Brand New Me, Ideas and starters

December 29, 2006. Its 6:30 a.m. And I'm standing in the living room of my moms house, taking inventory of my pile of bags for one last time. Backpack? Check. Blue messenger bag? Check. Small black messenger bag/ purse? Check. Inside my bag...Wallet, bus ticket, phone, Ipod? All there. Guitar? Check. Massive red duffel bag? Check.  It was depessing in a way, but I was excited. Those bags were to become my life, I was moving with just what they contained, off to start a new life in Chicago. Methodically I loaded myself up with my bags. I had figured out a specific order to put them over my shoulders and how to arrange them the night before while I was finishing packing. I needed to be able to carry it all by myself through bus stations.

7:15 and the bus is pulling out. Im leaving Burlington, Vermont and dont know when Ill be back. Maybe a visit over the summer? I didnt really care. I paid more attention than normal though out the bus window, as we traveled out of burlington and then south to Connecticut for  phase 1 of my trip. I wanted to really see Vermont before I was gone.

Waterbury CT was first. I was spending a night there with Joanna, my best friend from when we both lived in Rhode Island.  I arrived in Waterbury, and called her to say that I was there. She was still at work and couldnt leave early, so I would have a couple hours to kill. What the fuck was I going to do in Waterbury with all my shit? It was so heavy I could barely walk with it all on my back. I figured I could just wander around downtown for a while If I could find some place to leave my bags.  After catching some weird looks from the girl behild the counter (she must not get a lot of punks in here I thought, as I saw her eyeing my torn converse, skinny jeans, orange scarf, and the patches on my jacket.) I was able to leave my stuff behind the counter in a corner.

I walked in circles. I walked up and down the same streets over and over. I had started out with the idea that I would find coffee, food, someplace warm to sit for a while. All I found was a dunkin donuts, and it was kinda scary. Some black kids covered in bling were yelling about some shit, the girl behind the counter was ignoring customers while she talked on the phone, and there were no tables. I ordered my coffee, Large, no cream, super easy sugar, and got the fuck out of there. At least now I had something warm to hold while I wandered around, and warm was good because It was getting cold outside.

Finally my phone rang. It was Joanna, she was leaving work and would be at the bus station in 10 minutes.  She pulled up, jumped out of the Jeep and ran at me, jumping on me.  "Miranda-da!!!" She yelled, arms outstretched. "Joanna-na!!" I yelled back. We hugged for a minute, breifly kissed, and then threw my stuff in the car. It had been 2 � years since we had seen eachother.

We went to New Haven that night for dinner. She had done some reaserch and found a place with vegan food near Yale. We ate, she filled me in on what all our Salve friends were doing now, talked about our ex's, and finally we talked about Chicago.
"So why Chicago?" She asked. It was to become a popular question.
"Umm, I dont really know." I said "I just knew It was time to get out of Bulington and do something different for a while, Cause theres really nothing there, Everyone's leaving." And everyone was leaving. In the past 3 months Rae had taken off in her vegetable oil van to go cross country, Julian and Nick were hitch hiking west, Blake moved back to Portland Oregan, Paul went to Lousville KY, and Hillary had a 1 way ticket to Amsterdam. The punk scene was dying, we were losing places to play, and bands were breaking up and moving on.
"So what, did you just point to a map and hit Chicago and decide to go there or something?" She asked.
"I might as well have I guess. But no, Newton wanted to go there. He's all excited about the bears and leather scene, and I kinda ended up invading his plans in a way and it became the 2 of us moving together. It seems crazy to put it this way, but were going to Chicago so he can hook up with more overweight hairy men. It will be cool though. Maybe Ill find some cute dykes."
She laughed at me for a sec,  then smiled, "You better find yourself some cute dykes. I want my Miranda-da to be happy".
I smiled back. "Thanks hun, and same to you, you should be happy too. Find yourself a guy who's not a douchebag." Her ex had been a huge douchebag.

We went back to her place, watched a movie, and went to bed. I had to get to my cousins the next morning, and she had some family Christmas party to get to, so it was a pretty boring night. She drove me down to my cousins the next moring, In Darien. 

"No more going 2 years without seeing eachother, ever again. That was kinda shitty." I said, putting my arms around her and pulling her close to me.
"Deal" she said, as she snaked her arms through mine to return the hug. "Two years is way to long. And Ive never been to Chicago. Now ill have a reason to go there"
she pulled back to get into the car, She had food and presents her family was waiting for.
"Love you." I said, with a quick kiss on her forhead.
"Love you too" She said, and got in the car to go.

