New Kids on the Blog

My last day and my first blog.

Tomorrow, Saturday the 30th of September, 2006, at precisely 1:00 PM Eastern Standard Time, a limo will pull into my driveway. I'll get in that limo, and it will take me to JFK for a 4:45 PM direct flight to Burbank Airport, which arrives at 7:45 PM Pacific Standard Time. My friends Pat and Jorge will be at the airport (hopefully) to pick me up and take me to my new home. My new life, I guess.

Which makes today my last full day of this life. This life in Milford, CT. You know, I spent so much time in the weeks leading up to my last days here just being excited for what I'll be gaining: a five-bedroom house in Hollywood Hills, independence from my parents, new friends. I haven't really thought about what I'll be walking away from: a rent-free room in the house I grew up in, the sense of security of being with my parents, old friends.

It's gonna be harder than I thought.

But here I am starting this thing off all somber. That's not how I wanted this to be. Maybe I should have waited to actually be out in Los Angeles, with the sun shining down on me, to write anything at all. Probably would come off with a more positive sound to it. Pat already told me, the first couple days after he finally left Milford to drive cross-country, he was "fucked up". But now that he's out there, where it's sunny every day, he can't really avoid being in a good mood.

I guess I'm writing this just so people know that I'm not walking away without regret. My life is good here. There is no sense of urgency to get away. I don't want to leave anybody. If I could buy an RV big enough for everybody I know and love here, I'd pile everybody in and hit the road. And there's nothing intrinsically bad about the geography of where I live either. Milford's got everything I need, and it's a stones throw away from New York City. And there's no mudslides, earthquakes, or raging wildfires here, which California is quite abundant in.

In short, there is no mysterious voice in my ear whispering "Go west, Young Man, go west." That's bullshit. But there is a voice whispering "Go somewhere, Young Man."

Here's my problem. Let me put it this way.

This is the story of my life in the form of a haiku:

First, born in Stamford
Raised in Milford, then to Storrs
Then, back to Stamford

The fact that the path I have taken over the twenty-three years I’ve been on this earth can be summed up in seventeen fucking syllables implies I’ve had a fairly simple life; simple enough to be pretty well tracked in the form of a concise Japanese poem. And of course, this is true. I have to get out of Connecticut, and if I don't do it now, I might never do it. Plain and simple.

So I'm going. And who can say how long I'll be gone for, I don't know. It might be a year, it might be more than that. Despite my protests, some people seem to think that I'm going to stay. But like I said, I like the people here. I like the area. And I don't want to raise a family away from their grandparents and cousins and whatnot.

Jesus Christ, I'm talking like I've already got a girl pregnant or something. See what goes on in my head? I'm 23 years old with my whole life ahead of me. I read that 26 is the new 21. I'm just a kid. And I'm gonna go out there and have a goddamn blast with some of my best friends.

But I'll miss you. You know who you are. I'll miss you so much.

Got a lot to do today. I'll check in later.