Wild Wild West

Here I am, wayyyy over on the West side. What a different world. There's a part of me that misses walking past twelve banks, three Staples, four Starbucks and two Kinko's in a three block radius of my old apartment. But now I've got tons of restaurants that I can't wait to try, and Central Park a 10 minute walk away. And the best part-- two roommates who are social and friendly. It's alllll good, including the view of the river from the kitchen window.

Two out of three ain't enough.

My dad says there are three major decisions a person needs to make in his or her life: Where you live, what you do for a living, and your partner in life.

I really like my job. (Love is a very strong word which I use conservatively.) Last year, I hated hated hated (also a strong word, used appropriately here) my job, and I am grateful every day for finding a position in my school. The job found me, really, and it came at one of the lowest points in my life. If I had not found this job, I'm not sure what I'd be doing right now, but most likely I would not be a teacher.

I'm not very happy in my current living situation. I have a roommate with whom I do not do much of anything. I rarely see her, and when I do, it's stilted and perfunctory. She's perfectly nice. Very sweet, actually (except for the fact that she has never once cleaned the bathroom and almost never taken out the garbage). But, she is a stranger. I don't want to live with a stranger.

In a couple of weeks, I'm entering into a new situation. It could be great. It could be not-great. I'll keep you posted.

I've decided on a birthday present to myself: I'm going to run in the Nike RunHitWonder race on July 20. 5 miles. The Fountains of Wayne serenading me. A Dri-Fit T-shirt from Nike.

Now, I just need to up my miles from my current zero-per-week.

Summer is here! (Yet another incentive to get my butt back in shape.)

And from the "I don't understand boys" department:
I'd traded emails with The Brit for something like 2 months. Somehow we never got around to actually talking on the phone until last weekend. After 30 minutes, he said he had to go. Totally understandable, as it was about 11 pm, and frankly, I needed to go, too. "I'd like to continue this conversation. Will you be home tomorrow? Great, I'll give you a call tomorrow." Well, kids, unless it's like one of those British Airways ads where "tomorrow" is some sort of British slang for "a really long, indeterminate time from now," he's not calling back. UGH. It's not the fact that he's not interested in me. Whatever, I barely know him, he's British, and he keeps a kosher kitchen. No, what bugs me is that, instead of being normal and vague--"Ok, then, I'll talk to you soon." -- he had to be so specific in his closing remarks. And even if he'd changed his mind, would it kill him to send a one-line email clueing me in? Boys are so dumb. I hope I do run into this one. I would tell him to stuff it.