I stood watching her drive off, and then went to join my cousin Brynn on the steps.
"She doesnt seem like your type at all" Brynn said as I lit a cigarette.
"No... she's really not.  And its too bad she's straight cause I fucking love that girl. Sometimes I wonder how we still find things to talk about. Theres absolutely nothing punk about her. Doesnt drink, never done any drugs, hates crowded party's. Sometimes I need mellow though. She's was always good at pulling me back when I got too crazy at parties."
Brynn lauged. "You? Party too hard? I dont believe it. Not my little Miranda."  Brynn is 10 years older than me, she likes to remind me that she used to baby sit me and change my diapers.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Im totally innocent. Angelic almost."

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The same way I had Joanna in Newport to keep me in controll, or at least try anyway, I had Val in Burlington. Val was a nursing major, and when she got drunk, she became obsessed with taking care of everyone. She was a good person to have at parties though, when kids started puking. 

My brother and I had a huge house party one night when my mom had gone on a business trip. We set up a beer pong table in the family room, dragged out my old mini fridge and packed it with PBR and Natty Ice.  The screened in porch was full of pot smokers. I think we had around 50 kids in the house. My brother and his friends stayed downstairs mostly playing beer pong, while I was upstairs with wiskey shots and bong rips. 

I had spent a good couple hours that night sitting on the porch, watching kids go in out of the house to smoke. I would watch kids pack bowls, and then casually ask if I could get a hit. Some recognized me and willing handed over the bowl, others didnt care who I was and got me high, and a few gave me attitude.
"What? Why would I want to give you a hit?" one kid asked.
"Dude, thats Brian's sister," another kid told him "she lives here, she bought all the beer. Give her a fucking hit."
"Oh, sorry. Yeah, here you go" he said, looking slightly embarrased as he passed a joint to me.

I eventually decided I needed to get away from it all for a little bit and wandered outside and climbed up on the roof.  It was way to easy to get up there. The stairs from the porch were right next to the garage roof, so all you had to do was duck under the railing and crawl up. So Im sitting on the roof, looking up at the stars while I smoked a cigarette, and listening to the people in the house below. It was pretty relaxing. I was pretty fucked up.

"Hey Mir!" I heard someone yelling for me.
"Miranda? Where are you?" It was Val.
"Im on the roof!" I called back.
"What? Why the fuck are you on the roof?" She asked, standing on the stairs trying to see me.
"Cause Im smoking a cigarette."  It seemed like a logical reason I guess.

She told me to come down, because she was leaving, and because she wanted to make sure I didnt fall and kill myself.  I climbed back down, and saw Val standing there looking worried.
"Why do you always have to climb shit when your drinking?"
I always do climb things too, ususally trees. Sometimes I would sit on the edge of railings, or I would convince people to go the the park with me and then climb to the top of the jungle gym.
"I dunno, Its something to do I guess" I told her, shrugging, and went back inside. Val was in full motherly nurse mode by then, I could see her thinking too much about all the ways I could manage to get hurt. At this point It was usually best to listen, before angry Val apeared. Angry Val would yell at people for drinking too much and take drinks out of peoples hands. We didnt like angry party Val.

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I spent the next two nights in Connecticut partying with Brynn and her friends in Norwalk.  It was weird to be spending new years with people I didnt know, but there was plenty of beer and Jaeger and weed, so I wasn't complaining.

New Years day, at noon, I got on the bus to continue my journey. I went through NYC, had a two hour layover at Port Authority, and wanted to cry half the time. It was a pretty miserable way to start a 35 hour bus ride, especially with a hangover. It was crowded, hot, and my back and shoulders were aching from all the bags I was trying to carry. I eventually found the line for my bus, dropped my bags at the end and collapsed onto them, where I then sat for the next hour.

It really hit me some where in New Jersey that I was going, heading west, moving to a new city, and I freaked out a little. I was going to be on this bus for 30 something hours with some random layovers and meal breaks, and then I would be in Chicago. I would be in my new home where I didnt know a single person, had no job, and no place to live. "What the fuck am I doing? This is fucking insane!"

