1. I was reading a journal today, and the writer said she tracks posts. Why? I never bother, because well, A) I don't know how and B) it's just too big brotherish.
I don't want to know how many people read me or what their ISP is or where they are from. I've had a few nasty comments, and a few nasty emails. For some reason, people usually email me their snarky remarks.
I appreciate that, you 47 readers!
But, to trace anyone who logs on here? *shudder* To be honest, it makes me wonder.. who traces me? I tend to log in, and sometimes sit on a site for hours... I don't close out windows. I take the terrier out, take a nap.... I am unemployed right now... whatever. Am I being...watched?
2. I did a farewell walk around the 'hood.
I've had my fair share of smack talk about the Bronx. I need to be careful and aim that talk at my particular area... there are some amazing places in the Bronx I've found. Parks and churches and neighborhoods that are leafy, green, the architecture is crisp. It's my neighborhood that drives me to staying inside, and walking home with a straight back and a firm stride.
Generational dependence on the area's big employer, the Government, has driven many to stay as they are. When you are handed money with each child, you keep having children. I live in a building that is 85% subsidised. It's nasty, the tiles are broken, the garbage piles up in a rotting mass. I listen to fights in the courtyards and have spent more than one evening with a child next to me, sitting on the stairs, waiting for a parent to unlock the door after being out until midnight or later. Kids become what they see. I've heard arguments stop when I walk past.... and start up again when I move on. They don't do that for anyone else. I live in my Little Apartment in the Projects, and I stand out like a sore thumb. Middle class in every way.
I have so many good things I'll take from here, the pizza place and the kids in the building... the young couple moved away. Queens, I heard. There's a group of men who play dominos down the street, their table set up in the shade of the building, they call out, "Mamii... how are you?" when I walk by. We all nod very politely.
I'll not miss the .99 Store that LIES.
"That is $1.49."
"Your sign says everything is .99"
"Yes, well, that is $1.49."
I hate that.
I won't miss the loud cars at 3A. I won't miss the piles of trash, or the crack house across the street or the heavy heat of the flat at midnight.
I'll miss the roses in the garden two houses over.
3. The 4 train. I took it up here for the last time today, and.. and... I had a seat from downtown all the way home.
4. House is cleaned, clothes packed, I had cookies from Jack's .99 store downtown for my birthday.
5. Had the interview, where I was one of 10 narrowed down from over 100. Fingers crossed.
6. Read the ending of Harry Potter. Shame on you, JK Rowling. I skimmed the last half, then read the ending. Twaddle, it was... twaddle.
Tomorrow, I move suitcases, computer bag and a dog to Penn Station, then on the train to Newark... then to Utah. I leave here at 1P and arrive in my old home at 4A.
August should be great fun.