It’s the warmest Monday we’ve had in weeks. New York in October and the beginning of this month almost killed me. Nobody told me it was going to be cold. Okay, everybody told me it was going to be cold and I refused to believe them. But today it’s warm, even though it’s raining. It feels like the end of a Bay Area morning, when the fog is just about to give in to the sun. This weather feels like new socks. It’s great.

I’m in my new room, had to move, don’t really want to write about why. To protect the innocent. The room is a double, but occupied by me and me alone. Two floors up in the same building, with a better view of the city. Suffice it to say that I am happy with my living arrangement.

I went to Brooklyn and hung out this weekend. I think that I will eventually fall in love with New York City, based on the food alone. Chilling in Crown Heights and Bed Stuy means beautiful West Indians. And dishes that makes me feel like almost all of the rice I’d eaten until that point had been practice. Roti. Bread sweet and dry. Sorrel. Hibiscus and ginger. Views of brownstones and brown people. I felt at home; Brooklyn really is a lot like Oakland. Maybe I say this because I am looking to make connections between my current situation and what I grew up on.

We’re almost at the end of the first semester, I’ve learned so much, most of it outside of class. Learned about enjambment; score one for NYU. Learned a Haitian dance called Congo in my Dance class; score two for the University. But I’ve also learned that they’ll close subway doors on you if you look lost. That grilled cheese is best on onion bialys. That playing capture the flag, at night, in the park is fun for the first game. It will make you sore, if you are out of shape. If you are me. I’ve learned to never never eat Mexican food in New York. or in dining halls. or at dining halls in New York.

My writing is harder than it has ever been for me. I’ve been questioning why I really write. And until I have a good answer for that, it’s going to be hard for me to write anything I like. But class pushes me to write anyway. I’ve been working on poems and short stories (when I don’t have to write essays for class).

I hate writing essays.

I’ve also been working on a project where we are setting one of my poems to film, so that is mad interesting, son.

So far travel-wise I’ve been to New Jersey, DC, Pennsylvania, and Boston. In Boston we went to Cheers, and the Commons and I hung out with Harvard kids who actually aren’t as intimidating as I’ve been led to believe. I’d move to the Boston area if both the Bay Area and New York fell off of the map and no one could find them.

I represent the Bay Area hardcore. I own 3 Oakland tee shirts and two sweatshirts, which I rock constantly. It’s because there are just some things we do better. Like recycle (there is no recycling program in NYC, it costs too much). Like have a bay. I still miss the water. Like have clean air. Everyone still smokes.

On the bright side of things, I still like NY delis. I still don’t do cocaine. I still go to class on time. I still pass out toilet paper at the front desk. I still have friends.

I eat when I am hungry. I have odd conversations for the fun of it. I see lots of movies. Go see Bowling For Columbine.