Mo-Town to MTC, & All The Way Around

Hello World,

This past weekend was a trip…a trip, indeed. Honest to God, there were a lot of self-revelations that I came across while on this voyage crossing Morgantown, WV and Montclair, NJ. I’m pretty sure I’m going to do two separate posts for what happened. One will consist of what I actually, physically did, ie. The places I went, who I saw, what I did, etc etc. The other post will consist of what I was thinking during these moments and experiences. Within five minutes of me being home, I came across a somewhat-sad but true realization about my town. The first part of blogging this weekend, will come in this first post. Split between Part One (Morgantown) and Part Two (Montclair). Morgantown’s gonna be the long one, PS.

Warning/Disclaimer: This shit is longggg.

PART ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

HOKAY, so this ze Earth. ….(Kidding.). I left for Pittsburgh out of Baltimore on Thursday morning. First time I ever went to Baltimore/Washington International, and of course, like the majority of my travels, I got to the airport within, eh..40, 30 minutes of my scheduled departure…UGH. So I speed through check in, which was relatively easy with Southwest…I fuck with that airline pretty frequently, whenever I can. SO yea, I sped through everything, made it to the flight, got to Pittsburgh, waited for eh..20 minutes? And got picked up by my two good friends at WVU. We got into Morgantown maybe..4:30pm. I met up with my two friends that I was staying with. They’re amazing, SO glad I know those two wonderful women. Fast forward five hours or so...we head to the club. …Others blame me, and I blame the Smirnoff Blueberry we MURDERED before hand, but somehow in the midst of the fun at the club, I lose not only my phone, but also my keys. Phone is one thing, that shit happens often...phones can be turned off, whatever, its cool. But, keys? WHO TAKES KEYS?! I was so pissed.

The next morning, eh…afternoon (lol), I wake up with the mission of finding my phone and keys, as well as finally signing my lease for my apartment for the fall, which was ultimately my main reasoning for coming out to Morgantown in the first place (as well as seeing all my friends, of course). I bump into my old lady friend from school, and we chill (explained father in the next post). I head over to the club to see if any of my belongings turn up, and of course, they…don’t. Neither my phone or my keys were turned in. I was crushed. But, I had to move on, and have faith. I head back to the room, get myself together, and head out to the leasing office for The District, this collection of housing complex that I have a lot of friends currently living in, and planning to move into in the fall (more info @ The District ). Now, I’m coming here expecting to have to put down cash for a lease, or an application fee, or something along those lines, right? Easily 250-300 that I gotta put down on the spot right? NAH. Nah B. I put down zero dollars, zilch cents to sign up for my place. Move-in is August 19th! I initially signed on for a three bedroom, in one of the first two buildings of the complex right when you drive in, so it will be easy to locate when I have people come through. I initially was just gonna take two random roommates, but a couple of my friends already in the complex have some apartment-mates leaving in the summer, so now I’ve got some options..

So now, Friday night, of course, because I have friends that have the care of any average college student, where do we decide to go Friday night? The same club that I lost my shit in the previous night. Ugh…I mean after a couple rounds of matching bottle and.. (rhymes with punt), any club is gonna sound amazing. I believe I was too influenced for the club that night. Honest to God. I could barely walk, or recognize people, or raise my hands. I eventually have my keys found, but no phone. Sad faces. It was a wild night, to say the least. I’m glad I was able to make it where I had to go. Getting home at 4AM, I forget my insignificant, ridiculously small and easily losable pink slip, indicating that I’m a guest in the building. The two Arab (I’m not profiling, they told me they were from Saudi Arabia) RA’s inform me that they lost my form that I filled out about 6 hours ago, so not that it makes a difference that I lost my phone, but THEY lost my form too, so I couldn’t get in. I had to wait an hour and a half on the lobby couch until the building opened for the public to get my shit and get ready to head to Jersey.

PART TWOOOOOOOOOO

I get to Pitt Airport, feeling like shit from two back-to-back nights of ridiculous socializing and partying. After hours of bullshit waiting and delays, blah blah…I get back to my home state around 7 30. I get to see my mom, who has clearly lost a healthy amount of weight, and now has these youthful blonde highlights. My mom’s caught her second wind…with both of her kids out of parental control and basically doing their own thing, she too is doing her own thing. I’m happy for her, going out and doing her thing whenever she wants to.
After not at all sleeping Friday night/Saturday morning, and getting maybe…4 hours of sleep on average the last 3 weeks, I CRASH on my pre-made bed in my cleaned-up room (thanks Mom =] ). Waking up close to noon, I head out to the mall with my madre to solve this issue of a lost phone. I eventually end up with a Motrola Razr V3, and I finally..finally…FINALLY get my mom to let go of pre-paid, and get on the contract phone, making a Family Share plan with my sister and I. We’re all connected! Hooray!

After the mall fiasco, I ran over to the famous Sharon Miller Dance Studio in Montclair, to meet up with my boy Chris that runs an Afro-Cuban dance lesson every other Sunday. I assist him with the percussion needed for the 90 minute class. Like the majority of the women (all but one person out of at least 40 were female) in the class, I got my workout from the lesson. It feels good though, to play with your heart and soul with an international flavor. As a whole, the common Cuban groove, or African groove, or Samba groove, is a lot more active and demanding then an American rock groove. We were jammin’…man...I had my right foot on the bass drum banging fast ass quarter notes, both hands rocking a legitimately challenging congo riff..I had to keep that all together for like 20 minutes straight. Had a mean foot cramp and close-to blisters afterward, but it was totally worth it.
Three or so hours after the dance workshop, I headed out to Newark to DJ for roughly 45 minutes, cranking out old school jams, R&B, etc. It was a picky crowd, and an older crowd, so they recognized the real at all times. It was good to hear the loud pop (OOOOOHHHHH SHIT SON NO HE DIDN’T) when I threw on Artifacts, probably the most recognizable rap duo from Newark. You gotta recognize where your at, every set! It was a good night.

Monday morning, I got my MUCH needed haircut, did a little shopping, picked up some phresh jeans and a nice new polo, and headed out to Newark, where I caught the train I’m currently on now, heading to DC.

….DAMN that was long. Told you!

Tha was my weekend. I enjoyed it, I needed it. Now back to DC to continue making moves! Working as a student organizer for Greenpeace is actually really, really fun. We’re heading to Vermont in a few weeks, and AMSTERDAM in mid-April. Yeah, no misprint. Amsterdam in the middle of April. YOU ALREADY KNOWWWWWWWWWW. Post Two: The Thoughtful Reflection, Live from the Mind coming very soon!


One Love / Green Peace,
- dana J