All that you can't leave behind.

I left my apartment this morning as the Campanile chimed 7am. I walked out and took a last look, suitcase in hand, tears on my cheeks, and listened to the bells ringing out over a silent, overcast Lawrence Sunday morning.

So I'm here, and I think it'll be fun, but I really fucking wish I had brought a computer with me. Every place that I've been told contains a computer lab, um, doesn't. I'll just have to flirt with somebody and use theirs shamelessly I guess.

It turns out that plane travel isn't as horrifying as I like to think it is. Though I've found that I have to keep my nose in my book during takeoff and ascent, else I start hyperventelating upon looking out the window.

People in New York City are the scariest drivers ever. The entire concept of the turn signal is completely foreign to this town.

My room smells. And the door is kinda broken.

I knew I was in NYC when the driver was bringing me through Harlem, and I saw the street sign for 'Malcolm X Blvd.'

That's it for now. I have to go find out what happened to my other suitcase. American Airlines hasn't called me yet, and that doesn't bode well for the person I'm gonna have to call.