I passed through cities and sat in bus stations at pretty random hours. Pittsburg around midnight, Cleaveland around 5am, Cleaveland again at 7 am. I had a layover there that was supposed to be 45 mins. Just long enough to charge my Ipod a little and get some food. It became and hour and a half, and I fell asleep as soon as I was back on the bus and we were out of the station. I woke up again a few hours later pulling back into the bus station.
"Where are we?" I asked the stranger sitting next to me.
"Cleaveland"
"Huh? But we left here already, didnt we?" I had stayed awake long enough to know that we had definitly gone somewhere.
"Engine problems." he said. "We had to turn back around to change busses. Aparently we have to move to a different one."
I started getting my bags together and getting ready to get of the bus, knowing that I was going to lose my window seat.


We finally got to Chicago around 2, 3 � hours late. Exhausted and sore, I gathered my mess of bags and found my way out to the street.  I had made plans to stay in a hostel downtown a couple night, hoping it would be long enough to find a place to live. I got a cab. I was way to tired to figure out how to get there on the bus, and I didn't want to carry my bags any further  than I had to.

I stayed at the hostel 4 nights, met a couple guys from New Orleans to go bar hop with, and started finding my way around the city.  I spent my days looking through classifieds and craigslist finding an apartment, and my nights finding the bars.  My roomate finally arrived 3 days after me, and after a couple nights crashing on couches with this kid he found online, we had an apartment.... in Little Village.
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I met Carl at a show about a week after we moved in. I figured it was time to find the punks, and went to the library to find some show listing, or myspace page or message board, and lucked out. There was a show the next night. I had no idea who was playing, and didnt really care.

I was standing in the corner between bands, just watching people when this kid comes and offers me a beer.  I took one, started talking to this guy who was totally hammered by this point, and started getting a little drunk. He had pointed to a 30-rack against the wall and told me to help my self.  That wasn't Carl though. Carl was the guy I had noticed the minute he walked through the door and had been trying not to stare at all night.

Eventually he comes over to say hi, saying he had noticed me trying not to stare.
"You dont really want to be talking to that guy do you."
I shook my head. "Not really,  But beer is good, and he's pretty much the first person thats talked to me in this city."
"I had a feeling it was all about the beer... Im Carl, with a C"
"Whats up Carl with a C? Im Miranda."

We talked for a little bit, watched the next band, and then I decided to head home. I really had no idea where I was and figured it I should probably find my way home before I got too drunk. We traded phone numbers agreeing to hang out sometime.

I called him the next night. It was saturday and I had nothing to do. I took the blue line to Racine, and he met me at a gas station on the corner. He said he was waiting to hear back from a friend about a party, but we could go to his place while we waited. We got some beer, watched tv while we drank, and waited for his friend to call.

The party was insane. Way too many people in a tiny space. I hadnt been to a good house party in a couple years, and forgot how they got. We danced in the kitchen where some kids were playing  old school hip hop, and decided to get going after making out in the middle of the room.
"Hey! You two are fucking awesome!" some random drunk kid was yelling to us as we left. "You better invite me when you get married."

Carl became my non-boyfriend. We saw eachother regularly, and I spent a bunch of nights at his place, but if I used the relationship word, it was a problem. We were just fucking. That was all. And then we were arguing how about how you can hook up with someone on a regular basis, and go to shows and get invited to hang out at his friends houses, and still have it be just sex and nothing else. The non-relationship mostly died after a few weeks, or at least it stopped being regular.


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Little Village was pretty bad at first. It took 2 weeks to get our gas turned on, so we had no heat or hot water. I took showers at other peoples apartments when I could, and slept on an air mattress with a couple thin blankets. We got a couple small space heaters, but they didnt help much. I avoided being there whenever possible because It was always cold and empty. It was disgusting how much ramen we ate during the first month.

My new priority became finding a job. I would get on the train and go to a different neigborhood each day where I would wander around looking for help wanted signs. It took over two weeks to find something, and it sucked. I started working at a Jimmy Johns in the middle of January.
"Would you be willing to do deliveries?" the manager asked when I interviewed.
"Um, I dont have a car." I said.
"Thats fine, we use bikes here anyway, theres a couple the store owns you could use."
"Oh, ok. I could do that. I dont know the area at all though, just how to get from the red line a block away."
I was told they would help me out with directions, and I was hired.

