My first year in Boston has been the type of experience that I’ll write about in fifty years to describe how on earth I got where I hope to get.
I graduated college in May of 2011 at 17 with a handful of latin phrases, shows, internships, travel, and a wide array of artistic experiences under my belt. I had been accepted into graduate school, which was going to start in the fall of 2011, and was facing a summer of awkward waiting. See, summers have been awkward for me ever since I went to college. I would come home from another great year and be stuck. Although I had been living as a college student during the school year, when I came home for the summer I was too young to work and the only people I knew were ones I had gone to middle school with who were in high school while I was in college. I tried to make it work, but it didn’t go all that well.
So when I graduated college I wasn’t going to hang around for a summer, bemoaning the fact that I’ve never enjoyed the typical high school summer activities. Instead, I gathered strength for a month after an exhausting year and headed up to Boston at the beginning of July.
I housesat for family friends for the first two weeks of July, living truly on my own for the first time even if it was in someone else house. During those two weeks I applied for jobs and looked for a place to live. The problem was that I didn’t turn 18 until the end of July and you can’t sign a lease until you’re no longer a minor, no matter what degree you have.
The first and last place I interviewed at started out well. The emails and craigslist descriptions sounded great and the pictures of the house were nice. I was all set to go until I saw the last question in the last email. “How old are you?” Usually I try to skip over my age until people get to know me. Otherwise assumptions jump into place. Although I never lie, I did this once, I told them I was 18 instead of 17 because when you’re looking for an apartment it makes a big difference.
Thankfully, I was still asked to come. The interview went well and by the end of it Petey Gibson and Karin Webb had offered me a place in their home. I had one more surprise for them though. I was interviewing for an August 1st move-in date so that I would turn 18 before I had to sign the lease. They, however, were eager for someone to move in as soon as possible. I vividly remember the awkward moment that ensued as I stared down at their ferociously affectionate cat and told them that I could move in within the next week, but I couldn’t sign the lease until August 1st. To their credit, after a quick glance at each other, they simply laughed and said that they would check with their landlord, but it should work.
An incredible year ensued. I went to several burlesque shows, drag shows, and to the Slutcracker where I stood awkwardly in the back of the crowd and watched my two roommates perform because in Boston you can legally go see women artistically take off their clothes even thought you can’t go to many concerts. The year passed and all of my roommates moved out, leaving me as the veteran in the house for this years set of roommates. But what a year it was.
Petey came back from her outrageous move to LA this week and performed the Gibson/Antonellis Comedy Hour with her equally hilarious comedy partner Julee Antonellis. That’s what I actually meant to write about today because it was one of the best Thursday nights I’ve had in quite a while. But then I started thinking about the surprise pre-birthday after party that I went to for Petey after the show and then I was going to write about that. But before I could write about either the party or the show, I had to explain how Petey Gibson and Karin Webb entered into my life and changed what could have been a very painful first year into something for the books. .
So Happy Birthday Petey, I know I haven’t known you nearly as long as the friends you’ve had for a decade here in Boston but thanks for being one of my first friends in Boston and giving my “adult” life a truly interesting kick-off.
And thanks to you too, Karin. I don’t have a picture from that first big experience in Elsmere, your birthday party, but it’s got a place in my mind all the same!
Enough sap and life-story, here’s a silly picture:
