sensory overloaded...

That about sums up my first two days here. Paperwork, meet-and-greets, lunch with co-workers, trainings, meetings, grounds tour, ID badges, more paperwork...you know the drill.

People say that you're "starting a new chapter" in your life whenever there are major changes. I don't say it, but sometimes I think it, and in sitting here typing it, I've been overthinking, "Well what if it's a tragic chapter, a low chapter, my last chapter--the chapter where I'm murdered or raped and left in a dumpster where some bat-shit-crazy kids find my dead body and then a sad, pissed-off cop takes my case but can't solve it because he can't put down the bottle?" (too much SVU).

On Sunday I arrived in NY and itrinsically put on my NY face, my NY walk, and heightened my senses and peripheral vision--NY style. I'll admit, I'm a little caught off guard by some passing stings of lonely. When I look at my suitcase on the living room floor, for a silly second my little inner voice says "It's just me and you." Snap out of it! Not sure why I feel new in a place that I already called home for almost five years. I shouldn't have to remind myself that anonymity is my form of peace...but yesterday and today, I questioned whether I'm becoming "too old" to be so aloof. **sigh**

I'm all over the place. I must say though, I miss the BF like Amy Winehouse must miss crack (dumb analogy), and talking on the phone is so NOT us. It feels strange. Strange like, "Get off the phone and come over here" strange--but he can't. (not yet)

Walking home today from the subway, I couldn't remember which streets Citarella is squeezed between. And then I didn't know why I bothered going into a market when I'm staying with a friend and not planning on cooking anyway--at least not until I find my own place. Guess I just like the familiar feeling of being surrounded by all things gourmet. One baked flounder. A scoop of spinach risotto. A carton of strawberries. Half gallon of whole milk. Box of Cap'n Crunch (that's not gourmet!). Munching on a bowl of cereal in front of the TV in my PJS always makes me feel at home.

p.s. While waiting for the "A" train, I actually contemplated whether or not to sit on the subway bench--had to inspect it first for gum, stains, and toxic substances. What's wrong with me? I've become some subgenus of germophobe. I really gotta snap out of it. I know, with time, I can be dirty again.