I spent the winter making sandwiches and riding a bike to make deliveries around Division and Rush. I learned pretty quicky how to ride through traffic and all the shortcuts through ally's. I knew what buildings people tipped well in, and when to pass on a shitty tipper if there was another driver, and was on a first name basis with  half the doormen.  And I rode in all kinds of weather. I spent some crazy nights riding against the wind and in snow (and occasionally came back from Lakeshore Drive crying from the wind), I figured out how to get through snow drifts and stop on ice. It was cold and miserable a lot of the time, but I was making good tips. Thinking about the $2-3 bucks I would get each time I went out on the bike made it seem more worth it. It adds up when your the only delivery person for a 6 hour shift. I always made better tips than the guys, I think people kinda felt bad for a girl on a bike at night and in storms.

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When I wasnt at work, I was going to as many shows as I could get to, and slowly meeting more people. I would show up by myself with my backpack of beer, and end up talking to some kids, and then get invited to go back to someones apartment to hang out and drink more beer. These were all one night friends though. I might see them at another show somewhere eventually, but that was pretty much it. I would never hang out with them again.

There was one person I saw again though, Josh. I had gone to a show on 17th street on night, with plans to meet Carl there when he got of work. This kids comes over to say hi to me, saying he hadn't seen me around before. I told him about how I had just moved a couple weeks before. He was helping set up the show, it was at his friends house, so we didnt talk for more than a couple minutes.  A week or so later, I get to Jimmy Johns to work my second shift, and theres Josh, working there too.
"Hey, I met you before, at that show on 17th St."  He said to me.
I barely recognized him. I had gotten into so many random drunk conversations at shows that I didnt remember most of the people I talked to.
"Oh yeah, I think I remember you." I said, mostly lying.

Josh turned out to be the only cool person working in the place, and he started telling me about shows. Some times his band Disrobe would be playing. I would ususally go cause I had nothing else to do, and he would ususaly be there. I finally had a real friend in Chicago.

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I rode home one night, as the sun was starting to set, with no real route planned. South for a little bit, then west again for a while, alternating toward Kedzie and Cermak. It was relaxing, I was starting to appreciate my new freedom of biking. The city was different on a bike than it had been out the windows of busses and trains. I could take whatever route I wanted, see a different neigborhood each time, and never have to worry about train and bus schedules. I could go out somewhere without worrying about leaving in time to get the pink line home before it stopped running. Of course the city on a bike was also a little scary at first. I wasn't used to riding outside my familiar Jimmy Johns delivery area.

"When did you turn into a bike punk?" my roommate asked me one day as I wheeled my bike through the kitchen into the spare room.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked.
"I cant remember the last time I saw you go anywhere with out your messenger bag and pants  rolled up."
I looked at him for a sec, and then looked down at my rolled up jeans. I had my bag on too.
"I guess when I got a bike." I said. "Im not going to keep buying bus passes when i can ride instead. And its warm now anyway. I should probably re-think my alcohol tolerance a little though."

I had gone to a show the first weekend I had my bike. I had started drinking before I left and brought the remaining bottles of Mickey's grenades with me. Josh gave me more beers after. I wasn't anymore drunk than I normally got at shows, but I also ususally found a ride home after or took the bus.

"Hey, I'm heading out." Josh told me, after coming over to me for a goodbye hug. "You good?"
"Yeah, I have my bike, Im good to get home." I told him. "Im probably going to head out soon."
"Alright. I'll see you around, be careful."

A little while later, Karlos saw me and asked if I wanted a ride, saying my place was on their way. I told him I was on my bike, and didn't need one. I unlocked it from the table and began walking across the road toward Archer. I fell twice walking across the lawn, and figured I could just  walk my bike a little bit and sober up a little and be ok to ride eventually. I turned around after falling twice more on the sidewalk.
"Hey Karlos!" I yelled across the lawn, "Can I still get that ride home?


Lying in bed one night, I realized that, at 23, I feel like Im finally living the way I want to be.  Im on my own for real now, and completely separate from my parents. Its like the past five years since graduating high school has been practice for this.

I moved out to go to college at 18, as was expected. When I first arrived in Newport RI to attend Salve Regina University I thought I was going to live the standard Salve experience. Live in the dorms for the first two years, get an apartment off campus for the last two, graduate and then get a job in the real world.  I made it 5 semesters, well really 4, cause I new a few weeks into the 5th that I wouldnt be graduating from Salve.

