Dead Mice, Cancelled Flights and Other Inauspicious Portents

My dad is driving me home from an unsuccessful trip to the airport. My initial flight was cancelled, and he keeps murmuring that this is a bad omen. I shouldn't go. I'm not ready. I haven't thought this through. I have begun counting how many times Dad uses the word 'omen'. I'm disconnected and insensitive to his agony.  He really believes that only death awaits me in this city. A dead mouse, a present from our cat, sent him into hysterics earlier this morning. "This is the LAST thing your mother needs to see right now!" He was right though. Mom already spent the morning passive-aggressively checking and re- checking her blood pressure, loudly announcing her elevated pulse rate as is. My deceased namesake (Nezu=mouse for those not in the know) would not be of any help. Familiar knots form in my back and chest as both parents site my lack of qualifications with helpful gems like "too stupid" and "such a retard" to back their claims. I ignore them and elatedly realize that I just spotted my first Indian Paintbrush of the spring, peeking through a wash of bluebonnets. I have not completely missed Texas' wildflower season.
Waiting for my flight, I spot a young man with a sketchbook in his lap, and true to my nature, I commit the cardinal airport taboo: initiate unprovoked conversation with a stranger wearing headphones. I ask if he's an artist, and he responds that he is a cop, but eagerly allows me to browse his sketches nonetheless. My mind is blown. His sketchbook is saturated with Naruto fanart. I have discovered a being of otaku and law enforcement! He is headed home to Newark from training in Cheyanne, WY.
I discuss immagration with my Egyptian taxi driver, and talk about dangerous American cities. He says when one hears gunshots in Cairo, one laughs and remarks, "What is this? Chicago?"
My new hostelmates include a film maker from Italy, a graphic designer, a dubstep dj from Denmark, an investment broker from Dallas, a Japanese software engineer, a very charismatic fugitive of the law from Arkansas, etc.
Tomorrow we will discuss maternal nervous breakdowns and why lying to your parents is bad.

Three Months Ago

Three months ago I had never visited the Dallas Makerspace, had coffee with Siobhan, or printed a business card for myself.  I had never 'networked'.  I had never worn eye makeup.  Three months ago I never would have harassed Funimation with doughnuts or dreamed about living with strangers on the east coast.  I had actually all but given up on becoming an animator.

I had such a normal life.  I folded paper cranes at my little gray desk and went home angry and stressed like most of the women that work at ChildCareGroup still do.  The new software was buggy and inefficient, and the subsidies we doled were egregiously behind schedule.  I would apologize and troubleshoot over the phone all day than collapse atop my boyfriend to an evening of cartoons and video games.  I loved him so much.

That was three months ago.

The week before Christmas 2011, my safe, dull, comfortable world was shaken loose.  I was fired for the first time in my life.  Not three days later, the unthinkable happened: my boyfriend put in his resignation.  Ten beautiful, happy, tumultuous and painful years of my life were permanently trivialized and are gone forever.  The central ally in my world proved to be the most false.

I twisted in the wind.  I reached out blind and terrified without him and I was simply SHOCKED at how many people reached out to catch me, people who didn't even know me three months ago.

So this is for you guys.  On March 31, 2012, I leave for my internship at Larry's Band in Manhattan, NY.  I will dump stories, comics, and photos here to chronicle what you have done for me.  This is my adventure, but in a way, it is also yours, because I never could have done it without you.