Move Out Day, Part Deux
So today, I came back to the place I called home for the last three years: my somewhat cozy little apartment in Berkeley.
I did this for two reasons: One, I start training for PIRG tomorrow in San Francisco and decided that it'd be nice to just stay at my apartment in Berkeley while I still have it (and that's only until July 31).
Two, I needed to move some stuff out. So I loaded my dad's rental truck and he sped away with among other things, my really comfy couch. Now I'm sitting on a stool, staring at a television on the floor, while I get to sleep in a sleeping bag tonight, Monday night, and maybe Tuesday night (most likely).
And usually, I'm not too much of a sentimental guy, but walking through the tiny strip of space we call a hall way and trying to fit my couch through the door, I can't not get sentimental. This place, how awesome/awful it is at the same time, was still home. It was more of a home for me the last three years than my parents' house back in San Diego. I remember all the really awesome times in this apartment: the parties and the barbeques, all those nights I spent awake writing papers, all those nights I spent awake writing stories for Daily Cal and of course all the nights I stumbled drunkenly into my apartment, struggling to get to the top of my lofted bed.
Those were awesome times and I'm sure Kevin, Gilbert, Beavis and Kevin would all agree about the most awesomest of nights. It involves the first Kevin I mentioned. Ask me sometime about what happened. If you go to his wedding, you'll hear the story. Me and Gilbert will make sure of it.
And of course, there were a few nights that were extra special (I'll let your imaginations run wild on that one).
All in all, it's been a great run. I have a couple more nights here and then who knows where I'll be going. It may be a piece of shit, ran by really awful people, but it's been home and that will never change.
I did this for two reasons: One, I start training for PIRG tomorrow in San Francisco and decided that it'd be nice to just stay at my apartment in Berkeley while I still have it (and that's only until July 31).
Two, I needed to move some stuff out. So I loaded my dad's rental truck and he sped away with among other things, my really comfy couch. Now I'm sitting on a stool, staring at a television on the floor, while I get to sleep in a sleeping bag tonight, Monday night, and maybe Tuesday night (most likely).
And usually, I'm not too much of a sentimental guy, but walking through the tiny strip of space we call a hall way and trying to fit my couch through the door, I can't not get sentimental. This place, how awesome/awful it is at the same time, was still home. It was more of a home for me the last three years than my parents' house back in San Diego. I remember all the really awesome times in this apartment: the parties and the barbeques, all those nights I spent awake writing papers, all those nights I spent awake writing stories for Daily Cal and of course all the nights I stumbled drunkenly into my apartment, struggling to get to the top of my lofted bed.
Those were awesome times and I'm sure Kevin, Gilbert, Beavis and Kevin would all agree about the most awesomest of nights. It involves the first Kevin I mentioned. Ask me sometime about what happened. If you go to his wedding, you'll hear the story. Me and Gilbert will make sure of it.
And of course, there were a few nights that were extra special (I'll let your imaginations run wild on that one).
All in all, it's been a great run. I have a couple more nights here and then who knows where I'll be going. It may be a piece of shit, ran by really awful people, but it's been home and that will never change.