About
she's eighteen in ithaca, but her heart's from new york city. likes euphoria, music, art, contemplation, dance, inebriation, literature, scathing sarcasm, coffee, writing, dreams, controversy, beautiful words, semi masochism, good movies, bright colors, flashing lights, photography, cloves, fashion, athletes and athletics, impressionism, modern love.Look
College is everything I ever thought it’d be.
That’s pretty much all I can muster right now.
I’m still hungover, I think I’m going back to bed.
While I’m not exactly counting down the minutes (though my title might suggest otherwise), I’m kind of anxious about leaving for Cornell. I’m not really nervous or excited (yet), just incredibly restless. I have this incorrigible feeling that time isn’t moving even though I can clearly see the numbers on my digital clock flash by. College still feels like something incredibly nebulous even though it’ll be a solid reality in a few hours.
It’s hard for me to imagine what things are going to be like there when all I’ve known is my life in the city. Don’t get me wrong; I’m definitely not disappointed that I’m moving out and leaving for a while. I need a change, a big change.. but even though it’s what I want, I still feel strange about it.
There are so many things that I’m not going to be sorry to say goodbye to - people I won’t miss, old/useless drama, a lot of history, and (surprise!) a guy who’s put me through a lot of shit - but there are so many more that I’m going to miss. I love wandering around SoHo, the Brick Prison, shopping in Herald Square, clubs in Meatpacking, movies in Douglaston, sleepovers with people I’ve known for six years (yeaaah check out my faulty parallelism).. essentially almost everything the New York City has to offer that I can do with my friends.
So.
Conjunction junction, what’s your function?
I’m not really sure how I feel but I guess I’ve got a happy sort of anticipation mixed with a nostalgic sadness for high school/my childhood.
I started this post two hours ago. I suppose holding really isn’t accurate.
I ended up helping out on the dock at the NYC dragonboat festival again this year, even though I originally went to Corona Park to just chill and say hi. Loading up all the teams really made me miss racing. I felt a bit of a twinge when my old team went up to Ithaca, Montreal, Toronto, etc. but I mostly pushed off my regret and told myself that having a job was more important. Truthfully, now that I think about it, I didn’t learn anything I didn’t know from working at the real estate management corporation I spent these last two months at. I really would’ve prefered racing and traveling.
Oh well. Maybe next year.
I just realized that it’s been a while since I’ve actually written anything. I’ve taken to posting pictures of my outfits lately and I suppose I was trying to convince myself that I was making good on my promise to blog at least somewhat routinely by simply doing that. Truthfully, though, I knew I wasn’t; I was taking the easy way out by putting up pictures rather than thinking. Hopefully, this is the end of that. For those of you who are here for the pictures: this doesn’t mean I’m not going to continue to share what’s in my closet so don’t worry. I’m just going to try to also include the occasional text post between pictures. :)
I haven’t been not writing because I’ve run out of things to say. It’s actually the opposite; there are a lot of things I wish I’d written about. I just can’t properly express what I’m thinking. Actually, it’s not even that. I’ve become so complacent and lazy (aagh!) that I don’t even want to make the effort to coherently recount my last few days of summer.
Which reminds me: T-18 days until I’m off to Ithaca for university.
But that’s still sort of far off so I don’t want to think about it too much yet.
Rewind to today: I got my lobes repierced again (my seconds and thirds on both sides.) I think this is the last time I’m going to get them done over because a) I’m tired of taking care of fresh piercings, b) I’ve now been pierced over twenty times (twenty-one ear piercings and one navel piercing, to be exact, though I kept less than half of them), and c) piercings are expensive! I don’t see myself needing to repierce them anymore anyway because I’m perfectly happy with the way they’re aligned now. I’m horribly nitpicky (which is why I’ve been pierced so many times with so little to show for it) so that’s really saying something.
