I have a good reason for not having updated in over a week.

We have spent the last week or so trying to find a way to get out of our current lease. We’ve been wanting to move out of New York for a while and now that there’s no specific obligations tying us down, we thought it would definitely be a waste of money to keep paying our exuberant rent.

It took a bit of creativity and a lot of money, but we broke our lease. We’re leaving in less than two weeks. The minute after we made the decision, we started packing. A week later, we’re still packing and we got a ways to go. We’ve been in our current apartment for seven years. One accumulates quite a bit of crap over that many years. Two accumulate even more.

We’re still trying to figure out between self-moving and a very affordable small moving company in Brooklyn. Finding a balance between insane amount of work and the risk of our life-belongings disappearing forever.

After the next two weeks, the insanity is just beginning. Between now and August, we will: move to Jake’s garage in Boston, buy a car and do all the car work for it, buy a tent and other car-trip stuff, drive to Miami for a wedding, drive to New Orleans/Baton Rouge/Mississippi Delta for sight-seeing, drive to Atlanta for a graduation, do some more sightseeing on the way back to Boston, drive to Pittsburgh for another wedding, come back to New York for Jake to take an exam, fly to the Caymans for eight days, back to New York, go to Turkey for two weeks, back to Boston for a third wedding, and finally, take a month to drive cross country.

We will ideally end up in San Diego where we will rent for a month or so to checkout neighborhoods and find an apartment. Once we settle in, we will move all of our shit from Boston. This is assuming we like San Diego since neither one of us has ever been there.

Hectic? Yep! Fun? We sure plan for it to be! Insane? So what?

I plan to write a script so I can post updates from my Blackberry since we plan to tent it at least two nights out of three. I will definitely post from Boston and most likely from Turkey, too. I don’t know about the Caymans.

In the meantime, we need to finish packing.

Told you I had a good reason.

Thursday was possibly the worst and best day of the last month for me.

On the good side, I finally got a placement, which meant I knew what school and grade level I was going to be teaching in the fall. My grade level might still change (and please please cross your fingers for me that it doesn’t) but my school is pretty much set.

On the bad side, we got our lease renewal contract on Thursday night. I have lived in the same apartment for the last six years and Jake’s been in it with me for the last five. Each year, when the lease renewal form comes, we have weeks of agonizing conversation. They all start the same way:

He: “We really need to move.”

She: “Must we? It’s such a pain.”

He: “We’re paying way too much here and we don’t even like it.”

She: “Yeah, you’re right but it’s such a pain!!”

And from there, he gets progressively more practical whereas I get progressively whiney.

The fact is, it’s a pain to look for an apartment in New York City. You have to call 900 people to see 10 apartments, 2 of which are maybe in livable conditions. I don’t have the time or patience to travel all over the city to look for apartments. Especially this year cause we’re also looking in the Bronx, Harlem and Brooklyn. Talk about all traveling over the place.

Assuming we get even close to finding a decent apartment, I then start having nightmares about the moving process itself. Jake and I are both packrats to the nth degree. I’m talking computers from Freshman year in college, ten years ago, or newspapers that are now three years old, or wrap of a gift a friend gave me five months ago. We have five bookcases, floor to ceiling, that are all triple-stacked in each row and we still have books piling up on our dining room table and the floor. We have every issue of Wired, and New Yorkers for the last two years.

A few years ago, I read a book on simplifying your life. It suggested putting a bunch of things you didn’t use into a box and then putting the boxes away. If you didn’t open the box in six months, you could throw it away since you obviously didn’t need the stuff. I decided it was a good idea and filled about six boxes of stuff. The boxes are still in my closet.

I just simply cannot throw anything away. It’s as if each item has a piece of my soul attached to it. talk about dramatic, eh? Well, this is why moving is giving me nightmares once again as it’s time for the yearly “we should really move out of here.”

This time, I agree with Jake even more so than before. I’m ready to move into a new neighborhood. With my recent salary cut, I’d love to pay less. I like the idea of shedding some of my stuff which I assume the move will force. It’s like sort of starting over.

Tonight, we’re going to see a place in Brooklyn. Cross your fingers for me. I want this year to be the year we didn’t renew our lease.

