![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oh, hai! (ku)
Jan. 13th, 2011 09:58 amRemember, 'Gotham'--
that fearsome metropolis--
first meant 'home for goats'
I've now found several PT programs in NYC that make me swoon, and have realized that the big pond is unavoidable because I'm already swimming in it. You'd think that living by an MTA train station would be a clue, but honestly, I really wasn't aware that I'd technically moved to a northern suburb of New York--I come from the rust belt! I watched Canadian children's television growing up! Connecticut sounded like a random New England state!
Six weeks ago I missed my exit going to school and found out that there are parts of Detroit, within walking distance of downtown, where the stoplights have been turned off. Now I'm trying to understand how mass transit works in a metro area of 10x the population that 1. has mass transit that 2. works. I was committed to the flyover-state lifestyle. I never even saw myself being a tourist in NYC, but as it's highly likely I will end up being a commuter instead, the city has the last laugh. Just like that time I got drunk in Vegas and ended up at the New York-New York*. I have no frame of reference for an urban lifestyle. I only started watching 30Rock last week**.
Two hours in a car--
too far! But does this hold true
for a subway route?
Provincial panic aside, I'm beginning to believe I have the brains and the balls to do this, once I shake off the burnout. It's easing with sleep, good food, quietude, and the fact that when it's not dumping a foot of snow in an evening, the winter sky is this weird blue color and things are brightly lit. I keep wanting to find out how this whole thing works, I'm like Hermione Granger without "Hogwarts: A History", except I think I'm better off not reading the manual and figuring it out mano a mano.
*I was trying weave my way back to the Luxor, having made the mistake of downing a shot of Patron Silver while waiting for my nachos after working a convention of gun nuts for twelve hours. I bought a keychain.
**As the above anecdote illustrates, I'm less Liz Lemon and far more a jaded agnostic Kenneth.
that fearsome metropolis--
first meant 'home for goats'
I've now found several PT programs in NYC that make me swoon, and have realized that the big pond is unavoidable because I'm already swimming in it. You'd think that living by an MTA train station would be a clue, but honestly, I really wasn't aware that I'd technically moved to a northern suburb of New York--I come from the rust belt! I watched Canadian children's television growing up! Connecticut sounded like a random New England state!
Six weeks ago I missed my exit going to school and found out that there are parts of Detroit, within walking distance of downtown, where the stoplights have been turned off. Now I'm trying to understand how mass transit works in a metro area of 10x the population that 1. has mass transit that 2. works. I was committed to the flyover-state lifestyle. I never even saw myself being a tourist in NYC, but as it's highly likely I will end up being a commuter instead, the city has the last laugh. Just like that time I got drunk in Vegas and ended up at the New York-New York*. I have no frame of reference for an urban lifestyle. I only started watching 30Rock last week**.
Two hours in a car--
too far! But does this hold true
for a subway route?
Provincial panic aside, I'm beginning to believe I have the brains and the balls to do this, once I shake off the burnout. It's easing with sleep, good food, quietude, and the fact that when it's not dumping a foot of snow in an evening, the winter sky is this weird blue color and things are brightly lit. I keep wanting to find out how this whole thing works, I'm like Hermione Granger without "Hogwarts: A History", except I think I'm better off not reading the manual and figuring it out mano a mano.
*I was trying weave my way back to the Luxor, having made the mistake of downing a shot of Patron Silver while waiting for my nachos after working a convention of gun nuts for twelve hours. I bought a keychain.
**As the above anecdote illustrates, I'm less Liz Lemon and far more a jaded agnostic Kenneth.
