DOUBT

Am I making the biggest mistake EVER, by leaving NYC?

I had a nagging feeling all day today that I am.

The carte blanche life that seemed so exciting is suddenly the worst idea. Woody Allen said in a recent interview, "Change is almost always negative. Things degenerate."

Got it. I'm fucked.

And on top of that, I'll have to unpack all these goddamn boxes that has taken me days to pack. I spent $500 today on Round I of boxes!!! I haven't even started on Round II, and I'm supposed to move out tomorrow. Someone please shoot me.

No wait, stop. I don't have insurance.

Date Local: Save the Planet, Have More Sex

Kiwa sent me this incredibly funny and insightful article in Slate the other day about the importance of dating locally. This was a kick in the pants for both of us, as she has been (is in/was in) dating a guy based in England for THREE YEARS.

I myself am a chronic long-distance dater. My last serious relationship started off that way, and the last couple of guys I've had major crushes on were also out-of-towners. My friend Jamie said to me once, "Why don't you look for dudes in your own back yard?" Ouch.

This is truly a disease. My friend Christi, who is now married, says it's because we're all in "vacation mode" when we meet someone from out of town- somehow it's easier to open up when we know we don't have to deal with them on a regular basis.

Isn't that HORRIBLE???

But it's true. I like my cake and eating it too- although infrequent sex really isn't getting my cake, is it...? No seriously, I think people are attracted to the long-distance relationship cause of the lack of any real commitment. Not just in the "forever" sense, but even in the day to day "what are we doing for dinner tonight" sense.

Ultimately, it's this that makes it so difficult to date people seriously in NYC. It may sound like an excuse, but this city really is filled with people who just don't have the time to commit to a regulated regimen. It's a town of lonely transients trying to "make it," and love often gets put on the backburner (hence, the loneliness).

All this to say that I hope to start dating locally in Man Jose- I need to break my long-distance patterns and practice locasexualism. Although I doubt I'll be having any sex as long as I live with the parents, I can at least help save the environment. Solmaz (who is also moving home) and I have a running joke that we gotta get all makeout sessions out of our system now- forget about bringing boys home- that's just too weird. Although let's be real: it's not like my Brooklyn studio has been some sort of hot nonstop make-out zone.

Watch, the day before I leave NYC, I'm gonna meet my dreamboat here and I'll be back to square one. It always happens that way- although I just totally jinxed it so forget it!

Radhika just sent me this. We're kind of obsessed.

Sullivan and Bleecker

I moved to NYC in September 2002 with just one suitcase. I didn't have a job, I didn't have any friends or family, and I didn't have an apartment. I didn't even have a cell phone!!! Foolish or fearless? A little bit of both, I suppose.

The other night, I walked past the very first apartment I stayed in when I got here on Sullivan and Bleecker. Erin's cousin Vanessa and her now husband Joe. It was a tiny apartment, but they let me stay on their couch, despite the fact that I had never met them. Now that's true kindness.

I remember eating cup o' noodles for dinner every night, scouring Craigslist and Village Voice for an apartment, and aimlessly wandering the city, going to strange neighborhoods like the "Lower East Side" (scary!) and "Williamsburg" (the suburbs!). By 8pm I would be exhausted from all the walking- what a concept, walking!

It's funny- I had never questioned my decision to move to NY even though it was a bit nutty. I just did it. And now, as I am getting ready to move back to California, I'm filled with that same sort of boundless curiosity of the unknown.

Let's see how long this lasts. Solmaz bets I'll last 2 weeks at the Akabori household. I'm gonna really try to stretch it for as long as humanly possible. FREE RENT!!!

Packing Sucks

I hate packing. If there is a hell, this is it for me- a land of boxes- deconstructed boxes, empty boxes, all waiting to be taped together and filled with dumb worthless crap. I mean, do I really need issues of the New Yorker circa 2003??? REALLY? Well, they've made the cut. Someone come save me.

Plus, I have this nagging feeling that this is all totally pointless: what if I just end up coming back after 6 months? I was talking to Solmaz the other day (my crazy bff back from jr. high who lives in NYC but is also moving home next month) and we contemplated sharing storage here together as a "back-up plan."

In the end, we decided against it, as I think we really need to make a concerted effort to start a new life in the Bay Area. Note my shameless optimism here- BARF.

But god, the thought of packing all of this shit up, loading it all into a car, driving to FedEx and getting it all shipped off for hundreds of dollars- well, quite frankly NOT GOING ANYWHERE sounds like the best idea right about now.

Note to self: you gotta be out of here by Friday so STOP BLOGGING.

Moving In With The Hardass

Just got off the phone with Hideko (my mother) who made several snarky remarks about me being jobless, within a span of 15 minutes. Here are some key quotes:

- "Must be nice to have nothing to do."
- "Must be nice for your friends who have lucrative jobs in this failing economy."
- "Gotta run, I have a busy day of work ahead of me." (It's Sunday, so that's a lie).

Let's get one thing straight: my parents really are not excited about me moving in with them (whenever I say "my parents," I really just mean Hideko, as Kunio's opinion has little leverage in that Akabori household). Maybe somewhere deep, deep down, they are looking forward to having me around (to fix the internet and take out the garbage on Sunday nights), but it's pretty clear that they are going to make my life hell under their roof.