I lost my bracelet yesterday.

My sister gave me a diamond bracelet a month ago in honor of my engagement. I got a lot of presents in February but this one was my favorite. It was delicate, beautiful and my sister gave it to me. I can’t tell you how sad I’ve been since I realized it was missing.

Earlier this week, I bought myself a swatch. My friend Michelle took me to the store cause she collects them and she got the idea in my mind. Two days later, I went back and bought myself one. It’s a skin swatch, one of the new James Bond series. It cost me 75 dollars.

After I bought the watch, I agonized over it endlessly. I already had a great watch, did I really need another? Weren’t there better ways to spend my 75 bucks? I won’t making a lot of money next year and it was really spendthrift of me to blow it over a watch. Especially when I already have one. I can’t tell you how much time I spent worrying about this new purchase.

I came home and asked Jake if I should keep it. I called two friends and listened to lectures on what a total dork I am and how I should, of course, keep the watch and stop worrying about it. I deserve the watch, they persisted. Stop thinking about it, they insisted. You are insane, they laughed.

I was still slightly worried but I kept the watch. I’ve been wearing it since Tuesday and I love it. But I didn’t truly stop worrying about it until I lost the bracelet last night. The watch was 75 dollars, the diamond bracelet: several hundred. Not to mention the sentimental values attached to it, which are irreplaceable.

It’s amazing how it takes something major to put one’s life in perspective. Why does it take a disaster for us to realize the value of our lives? How come we need a family death or illness to bring us closer? Why do we need a terrible excuse to be nicer to our fellow men?

Did I really have to lose my bracelet to stop worrying about the watch?

I think we, humans, lack perspective all too often.

Previously? No Strings Attached.

With all that’s going on in my life lately, my mood is behaving like a pendulum.

On the whole, I am happy. Most of the work for the wedding appears to be under control. We’re almost exactly on budget. Jake and I are getting along fantastically. Work’s going well, for the most part. The exams are over, and I don’t get to find out the results until April so I have a month of relaxation. I have to wait on the TB tests and the medical checkup for the wedding. We think we might have found a house.

So it all sounds good right?

Except for, I am stressed out all the time. I spend my nights looking at apartments all over New York City, hanging out with brokers whom I could go on and on about. Every second I am home, I feel this sense of urgency like I am not getting enough done and I am so overwhelmed that I just turn on the TV and do nothing, which, of course, makes the next day exponentially worse. I have a mountain of eleven books checked out from the library and the books are just not being read fast enough. My knitting has come to a temporary halt. My bills are strewn all over the coffee table. Dinner tonight is pretzels and almond butter. Not to mention all the unknowns of where I will be living in a few months, where I’ll be working, where I’ll be attending school, etc.

So I tend to swing back and forth between joy and crippling fear. In the last two weeks, I’ve found three major sources of help.

The first is specific to me. Yesterday, I was working at the bookstore and saw that someone had brought in the Teach For America book. In this book, Wendy Kopp, the founder, talks all about her struggles to start and maintain the organization. She outlines its goals and explains why certain teachers are more successful than others. I had read the book cover to cover on the floor of a Borders a month before I applied. Leafing through it again reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place. Not only do I have no doubt that I want to do TFA, I am proud to have anything to do with such an organization. I’ve decided that each time I have doubts, I’ll walk into the nearest bookstore and leaf through the book.

The second is much more general. Amazingly, music can put a smile on my face in a matter of seconds. My mp3 player goes everywhere with me and even when I’m simply walking across the street to drop off my mail, I listen to music. It makes me want to dance. It erases all the stress and negativity. I am amazed at the power of a few notes each time. But my mp3 player has never failed me.

The last way is also not specific to my situation. If you’re a consistent reader of karenika, you’d know that I am a bookworm. Reading books, like music, transports me into a separate world where my wonders don’t exist. Fiction or non-fiction, it doesn’t matter. I am so engrossed in the writer’s world/concerns/issues that I don’t think of my own. I used to be able to read at home, but lately I’ve had ample distractions. On Saturday, between exam 1 and exam 2, I had an hour free so I went to a small cafe across the street and read my book while I ate. Even when I was about to have an exam in less than an hour, the book erased all my concerns. I did the same thing twice since then. A small restaurant, a tiny coffee shop, one of the multitude Starbucks’ in the city. Me and my book. It’s a match made in heaven.

