Packing is always fairly stressful for me. I never know what to wear and always feel I look like shit. I always seek the help of a knowledgeable family member and that usually does the trick, but I don't ever feel comfortable until after the first day of any trip is over. I've worn the clothes, then, for one day, worn the jewelry, and generally start feeling more comfortable in my skin. Part of my problem with packing is that I have no sense of fashion. Seriously. I need people to TELL ME that orange and red don't go together. And I can't accessorize for shit. I have all this great stuff from my mom and no idea how to honor it. See, I grew up as a little boy. My brother is only one year and one week older than me and so I always felt more comfortable hanging out with him and his friends than I did with other girls. I was the typical Tom Boy: played sports, rough-housed, preferred tractors to dolls. I also loved playing in water, with or without clothing, but that's a story for another time... Anyway, so I didn't get the kind of formal, "I can braid my own hair"-type of girl training. My mother tried giving me dolls but I would always look at them, smile and ask: "who's that for?" All this, I feel, served to set me up to become the current fashion disaster I am today! It helps a little that I'm getting my figure back through working out, but I still need someone's help before I set foot outside. Otherwise all anyone would ever see me in are khakis and a sleeveless v-neck tee.

So, packing... I'm going to New York City. My old haunt... although I'll be in a neighborhood that I never spent much time in at all: Midtown. Actually, I hate it. There's no "there" there. Just straight, clean streets with corporate offices or upscale residences. There are few delis, no parks, the subway entrances are all a mile away.... Oh god.... I'm complaining... Okay, fuck it. I'm going to NYC and I'm going to have a good time. There it is.