No. Sleep. 'Til Brooklyn.

Every so often we get emails from our Director of Resident Life who plays a maternal role by consistently nagging us about how we should conduct our lives in the school's apartment housing. Reminiscent of the dorms, huh? Most of the time, they are along the lines of "be respectful of your neighbors", "don't throw stuff out the windows", and "don't forget to recycle". But this one was so special, I just had to share.

It has come to our attention that hypodermic needles are being disposed of in a garbage bag through the trash chute. Anyone disposing of hypodermic needles must comply with public health regulations. Here are the guidelines for disposing of hypodermic needles, according to the NYC Department of Sanitation:

Clip needle from syringe after use, place both needle and syringe in a leak proof, puncture resistant container such as a heavy duty plastic laundry or bleach jug. When the container is full, seal the lid securely, tape it closed, label the container "Home Sharps" and place the container with your garbage for household Non-Recyclables collection. Do NOT place a "Home Sharps" container in a recycling bag or container.

This is an extremely serious matter and I expect immediate cooperation from all residents.

Please contact me if you have any questions.

Seriously, in law school? Who has time for that kind of stuff?

In case you can't tell by my extraordinarily long absence, my free time has been reduced to nil. Zip. Zero. Nada.

I live and die by the hours of the library. When I'm not in the library, I'm in class. My muscle tone has completely disappeared, and yet I am still the same weight, and possibly gaining more, but my pants don't fit as well as they used to. My meals have been reduced to what I can purchase out of a vending machine. I've worn the same sweatshirt for 3 days in a row. I probably have developed a callous on my tailbone from sitting on the hardwood chairs. I laugh only when someone makes a legal pun.

Think back, think back, think back... to the late late nights when I used to sit in my cubicle and create an index for documents that weren't even in English.

Oh yeah. This IS the life.

Last night I was out and about in L.E.S. with B and her friend R. After a night of drunken debauchery, we got back to Brooklyn and decided to try out one of the 24-hour diners in the area... let's be honest, steak and eggs any time of the day? Sounds awesome. So we sit down, B and R on one side of the booth, me on the other, have a meal, and when we ask our waiter for our tab, he drops this off instead:

What?! "and/or"? A kiss? A drink? Or both? Where this sense of entitlement comes from, I have no idea. So B and R jump all over it and start checking out every guy in the diner... and proceed to dog on whoever the author of this little love letter may have been. Finally, our waiter tells us it was the guy who happened to be sitting back to back with B and R in the next booth over - and he had heard every word they had said! No wonder he left so promptly. But seriously, to the fellas of the world, has this ever worked for you, ever!?

Yesterday I went to my first US Open!!

It was amazing. Like Disneyland, but a billion times better. I was there to watch the Men's Doubles finals and both of the Women's Singles semi-finals... all of it fan-friggin-tastic. The first semi was Henin-Hardenne and Jankovic. Justine dropped the first set, but came back in the second, with a vengeance. And then the second match was Sharapova and Mauresmo - another three-setter and also fantastic, especially watching Sharapova play live. She so pretty, oh so pretty... good at tennis. So in one day I got to see the top 3 women in the world play tennis. But that's not all! I also got to meet the legendary Chris Evert, take a pic with her and have her sign my hat. Joygasm~! The mezzanine ticket was worth every penny - I just have to remember to buy in advance for next year.

After the pro matches, I stuck around for a few of the juniors matches - man, those kids are something intense. I don't think I was ever that intense about anything before 18... I think puberty took care of a lot of the emotional drama, I can't even imagine adding what these kids must be going through. Gleets.

And then, after a full day of tennis (filled with tons of free stuff thanks to my AmEx membership) and since I was in Flushing, I walked across the boardwalk and went to Shea Stadium to meet up with B and other peeps to watch the Mets play the Dodgers. Go Dodgers!

Bottoms up to a great day of sports.

www.hubiewang.com

But who's counting?