I love the fact that I can escape my world without physically leaving it.

You have any ideas on what’s a good way to temporarily forget your troubles?

Previously? Parental Guidance.

I don’t know what happened.

To be fully honest, it’s been this way since September. I just can’t seem to find something worthwhile to say. September and October were spent in confusion, disbelief, and applications. I honestly cannot even remember November.

December had me interviewing, brought a proposal, a promotion, a job offer, more holiday food, and a lovely New Year’s eve. All in one month.

January turned my life upside down, sent Jake back to work, meant we’re definitely not moving to Texas just yet, brought on some begging to make my new career work, and meant hours and hours of work planning for the upcoming wedding.

February so far promises my first flight since September, an engagement party in Istanbul, and more wedding arrangements.

Through all this, one would think I’d have more to write about. More to think about. More to feel. More to blabber on and on. But somehow I don’t. Most days, I sit on the computer, trying to come up with something fascinating, something interesting, something readable. And I end up with nothing.

I’m not exactly sure why.

I spend most of my free time lying on the couch staring at the TV. I knit like mad, trying to finish my sister’s and nephews’ scarves on time. I’m trying to keep the wedding thing together. I’m trying not to disappoint my manager and team at work. I’m trying to arrange our honeymoon plans. I’m trying to read up on teaching and study for the New York State licensing exams. My brain is pretty close to turning to mush and I am just barely able to do the context switching when necessary.

Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to write much lately. Any ideas?

Previously? Power of Many.

It’s been a long time since I’ve lived alone.

Five years ago, upon graduation from college, I moved to New York and rented a small one-bedroom apartment. Jake had one more year of college so when the summer was over, he went back to Pittsburgh, leaving me alone in the apartment.

I never minded being home alone. Ever since I can remember, I’ve always been easily self-entertained. Between my books, my music, the TV, and my computer, it’s almost impossible to be bored. That first year, I spent many of my nights watching TV and chitchatting with Jake on the phone or over zephyr. At the time, I was talking 3-d graphics classes and I pulled many all-nighters trying to get my trumpet to look just right.

From December 1999 to May 2000, I lived alone in a corporate apartment in Tokyo, Japan. I spent most of my time then working late and studying Japanese. Even though I had occasional visitors, Tokyo did get quite lonely after four or five months. I missed being able to walk on the streets and understand what the signs said. Or turning on the TV and having more than one channel in English.

Two days ago, Jake left for home and I am scheduled to join him on Monday. I’ve spent almost every minute since Friday night at home. The only time I went out was today, to grab lunch at a cafe four blocks from my house. One would think that I must be miserable considering the circumstances, but I feel quite fulfilled and even jovial. I’ve written a short story. I’ve knitted more of my scarves. I’ve read magazines and books. I’ve watched countless hours of TV. I’ve redesigned my web page. I’ve even completed a favor for Jake that I’d been putting off for quite some time. I’ve yet to reply to my emails, but we still have tomorrow.

There are major advantages to living with someone. Especially someone you love. I can walk over to him and give him a kiss or ask for a hug anytime I feel like it. I can convince him to take a walk with me if I feel down. I can hear his laughter and see his smiling face. All these are special privileges I’d never give up. But there are also downsides to having another human being share your one private place in the world.

There are times Jake and I want to watch different TV shows. Or one of us wants to sleep when the other one suggests going out. He might be on the phone when I want some quiet time to read my book. The fact is we’re sharing space. Not like the office where you expect there to be other people, but at home where it’s meant to be your safe haven and your own private place to do as you please. Living with someone else requires that you follow some level of social rules within your own household. Living with someone else is hard work.

I like living with the person I love and I’d take the complications of sharing space over not getting to see him all the time, any day. But I also try to maximize the occasional alone-time I get, which is why being home for so many hours in a row actually puts me in a good mood.

Not that it stops me from missing him madly.

Previously? One Of Those Times.