fighting the war against blowing it

contact: piaarrobio@mac.com                          myspace.com/pianuts  i was talking to my mother,  and she asked me if I had been writing things down since i had moved here, basically if have i been carrying a journal around and sitting somewhere drinking coffee with a stupid pondering face like an ass hole writing down all the shit that id probably prefer to forget. in the last 2 and a half years i was plucked out of the comfort of a town, and a home that adored and left in an empty apartment on the lower east side of manhattan with a suitcase and the man that i had fallen i love with 6 months prior. i had no desire to move here. in fact, when i came to visit for my 16th birthday with my mother for the first time i hated it. new york was this place i thought would sweep me off my feet, and it literally did. my first night in ny we went to some hip sushi place, just me and my mother and my totally cool new boots that i bought specifically for the trip, and i ate shit on their shiny floor while walking to the table. awesome. it was the first of like a thousand things that happened on the trip that made me come to the conclusion that new york was a smelly dirty piece of shit. before you get mad, let me explain to you that i grew up in the house my parents were married in and gone to school never more than 5 minutes from my house in a little town called pasadena in los angeles. my friends all new the code to the front gate and where the spare key was. i would always come home to my friends in my living room watching tv and eating something my parents had made for them. my life want perfect, i definitely went through some shit when i was younger, but by the time i was i high school the relationship i had with my friends and family was finally in a really good place, and my life was rad. even more rad was how sure i was that i was going to get into the university of souther california, where my grandfather, father and brother had played football and where in the same fraternity, my sister played volleyball and was in a sorority (although she got kicked out for pissing off the other girls-total bad ass), and where 6 out of 10 of my friends were attending or were planning on it. i was a legacy, and although it was getting competitive, i knew i would get in and so i thought i had nothing really to worry about. so basically it sucked when i didnt get in. burn.that was a lesson let me tell you. thinking i could get by all though high school with barley making it by wasnt a good idea. that is how i ended up at parsons. i had applied on a whim, went to visit the school spring break of my seinor year of high school with my sister, met a boy and fell in love. never having been in love and never having had a boyfriend this was a huge deal. my 5 day trip ended up being a 2 week trip filled with shit i had never seen or done before-a whole new fucking world. i fell in love with a boy and i fell in love with the city. 2 years and 9 months later i sit in my apt in the east village very much that same girl, but after having multiple jobs, gone though 5 semesters at parsons, suffering through my first heartbreak, 3 apartments, 8 roommates, having 0 friends, having too many “friends”, death, wyling out (yea, yea…everyone goes through it) and recently turning 21 i think its safe to say im making my way towards being a women. and so, this blog will serve as my version of doing what my momma says and keeping track of my life, a lil thing i like to call “the war against blowing it”.