When I tell people I'm moving home, their immediate reaction is, "Oh, your parents must be so happy." No way. Hideko is a hardass in the shape of a badass- and her eccentricities have only heightened with age and menopause (the devil). My parents never got along until my brother and I moved out (which is to say they should have never had children), and to have me back is only going to throw their solitary routine off balance.

Hideko is not down with this.

It's hilarious- all of my friends who have been to the restaurant lately go back to talk to Hideko and then confirm with me that yes, I'm right, she's not excited I'm coming home, and she even rolled her eyes when they mentioned it. I told you she should have never had children- she has no one to blame but herself.

Don't get me wrong, my parents are both totally awesome, and have always supported me and my off-kilter ways. But, as I'm sure you are all aware, awesome people don't always make the best housemates.

Feeling Old in the East Village

Went to the Beauty Bar in the East Village the other night and felt old. Really old. I hadn't been there for years, and really, I should have known to stay out when I saw the big bouncer checking for IDs. The EV is totally overrun by NYU kids, and Beauty Bar is no different.

Some guy who had one of those hair patches under his chin, no older than 22, started talking to us by asking us what we were talking about. I told him we were talking about douchebags- no joke, me and Ryo just happened to be having a conversation about douchebags at that very moment. I didn't want to lie about it.

It made me feel old, my cynicism and apparent unwillingness to chat with this guy- but I just don't have the patience for it anymore. The group next to us all had tattoos up to their wrists and wore white T-shirts under plaid button-up shirts. All buttons unbuttoned.

That made me feel old too.

My bff Sara used to live on 7th between A and B. We used to hang out in the EV and go out dancing all the time, Beauty Bar included, until she moved to LA 3 years ago. I stopped going there so much after she left, and in these years whenever I go back, I feel out of place and overwhelmed by nostalgia of what it used to be.

Whenever I complain to Sara about it though, she wisely says, "It's not the EV, Kayoko; it's you."



This post was inspired by Sara's recent Facebook status update, stating that she felt old at the Beauty Bar in LA.

Office Life

At work now. Technically, my last day was last Saturday, but I'm here to clean my cubicle, inside and out. To be honest, I just came in so I could feel useful. I've been working in the Film Program here for 2 years and it's really been the sole reason of why I've stayed in NY for as long as I have. It's been an awesome job, working alongside incredibly talented people.

I got my last Japan Society paycheck last Friday. I truly do want it to be my very last office job paycheck for... wait for it... EVER. I'm not sure what's in store for me in California, and I'm aware that anything is possible, but I really never want to work an office job ever again. I'm ready for something completely new.

But the office job has its merits, don't get me wrong. I almost barfed the other day, when I was signing off on my health insurance termination papers and the HR lady told me that I could continue coverage for $550 a month. WTF!!!! That's so obscene, just plain wrong.

Plus, the office supply closet. Between me and you, I've taken enough Sharpies to last me a lifetime. That's something I will truly miss.

Everyone is asking me, "When is your last day?" Um, last Saturday. "Well, best of luck to you if I don't see you!" Well, I'll probably be back on Monday cause there's no way I'm gonna finish everything up today, so I'll see you around.

It's embarrassing. I feel like I'm constantly saying goodbye to people, then throwing them off by showing up a couple of days later. But I can't say goodbye for good. Not yet.

Yamahomo just walked by and saw me blogging and he sneered. He knows that I'm never gonna leave my little cubicle. I mean, does it look like I'm going anywhere to you???

Burt Bacharach is the MAN in Man Jose

I hope everyone got the blog title reference. The song was written by Bacharach back in the 60s and Dionne Warwick went all the way with it in '68. This song is so my life right now, it's spooky. Here she is:



The term Man Jose is even in the Urban Dictionary.

Introduction

Wow, here I am, my first post- welcome!!! I'm supposed to be packing, but would rather jot a few things down while I have the chance.

First things first- my name is Kayoko, I'm 28, and I'm about to move back in with my parents in Cupertino, CA. I've lived in NYC for the last 6 years- years spent partying, making rent and growing up. And while a blog about my life in NYC would have been more interesting, perhaps, than me moving back in with my parents, well, I predict that this will be far more hilarious. It's gonna be a riot, I promise. So join me.

I leave NY in just 10 days. I fly to Tokyo where I'll travel around for 3 weeks and visit family, come back to NY for a night, then take a one-way flight to SFO on Thanksgiving Day. I chose this day specifically because I love Tday. It's my favorite holiday of the year. Nevertheless, hitting that purchase button for that one-way ticket to Cali was a really surreal moment. Can't turn back now.

Until I leave next Sunday, I'm sure I'll be reminiscing and rhapsodizing here about a few classic Kayoko NYC moments. It's been a pretty wild ride, definitely. I mean, I've led a pretty modest life here, as far as NYC obsceness goes, but I imagine that things will drastically mellow out for me in Cupertino. But that's really what I want- I may just be idealizing California, but I just want a quiet, peaceful life. I don't really want a booming social life like I've had here- I want to be in bed by 10pm, and live a healthy, balanced life filled with sleep and nutrition. And books. Is that too much to ask?

The last 6 years has certainly been the opposite- but more on that later. For now, here's a pic of my quaint studio in Crown Heights, Brooklyn back in January.


Here it is at this very moment.


It's the perfect dance floor.