I feel like I've been here for 3 months instead of 3 weeks. Last week was our first full week of classes and thankfully, we were rewarded with Labor Day weekend. The first few days were an onslaught of meeting new people and getting oriented with the whole "uptown", "lower east side", "upper west side" lingo. I guess it's starting to make sense now. The pic on the right is from Convocation - my usual un-photogenic self on the right, my roommate B next to me and then some other kids who happened to be nice enough to hang around with. The problem with all this novelty is that it's about to get real old, real soon. Sure, everyone is nice and friendly now. They like to ask where you're from, what have you been up to, and that sort of thing. But I'm sensing the honeymoon is about to end. It's like high school all over again - people will start falling into cliques and the days of social innocence will be numbered. Some tidbits to whet your palate:

* the roomies are D and B - both seem pretty easy going, so I'm relieved. D and I are in the same section, and so far that has been nothing of an advantage, seeing as how on the first day of class I brought my Civ Pro materials to Crim class and somehow I keep going to the wrong classroom. And not only that, when our section had a little after-class get together, I went to the wrong apartment. Those are the times I've opted to go on my own - needless to say, I'm never leaving D's side. Am I fulfilling some sort of airhead-Californian stereotype.

*when people ask me where I'm from, I say California. Then they ask, where in California? How can I answer this? I came here from San Francisco (read Foster City) because I went to Berkeley and have lived there for the past 8.5 years. But if I were to go "home", I'd be flying to Los Angeles (read Palos Verdes). Do you people know what suburbs are? That's where I'm from: suburban California, north and south. The first 18 years of my life were spend in helL.A. but I wouldn't say that's where I'm from because I only know a little tiny part of that sprawl of a city, and if I wasn't so turned off by it I would be at Loyola instead of here. I think of myself as a Bay Area resident more than an Angelian. But that's not what they want to hear - people want you to be specific only to the point where they can or cannot recognize a place. Nobody ever asks why.

*New Yorkers are the human rat race. And it has nothing to do with work. It's the fact that you can only buy what you can carry here, and because of that, people spend a lot of time walking around, taking the train, and carrying multple bags back and forth. Needless to say, I've discovered that the most efficient way to do anything is to go online. Groceries, target.com, anything. I'm almost scared to think about what is going to happen in a few months when it's too cold for my islander blood to venture outside and do anything... so, like those rodents that infest the subways here, I spend a lot of time scurrying around to gather supplies for the winter. I think it's a sickness.

*Brooklyn itself is a lot like Berkeley. One street will be nice and quite normal. One wrong turn and you're face to face with either a toothless bum asking for money or some other character with inappropriate comments. Not unlike the seedy areas of SF's Mission area, except it's not in Spanish.

*Even parts of the subway feel like BART. I was on a train out to Park Slope my first week here, and was staring out the window at rooftops, warehouses, and an ocean. It could've been Oakland. There were even those huge cranes that the Star Wars things were modeled after. Then I saw the Statue of Liberty and realized I was not in Kansas anymore. Gleets~! And I missed my stop and realized it only when I was halfway to Coney Island. Doh!

More later, gotta get back to the books.

Oh. my. gawd. I'm here. I'm in New York. I arrived promptly at 5:55am on Tuesday morning after a jetBlue red-eye out of Long Beach airport (which I notice uses LGB as it's call letters - lesbian, gay, bi?) Paid a ridiculous amount for a cab ride to J's house, woke up her unemployed ass and forced her to help me drag my almost-over-the-weight-limit luggage up one flight of stairs before crashing on her couch for 4 hours. Then, woke up, showered, and hauled my ass and assets to my new home. It's like college... a friggin' dorm. Except not. No co-ed showers. Instead, I have my own room and bathroom (key~!). It's a brand new apartment building that the school opened in 2005, and I must say, THE FINEST living quarters I've ever had in my young adult life. Very, very nice. You almost forget you are in Brooklyn. Until you step outside and someone asks you for some change. A little bit of Berkeley nostalgia sets in there.

After moving in, I make a quick trip to Tar-get (the last T is silent). One thing I notice about this place is that everyone has an accent. And it's so unexpected, I think. At least for me. Or maybe I'm the one with the accent? What's up, dude? Brah. Catch a wave... and all that cali surfer talk. I've never even stood on a surfboard. What kind of Californian am I?

<- View from my bedroom window, the 16th floor.


The bed complete with Tar-get bedding ->






<- The bathroom.




My current and future location ->





Beautiful, ain't it? My home for the next year...