May 10th, 2001.  Thursday
 

    Today is thursday.  Yesterday, Wednesday, I officially graduated from New York University's School of Journalism and Mass Communications.  I didn't really feel like it'd be that big a deal, but in the end I'm glad I went.  It was nice that there was a ceremony that I could attend and have my parents come and sit there and smile.  And I got the whole cap and gown deal, with the Master's hood.  I had planned on going to the All University ceremony today, but this one, for the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, was much better.  I got to go up on stage, have them say my name, and put the little hood on me, all official-like.  And I got to see some of the people from class that I hadn't seen since December.  And probably won't ever see again.  So it was a nice bit of closure.  It seemed a bit anticlimactic, since I actually graduated in December.  It was more for closure than anything else.  So that part of the old life is officially done.  I still can't believe it. I sit around and think "I have a Master's Degree.  In Journalism." how weird is that? I guess maybe it's the feeling that I'm still a screw up kid.  I never really felt this much like a kid when I was a kid.  I can't really explain it well.  It's like I feel like I'm not legit, or a phony I guess.  Like I still need someone to hold my hand and guide me through everything.  It's sort of a helpless feeling I guess.  I don't know. I guess I just feel like I should be a lot more together than I do.  I suppose most people think like that.  but I really believe my case is more serious than most people's.

    Anyway, it was a pretty good day.  After the ceremony, and tons of pictures, my parents and I took a cab cross town to meet up with Geoff for lunch.  A pretty good lunch of sushi and even more pictures.  One of the old sushi chefs would really confused after the first picture my mom took. He looked around and couldn't figure out what that flash he just saw was.  I'm glad I got to see 2/3 of my family yesterday.  The whole deal woulda been pretty empty if my parents hadn't come to see it. So I'm glad they made the trip up.

    An interesting little thing about yesterday.  Back in college, there was a period of a week or so that the number 311 kept coming up in everything I did.  Besides kind of liking the band 311, I'd wake up at 3:11 am for no reason. I'd go to the grocery store, and my total would be $3.11.  When I went to see my econ professor his office was number 311. .  So I always thought that number would someday have some sort of significance in my life.  Every March 11th, I've waited for something bad to happen.  Nothing.  I'd sort of forgotten about it, even though i still see the number sometimes.  So yesterday I was walking to the graduation ceremony and looked at the directions. It was at the Hammerstein Ballroom, on 34th st., number 311.  How bout that.  So maybe that's it.  If it is, honestly, it's a bit disappointing.  Still, it was a funny coincidence.

    So after the ceremony, i rushed home to change, and headed back to the city to see about going to NYU's Grad Alley, a sort of street fair for graduation students and their friends.  I had invited Rodzilla a few weeks ago, then thought I wasn't going, then when I found out it was free decided to go, invited Jed and Dylan, then found out I had only two free passes, then remembered I'd invited Rodzilla, so I told Jed and Dylan I couldn't take them both, then thought I might only get one free pass, so i told dylan I might not have a pass for him, then went with Rodzilla and her roommate Katey and ended up getting two passes.  Anyway, the whole thing was sort of bizarre. There were random street performers and free food, but it was too crowded and not all that much to do.  So we each got a hot dog or sausage, ate it, walked around for a bit, then decided a bar would be more fun.  So we walked over to the Fat Black Pussycat on West 3rd St., had a pitcher of beer, and yukked it up for an hour or so.  That katey is a nice girl.  Sort of kooky, you could say.  Really little, so every motion she makes seems sort of silly and funny.  Anyway, a fun time was had at the old Fat Black.  After that, we walked back to the East Village, and Rodzilla accompanied me for another drink at the Sidewalk.  I thought Jed might be coming into the city to hang out, though i should have known better, and I didn't really have anywhere else to go. So the Sidewalk is as good a place as any.  And we always do enjoy Rodzilla's company.  We had a little talk about what the hell I'm doing with myself and my life.  I have to say, of all the people I know, no one makes me feel so good and so bad at the same time.  I think she makes me feel good, but in a bad way, and bad, but in a good way. That make any sense?
 

    Anyway, things I'm currently enjoying in life:  The novel I'm reading, Sputnik Sweetheart.  It's a dandy of a novel.  My only complaint about it, so far, is that it's too short. I'm already halfway done, and I've been reading it for three days.  Paris to the Moon took me more than two months to finish.  I may be taking the bus home on Sunday, and I'd really like to have some book left to read.  So i guess I'll save it.  I'm not sure why I like the book so much. I'm a terrible critic.  It's always something intangible that makes me like a book, like just one line or idea or something.  And in this case, it's a sort of romantic fatalism.  And a bit of mystery. And the language.  Of course, it's translated from Japanese, but it's not the language in that one.  More like using the same sentences and phrases from one story to another and connecting the narrative.  Anyway, I may very well read several more of Murakami's books before too long.
    The reason for the trip home is Mother's Day.  So I figured I should go.  And my grandmother isn't particularly well, so I guess I should go see her too.  It's kind of sad, really, that for the last 5 or so years, every time something about my grandmother comes up that I'm not sure if I'm going to attend, my mom always says "it could be her last one."  Like I'm not thinking that already.  She's like 92 now.  They recently got a slot machine for her, in her own home.  My first trip ever to Atlantic City, after I was old enough to gamble, was driving my grandmother there.  She loves the slots.  My mom says it's not ever the winning or losing. She just likes the blinking lights and sounds.  Perhaps it's a bit simplistic too think about it in terms of her being born in China in like 1908 and then seeing someplace like Atlantic City, but I like to believe that has something to do with it.  Like, look how far she and the world have come in 90 years.  I wasn't there for other centuries, but I gotta believe that no century has seen as much advancement on every level than the 20th.  And to live through about the whole century had to be pretty amazing.  My mom always thought my grandmother's life would make a good movie.  Lots of hardships, like having her feet broken and bound; some adventure, like running to Taiwan once the commies took over China, and plenty of sadness I'm sure.
So I guess I just talked myself into going home on Sunday.

    Today, Caryn came over to look at an apartment.  It was really creepy.  So then her and Dylan and I sat around and played music for most of the afternoon. I thought we should form a band called the Works Progress Administration, after FDR's New Deal organization that created hundred of thousands of jobs, since we were all able to sit at home and play music because we don't have jobs. Well, Caryn has a job, but she's leaving in a few weeks and only goes in a few days a week now.  So after that, we decided to go up to Prospect Park to fly a kite and throw the frisbee.  I worked up quite a sweat from the little running i did.  Jed came up after a while and tossed the 'bee, then he whipped out the old hackey sack.  We're undergoing something of a sack renaissance lately, and we kicked that around for quite some time.  It was a fun late-afternoon in the park.  Prospect Park is so nice and so uncrowded.  One of the best parts of living in Brooklyn.  Though lately I have a real need to live in Manhattan. I think it's time. I've been in Brooklyn for two years now, and I need a different existence.  Though i guess that probably goes without saying.
 

    Right now, I'm looking at the license plate of the Grey Ghost, my beloved car that was taken from me, hanging on my wall.  It's all I have left of the car.  The registrations sticker on the plate says "5-01," meaning it expires in May, 2001.  When that sticker was put on there a year ago, I'll bet no one would have guessed that the sticker would expire while hanging on my wall.

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