Escapism is underrated

Lum de dum de dum. Still trying to settle into this new job and digest this new city. Still crashing in this unfurnished condo, sleeping on an Aerobed and sitting on the hardwood floors. Still spending long hours on the phone to New York, still eating take-out food every night, still politely declining the (very) occasional offers I get to go out here. In other words, still in some kind of half-formed limbo between my old life and my new one. Not quite tadpole, not quite frog.

I figure I'll start all that once I move into my own place (which, in case anyone's curious, happens around October 1).

Until then—escapism: I've been living on a diet of Netflix, Harry Potter, and movie trailers. And I highly recommend it.

I think back on all those restless years when, no matter how much I might have managed to accomplish, I felt like my days were somehow lacking unless I spent them out. Out, somehow, was always better than in, regardless of where out was. Now, you couldn't pay me to be out. In has everything out's got, but more comfortably. I'm done with out for a while.

What's so great about the real world, anyway?

P.S. my Q iz BetA thN yor Q

Just got into the inevitable pissing contest: "My Netflix queue is better than your Netflix queue!" Just to prove it—and because I'm vain—here's the RSS feed for my recent Netflix account activity. Subscribe, see what I'm watching, and believe: my Q is betA thN yor Q.