I had a house with 2 friends in downtown Newport, and decided to stay through May to finish out the lease even though I was no longer in school. I worked 60-70 hours a week between two jobs and partied in Providence every weekend. I had a girlfriend I never had time to see. It wasn't where I wanted to be, and almost killed myself a few times. I never managed to swallow enough pills or cut deep enough to finish the job, and would wake up the next morning with either a horrible headache, or blood stains on my sheets.

I called Danielle one night in early May. I hadn't seen her in about 2 weeks at that point. I think we had already broken up by then, but neither of us had time to actually break up with eachother.
"Hey babe, I have a question for you?"
"Um, Ok. Whats up?" she asked.
"Im thinking of moving back to Vermont. I havn't been able to find an apartment for the summer. I think im going tomorrow, unless theres a reason why I shouldnt."
She didn't say anything.
"Soo.... What do you think?"
"Well.." she said, hesitantly, "Im not really sure what you want me to say."
"So that it?" I asked "Im telling you that Im probably moving 6 hours away tomorrow and I'll probably never see you again? And nothing?"
I was trying not to cry. I thought about killing myself, for real this time, instead of moving.
"I think we've been over for a while..."

I packed for a few hours, passed out from exhaustion and cried myslef to sleep around 1 am, and finished packing the next day.  It was around 4 when I finished loading up my car. It was kinda amazing how much I could fit in my little two door honda civic. I called Danielle again as I began driving out of Newport, taking the long way along the ocean for one last time.
"Im about 10 minutes from your house. Can you come outside for a minute when I get there? I want to say good bye for real."
She agreed and came out to the driveway when I pulled out. Her eyes were all read, and she claimed to have been sleeping. We stood in the driveway hugging without talking for a few minutes, and then began to kiss for the last time. I eventually pulled away from her and said I had to get going. I had a long drive home.

I cried all the way to Boston, and then realized I needed to pull my self together if I was going to be able to drive through the city and make all my exits. It was 1am when I got home to my moms house in Colchester. I let myself in, breifly told my panicked mother what had happened and went to bed.

I was planning on staying at my moms for a month or so, I thought that would be long enough to get a job and find an apartment in Burlington. I ended up living there for a year and a half.

Bulington was different then I remembered. I had left when I was 18, and came back in time to turn 21. I had come out as queer, and started listening to punk. I hoped I would fit in better as a queer punk kid in Bulington than I had in Newport.

I got back in touch with a friend from high school, Bana, and through him met Paul, and Newton. Pretty soon the four of us became inseperable. We worked within 5 blocks of eachother down town. We had a routine. I would meet Paul at the bar for duff hour when we got  out of work early enough. We chugged down dollar pints and would stumble out of the bar drunk by 6. Then it was to Paul and Newtons apartment, or to Joey and Robs to smoke weed till it was time to go home and sleep. Some nights we would go to punk shows. Paul was in 2 bands so he would be playing somewhere almost every weekend. I had no real responsibilities, no rent to pay, and took advantage of it, spending most of my paychecks on weed and alcohol.

It got old pretty quick though. My life of partying became too predicable, boring almost, and we started talking about leaving. Origionally it was the four of us planning on moving to Chicago together. I cant really remember why Chicago was the city of choice, but we knew we wanted to live in a city, and no one could think of an alternative that seemed any better.  Over 6 months though, things changed. Bana slept with Newtons boyfriend, Paul and Newton were hooking up again a year after they had broken up, and things got complicated. Eventually the Fuckable Four (as we became after a crazy night involving too many Jaeger shots before going to the bar, and all of us hooking up that night) became three, Bana was no longer part of the group. He was staying in Burlington and none of us saw it as a big loss. Then there was Paul. He got an offer to move to Louisville, with a house to move into and a group of kids who wanted to start a band with him. All of a sudden in was just me and Newton moving to Chicago.

We were at Joey and Robs apartment the night Paul told me about Louisville. He said he couldn't fall back in love with Newton again and have  his heart broken again. I spent the next four hours trying not to cry. Paul had become my best friend. He was there when I got my first tattoo and was one of the few people that knows the whole story about what it means. He also got me into punk and going to shows, and was always telling me about bands I should listen too. I walked home that night with Paul and Newton, and as soon as we got to the garage where my car was, and my back was too them, I lost it. I started crying. I couldn't imagine my life in the near future without Paul, even though I was excited for him and the life he was moving to in Louisville. I was the last person to see him in Vermont before he left. I helped him finish packing till 3 am the night before he got on the bus to leave Vermont.  I havnt seen my best friend since.