catching z's

I can't sleep. Actually this is untrue. I *could* sleep, but for some reason I seem to find a ton of things to do late into the night that preclude me from doing so. It's like my mind kicks into another gear after midnight and I find a million little things to ponder.

Some might call me a night owl. I think this understates the case, as the night owl by definition is purely nocturnal. No, my job demands that I be dayturnal as well, which basically sucks, since sleep is the sacrificial lamb in this case. And strangely for someone who loves sleep as much as I do, I don't seem to get enough of it.

Perhaps it is because the wise rapper Nas once said, "sleep is the cousin of death." If Nas is correct, gravitating towards things which inevitably lead towards the end of our existence would indeed be a silly choice. However, upon further research, I now believe that sleep is merely the great step-uncle of death. And really, how often do you actually see your great step-uncle? Maybe once ever at a family reunion? And even at that point, he's probably too busy playing mah-jong with all the other old people, and thus would never come close to interacting with you.

So what's my point here? None. Except I think this 3:40am blog post only illustrates one fact. I really need to go to sleep. Like really badly. Good night.

waking up in the city that never sleeps

Ok, I admit. It's been a loooooong time since I've written anything. But I really do have a good excuse this time. I moved clear across the country to New York and have been preoccupied with fixing up and selling my house in Pasadena, quiting my old job, starting a new job in NYC, finding a new apartment, learning how to get around the city, figure out the subway system, poke around for decent spots to eat, and basically meeting a whole new social network. So other than that, I guess I've just been twiddling my thumbs.

What brought me to the east coast, you ask? Well, two main reasons. A great job opportunity at an up and coming mobile services company, as well as the realization that if ever there was a time to try living in NYC, now would be it. If I let one or two more years go by, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't drop everything to make the move. And what's the worst that could happen? Even if I hated it, I could make my way back to California without too much trouble. So I bit the bullet and sold my worldly possessions (well in the process of trying to sell them, anyway) and headed East.

I remember when I started telling people I was moving out here. The common response was, "what, New York? You? Seriously?" And while I'd like to call my friends jerks for being skeptical, I really can't blame them. Why would a guy who hated walking, isn't fond of crowds, loves the beach, and has a bitter fear of cold winter days, choose NYC as a target destination? On paper, this made about as much sense as creating a reality show around the former lead singer of Poison. But if Bret Michaels can pose as the rock and roll version of the Bachelor, surely I could adjust to life in the Big Apple.

And you know what? NYC has been a blast. I've met a lot of new people, gotten to experience a whole new way of life, and overall am very happy I made the move. Keep in mind, the muggy summer heat hasn't really decended upon me yet. And I have yet to make it through a winter. So let's not be too hasty and call it a fairy tale ending. For now, I'm just glad to report that I'm a New Yorker, and so far, I'm loving it.

Take that, skeptical friends!