in heaps! They were folded and carried the fragrance of some sort of fabric thingy. My nose almost didn't even recognize it; it hadn't encountered that smell since...well just before I left for The Cadets back when I was a senior in high school.
Why the hell did I move out in the first place?
The best part was...things just kept happening like this. Over and over again. If you are reading this and you still live with your parents...you are the ones who have it all figured out. It's like you're rich; you have a maid who cleans your beautiful home (which you aren't paying rent for).
So after I go to Japan, FOR SOME REASON I'm moving into an apartment in Manhattan. After I just described this beautiful symbiotic living arrangement I have with my mother, why would I ever think of living anywhere else?
Mostly, for me, the beauty of going to school in Manhattan is going to be living in the city. I want to have EVERYTHING right there and I don't want a train ride to discourage me from enjoying all of the culture the city has to offer.
Plus...it's not like I won't be stopping at home regularly to pick up chicken parmesan and drop off filthy heaps of laundry.
So one of the unintended advantages to this whole Japan trip has been that I've gotten to spend a few weeks on Long Island with family and friends before I head out. In fact, this is the first time I've been on "Strong Island" for more than 10 consecutive days since just before I graduated high school when I left for The Cadets!
The prospect of being at home for four weeks was a scary thing to think about. I had been independent of my family for six years. I was frequently talking to them on the phone, but that's about it. Now all of a sudden I'd be back under my parents' roof, in my old room. (Note: Much to my chagrin it was no longer my "old room"...my sister, Jenna, had painted it pink and claimed it as her own). Scratch that...I'd be living in my sisters' old room which is now some sort of twisted culinary library/guest room/game room/storage area. Too put it plainly, I was feeling like a free-loading loser.
But then...something magical happened.
I woke up that first morning to the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. My mom squawked (by 'beautiful sound' I didn't really mean the voice itself... but more like the words she was about to 'squawk'), "Get up!! Do you want pancakes or an omelette." OH MY GOD, MY MOM IS MAKING ME BREAKFAST...I'M SUCH A LOSER!!!
"Pancakes, please."
Of course she did. Ok...1 for 1...clearly I'm a loser, but at least I'm getting pancakes (chocolate chip pancakes, to be exact, for those of you keeping score at home).
So I go to work at Pottery Barn for Kids (that's a story for another time)...say hello to Grandma...teach some marching band...I come home and it's like 11:30 at night. Once again I hear that charming, guttural yell. "MATTTTTTTHEWWWWW!! Dinner's in the microwave. I made chicken cutlet parmesan."
Shit...
My life rules.
I walk into my room...and the dirty clothes I left in random filthy heaps around my room...well, they weren't dirty anymore...OR in heaps! They were folded and carried the fragrance of some sort of fabric thingy. My nose almost didn't even recognize it; it hadn't encountered that smell since...well just before I left for The Cadets back when I was a senior in high school.
Why the hell did I move out in the first place?
The best part was...things just kept happening like this. Over and over again. If you are reading this and you still live with your parents...you are the ones who have it all figured out. It's like you're rich; you have a maid who cleans your beautiful home (which you aren't paying rent for).
So after I go to Japan, FOR SOME REASON I'm moving into an apartment in Manhattan. After I just described this beautiful symbiotic living arrangement I have with my mother, why would I ever think of living anywhere else?
Mostly, for me, the beauty of going to school in Manhattan is going to be living in the city. I want to have EVERYTHING right there and I don't want a train ride to discourage me from enjoying all of the culture the city has to offer.
Plus...it's not like I won't be stopping at home regularly to pick up chicken parmesan and drop off filthy heaps of laundry.
posted by Matt at 10:28 PM
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