Anyway, five piercings in a day (my piercer put my second piercing on my left ear a bit higher than I wanted it - the dot looked fine at first but when she actually pierced it, neither of us were very happy with the placement) is quite enough to stave me off my piercing addiction for a while. My ears a sore and I’m exhausted from work so I’m heading to bed. I have a bunch of things to finish up before I end my internship so these next two weeks look like they’re going to be pretty hectic.
If I could, I’d like to just sleep in and skip. If oooonlllyyy.
Work, this past week, has been a chain of incredibly coincidental occurences.
Monday: The day begins normally. Justine, the other intern, and I are the first people in the office as usual. We open up, turn on the lights, and start the computers and security cameras like we always do. About an hour later, our bosses come in. Around lunch, Robert (our bosses split us up so John/Buhm Jae typically go to Justine if they need anything and Robert/Diana typically go to me) asks me to type up a new terrace usage agreement for one of the mixed-use buildings we manage in Long Island City because some new renters are pissing off the owners by throwing ridiculous late night parties on the roof. There have been complaints from the owners about everything from the smell of marijuana smoke wafting down into the upper-level halls at 3AM to finding puke all over the front entrance when they’re leaving for work in the morning. Robert reminds me that I switched Friday for Sunday and tells me to meet him at Fusion, the mixed-use building instead of at the office. Around 3, Justine and I go out on an errand. When we come back, our bosses are all in John’s office and we can hear them yelling at each other even though the door is closed. Diana comes out when she notices we’re back and suggests that we go home early because we “did so much work.” Justine shakes her head at first because we still have work to finish but then realizes that Diana is really just trying to get us out of the office so we don’t have to see what goes down so we go.
Tuesday: Once again, Justine and I are the first ones in. We sort out faxes that came in while we were gone and deposit them on our bosses’ desks. Justine goes into John’s office to drop his off and finds a print-out of a news article. Neither of us can figure out why it’s on his desk, attached to a bunch of files about Fusion, as Carmen Saldana-Mundo does not live in the building. We assume this article is the reason they were all fighting yesterday but cannot figure out why the article matters to them. There is no apparent connection between the death and any of our bosses. Shortly after noon, I answer a call from a tenant at Fusion. He alerts me that the police, detectives, and a SWAT team are at the building questioning the renters in the apartment next to his. I am about to put him on hold and intercom Robert when I notice Robert has just sent me an email about this. I calm down, reassure the man that we are aware of the investigation, and thank him for the call. I wonder what the investigation is about. I fill Justine in but neither of us can come up with a reasonable explanation.
Wednesday: Around 10AM, someone buzzes the office. I check the security cameras (the receptionist is out pregnant so instead of a cubicle like Justine, I sit at the front desk and always have the feed from the cameras running on my computer) and see that a police officer is at the door. I let him in, a little bit confused, and he goes into the conference room with John and Robert. They speak for a while but Justine and I cannot tell what’s going on, as we cannot hear anything. Through the clear glass walls, we see them log into the Fusion security cameras on the 50-something inch HD monitor and fast forward through about two hours of tape. They come out and head into John’s office to talk, with the doors closed. Justine and I are about to give up on our attempted eavesdropping when the door opens and the officer steps out. As he’s leaving, he says something like, “It doesn’t seem like anyone followed her home from the party. Thank you for your help. Hopefully, next time, we’ll meet on better terms.” Suddenly, Justine jumps up, goes to her desk, and comes back with a news article. It is about Carmen Saldana-Mundo and how she was killed on her way home from a party in Long Island City. In a second, everything falls into place. I realize that the party must have been at Fusion and that the meeting that I am attending on Sunday will, now, not only be about the renters who throw disruptive parties and get cops called to the building on noise complaints but also the fact that one of the parties led to this woman’s death.
Thursday: I can now not stop reading articles about Carmen Saldana-Mundo. I put her name through search engines and find this article. So it seems like she was followed home by someone at the party. But how did the security cameras miss it? Did this person sneak out with the intention of raping her? Killing her, even?
I’m not sure what to expect tomorrow.
